Probably the best place to pick up a real bargain (and also the best place to acquire worthless junk) is the auction room. Here it is important always to examine the pieces while they are on display before the auction actually takes place. It might also be wise to ask the advice of some experienced dealer or scholar ahead of time. Once you have placed your bid, it is too late to change your mind, for every auction purchase is final, regardless of what flaws may be discovered later on. Furthermore, the atmosphere of the auction room, with its excitement and fast pace, often tempts people to buy things they really do not want or prevents them from bidding for objects they would like to have but were too slow to bid for. Yet there is no question—especially if one happens to attend an auction where other people are not interested in what one has come for—that wonderful purchases can be made for relatively little money, and this, of course, is particularly true of objects that are not in fashion.
The question of taste and fashion has a great deal to do with the price an object is likely to fetch. Haniwa, which today are extremely fashionable and therefore bring very high prices, were readily available ten or twenty years ago at a fraction of their present cost, while Satsuma enameled wares, which fifty years ago were enormously popular among Western collectors and brought high prices, are practically worthless today. Unless the collector is so well-to-do that he does not have to consider money, it is best not to go in for something that is very fashionable, but rather to purchase some good wares that, though neglected at the time, are artistically outstanding and of permanent value. Today, for example, Japanese porcelains are relatively cheap, while cruder wares such as Shino and Oribe, which are closer to modern taste, are in great demand and therefore more difficult to get and more expensive when they do turn up. Here again, however, personal preference should be the primary consideration.
Japanese collectors like to buy pottery that has the seal and signature of a famous potter, and if the object in question is also wrapped in a fancy brocade bag and comes in an old-looking box, preferably with inscriptions attributed to famous artists or connoisseurs, then its price goes up astronomically. Although it is true that such a pedigree may often be helpful in tracing its history and may even prove that at one point it belonged to some noble family or famous tea master, by and large this kind of information has little to do with art and may even be quite misleading. For example, at least ninety percent of the works signed by Kenzan are not by him, and antique boxes, even if they and their inscriptions are genuine, are sometimes used for works that have nothing to do with the inscriptions. The best course is always to rely upon the quality of the object itself, to buy what is good because it is aesthetically pleasing, regardless of the inscription or the box. In fact some simple object like the rice bowls of the Korean peasants is often the very ware that connoisseurs like the tea masters consider priceless today.
Color Plate 1. Oribe covered dish. Momoyama period. Private collection, Japan.
Finally, there is the persistent question about the daily use of art objects. The Japanese themselves keep good pieces in boxes until some special occasion, when they remove them from their covers to display them to a distinguished guest or use them in some ceremony like cha-no-yu. This may be a good thing and is no doubt responsible for the preservation of so many of the treasures of Japanese art over the centuries. The Westerner, however, having no such tradition, would do well to display his collection and, if possible, use it—perhaps not every day but certainly on special occasions, for pottery is essentially a utilitarian art. The collector himself will benefit most by doing so, for not only will he derive pleasure and satisfaction from seeing the pieces used, but also he will develop a better feeling for their shapes, glazes, textures, and colors. Only by actually handling ceramics can their true nature be understood.
2 The Appreciation of
Japanese Ceramics
IT HAS often been said that the Japanese civilization is the most artistic that mankind has ever evolved. If this statement refers to the aesthetic sensibility of the Japanese rather than to their artistic achievement, then it is certainly true. Nowhere else has the creation of something beautiful ever permeated all aspects of life as thoroughly as in Japan. Every phase of existence, even the simplest activity of daily life, is regarded as an opportunity for aesthetic expression. In the West, we think of art primarily as architecture, sculpture, and painting, with the crafts usually playing a secondary role, but in traditional Japan no such clear distinction was ever made. The reed matting covering the floor in the Japanese house, the texture and character of the wood used in the ceiling, the bamboo utensils, the kimono of the elegant lady, the flower arrangement in the tokonoma, the lacquer tray on which the cake is served, the decanter out of which the sake is poured—all these and many other purely utilitarian objects, made by craftsmen and designed for use, are considered works of art and evaluated as such. What European critics have often dismissed as the decorative or minor arts were considered the very essence of art by the traditional Japanese, and such well-known artists as Korin did not hesitate to use their talents to design beautiful kimonos, lacquer boxes, or plates.
The very first Westerners who came to Japan spoke with astonishment of the value attached to the utensils used in connection with the tea ceremony or cha-no-yu. The tea caddies especially, though quite unimpressive in appearance, were highly treasured, and the Jesuit father Luis Frois, writing in the late sixteenth century, tells us that the most valuable teacups and tea jars were prized so greatly that their worth was equal to that of precious jewels in Europe. He also says that the military dictator of the time, Oda Nobunaga, had formed a large collection of tea utensils, partly the gifts of his retainers and partly his own costly purchases. It was through such collections, he goes on, that families became known; they were considered prosperous and lucky because they owned such treasures.
Another contemporary account is found in a letter of the Jesuit priest Luis d'Almeida, dated 1565: "It is customary with the noble and wealthy Japanese, when they have an honored guest who is on the point of leaving, to show him their treasures as a sign of esteem. These treasures consist of utensils they use in drinking a certain powdered herb called cha, which is very pleasant to those who are accustomed to drink it. Their way of doing so is to grind half a handful of leaves of this herb in a porcelain bowl, after which they drink them infused with very hot water. For this purpose they use some very old iron kettles, as also the vessel wherein they put the water to rinse the porcelain bowl, and a little tripod whereon they put the lid of the iron kettle so as to avoid placing it on the mats. The caddy in which they place the cha leaves, the spoon with which they scoop, the ladle which they take the water from the kettle, and the stove—all these utensils form the jewelry of Japan, in the same way as rings, necklaces, and ornaments of magnificent rubies and diamonds do with us. And they have experts who appraise these utensils, and who act as brokers in selling and buying them. Thus they give parties