Cipango - French Journal of Japanese Studies English Selection

1 | 2012 The Invention of “Folk Crafts”: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei

Édition électronique URL : https://journals.openedition.org/cjs/75 DOI : 10.4000/cjs.75 ISSN : 2268-1744

Éditeur INALCO

Référence électronique Cipango - French Journal of Japanese Studies, 1 | 2012, « The Invention of “Folk Crafts”: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei » [En ligne], mis en ligne le 22 mai 2012, consulté le 11 juillet 2021. URL : https:// journals.openedition.org/cjs/75 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/cjs.75

Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 11 juillet 2021.

Cipango - French Journal of Japanese Studies is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. 1

The exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan, curated by Germain Viatte and Shiraha Akemi for the Musée du Quai Branly, provided the occasion to introduce a largely unknown section of Japanese art to the French public, as well as one aspect of the work of Yanagi Muneyoshi (also known by his pen name, Sōetsu) 柳宗悦(1889-1961). In this respect, the exhibition was undoubtedly one of the most interesting events devoted to Japanese art to be organised in Paris in 2008. The approach chosen by the exhibition’s organisers – as the subtitle “from folk craft to design” indicates – aimed to illustrate the continuity between the Folk Crafts Movement (mingei undō 民藝運動), launched in the 1920s, and modern design. A large section was thus devoted to Yanagi Sōetsu’s eldest son, the designer Yanagi Sōri 柳宗理 (1915-2011), and the international links established with designers such as Bruno Taut, Charlotte Perriand and Isamu Noguchi between the 1930s and 1950s.

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SOMMAIRE

Introduction

Yanagi Sōetsu and the invention of “folk crafts”: a new contextualisation Christophe Marquet

The Invention of “Folk Crafts”: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei

The Endless pursuit of inner desires: Yanagi Sōetsu before Mingei Michael Lucken

Folk painting as defined by Yanagi Sōetsu: from revolutionary painters to pictorial revolution Christophe Marquet

And Mokujiki’s smile revealed true beauty to Yanagi Sōetsu François Macé

The Folk Crafts Movement and Folklore Studies Damien Kunik

Folk Crafts and Folklore Studies Debate between Yanagita Kunio and Yanagi Sōetsu at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum Yanagita Kunio et Yanagi Sōetsu Damien Kunik (éd.)

“Nihonjinron” in the Museums of Paris: design and Japanese identity Coralie Castel

Bibliography: The Invention of “Folk Crafts” Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei Jean-Michel Butel, Damien Kunik, Michael Lucken, François Macé, Christophe Marquet et Laurent Nespoulous

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Introduction

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Yanagi Sōetsu and the invention of “folk crafts”: a new contextualisation Yanagi Sōetsu et l’invention des « arts populaires » : remise en perspective

Christophe Marquet

NOTE DE L’ÉDITEUR

Original release: Christophe Marquet, « Yanagi Sōetsu et l’invention des « arts populaires » : remise en perspective », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 15 novembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.371.

1 The exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan,1 curated by Germain Viatte and Shiraha Akemi for the Musée du Quai Branly, provided the occasion to introduce a largely unknown section of Japanese art to the French public, as well as one aspect of the work of Yanagi Muneyoshi (also known by his pen name, Sōetsu) 柳宗悦 (1889-1961). In this respect, the exhibition was undoubtedly one of the most interesting events devoted to Japanese art to be organised in Paris in 2008.

2 The approach chosen by the exhibition’s organisers – as the subtitle “from folk craft to design” indicates – aimed to illustrate the continuity between the Folk Crafts Movement (mingei undō 民藝運動), launched in the 1920s, and modern design. A large section was thus devoted to Yanagi Sōetsu’s eldest son, the designer Yanagi Sōri 柳宗理 (1915-2011),2 and the international links established with designers such as Bruno Taut, Charlotte Perriand and Isamu Noguchi between the 1930s and 1950s.

3 Yanagi was also featured at another exhibition on Japanese design just metres away from the Musée du Quai Branly – Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today –, at the Japan Cultural Institute in Paris (Maison de la culture du Japon à Paris), lending further weight to the idea that he had initiated a rediscovery of Japanese crafts that had helped to revive modern industrial design. In fact, the catalogue for this exhibition

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presented Yanagi’s views on the necessary coexistence of craftsmanship and industrial design as the “archetype of the vision driving design today”.3

4 This interpretation led the organisers of the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition to play down certain important aspects of the Folk Crafts Movement, such as its Western intellectual and aesthetic origins, its links to Buddhism and its pictorial dimension. In this respect, the exhibition differed significantly from the first two major mingei exhibitions: held in the United States from 1995 to 1997 at the instigation of the Japan Folk Crafts Museum (Nihon Mingeikan),4 and at the Museum of Asian Arts in Nice (Musée des arts asiatiques) in 2000 and based on a private collection.5

5 Moreover, we have recently witnessed the emergence of new interpretations of the movement focusing on the ideological principles that underpinned Yanagi’s work. Notable examples include Kikuchi Yuko and Kim Brandt, authors of two publications that retrace the history of the Mingei movement in a colonial context, seeing it primarily as a kind of “cultural nationalism” or a contribution to the creation of a “modern national style”.6 Other research, such as that of Inaga Shigemi, has attempted to reveal the sequence of events that led Yanagi to “invent” an Asian aesthetic tradition in the context of colonial Japan.7

6 Other more radical analyses challenge the humanist interpretation of Yanagi’s work, even going as far as seeing a parallel between certain aspects of his views on folk crafts and the “fascist aesthetic” of the 1930s and wartime Europe.8 Yanagi’s views during this period are presented as those of a “reactionary modernist” – an expression used by the historian Jeffrey Herf to describe the Nazi German and Fascist Italian regimes –9 someone who rejected the individualism of modern society and criticised the “frail” nature of contemporary art.

7 Whilst acknowledging such interpretations, this volume of Cipango chiefly aims to put Yanagi’s work into perspective by shedding light on those aspects of the Folk Crafts Movement overlooked by the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition. It follows a Yanagi Sōetsu-themed workshop held at INALCO on 15 January 2009, organised as part of a Centre for Japanese Studies (Centre d’Études Japonaises) seminar and attended by Germain Viatte and Shiraha Akemi.

8 The majority of the papers presented at the workshop can be found here, in addition to two new research articles and a translation dealing with closely related issues. A presentation of these contributions is preceded by a brief review of the nature and implications of the Mingei movement founded by Yanagi.

Yanagi and the Folk Crafts Movement

9 Yanagi Sōetsu occupied a unique position on Japan’s intellectual and artistic scene during the first half of the twentieth century. Neither an artist nor an art historian in a scholarly sense, he was often described as a “thinker” specialising in aesthetics and religious philosophy. He was above all the founding father and spokesperson of the Folk Crafts Movement, or mingei undō. The term mingei 民藝 was coined in 1925 by Yanagi and two potters, Kawai Kanjirō and Hamada Shōji, with the aim of promoting the “functional beauty” of peasant pottery produced by anonymous craftspeople.

10 The term has been interpreted variously as “folk art” (minzoku geijutsu 民俗藝術), “peasant art” (nōmin bijutsu, 農民美術), and even “art of the people” (minshū geijutsu 民

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衆藝術). Yanagi refuted such interpretations,10 objecting in particular to the term “art” (bijutsu, geijutsu), which was coloured by a definition based on Western art categories imported to Japan during the Meiji era and which, in his eyes, had distorted the way ordinary objects were perceived. Yanagi understood his neologism to mean “crafts” (gei) “of the people” (min). He further advocated the use of less ambiguous and more concrete terms such as getemono 下手物 (“common object”) – a slang term used by stallholders at the flea markets he frequented in Kyoto during the 1920s – minki 民器 (“object of the people”), or even zakki 雑器 (“miscellaneous object”), though none of these enjoyed the same success as mingei.11

11 In practical terms, mingei was a generic term encompassing all manner of domestic utensils and objects, furniture or even clothing and textiles crafted by hand using traditional techniques that were either lost or dying out at the beginning of the twentieth century. It mainly referred to local creations from the late Edo or early Meiji eras, although much older objects – such as stone sculptures from the Jōmon period – would later capture Yanagi’s attention for their primitiveness.

12 Yanagi was quick to define mingei as being chiefly: anonymous creations, utilitarian in purpose, produced in large amounts, low in cost, plain and destined for common people, in contrast to crafts or works of art assigned to a particular artist, unique, luxurious and produced for the upper classes.

13 At first sight this definition emphasising the usability of objects differs little from the one used by folklorists to define folk crafts in other countries, notably in France. Take the work of Georges Henri Rivière12 at the National Museum of Popular Arts and Traditions, Paris (Musée des arts et traditions populaires) from the end of the 1930s, and that of his successor Jean Cuisenier, for example.13 Furthermore, let us not forget that in 1928 an International Commission on Folk Arts and Folklore14 was established in Prague and joined by Japan. Created under the aegis of the League of Nations, the commission aimed to “catalogue surviving traditions” and consider “how to protect those that still existed”.

14 However, Yanagi took pains to point out what distinguished his project from ethnographic museums such as the Nordiska Museum in Stockholm, which he visited in 1929 during a visit to Europe.15 His initiative differed from the ethnographic approach in that, rather than collecting a vast number of “reference works” in order to showcase a practice, history or milieu, it consisting in making a qualitative selection based on subjective aesthetic criteria. Nonetheless, the formal qualities of the object were considered from a functional perspective, thus giving rise to the well-known expression “functional beauty”, yō no bi 用の美.

15 Furthermore, one of the main objectives of Yanagi and proponents of his movement was to establish a collection of items chosen as models for creating new arts and crafts, new architecture or even a new form of figurative pictorial art.16 These latter two aspects of the movement were less successful and in consequence are probably less well known.

16 The Mingei movement gathered momentum with a planned museum in 1926, which became a reality in 1936 with the opening of the Japan Folk Crafts Museum in Tokyo. Although an aesthetic, rather than a methodical and scientific, approach lay behind this endeavour, the exhibits were nonetheless selected according to a range of criteria. The pioneering nature of this privately funded undertaking must be stressed, given that it came about at a time when Japan’s national museums had no interest in folk

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crafts, since they did not fit into the quest to construct a national identity founded on the “aristocratic arts” promoted by these institutions. In fact, Yanagi pointed out that his offer in the late 1920s to make his collections available to the Tokyo Imperial Museum (now the Tokyo National Museum) went without a response.17

17 According to Yanagi, in order to qualify as mingei the objects had to possess certain qualities, in particular by displaying an “honesty with regards their intended use”. This excluded manufactured or needlessly ornate objects. This stipulation was in part a reaction to the decline of traditional crafts and the industrial standardisation of everyday goods since the Meiji era.18

18 Nevertheless, although mingei – according to Yanagi – had to possess this practical value rather than simply being objects for aesthetic appreciation, they were not merely utilitarian. They were also required to fulfil a “criterion of beauty”, thus introducing a certain ambiguity into Yanagi’s project. As with so-called “primitive art”, this raised the question of the object’s autonomy and recognition of its artistic value beyond its practical value. Moreover, the involvement of artists making what were often expensive creations – including several individuals who were designated Living National Treasures after the war – is one of the movement’s many contradictions.

19 The establishment of the emblematic term mingei aimed to encompass a novel movement combining a reinterpretation, or rediscovery, of the crafts of the past with a promotion of contemporary design, with one enriching the other. This quest to invent a craft tradition can also be considered in light of its role in re-evaluating the history of Japanese art by taking into account its most popular forms.

20 The Folk Crafts Movement continues its activities today thanks to a network of regional associations located across Japan and some thirty or more affiliated museums, all of which come under the umbrella of the Japan Folk Crafts Association (Nihon mingei kyōkai 日本民藝協会). Note that it also enjoys an international reputation due to the concept having been exported, as it were, particularly to the United States. One pertinent example is the experiment carried out by the Mingei International Museum, founded in San Diego (California) in 1978 by Martha Longenecker,19 a potter and professor of art at the University of San Diego who worked in Japan with Hamada Shōji and was acquainted with Yanagi. By applying the ideas of the Folk Crafts Movement, this non-profit public institution is “dedicated to the understanding and appreciation of “art of the people” (mingei) from all cultures of the world” and organises many high quality exhibitions in this field.

Contributions to this volume

21 The Folk Crafts Movement can be analysed from a variety of perspectives: its contribution to modern design – which is the approach favoured by the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition – its reinterpretation of Japanese art (in particular from the Edo period), and its aesthetic or even social dimension. It raises a number of questions, such as its relationship with ethnology or its position concerning colonialism. While it does not claim to respond to each of these questions, this volume attempts to shed light on matters of recent debate.

22 Michael Lucken re-explores the important issue of the movement’s intellectual and aesthetic origins, for although it seems possible to speak of an abrupt change in

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Yanagi’s interests in the mid-1910s, when he began to turn his eye towards Korean folk art, his models remained for the most part Western. The Mingei movement has often been presented as anti-modern, the antithesis of the Western concept of individualist art. However, it should be remembered that this reinterpretation of the Japanese artistic tradition was based partly on ideas taken from late nineteenth-century European thinkers such as William Morris – founder of the Arts and Crafts Movement – and on the themes covered by art magazines like The Studio.20

23 Yanagi’s fascination for various forms of figurative folk arts – from Korean paintings to Ōtsu-e to votive plaques – is tackled by Christophe Marquet. At first glance this field of art may seem the furthest removed from the Folk Crafts Movement’s criteria of functionality and anonymity. However, Yanagi’s approach had the virtue of revealing an entire set of works disregarded by scholarly research for being “popular prints”, and studying their characteristics, function and history.

24 François Macé examines the vital role played by Yanagi at the beginning of the 1920s in rediscovering Mokujiki 木喰 (1718-1810), an eighteenth-century monk and sculptor who had been ignored previously by Buddhist art historians because his work “did not conform to the criteria of beauty”. This discovery, coming just before the concept of mingei was developed, demonstrates the nature of Yanagi’s research method and above all his keen and pertinent eye, capable of finding a “new beauty in the ugly”, a beauty that did not reside in technical virtuosity.

25 Finally, the early 1940s’ debate between Yanagi Sōetsu and the prominent folklorist Yanagita Kunio 柳田國男 (1875-1962) is analysed in detail by Damien Kunik. It provides a clearer understanding of the methodological and ideological differences separating folk studies from the Folk Crafts Movement, which were occasionally confused at the time, no doubt because both in part took an interest in the same type of objects. At the same time, it is clear just how much both movements helped reappraise the contribution of ordinary people (min) to Japanese culture in general, and this during a period that bookended the Second World War. Kunik, in association with Jean-Michel Butel, also provides a translation of Yanagi and Yanagita’s only public debate (broadcast on the radio in 1940), thus enabling readers to judge the nature of the debate between these two intellectuals and their respective stances concerning the materials common to both of their fields of investigation.

26 This text suggests that the folklorist Yanagita sided with descriptive science and refused to entangle himself in political debate (at least with regards to his research), since his movement did not intend to “influence culture”. In fact, the reality is more complicated, although Yanagita’s stance does reveal a difference between the two disciplines. While not completely lacking a scientific aspiration, Yanagi considered the Folk Crafts Movement above all as a means of establishing aesthetic standards. His activities implied value judgments and making selections. In contrast, the approach of folklorists and archaeologists was to make observations based on a study of the materials.

27 This volume concludes with Coralie Castel’s critical analysis of three Japanese art exhibitions held in Paris in 2008 – including the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition – focusing on the ideas and representations conveyed with regards to “Japanese identity”.

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NOTES

1. Germain Viatte (ed.), L’esprit mingei au Japon (The Mingei Spirit in Japan), Actes Sud, Musée du Quai Branly, 2008. Catalogue for the exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan. From Folk Craft to Design, presented in the Musée du Quai Branly garden gallery from 30 September 2008 to 11 January 2009. 2. After studying Western art at Tokyo University of the Arts, Yanagi Sōri worked as Charlotte Perriand’s assistant between 1940 and 1942. In 1950 he set up the Yanagi Industrial Design Institute (Yanagi indasutoriaru dezain kenkyūjo) where he created numerous everyday objects using traditional techniques and reflecting the mingei spirit. In 1977 he took charge of the Japan Folk Crafts Museum (Mingeikan) founded by his father in Tokyo. See the exhibition catalogue Yanagi Sōri. Seikatsu no naka no dezain 柳宗理 — 生活のなかのデザイン (Yanagi Sōri. Design in Everyday Life), The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, 2007, and in particular the essay by Kida Takuya 木田拓也, entitled “Yanagi Sōri no dezain to mingei” 柳宗理のデザインと民藝 (Mingei and the Designs of Yanagi Sōri), pp. 12-14. 3. Fukagawa Masafumi, « Visages du “Wa”. Harmonie dans le design de produits au Japon » (The Different Faces of ‘Wa’. Harmony in Japanese Product Design) in Kashiwagi Hiroshi et al., Wa: l’harmonie au quotidien. Design japonais d’aujourd’hui (Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today), Paris, Maison de la culture du Japon à Paris, 2008, p. 23. 4. Mingei. Two Centuries of Japanese Folk Art (Peabody Essex Museum, Joslyn Art Museum, Asian Art Museum of San Francisco, Fort Worth Museum of Science and History), The Japan Folk Crafts Museum, 1995. This exhibition aimed to present the various aspects of Japanese folk crafts through a 140-piece collection dating from the sixteenth to the twentieth century, classified according to their medium (textile, pottery, lacquerware, wood, metal and painting). 5. Marie-Pierre Foissy-Aufrère, Eliza Barrère, Dominique Buisson and Robert Moes, Mingei de la collection Montgomery. Beauté du quotidien au Japon (Mingei from the Montgomery Collection. Everyday Beauty in Japan), Nice, Musée des arts asiatiques, 2000. 6. Yuko Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory. Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism, New York, Routledge Curzon, 2004; Kim Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty. Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan, Durham, Duke University Press, 2007. See the review of this last book in Cipango. Cahiers d’études japonaises, n°16, p. 149-155. (http://cipango.revues.org/270) 7. Inaga Shigemi, “Reconsidering the Mingei Undō as a Colonial Discourse: The Politics of Visualizing Asian ‘Folk Craft’”, Asiatische Studien, 1999, vol. 53, no. 2, pp. 219-230. 8. Noriko Aso, “Mediating the Masses: Yanagi Sōetsu and Fascism”, in Alan Tansman and Marilyn Ivy (eds.), The Culture of Japanese Fascism, Durham, Duke University Press, 2009, pp 139-154; Alan Tansman, The Aesthetics of Japanese Fascism, Berkeley, University of California Press, 2009, and in particular, “A Vision of Beautiful Things: Yanagi Sōetsu”, pp. 107-118. 9. Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism: Technology, Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1984. 10. See his text “Mingei no shushi” 民藝の趣旨 (The Meaning of Mingei), 1933, in Yanagi Sōetsu, Mingei yonjū-nen 民藝四十年 (Four Decades of the Folk Crafts Movement), Tokyo, 1958, reissued by Iwanami Shoten, Iwanami Bunko collection, 1984, pp. 159-173. This text was translated into French by Anne Bayard-Sakai in L’esprit mingei au Japon (The Mingei Spirit in Japan), op cit., p. 13-24. 11. For an analysis of such terminological matters see Élisabeth Frolet in Yanagi Sōetsu ou les éléments d’une renaissance artistique au Japon (Yanagi Sōetsu: Elements of an Artistic Revival in Japan), Paris, Publications de la Sorbonne, 1986, p. 74-76.

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12. See Nina Gorgus, Le magicien des vitrines. Le muséologue Georges Henri Rivière (The Museologist Georges Henri Rivière: Showcase Magician), Paris, Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 2003. 13. See, among others, Jean Cuisenier, L’art populaire en France. Rayonnement, modèles et sources (French Folk Art, its Influence, Models and Origins), Fribourg, Office du Livre, 1975. 14. See Nina Gorgus, « Georges Henri Rivière et l’Europe » (Georges Henri Rivière and Europe), in Jacqueline Christophe, Denis-Michel Boëll and Régis Meyran, Du folklore à l’ethnologie (From Folklore to Ethnology), Paris, Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 2009, p. 370. In 1964 the commission became the International Society for Ethnology and Folklore. 15. See Yanagi Sōetsu, “Mingeikan no seiritsu”, 民藝館の生立 (Birth of the Japan Folk Crafts Museum), 1935, published in Yanagi Sōetsu Zenshū 柳宗悦全集 (The Complete Works of Yanagi Sōetsu, referred to hereafter as YSZ), vol. 16, Tokyo, Chikuma Shobō, 1981, pp. 52-53. 16. Note that the concept of the “artistic role” of ethnographic museums, in which the exhibits were a source of inspiration for artists and helped to disseminate unknown techniques, was not dissimilar to the plan developed by Georges Henri Rivière in 1931. See Nina Gorgus, Le magicien des vitrines, op cit., p. 55. 17. See Yanagi Sōetsu, « La beauté en quête de critères » (Towards a Standard of Beauty), in Artisan et inconnu. La beauté dans l’esthétique japonaise (published in English as The Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty), adapted by Bernard Leach, translated by Mathilde Bellaigue, Paris, L’Asiathèque, 1992, p. 17. 18. Ibid., p. 19. 19. Martha Longenecker is the author of, among others, Mingei of Japan. The Legacy of the Founders. Sōetsu Yanagi, Shōji Yamada, Kanjirō Kawai, San Diego, Mingei International Museum, 2006. 20. The hybrid nature of the Mingei movement was highlighted by Élisabeth Frolet in « Yanagi Sōetsu et son mouvement d’art populaire, le mingei undō. Le rôle ambigu de l’Europe et de sa modernité dans la formation d’un mouvement artistique japonais dans les années 30 » (Yanagi Sōetsu and his Folk Crafts Movement, mingei undō. The Ambiguous Role of Europe and its Modernity in Creating a Japanese Art Movement in the 1930s), Gazette des Beaux-Arts, vol. 109, no 1417, February 1987, p. 87-96.

RÉSUMÉS

Introduction au dossier sur le mingei undō (mouvement des Arts populaires) et son fondateur, Yanagi Sōetsu, fruit d'une rencontre qui s'est tenue le 15 janvier 2009 à l'INALCO.

Introduction to the issue on mingei undō (Folk Art movement) and its founder, Yanagi Sōetsu, which is the result of a symposium held at INALCO on January 15, 2009.

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INDEX

Mots-clés : mingei – mouvement artistique, culture populaire, arts populaires, folklore, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), objets, culture matérielle, objets usuels Thèmes : ethnologie, anthropologie, histoire de l'art Index chronologique : Shōwa キーワード : minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, busshitsu bunka 物質文化, taishū bunka 大衆文化, minzoku 民俗, mingei undō 民芸運動, nichiyōhin 日用品, mingeihin 民芸品, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗 悦 (1889-1961), jinruigaku 人類学, minzokugaku 民族学, bijutsushi 美術史, Taishō jidai 大正時代 (1912-1926), Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Keywords : utensils, material culture, folk art, popular culture, Mingei, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), anthropology, ethnology

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The Invention of “Folk Crafts”: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei

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The Endless pursuit of inner desires: Yanagi Sōetsu before Mingei À la poursuite infinie des désirs intérieurs : Yanagi Sōetsu avant le Mingei

Michael Lucken

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original release: Michael Lucken, « À la poursuite infinie des désirs intérieurs : Yanagi Sōetsu avant le Mingei », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 15 novembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.388.

1 Viewed from Japan, the writer and critic Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961) appears to have lived two lives: one spanning the 1910s, a period corresponding to his involvement in the literary journal Shirakaba 白樺 (1910-1923), during which he took an interest in Christian mystics and certain Western artists such as Rodin and Blake; and a second one beginning around 1920, which saw him campaign for the cultural development of Korea and a rediscovery, or reinvention, of folk crafts (mingei 民藝). Although these two sides to Yanagi’s work often appear contradictory, the Folk Crafts Movement was in many respects a continuation of the extraordinary human and intellectual adventure that Shirakaba represented.

2 If the name Yanagi is known at all in France, it is solely for his role in the Folk Crafts Movement, and this largely thanks to publications by the likes of Élisabeth Frolet and Bernard Leach – including an adaptation of a text by Yanagi – which highlight this aspect of Yanagi’s work.1 And yet no serious publication on Shirakaba exists in French and the importance of the journal’s role is not clearly understood.2 The exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan, held at the Musée du Quai Branly in autumn 2008, reflected this lack of knowledge. By establishing a direct link between Japan’s folk crafts of the past and contemporary furniture, without taking the time to illustrate the intellectual and artistic context of the period, the exhibition presented Yanagi’s efforts as those of an

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aesthete devoid of history who supposedly enabled contemporary design to rediscover its roots deep within Japanese and Far Eastern soil.

3 In this short article I hope to outline some of the issues linked to Yanagi’s views during the 1910s, partly to highlight the driving forces at work and partly to demonstrate how his novel conception of folk art evolved. In other words, my intention is to place the Mingei movement back in a historical context. I will not, however, explore the links between Mingei and other folk craft movements around the world – such as William Morris’ Arts and Crafts Movement – and instead refer readers to the research cited in footnote3 that deals with this issue.

4 This article is divided into four sections that examine two core issues in the texts written by Yanagi during the 1910s, namely that of the individual creator and that of the work of art. The former will illustrate how such a notion as the people, collectiveness, “we” – which was central to the Folk Crafts Movement – resulted from a “collective” crisis in the ideal of the artistic self (le moi créateur), a driving force for writers and artists at the time. The latter will lead us to examine the birth of the Mingei movement as coming in the wake of an attempt to re-enchant both images and the world.

The individual

5 Shirakaba was a monthly journal published between April 1910 and August 1923. It was founded by a group of writers, most of whom were graduates of the Peers School (Gakushūin), the most famous – other than Yanagi – being Mushanokōji Saneatsu 武者 小路実篤 (1885-1976), Shiga Naoya 志賀直哉 (1883-1971), Kinoshita Rigen 木下利玄 (1886-1925) and the Arishima brothers: Arishima Takeo 有島武郎 (1878-1923), Arishima Ikuma 有島生馬 (1882-1974) and Satomi Ton 里見弴 (1888-1983). The term Shirakaba movement (Shirakaba-ha 白樺派) is used as a general reference to all those involved in the journal, or even to that entire generation.

6 Open-minded and demanding by nature, Yanagi was instrumental in developing the journal’s influence, enlisting for example the help of brilliant figures such as the novelist Nagayo Yoshirō 長與善郎4 or the artist and potter Bernard Leach, who designed the front covers of many issues.5 More generally, his extensive reading of Western publications enabled him to influence an entire generation of writers, intellectuals and artists from the 1910s onwards. Although Mushanokōji Saneatsu, with his eloquence and powerful writing, maintained a prominent position in the group until setting up his New Village (Atarashiki Mura) in 1918,6 Yanagi was nonetheless Shirakaba’s kingpin and critical engine.

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Shirakaba’s New Year’s meeting. Kanda, Tokyo, 4 January 1912

Standing, from left to right: Mushanokōji Saneatsu, Koizumi Magane, Takamura Kōtarō, Kinoshita Rigen, Ōgimachi Kinkazu, Nagayo Yoshirō, Kusaka Jin (Ōgimachi Saneyoshi). Sitting, from left to right: Tanaka Uson, Shiga Naoya, Satomi Ton, Yanagi Sōetsu, Sonoike Kin’yuki, Aoki Naosuke, Arishima Ikuma.

Photograph commemorating the 10-year anniversary of Shirakaba. Shiba Park, Tokyo, 5 April 1919

Standing, from left to right: Ozaki Kihachi, Satake Hiroyuki, Yawata Sekitarō, Shinjō Waichi, Tsubaki Sadao, Bernard Leach, Koizumi Magane, Kondō Keiichi, Kinoshita Rigen, Kishida Ryūsei, Shiga Naoya, Nagayo Yoshirō, Takamura Kōtarō. Sitting, from left to right: Yanagi Sōetsu, Kimura Shōhachi, Mushanokōji Saneatsu, Seimiya Hitoshi, Inukai Takeru.

Shirakaba, no. 1-1, April 1910

Cover illustration: Kojima Kikuo.

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Shirakaba, no. 1-8, November 1910

Illustration: Minami Kunzō.

Shirakaba, no. 9-2, February 1918

Cover illustration: Bernard Leach.

Shirakaba, no. 9-7, July 1918

Illustration: Kishida Ryūsei.

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7 Early issues of Shirakaba, published between 1910 and 1912, played a decisive role in the Japanese reception of several major Western artists who, from 1910 and Roger Fry’s London exhibition, tended to be grouped together under the label Post-Impressionism (kōki inshō-ha 後期印象派 or kō-inshō-ha 後印象派).7 Notable examples include the issue on Rodin in November 1910 and on Renoir and Van Gogh in March and October 1911 respectively. Yanagi wrote for and was actively involved in each of these issues.

8 However, as Kinoshita Nagahiro 木下長宏 pointed out, it was more for their personalities than their work that the artists stood out.8 During this period the moving nature of Van Gogh’s life, which his letters to his brother Theo in particular conveyed, was a vital element in the recognition of the Dutch painter in Japan. This salient point was made by Yanagi in an important article on Van Gogh, Gauguin, Cézanne and Matisse, entitled “Painters of the Revolution” (Kakumei no gaka 革命の画家), published in January 1912. Concluding his article by examining the role of individuality in the creative process, Yanagi writes:9 The solemn existence of the individual is a fundamental reality in which we have unshakeable faith. A life without this individuality is a meaningless existence. Cultivating our individuality is thus our one and only duty. Our lifetime is the time allotted to us to perfect our individuality. Human life is none other than the endless pursuit of our inner desires. It is only when we bring our inner desires to life that we may learn the value of existence. Van Gogh was just such a “man who gave life”. Only such a way of living is capable of affirming human life. And life affirmed is pure energy. It holds infinite power and authority within. To enrich our lives is to give substance to this authority. Showing greatness and individuality sets universal forces in motion. Superior individuals imply superior humanity. 個性の厳粛なる存在は吾等の動かし難き第一義の事実である。此自己の生命を おいて吾等が存在には何の意義もない。かくて個性の充実とは吾等に与へられ たる唯一の本務である。吾等が生涯とは此個性の充全の為に賦与せられたる時 間である。人生とは此内部の要求に対する無限なる追求に外ならない。吾等は 此内心の要求に於て活ける時、始めて生の価値を知り得るのである。ゴオホは 斯くの如くにして「活ける人」であつた。活ける生命に於てのみ人生は其存在 を肯定し得るのである。然も肯定せられたる人生は力である。そこには無限の 威力と権威とがある。吾等が生命の充実とは此権威の体現である。個性にして 偉大なる時、そは普遍の力を齎らさねば止まない。偉大なる個性の価値は引い て偉大なる人類の価値である。

9 This emphasis on the “individual” (kosei 個性) or the “self” (jiko 自己) as the fundamental principle of creation is characteristic of Yanagi’s early texts. It was fuelled by many sources, in particular Nietzsche, whose seminal text Thus Spoke Zarathoustra had recently been made available to the Japanese public through a translation by Ikuta Chōkō 生田長江.10 The same emphasis is evident in Mushanokōji’s writings in the articles he wrote for Shirakaba’s opinion column, “Miscellaneous Notes” (Rokugō zakkan 六号雑感), and in the work of the painter Kishida Ryūsei 岸田劉生 (1891-1929), who was closely tied with the journal.11

10 In an article published in the Yomiuri Shinbun in late 1912 during an exhibition by the Fusain Society,12 Kishida writes:13 In truth, no one can understand me; no one can help me better than I can. It is difficult to take a cold hard look at oneself. However, the emptiness of a life lived without doing so is unbearable. For me, the only way I can attempt to grow is through painting, and so I gaze deeply at my work. I gaze so deeply that I pierce a hole. My paintings coldly reveal me as I am, shattering all my illusions about

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myself. I expose my reality as it is; I observe it attentively, but the sad reality does not bring the kind of enlightenment that puts a smile on the face every day. 実際、自己を一番よく理解し、一番よく自分に力をそへる者は自分自身を措い て外に無い。自分は自分自身を、冷かに見つめる事を苦痛に思ふ。しかし、自 分自身の事を考えずに暮す空虚には堪へられない。自分が成長しようとするの はどうしても絵を描く事である。そして、それをぢつと見つめる事である。穴 のあく程見つめる事である。自分の絵は、自分が自分に対する一切の幻を打ち 破つて冷かなありのままの自分を曝露して居る。自分は、自分の現実を只あり のままに曝露して、それをまざまざと打ち眺めてその悲哀に日々笑む程に悟り は開いて居ない。

11 There is no fundamental divergence between this statement and the views of Yanagi. Even the language used is similar, in particular the characteristic sentence rhythm common to writers of this generation. This emphasis on the creative power of the “individual” was shared by an entire group of young men who were searching for a way to express it through writing or painting.

12 By two years later Yanagi’s interest in Van Gogh and Rodin had waned somewhat, while his main focus had shifted to William Blake, the English artist and poet from the late eighteenth to the early nineteenth century. Though Blake’s work is clearly very different to that of Van Gogh or Renoir, the formal elements of art were of little interest to Yanagi, who was above all fascinated by the attitude of the English engraver and the way he presented himself to the world:14 [Blake] hated constraints and censorship. He longed for his country to be a world of freedom and creation. He was convinced that the inner desires of man possessed an infinite power. He advocated the infinite emanation of man through a rebellion against oppression. His great desire for self-realisation was an ideal he retained throughout his entire lifetime. In the name of life he courageously broke all the established rules. Freedom and emancipation are the only gates of grace through which life’s travellers must pass. 彼の嫌悪したのは束縛であり禁制だつた。彼の憧憬した国士は自由と創造との 世界だつた。彼は人間内性の欲望が無限の力を宿す事を信じてゐた。彼は抑圧 に対する強烈なによつて人生の無限なを讃えてゐる。自己実現に対する偉大な 抱負は彼が生涯失はなかつた理想である。彼は之を制定するあらゆる法則を生 命の名によつて勇ましくも破壊した。自由と解放とは人生の旅人が通過すべき 唯一の祝福ある金門だつた。

13 Yanagi has barely changed his views on individual genius. However, a comparison with his texts from 1910-1912 indicates that he had acquired an increasingly mystical view of the individual. What he discerned in the great artists – and Blake in particular – was the singular mirroring the whole. As he explained to Bernard Leach in a letter written in English and dated 8 November 1915:15 As you already know, I am deeply interested in Christian mysticism, partly from my own nature, partly from studying Blake. I have long struggled with the problem of dualism, battling against life’s divisions – body and soul, Heaven and Hell, God and man, etc. How to escape them, how to free ourselves from them – how to unite or organise these dualisms – has been my constant concern. The first time I encountered Blake’s thinking, the result of which is expressed in my laborious and joyous study of this strange and great genius, a new life began.

14 Nonetheless, the originality of this “new life” is questionable, for it was at this precise time that Mushanokōji and Kishida Ryūsei made a similar about-turn. Another example that comes to mind is that of Kurata Hyakuzō 倉田百三, who in 1916 published Shukke to sono deshi 出家とその弟子 (The Priest and his Disciples), a hugely successful play about the priest Shinran 親鸞.16 While Yanagi’s intellectual and spiritual journey was

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undoubtedly aided by his reading of Blake and Christian thinkers, as well as his discovery of Zen, there was a consistency in the paths followed by Shirakaba members – a closely knit group at its beginnings – that tended to transform their characteristic search for the absolute into a social phenomenon.

The substance at work

15 Jean-Jacques Origas used to say of Yanagi that he lived “in permanent contact with the ‘earth’”.17 The Folk Crafts Movement, with its emphasis on local crafts, is the best known expression of this interest. His deep attachment to Pure Land Buddhism (Jōdo Shinshū), particularly in the latter half of his life, can also be interpreted symbolically from this angle. However, signs of this attachment were already visible in his youth in the 1910s.

16 Yanagi’s passion for earth and land initially manifested itself through his love of ceramics, an art form that uses clay to create objects in a variety of shapes and for a variety of purposes. Particularly since the objects of which Yanagi was so fond were relatively plain, with the substance from which they were crafted discernible to the eye or the touch. In fact, Yanagi forged ties with potters well before the Folk Crafts Movement was launched, notably with Tomimoto Kenkichi 富本憲吉, who he met in 1912. Whilst living at Abiko 我孫子 he also closely followed Leach’s progress in this field, even helping him to build a kiln in his garden. Finally, he put together a small collection of Chinese ceramics in the 1910s, before expanding it in the 1920s to include Korean pottery from the Yi Dynasty and then any folk wares. In moving to the countryside in 1914, closely following the work of potters and beginning to collect ceramics, Yanagi was clearly drawn to the figure of the artist as demiurge.

17 It is widely known that one of the images that most fascinated Japanese artists in the 1910s was the biblical image of God creating the world and man. In Yanagi’s case, this was particularly visible in his fascination with William Blake, in whose work this theme is omnipresent. In fact, in a monograph on the English artist published in 1914, Yanagi begins with a reference to one of Blake’s most famous pieces, The Ancient of Days (1797), which is reproduced in the text. It depicts Urizen – Blake’s Yahweh – tracing the first circle of the Earth:18 The elderly god sits hunched up in the centre of the sun, contemplating the blue sky below. His outstretched left hand is open like a compass, tracing the outline of the Earth. God is preparing to create the beginnings of the Earth from the empty chaos below. 年老いた神が太陽の中央に座つて身を屈め乍ら遠く碧空を下に見おろしてゐ る。彼は今左手を長く延べてコムパスの度を拡げ、地球の圏囲を定めてゐる。 神は渾沌の虚空から太初の地を造らうとするのである。

18 The biblical theme of the creation myth (or its variants, like the one invented by Blake) is a subject common to many of Yanagi’s contemporaries. In 1914, the year Blake was published, Kishida Ryūsei created a series of etchings in which Adam can be seen biting into the earth. Although not obviously connected to the Bible, one could also cite the example of several poems written by Takamura Kōtarō 高村光太郎 in The Journey (Dōtei 道程, 1914), in which the theme of earth in all its forms is used as a metaphor for the creative awakening. More subversive in style is “Devil’s Tongue” (Akuma no Shita 悪魔 の舌), a short novel by Murayama Kaita 村山槐多, once again from the period

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1914-1915, in which the protagonist, a poet by the name of Kaneko, tells the story of his long downfall from the moment he began eating earth to the day he devoured the body of his own brother, who he had killed without recognizing.19

19 In phenomenological terms, promoting the use of earth and enjoying how it feels to the touch is to affirm the importance of that which is malleable, viscous and indefinable, in contrast to that which is hard, formal and closed. In other words, it means rejecting the primacy of abstract representation, scientific truth and the reproducible experiment. However, Yanagi’s reasoning at the beginning of the Taishō era was that only geniuses, only superior human beings, were capable of bringing raw matter to life rather than being engulfed by it. This explains his interest in Blake, Rodin, Van Gogh or even Cézanne.

20 Earth is nevertheless a dangerous element because it carries not only the promise of creation but also a reminder of death. It represents both man’s origins and his future. Any artist confronting it head on is caused to oscillate between the feeling of power that comes with dominating it and the impression that it is impossible to escape. Yanagi was obviously aware of this, as was Blake before him. Seen from this perspective, Yanagi’s call as of 1925-1926 to transcend the desire to create art by abandoning oneself to the act itself and to practising one’s technique automatically, without thought, in some ways stems from a surrender on his behalf. It was not so much Yanagi who “discovered” folk art and earth’s heuristic, anonymous power, but rather earth that exerted its power over those who believed themselves capable of dominating it. The path leading to the Mingei movement more closely resembled that of a defeat than a positive revelation.

Re-enchanted images

21 It is astonishing how little is known about Yanagi’s academic career. In the spring of 1919 he was appointed professor in the philosophy department at Tōyō Daigaku 東洋大 学, a private university in Tokyo whose founder and figurehead was none other than Inoue Enryō 井上円了 (1858-1919). With Inoue having died in Manchuria in June of that year, the two men were unable to become closely acquainted; however, it is certain that Inoue played a decisive role in Yanagi’s appointment20. In some ways one was the other’s successor.

22 That these two figures should come together in this way is intriguing. Inoue Enryō is known for his decades spent attempting to explain the true nature of supernatural phenomena and other sources of popular confusion. A savant, devout Buddhist and firm believer in the national cause, he channelled all his energy into exploiting the virtues of a positive and illuminating science.21 Certain aspects of Yanagi’s activities can be seen as a continuation of Inoue’s. Both had an immense capacity for work, the ability to digest modern knowledge and a desire to speak to the people. However, Yanagi’s fascination with objects and images clearly sets the two men apart. While Inoue appealed to artists to use their talents to serve reality and truth, Yanagi’s approach to images was always close to magical in nature.

23 Take the example of Yanagi’s March 1911 article on Renoir, in which he described the works of the Cagnes-sur-Mer master in detail. Contrary to expectations, while biographical details are scant, Yanagi provides extensive and precise descriptions of

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Renoir’s paintings. He describes Lise (1867) and The Dancer (known as Maihime in Japanese), an 1874 painting not reproduced in the text, in the following terms:22 In this painting, The Dancer, the same pale white colour that enveloped Lise once again emphasises the contours and highlights the body of the young girl. The layers of her pale blue tutu merge almost entirely into the background; the hazy outline of her figure, her brown hair and her pink slippers look like so many tiny colourful touches; an indescribable effect emanates from this painting, whose overall impression is that of an abundance of rich colours […] 此「舞姫」の画では、かの“Lise”を包んだ淡い白色は更に形を納めて若い女の 肉体を強めて居る、浅藍色の沙の裾は殆ど背後に溶け込む様で、朧ろげな外廓 や褐色の髪や桃色の靴等は只一筆の色に触れたゞけであるが、其全体の印象は 色彩の豊富を以て満ちて居る、

24 Further on in the text, whilst comparing Renoir and Degas, Yanagi writes of:23 The pale crimsons, like those of ripe peaches, the reds, as deep as burst tomatoes, the jade blue shining in the southern sun, all these colours that he places before our eyes and in which he excels […] 彼は勝ち誇れる色彩を目のあたりに示した、熟せる桃の如き薄紅、裂けたるト マトーの如き深い赤、南の空の光れる碧（後略）

25 When we recall Yanagi’s tastes as they later manifested themselves in the Mingei movement, it is hard not to be surprised by the sensuality and lyricism expressed here. Using a precise yet rich language, Yanagi attempts to define paintings that constantly resist description. One painting remains “full of mystery” (fushigi ni michita), while another “brings to mind a fairy-tale village” (yōsei no sato o omowaseru).24 We are far from the kantian Buddhism of Inoue.

26 This is even more evident in “The New Science” (Atarashiki Kagaku), a 1910 article in which Yanagi presents an account of various apparitions, haunted houses and other strange events taken from Western scientific sources.25 Whereas Inoue, in the face of such phenomena, countered appearances with truth, Yanagi saw science and the arts as a new means of revealing “the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related”.26 For him, the truth was contained within appearances themselves.

27 Yanagi illustrated his text with reproductions of several photos of “ghosts” taken using a special technique, or into which ghosts had slipped without the photographer’s knowledge. He concludes that:27 If we consider these facts to be true, we must accept that we perceive things invisible to the naked eye through the sensitivity of photography, and that it is also possible that there are many spirits roaming the ether. 若しかゝる事実を真なりとすれば、吾人が肉眼によつて認識し能はざるものが 鋭敏なる写真に感じるのである、更に推測すれば此大気中には、幾多の精霊が 彷徨へると見る可きである。

28 Although Yanagi applied a rigorous and methodical approach to studying these phenomena, one senses that he was extremely open to the idea that, beyond the limits of human sight, the world was bubbling with mysterious and interacting forces; that objects were pulsing with life for anyone possessing the technical, intellectual and spiritual means to perceive it.

29 At the beginning of the 1910s Yanagi had yet to leave Japan’s shores. Given that at the time no public collection of modern art existed in Japan, the only means for Yanagi to learn about Western artwork was through books and series of postcards imported from overseas. In other words, through photographic reproductions; the same type of

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objects that enabled him to recognise the existence of ghosts. In most cases these reproductions consisted of black and white prints, even in the case of Western books such as the famous series published by Piper & Co, Munich, on Cézanne (1910), Renoir (1911) and Van Gogh (1911), which contain not a single colour illustration. As one of the most avid collectors of pictures and illustrated albums in Japan at the time, many contemporary artists and writers, such as Kishida Ryūsei, Kimura Shōhachi 木村荘八28 and Mushanokōji Saneatsu,29 would gather at Yanagi’s home to admire them.

30 This observation serves to underline a well-known phenomenon, namely that reproductions played a decisive role in Japan’s modern art adventure. Kinoshita Nagahiro was one of the first to analyse this phenomenon:30 Those who had only seen the reproductions remained intellectually active, whilst those who had seen the original works retreated into a gloomy silence that excluded all reflection. (Thus we cannot consider the experience of seeing the original works as superior.) 複製しか見ない者は理屈が多くなり、本物を見た者はそこに理屈にならない貴 重な経験を抱えて寡黙になるといい切ってしまう【ということは、本物を経験 していることの優位性を認める】わけにはいかない。

31 The incomplete nature of the reproduction stimulated the imagination and creativity of those artists who remained in Japan; while in contrast, the sudden discovery of the originals impoverished the perspective of those who had travelled to Europe. In recent times Tsuchida Maki 土田眞紀 has continued the work of Kinoshita. In an article on Yanagi and Shirakaba members, Tsuchida describes the enthusiasm that gripped them in the face of Western artworks, leading her to the following conclusion:31 If we compare their attitude to reproductions with their attitude to the “originals” by Rodin,32 it would seem that the difference was merely one of degree rather than of nature. […] It is possible to consider that [for Shirakaba members], the reproductions were mores than mere substitutes for the originals; they possessed a kind of “exactness”, the experience of which was clearly, for the person in question, “here and now” and unique in nature. 複製図版に対する彼らの反応は、ロダンの〈本物〉への反応と、程度の差はあ れ、質的にはほとんど変わりなかったのではないだろうか。(中略) その意味で 複製図版は〈本物〉の代用品以上のものであり、彼らにとってはある「真正 さ」さえ帯びており、その経験する側にとっては紛れもなく〈いまーここ〉 的、一回的な経験であり得たように思われる。

32 With their delocalised nature, strange materiality and the expectations they created, reproductions appear to have increased the perception of many modern Japanese artists of the image as a radiant power.

33 However, this heightened sensibility was far from limited to photographic reproductions. In Yanagi’s eyes, all objects could have an enchanted nature that went beyond the boundaries of their function or meaning. This is an important point to bear in mind when considering Yanagi’s work on folk crafts. It is impossible to understand his relationship with everyday objects, such as the Korean pottery of the Yi Dynasty, outside of this perspective.

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Individual discovery of the “we” or collective crisis of the “I”?

34 Yanagi’s discourse and priorities in matters of taste changed dramatically around 1920. In 1916 he discovered Korean art during a trip to the Korean peninsula. Three years later, in July 1919, he published some reproductions of Japanese Buddhist art in Shirakaba, a first for the journal. In February 1920 he then went on to write his first article on Korean sculpture, accompanying it with several illustrations. This is generally considered to be a turning point for Yanagi, marking the emergence of his folk craft theory.

35 During his trip to Korea, Yanagi was deeply affected by the conditions of those living under Japanese rule. In a 1920 article entitled “Letter to my Korean Friends” (Chōsen no tomo ni okuru sho 朝鮮の友に贈る書), he wrote:33 At this moment I hope with all my heart that the day will come when the abnormal relations between our two countries will be set right. Korea, which is really Japan’s sibling, must not become its slave. More than just a dishonour to Korea, it is an absolute disgrace to Japan. 私は今、二つの国にある不自然な関係が正される日の来ることを、切に希って いる。まさに日本にとっての兄弟である朝鮮は、日本の奴隷であってはなら ぬ。それは朝鮮の不名誉であるよりも、日本にとっての恥辱の恥辱である。

36 From this point onwards Yanagi had a clear tendency to consider art from a national and collective perspective rather than an individual one. He ceased publishing monographs as he had done previously for Blake, Renoir and Rodin, and instead focused on periods, genres and styles, with titles including “Sung Dynasty Art”, “Yi Dynasty Art”, “Korean Ceramics” and “Japanese Art”. The emergence of his folk craft theory was part of this new conceptual framework promoting collective works and general concepts.

37 This new direction gradually led Yanagi to dismiss the value of individual creation, as demonstrated in Beauty and Crafts (Bi to Kōgei), which can be considered the first text to comprehensively set out the aims of the Mingei movement:34 Why is beauty so much more apparent in “ordinary objects” than in “sophisticated objects”? First and foremost because of a difference in frame of mind at the time of creation. Because the lack of intent of the former – compared to the ambition of the latter – is in a purer land. Because detachment implies something much deeper than consciousness. Because self-effacement is a more solid foundation than self- control. Because anonymity provides a calmer environment than signing [one’s work]. Because necessity is a better guarantee of beauty than the intentional act. なぜ「上手物」より却て「下手物」にかくも豊かな美が現れてくるか。それは 一つに作る折の心の状態の差異によると云はねばなりません。前者の有想より も後者の無想が、より清い境地にあるからです。意識よりも無心の方が、更に 深いものを含むからです。主我の念よりも忘我の方が、より深い基礎となるか らです。在銘よりも無銘の方が、より安らかな環境にあるからです。作為より も必然が、一層厚く美を保証するからです。

38 While in texts from the 1910s the individual was a core element and nothing seemed possible without the artist’s subjectivity, from the 1920s onwards subjectivity was rejected, with the genuine artist becoming someone who, in the creative act, abandoned his desire to create art. This change in the space of a few years has the virtue of clearly underlining the historicity of Yanagi’s Buddhistic discourse which aimed, as in the previous quote, to promote the artist’s detachment from his work

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through mechanically performed gestures and an absence of desire to leave a personal trace.

39 A similar conclusion is reached if we observe the evolution in Yanagi’s style of writing. During the 1910s he used a precise and powerful language that was also extremely dynamic. In contrast, from the beginning of the Shōwa era he adopted a simple, repetitive and dogmatic style. Whereas previously he had been capable of waxing lyrical about works of art, as we saw in his article on Renoir, his language now tended to be dry and impersonal. Many of his texts from the 1930s to 1950s are nothing more than a succession of predictable, easy-to-remember phrases framed in a clumsy questions and answers pattern. He ceased to address his peers as he had done during his Shirakaba days, focusing instead on an anonymous, ordinary “people”.

40 Nonetheless, Yanagi was not alone in attempting to get back in touch with the people. In many ways he was merely reacting to the new state of affairs within his intellectual circle. Having spent eight or nine years asserting the strength of their creative self, and at a time when the world was coming to terms with the Russian Revolution and the end of the First World War, Shirakaba members now shifted tactics and set about rethinking the individual in relation to a cultural, social or national collective. This was the case for Mushanokōji and Kurata, who in 1918 embarked on an agrarian adventure by setting up their New Village; for Arishima Takeo, who formed ties with socialist movements and in 1921 was involved in the launch of the journal Tanemaku Hito 種蒔く 人 (The Sowers);35 for Abe Jirō 阿部次郎 and Watsuji Tetsurō 和辻哲郎, who proposed a rediscovery of Japan’s literary and architectural heritage;36 and for Kishida Ryūsei and Kimura Shōhachi, who began to collect and study folk art from the Edo period. Yanagi’s creation of the Folk Crafts Movement can thus be seen as an adaptation of a more general movement among the intellectuals and artists of his generation. The change seen in his views and style was in many ways a series of shifts in reference point, an updating of his discourse, partly in reaction to major historical developments, and partly to the combustion of his own research materials.

41 However, although Yanagi was drawn to the people and collective ideals, he had no desire to imitate Mushanokōji by returning to the land and the village community. Nor did he possess the gloomy lucidity of Arishima Takeo who, a few months prior to committing suicide, wrote a kind of will-manifesto:37 One can be a great scholar, a thinker, an activist or a leader, but if one is not proletarian it is clearly absurd to want to help the proletariat in any way. The proletariat can only be disturbed by the vain efforts of such people. どんな偉い学者であれ、思想家であれ、運動家であれ、頭領であれ、第四階級 な労働者たることなしに、第四階級に何者をか寄与すると思つたら、それは明 らかに僭上沙汰である。第四階級はその人たちのむだな努力によつてかき乱さ れるのほかはあるまい.

42 While continuing to champion folk crafts and the genius of those who anonymously and spontaneously created everyday objects, Yanagi retained his position as an influential intellectual and wealthy collector. Compared to the failure of Mushanokōji, who left his New Village in 1926 to give his daughters a good education, and the tragic demise of Arishima, who ended his days in the company of his mistress at Karuizawa on June 9 1923, Yanagi’s attitude at least had a certain consistency. Nonetheless, the material and moral comfort of his journey has a cumbersomeness that is reflected in his style like the revenge of history.

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Conclusion

43 Despite what emerged through the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition, there is no continuity between Japan’s folk crafts of the past and contemporary design. The “we” that is seemingly shared by both the ceramics and textiles of the Edo period collected by Yanagi, and the work of his son, Yanagi Sōri 柳宗理 (1915-), is not of the same order. The “we” of the Folk Crafts Movement stems from a crisis; it was reconstructed after the “I” had been exhausted and under the influence of historical events overseas. The Mingei movement is not the link binding the depths of Japanese culture – its mysterious and magical dimension – to its modern and efficient side. To put it another way, the movement founded by Yanagi at the end of the 1920s was in many ways simply one of many offshoots of the Shirakaba group. Japanese historiography was under no illusions about this, with Shirakaba enjoying a far greater presence in Japan’s national museums and history textbooks than Mingei crafts.

44 If the aim had been to move away from a heroic and exotic account of Yanagi’s activities, a logical starting point would have been to present a critical examination of the many elements enabling us to situate these activities over time, something which the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition failed to do. While some Japanese art events may have favoured a formal and decontextualized presentation in order to appeal to and win over a new public, this approach is often simply attributable to a desire for ease and a form of laziness. We would have appreciated the exhibits all the more had we been able to understand and feel – beyond the fact that Yanagi is the link uniting them – all that they possess in terms of magic and enchantment, of cracks and renunciation.

NOTES

1. Élisabeth Frolet, Yanagi Sōetsu ou les éléments d’une renaissance artistique japonaise (Yanagi Sōetsu: Elements of an Artistic Revival in Japan), Paris, Publications de la Sorbonne, 1986; Yanagi Sōetsu (adapted by Bernard Leach), Artisan et inconnu (published in English as The Unknown Craftsman), Paris, L’Asiathèque, 1992. For English texts see, among others, Bernard Leach, A Potter in Japan 1952-1954, London, Faber & Faber, 1960. 2. Short accounts of Shirakaba and its role in art history can be found in: Asano Tōru, « La peinture à l’époque Taishō » (Taishō-Period Painting), in Japon des avant-gardes (Japan and the Avant-garde), Paris, Éditions du Centre Pompidou, 1986, p. 51-52; Michael Lucken, L’Art du Japon au vingtième siècle (Japanese Art in the Twentieth Century), Paris, Hermann, 2001, p. 45-48. For recent Japanese work, see the catalogue for the exhibition Shirakaba-ha no ai shita bijutsu, edited by Furutani Yoshiyuki, Osaka, Yomiuri Shinbun, 2009. 3. Yuko Kikuchi, “The Myth of Yanagi’s Originality: The Formation of Mingei Theory and its Social and Historical Context”, Journal of Design History, no. 7, Oxford University Press, 1994, pp. 247-266; Yuko Kikuchi, A Japanese William Morris: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei Theory, Journal of William Morris Studies, no. 12-2, 1997, pp. 39-45.

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4. Nagayo Yoshirō (1888-1961), a writer, playwright and childhood friend of Yanagi, joined Shirakaba in 1911. 5. Bernard Leach (1887-1979), who lived in Japan between 1909 and 1920, designed the front covers of Shirakaba throughout 1913 and sporadically between 1917 and 1918. 6. This was founded by Mushanokōji Saneatsu in 1918, in a bend in the River Omaru at Hinata (Kijō, Koyu-gun), Miyazaki Prefecture, in south-east Kyūshū. The village was run in an egalitarian manner by its members. Mushanokōji lived in the village until 1926, after which he moved to Nara. A small community still exists at the original site. 7. The exhibition Manet and the Post-Impressionists was organised by Roger Fry (1866-1934) in London at the Grafton Galleries in November 1910. It revealed the works of Cézanne, Van Gogh, Gauguin and even Matisse to Japan and the English-speaking world. The term Post- Impressionism is often attributed to Fry. 8. Kinoshita Nagahiro, Shisō-shi toshite no gohho. Fukusei juyō to sōzōryoku, Tokyo, Gakugei Shorin, 1992, p. 53 et seq. 9. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Kakumei no gaka”, Shirakaba, vol. 3-1, January 1912; Yanagi Sōetsu zenshū (hereafter YSZ), vol. 1, pp. 563-564. 10. Translation published as Tsaratusutora ツァラトゥストラ (Tokyo, Shinchōsha, January 1911). Ikuta Chōkō (1882-1936), a writer and translator specialising in Nietzsche, was close to the Shirakaba Movement and published several articles in the journal. 11. On the subject of Kishida Ryūsei (1891-1929), see Michael Lucken, L’Art du Japon au vingtième siècle (Japanese Art in the Twentieth Century), Paris, Hermann, 2001, p. 59-78, and « Une esthétique de la réplication ou comment les fantômes sont à l’œuvre. La peinture de Kishida Ryūsei » (An Aesthetic of Replication or How Ghosts are at Work. The Paintings of Kishida Ryūsei), Arts Asiatiques, vol. 64, Musée Guimet / EFEO, 2009, p. 79-94. 12. The Fusain Society (Hyūzan-kai ヒューザン会, later Fyūzan-kai) consisted of fifteen or so artists – mainly Western-style painters – including Saitō Yori, Yorozu Tetsugorō and Kishida Ryūsei. In October-November 1912 and March 1913 it held two exhibitions that were milestones in the history of expressionism and more generally of avant-garde artists in Japan. 13. Kishida Ryūsei, “Jiko no geijutsu”, Yomiuri Shinbun, 17 October 1912, p. 5; Kishida Ryūsei zenshū, vol. 1, pp. 39-40. 14. Yanagi Sōetsu, Wiriamu Burēku, Tokyo, Rakuyōdō, 1914; YSZ, vol. 4, p. 19. 15. In Bernard Leach, Beyond East and West: Memoirs, Portraits and Essays, London, Faber & Faber, 1978 (1985), pp. 79-80. 16. Kurata Hyakuzō (1891-1943), an author and playwright in the Shirakaba movement. His play Shukke to sono deshi was serialised in 1916 before being published in volumes by Iwanami (1917). Translated into English as early as 1922, it caught the attention of Romain Rolland, who wrote the preface for the French translation (Le prêtre et ses disciples, Kuni Matsuo and Émile Steinilber- Oberlin, Paris, Rieder, 1932). 17. Jean-Jacques Origas, « Yanagi Sōetsu : les mots, les images et la terre » (Yanagi Sōetsu: Words, Images and Earth), in La Lampe d’Akutagawa. Essais sur la littérature japonaise modern (Akutagawa’s Lamp. Essays on Modern Japanese Literature), Paris, Les Belles Lettres, « Japon’ collection », 2008, p. 326. 18. Yanagi Sōetsu, Wiriamu Burēku, op. cit., YSZ, vol. 4, p. 15. 19. Cf. Takamura Kōtarō, Takamura Kōtarō shishū, Tokyo, Shinchōsha, 1950 (1990); Muyarama Kaita, Muyarama Kaita zenshū, Tokyo, Yayoi Shobō, 1997. 20. In fact, Yanagi was the nephew by marriage of Kanō Jigorō 嘉納治五郎, the founder of jūdo and a close acquaintance of Inoue Enryō. 21. Cf. Inoue Enryō senshū, vol. 25, Tokyo, Tōyō Daigaku, 1987-2004. For an English text on Inoue Enryō see: Gerald Figal, Civilization and Monsters: Spirits of Modernity in Meiji Japan, Durham / London, Duke University Press, 1999, passim.

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22. Yanagi Sōetsu, ‘Runoā to sono ippa’, Shirakaba, vol. 2-3, Tokyo, March 1911, p. 3; YSZ, vol. 1, p. 493. 23. Ibid., p. 5; YSZ, vol. 1, pp. 495-496. 24. Ibid., p. 6; YSZ, vol. 1, pp. 496-497. 25. Yanagi draws in particular on Cesare Lombroso, After Death – What?, Boston, Small, Maynard & Co, 1909; Oliver Lodge, The Survival of Man, London, Methuen, 1909; Camille Flammarion, Les Forces naturelles inconnues (Unknown Natural Forces), Paris, Flammarion, 1907 (Yanagi used the English translation). Note that these latter two books also appeared in Sōseki’s library during the same period, which illustrates their impact in Japan. 26. Here Yanagi cites a passage by Emerson, included as an epigraph to his article. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Atarashiki kagaku”, Shirakaba, vol. 1-7, Tokyo, October 1910, pp. 16-18; YSZ, vol. 1, p. 35. 27. Ibid., p. 18; YSZ, vol. 1, p. 46. 28. Kimura Shōhachi (1893-1958), Western-style painter. Member of the Sōdosha group (Grass and Earth Society) and friend of Kishida Ryūsei, he worked extensively as a critic and published several texts in Shirakaba. Just like Kishida Ryūsei, he took an interest in ukiyo-e and Kabuki from 1920 onwards. 29. Cf. “Omoide oyobi Kondo no Tenrankai ni sai shite”, Kishida Ryūsei zenshū, vol. 2, Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten, 1979, p. 235; Kimura Shōhachi nikki, Nikkō, Kosugi Hōan Kinen Nikkō Bijutsukan, 2003, p. 190. 30. Kinoshita Nagahiro, Shisō-shi toshite no gohho, op. cit., p. 51. 31. Tsuchida Maki, “Yanagi Sōetsu to ‘kindai bijutsushi’: ‘miru’ to iu jissen”, in Taishō-ki bijutsu tenrankai no kenkyū, Tokyo, Tokyo Bunkazai Kenkyūjo, 2005, p. 565 and p. 567. Since the author takes direct inspiration from Benjamin, the French translation (on which this English translation is based) makes use of Benjamin’s own vocabulary. 32. This is a reference to three sculptures sent by Rodin to Shirakaba members in late 1911 in thanks for a set of ukiyo-e prints that they had sent him a few months earlier. See, among others, François Blanchetière, « Don et contre-don: Rodin et le groupe Shirakaba » (Gift and Counter-gift: Rodin and the Shirakaba Group), in Rodin. Le rêve japonais (Rodin. The Japanese Dream), Paris, Musée Rodin / Flammarion, 2007, p. 195-219. 33. This text first published in the journal Kaizō was later republished by Yanagi, in 1922, in his book Chōsen to sono geijutsu (Korea and its Art), Tokyo, Sōbunkaku; Yanagi Sōetsu, Mingei yonjū- nen, Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten, Iwanami Bunko collection, 1984, p. 26. 34. Yanagi Sōetsu, Bi to kōgei, Tokyo, Kensetsusha, 1934; YSZ, vol. 8, p. 296. This text was first published in June 1928 in the journal Bungei Shunjū and was entitled ‘Nani o getemono kara manabiuru ka’. 35. On the subject of Tanemaku Hito see Jean-Jacques Tschudin, Les Semeurs – Tanemaku hito: la première revue de littérature prolétarienne japonaise, (The Sowers – Tanemake Hito; Japan’s First Proletarian Literary Journal) Paris, L’Asiathèque, 1979. 36. Abe Jirō (1883-1959) and Watsuji Tetsurō (1889-1960), philosophers. During the Taishō era they channelled a considerable amount of energy into studying aesthetic issues. Both men, and in particular Abe, were closely linked to the Shirakaba movement. In 1920 they helped establish, among others, A Society for the Study of [the poet] Bashō (Bashō Kenkyūkai). 37. Arishima Takeo, “Sengen hitotsu”, Kaizō, January 1922; Arishima Takeo zenshū, vol. 9, Tokyo, Chikuma Shobō, 1981, p. 3.

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ABSTRACTS

During the 1910s, Yanagi Sōetsu was involved in developing the Shirakaba review. Several years before the birth of mingei, he was interested in 2 themes: the creator and the artwork.

Durant les années 1910, Yanagi Sōetsu s'investit dans la revue Shirakaba. Bien avant le mingei, deux questions sous-tendent son travail : l'individu créateur et l'œuvre d'art.

INDEX

キーワード: geijutsu 芸術, geijutsu sakuhin 芸術作品, bungei zasshi 文芸雑誌, Shirakaba 白樺, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), bijutsushi 美術史, bungaku 文学, Taishō jidai 大正時代 (1912-1926), Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Subjects: histoire de l'art, littérature Chronological index: Shōwa Mots-clés: création artistique, œuvre d'art, Shirakaba, revues littéraires, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961) Keywords: artistic creation, literature – periodicals, Shirakaba, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), literature

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Folk painting as defined by Yanagi Sōetsu: from revolutionary painters to pictorial revolution Le discours de Yanagi Sōetsu sur la « peinture populaire » : des peintres révolutionnaires à la révolution picturale

Christophe Marquet

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original release: Christophe Marquet, « Le discours de Yanagi Sōetsu sur la « peinture populaire » : des peintres révolutionnaires à la révolution picturale », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 15 novembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.372.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I would like to thank the Tokyo Folk Crafts Museum, and in particular its former curator Mr Ogyū Shinzō, as well as the Shizuoka City Serizawa Keisuke Art Museum, for having kindly authorised me to reproduce the works presented in this article. In tribute to the memory of Mrs Utsumi Teiko (1932-2011), international director of the Tokyo Folk Crafts Museum. A revolution is needed in the concept of painting. 絵画の概念には一革命がなければならない。 Yanagi Sōetsu, “Essay on Painting”, 1934

1 With its emphasis on folk crafts and furniture, the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan made little more than a passing reference to pictorial art.1 Yet the Mingei movement cannot be summed up as a simple revival of the craft industry or a crucible of modern design, for its founder, Yanagi Sōetsu, was also instrumental in the field of pictorial art. The importance of his role is measured less by the number of

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paintings left by the movement’s members, few of whom were painters, and more by Yanagi’s rediscovery – or reappraisal – of a little known and often disparaged category of Edo period art: “folk painting”.

2 It is on this fundamental aspect of the Mingei movement that I will focus by analysing Yanagi’s approach to certain pictorial forms of folk art in Korea and Japan, and the ideology he developed based on these artworks in order to appeal for a revolution in the very concept of painting.

The discovery of Korean folk paintings

3 Towards the end of the 1910s Yanagi’s focus visibly shifted from modern Western art to East-Asian art and, consequently, from the cult of individual expression to anonymous, popular forms of painting rooted in Korean and Japanese traditions. This radical change in Yanagi’s views may seem surprising given that just a few years earlier, he and fellow Shirakaba members were singing the praises of the artists who “revolutionised” Western pictorial art, such as Van Gogh, Gauguin and Matisse, because they were seen as symbolising a symbiosis between the search for originality, individual expression and personal destiny.2 However, one could consider that, in some ways, Yanagi merely transposed onto Eastern folk art his enthusiasm for a certain primitivism that had fascinated him in Post-Impressionist painters.

4 The cause of this change in Yanagi’s focus and views partly resides in his visits to a then recently colonised Korea from 1916 onwards, as encouraged by Asakawa Noritaka 浅川 伯教 (1884-1964), a young teacher living in Seoul who had his sights set on becoming a sculptor and whose shared passion for Rodin had led him to meet the artist two years earlier. Asakawa began by introducing Yanagi to Korean folk pottery, and in particular the white Yi Dynasty porcelain wares used in everyday life. As early as 1921, Yanagi was able to organise his first Korean art exhibition in a small gallery in Kanda, Tokyo. He purposely chose the expression minzoku bijutsu 民族美術 (accompanied by the English equivalent, Folk Art) to refer to an entire category of previously overlooked “folk” wares.3 In addition to a majority of ceramics, this category included paintings from the late Chosun period (1392-1910), a revelation for Yanagi in the sense that they opened his eyes to a form of modernity that was neither Western nor individual. “The time will come for those of us familiar with Western art to reconsider the art of the Far-East, our native land”, he declared during the exhibition, placing both Korea and Japan in the same crucible.4

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Yanagi Sōetsu at the Korean Folk Art Exhibition held in 1921 at the Ruissō Gallery in Kanda (Tokyo)

5 With the help of Asakawa, Yanagi launched a campaign to establish a Korean Folk Crafts Museum (Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan 朝鮮民族美術館) designed to promote the value of artworks from recent centuries ‘linked to the life of the people’ and to study the history behind them. A further objective was to encourage the creation of new oriental ‘handicrafts’ (shugei 手藝), the two men lamenting their decline under the influence of the material civilisation of the West.5 The spirit of the movement Yanagi would soon name Mingei was thus already taking shape: it combined the safeguarding of existing works with the creation of new ones. The museum opened its doors in Seoul three years later, in two pavilions of the former royal palace of Gyeongbok 景福宮, which Yanagi had helped save from destruction by opposing the Japanese authorities’ plans.6 It was through his campaign for the defence and recognition of Korean folk crafts that Yanagi became aware of the possibilities offered by pictorial art.

The Korean Folk Crafts Museum, founded in 1924 in the former Royal Palace in Seoul

6 Although Yanagi discovered Korean folk paintings in the late 1910s, he did not come to write about them until much later, in three texts published in the final years of his life, in 1957 and 1959, notably in a special issue devoted to the subject in the journal Mingei. 7

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7 The first of these texts was inspired by the discovery of a painting mounted on folding screen belonging to a genre known as ŏhaedo 魚蟹圖, literally “painting of fish and crabs”,8 which symbolised prosperity, fertility and family harmony, and was thus intended for use in bridal or marital chambers.

Crabs and Water Lilies

Korean folk painting from the Yanagi Collection, 19th century, Mingeikan

8 Behind the rather clumsy craftsmanship and fanciful composition of this anonymous painting from the mid-Chosun period – the work of one of the itinerant painters who travelled from village to village – Yanagi detected a kind of nonchalance unconcerned with realism. The criteria usually applied to modern painting, such as individual genius and technical mastery, became irrelevant in the face of such artworks. In fact, while contemplating this painting, Yanagi spoke of his boredom with modern art founded on aesthetic discourses and theories, and driven by a never-ending search for originality. He discovered the possibility of “another way”, in which he saw a renewed focus on a teaching from the Heart Sutra (Hannya shinkyō 般若心経): “To be without attachment is to be without fear” (keige naki ga yue ni kufu aru koto nashi 無罫礙故無有恐怖).

9 However, for Yanagi, detachment and appeasement were not the only virtues of this Korean folk painting founded on popular beliefs. It was the late 1950s, a period marked by the triumphant success of abstract art, and yet Yanagi was discovering in Korean folk painting a new kind of modernity capable of rivalling that of contemporary artists: 9

From our point of view these paintings possess a great beauty. Their infinite originality is such that they exist in no other country. Suppose that an artist capable of creating all of these types of painting was born today; he would doubtless be acclaimed and become a celebrity in his time. In any case, he would be perceived

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as an original creator. Would such novelty, at a time when abstract art and transcending realism are the centre of attention, not mark him out, to the point of creating a new school of art? 処が今日の吾々から見ると、とても美しい所がある。極めて独創的で、一寸他 国にその例を見ぬ程の絵である。仮りにこんな絵を一人で種々と描く画家が今 輩出したら、さぞや喝采を博して、著名な一世の画家とまで成るであらう。兎 に角大した独創的作家といふ評判をかち得るに違ひない。大いに新しさがある のであつて、此頃ではさしづめその超写実的な所や、抽象的性質が注目され て、鮮かに一派を創る画家とさへ目されるのではあるまいか。

10 For Yanagi, Korean painting was worthy of being studied not only for its history but for what it could teach contemporary artists, who would be astonished by its combination of “modernity” and “freedom”.

11 One of the principal virtues of Yanagi’s work on Korean folk painting – an art form somewhat ignored by collectors, museums and art historians until then – was that he was the first to propose classifying artworks by subject matter and to explain their characteristics.10 He thus succeeded in developing a five-category typology, with each type of painting having its own particular function and use: • paintings composed of ornamental Chinese characters with a moral connotation (moji-e 文字 絵) and which visually explain the meaning of these characters; • auspicious paintings (kikkyō ni chinamu mono 吉凶に因むもの), such as the guardian tiger from the four directional deities; • paintings with traditional themes (dentō-teki gadai no mono 伝統的画題のもの); • still lifes (seibutsu-ga 静物画), mainly those depicting scholarly implements; • paintings inspired by the Three Teachings: Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism (ju, butsu, dō no sankyō ni hassuru mono 儒、仏、道の三教に発するもの).

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Tiger with Cubs

Korean folk painting from the Serizawa Collection, 19th century, Serizawa Keisuke Art Museum, Shizuoka City

Folding Screen of Scholarly Implements (close-up)

Korean folk painting from the Yanagi Collection, Mingeikan, Tokyo

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12 This approach to Korean folk painting was particularly ahead of its time considering that, even in Korea, interest in this art form only emerged in the 1960s, in the wake of Yanagi’s research, thanks in particular to the work of Cho Cha-yong 趙子庸 (1926-2000), the father of Korean folk art studies.11 Moreover, the term minga (minhwa in Korean), literally “painting of the people”, was later adopted in reference to this genre which had previously been considered a minor, “unorthodox” art. Korean researchers initially conducted their research within the parameters of Yanagi’s framework of a folk art that was both “national” – in other words free from Chinese influence and reflecting Korean lifestyles, patterns of thinking and beliefs – and “modernistic”, in the sense that its formal primitivism was interpreted by some as being one of the influences of modern art.12

13 In 2005 an unprecedented exhibition consisting of 120 Korean folk paintings from Japanese collections was held for the first time in a Korean public institution, at the Seoul Museum of History in partnership with the Nihon Mingeikan, the Japan Folk Crafts Museum founded by Yanagi13. The exhibition was designed to pay tribute to Yanagi Sōetsu, whose research and defence of Korean folk art enabled significant examples of these paintings to be preserved. It also provided the opportunity to present new interpretations of the concept of “folk painting” by Korean researchers.14

Ōtsu-e: a folk art combining religious devotion, satire and morality

14 From the end of the 1910s, alongside his discovery of Korean paintings, Yanagi also discovered Japanese paintings from the town of Ōtsu (Ōtsu-e),15 as well as various forms of popular graphic art. These ranged from anonymous, naïve-style illuminated scrolls,16 to the engraved illustrations of early Edo-period incunables, to glass paintings and Buddhist prints.17

The Tale of Tsukishima Scroll (Tsukishima Monogatari Emaki) (close-up

Illuminated scroll from the Yanagi Collection, 16th century, presented in the journal Kōgei in 1936. Mingeikan, Tokyo.

15 Yanagi gradually developed the generic concept of “folk painting” for these works and coined the term minga 民畫, occasionally giving it the equivalent English terms of “peasant painting” and “folk painting”. The term minga, which went on to enjoy

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considerable success, was used for the first time by Yanagi in a 1927 book in which he wrote about the rustic paintings of the Edo period:18 To the paintings not designed to be independent works but rather mass produced for practical use by the people as souvenirs or offerings to the gods, I give the name “folk paintings”. Examples include “Ōtsu-e” and “votive plaques”; “gouache paintings” are also good examples of folk paintings. These paintings are “rustic” in style because they originate amongst the people. They were produced in large quantities for ordinary folk by anonymous craftsmen. 単独に一枚々々絵画として出来たものではなく、民間で土産ものとか、奉納品 とか実際につかう為、沢山製産された画を、私は「民画」と名づける。 例へ ば「大津絵」とか「絵馬」とかの類であつて、「泥絵」も民画のよき一例にな る。民間のもの故、云はゞ「下手」な画である。 一般民衆の為に、無名の画 工が沢山画いた絵である。

16 The essence of Yanagi’s views on folk painting is already visible in this text. He would continue to develop them from the end of the 1920s through to the 1930s, devoting most of his research to the three Edo-period genres mentioned above: folk paintings from Ōtsu (Ōtsu-e), votive plaques (ema),19 and gouache landscape paintings (doro-e). In 1929 he organised a folk art exhibition in Kyoto, essentially from his own personal collection, uniting these three types of artworks under the term minga.20

17 In this way Yanagi was able to include painting in his definition of “folk crafts”, despite the fact that this term applied essentially, and more naturally, to everyday utensils. His criteria remained unchanged; namely that the works should be anonymous, utilitarian in purpose, mass-produced and inexpensive, or be the reflection of a tradition rather than the expression of a creator’s individuality.21 The idea that paintings could have anything other than an aesthetic “function” and be “non-individual” may seem incompatible with the modern conception of this art form, and yet these two principles would become the crux around which Yanagi developed his theory.

18 Yanagi initially focused on Ōtsu-e, an unusual genre from the Edo period whose history was still largely unknown at the beginning of the twentieth century. These paintings take their name from the town of Ōtsu, the final staging-post before Kyoto on the Tōkaidō road, where they were produced from the beginning of the seventeenth century by humble craftsmen for sale to passing travellers and pilgrims. Crudely made and with a rudimentary composition, they initially featured Buddhist subjects before expanding their repertoire to depict popular deities, historical figures and animals. Although they were influenced in part by other genres, such as ukiyo-e, Ōtsu-e have a unique imagery with a clearly satirical bent. Their emblematic motif is the “goblin” (oni 鬼), who is depicted in various comical scenes: reciting sutra, taking a bath or even playing a shamisen.

19 Taking advantage of having moved to Kyoto in 1924 to teach at Dōshisha University, Yanagi set about writing a major book on the subject, Shoki Ōtsu-e 初期大津繪 (The Beginnings of Ōtsu-e). It was published in April 1929 in a collection launched by the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, which was under development at the time.22 A kind of “imaginary museum” of folk painting, this publication remains a seminal work that is essential reading for anyone studying the genre and wanting to understand its themes. More than anything, it shed light on an entire category of popular pictorial art from the Edo period at a time when these pictures were of little interest to academics.23

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Front cover of Yanagi Sōetsu’s book Shoki Ōtsu-e (The Beginnings of Ōtsu-e), 1929

20 A first initiative was launched in 1926 with the holding of an Ōtsu-e exhibition at Ōtsu itself and the publishing of an extensive catalogue with photos of more than 140 exhibits24. In the catalogue’s preface, the painter Yamamura Kōka 山村耕花 (1886-1942) argued passionately for the recognition of these paintings ignored by art history, considering their principal virtues to be their modesty and humble nature: “Ōtsu-e” do not have the aristocratic appearance that characterises ukiyo-e from the same period. They are made by and for the people. It is in their popular nature that their virtue resides. “Ōtsu-e” do not possess the pride common to every artist from every period, which compels them to create for posterity. The absence of this desire to please is commendable. “Ōtsu-e” do not seek to draw attention to themselves and this is something no great artist could ever surpass. This lack of ostentation is pleasing. 『大津絵』には、当時の浮世絵にはまだ遣つてゐたところの、貴族臭がない。 完全に庶民のものになりきつてゐる。其民衆的なところがいヽ。『大津絵』に は、如何なる時代の藝術家も必ず意識するところの、自己の芸術を後世に向ふ 自負がない。其匠気のないところがいヽ。『大津絵』には、如何なる大藝術家 も遂に超越することの出来ない、これ見よといふ意識がない。 其衒気のないと ころがいヽ。

21 Yanagi loaned the exhibition a dozen or so works taken from his own burgeoning collection, but he was critical about the disparate nature of the paintings finally selected, not to mention their lack of historical context.

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Monkey carrying a Bell and a Lantern, Ōtsu-e from the Yanagi Collection, presented at the 1926 Ōtsu exhibition

Mingeikan, Tokyo. Former Asai Chū Collection

22 With the help of a young Dōshisha University student named Katagiri Shūzō 片桐修三 – who later wrote two major books on the subject25 – he decided to establish a collection of historical documents and went to Ōtsu to conduct fieldwork.

23 A major part of Yanagi’s work on Ōtsu-e thus consisted in exploring old written sources (maps, literary works, essays [zuihitsu], etc.) with a view to establishing a chronology and history based on documentary evidence. Yanagi’s aim in carrying out this philological research was to claim a place within art history for the anonymous Ōtsu-e genre, around which numerous legends had been invented from the Edo period onwards, notably by the playwright Chikamatsu. He also hoped to shed light on the origins of Ōtsu-e, which were still largely unknown. As a result, a large portion of his book is devoted to this compilation of written sources. It is accompanied by several particularly enlightening illustrations taken from illustrated Edo-period books, such as the remarkable depiction of a painter’s workshop in Ōtsu, taken from the 1797 Guidebook of Famous Places on the Tōkaidō Road (Tōkaidō meisho zue 東海道名所図会).

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Painter’s workshop in Ōtsu, taken from the Guidebook of Famous Places on the Tōkaidō Road (Tōkaidō meisho zue), 1797

24 Another important part of Yanagi’s research consisted in devising a typology of these paintings; in other words, defining and analysing the evolution of the main “canonical subjects” (gadai 画題). This painstakingly detailed description, based on extensive inspection of the paintings and analysis of written sources (since for certain subjects there were no longer any existing examples), enabled Yanagi to draw up a list of over 100 typical themes.26

25 This compilation would have been impossible without first gathering together a collection of the paintings themselves. In doing so, Yanagi helped to save Ōtsu-e from oblivion and build a collection of approximately 140 works27 for the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, by far the largest in Japan today.28 Nevertheless, when we consider that some estimates put the number of paintings produced over the 250 years of the Edo period at several million, it is clear that Yanagi’s collection is but a tiny sample, with the majority of paintings having been lost.29

26 Finally, Yanagi provided a vital contribution to the study of Ōtsu-e by analysing the change in meaning and role of these paintings throughout the Edo period. He divided Ōtsu-e into four periods, demonstrating that the paintings initially had a religious nature and purpose before developing a satirical strain and then becoming a means of disseminating moral precepts in line with the development, in the second half of the eighteenth century, of a Confucian-inspired movement known as shingaku 心学 (philosophy of heart-mind cultivation), aimed at educating the masses. The final period corresponds to the use of Ōtsu-e as simple talismans and concludes with them going out of production at the end of the nineteenth century following the advent of modern transportation, which relieved Ōtsu of its staging-post status.

27 Despite an attempt in the 1940s, by the printmaking historian Nakada Katsunosuke, to challenge the anteriority of Buddhist-themed Ōtsu-e over those with secular motifs, 30 Yanagi’s four-phase periodisation is still in use today. It enabled the corpus of Ōtsu-e paintings to be organised and their social role revealed. In this respect, Yanagi was instrumental in giving these paintings a new identity and value, despite the fact that since the early nineteenth century they had been considered to have nothing more than a talismanic meaning and their subjects had narrowed to around ten motifs.

28 In an effort to understand the satirical meaning of Ōtsu-e and their educational function, Yanagi established a list of the majority of ‘moral poems’ (dōka 道歌) –

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approximately 140 in total – which featured on paintings produced during the eighteenth century.31

Ōtsu-e of a cat and mouse featuring the moral ‘Not listening to the teachings of the Saints is an act that leads man to his downfall’ (Seijin no oshie o kakazu tsui ni mi o horobosu hito no shiwaza nari keri)

Former Komenami Shōichi Collection, Mingeikan, Tokyo.

29 Studying these inscriptions enabled him to interpret the meaning of certain previously obscure images. It further revealed that on some occasions the same motif had been given multiple meanings, thus endowing this imagery with an unexpected complexity.

30 In conclusion, Yanagi considered that unlike other forms of folk painting from the Edo period, Ōtsu-e were not simply descriptive but rather “expressed the heart” (kokoro no hyōgen) of the common people.32 In this sense, rather than being a “primitive” form of painting, they demonstrated the “wisdom of the people” (minshū no kichi). This led Yanagi to state that “these allegorical and humorous paintings were undoubtedly the only means for the people of this period to criticise society”. This was an often- expressed opinion at the time, particularly by the writer Nagai Kafū 永井荷風, who saw Edo period art, and in particular ukiyo-e, as a means of popular resistance through entertainment.33 For Yanagi, too, the Edo period was characterised by an appropriation of art by the people, a previously unheard of phenomenon.

31 Finally, beyond his historical examination of Ōtsu-e and the cataloguing of their motifs, Yanagi used this form of folk art to champion a new approach for pictorial art based – as he explained in a chapter from his 1929 book “The Beauty and Nature of Ōtsu-e (Ōtsu- e no bi to sono seishitsu)” on the “repetition” of “given” subjects in order to “produce large quantities of pictures”. These three criteria were in stark contrast to the concept of artistic creation that had prevailed in the West since the appearance, in the eighteenth century, of the artist in the modern sense, founded on individuality, innovation, unique artworks and the idea that art was an individual vocation rather than a professional trade.34 Drawing in particular on the ideas of William Morris and his Arts and Crafts Movement, which sought to promote the value of craftsmanship in Victorian England, Yanagi hoped to transcend the romantic image of the artist for whom the beautiful contrasted with the useful and personal imagination with manual trade.35 In contrast, Yanagi looked to Edo art for examples of genres in which the artist disappeared behind his work, in the spirit of what he referred to, using Buddhist

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vocabulary, as tariki 他力, the “Other Power”, in other words reliance on the salutary power of Amida Buddha rather than dependence on the “Self Power” (jiriki 自力) through asceticism.

32 Henceforth, Yanagi endeavoured to promote his work on folk crafts and painting in Europe and the United States, aiming to foster an alternative view of Japanese art to the one that had prevailed since Japonisme became popular in the late nineteenth century. He regretted the fact that the greatest esteem in these continents was reserved for the ukiyo-e (woodblock print) and its great masters, while Ōtsu-e, which dated from the same period, went unnoticed.36 In April 1929, the same month his book on Ōtsu-e was published, he travelled to Europe, visiting England, France and even Sweden, where he was particularly fascinated by the Nordiska Museum in Stockholm, one of the first museums devoted entirely to folk traditions and founded in 1873. This example encouraged him to see through his own campaign to establish a museum.

33 Yanagi next travelled to the United States where he had been invited to teach Japanese art history at Harvard University.37 He gave a series of lectures on “Mahayana Buddhist ideals in art”, the “criteria for Beauty in Japan, as seen in the tea ceremony”,38 and the “beauty of folk crafts”. He also assisted Professor Langdon Warner (1881-1955), Curator of Oriental Art at Harvard’s Fogg Art Museum in Cambridge (Mass.), with his work on Japanese Buddhist sculpture, and his wife, Lorraine d’Orémieulx Warner, with her research on Korean pottery.39 Warner had longstanding ties with Japan, having studied the history of sculpture there in 1907-1908 under the guidance of Okakura Tenshin. His meeting with Yanagi during a study trip to Korea in 1928 led him to extend his research on Japanese art to include its folk traditions. This is attested by several of his books, in which he enthuses over the works of the “peasant monk” Mokujiki40 or Ōtsu-e, in the face of which “the foreigner is not blinded by the flash of a master’s signed name or by any dexterity”.41

34 During his stay, Yanagi strove to introduce the American public to what was at the time the unknown art of Ōtsu-e. He began by giving a lecture on the subject in December 1929. Then with Warner’s help he published an extended article on the subject in the journal Eastern Art. Based on his recent book, the article was richly illustrated with over forty plates and constituted the first, and for a long time only, detailed presentation of the genre in the West.42 In April-May 1930 Yanagi also organised an exhibition of some fifty Ōtsu-e paintings at the Fogg Art Museum, notably using works from his own private collection.43

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Monkey Immobilising Catfish with Gourde, Ōtsu-e from the Yanagi Collection, presented at the ‘Japanese Peasant Painting’ exhibition at the Fogg Museum, 1930

Mingeikan, Tokyo

35 In the introduction to his article, entitled “The Peasant Paintings of Ōtsu, Japan”, Yanagi lay the foundations of a theoretical reflection on the distinctive characteristics of this genre and the change in judging criteria that was required in order to appreciate

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it. His views can be summed up by the pairs of antithetical terms he employed to contrast folk art with the painting of the fine arts: folk art / fine art; artisan / artist; unsigned / individuality; common thing / self-expression; spontaneous picture / aesthetic ideas; picture to be used / picture to be exhibited; sweat / caprice. Yanagi went on to explain that should Western readers immersed in an “individualistic era” find this definition troubling, this was due to the change in modern Western attitudes to art since the Renaissance: […] it seems to me that, since the time of the Renaissance in the West, people have lost something of the right notion of beauty that is ordinary and have stopped making common things beautifully.

36 Here Yanagi can be seen to share with Ruskin and William Morris – who both influenced his perspective – the idealised view of the Middle Ages as a period in which craft wares were synonymous with beauty.

37 Yanagi would continue to develop his theory on folk painting, placing an ever greater emphasis on his plea for a return to the “medieval” conception of art, via a series of texts published throughout the 1930s, in particular on another genre of folk painting from the Edo period, doro-e.

The gouache landscapes of the late Edo period: a plea for a pictorial revolution

38 In 1931 Yanagi used the journal Kōgei 工藝 (Crafts), which he had recently created as a platform for the ideas and collections of his movement’s supporters, to publish a commentary on a series of six paintings he had collected along with his friends, including the stencil dye artist Serizawa Keisuke 芹沢銈介. Although the paintings belonged to different genres (Ōtsu-e, votive plaques, doro-e), they all corresponded to Yanagi’s definition of “folk painting”.44 The text begins with a plea for their recognition: We are fascinated by the beauty of folk paintings. By folk painting we refer to anonymous paintings originating amongst common people. This genre has tended to be looked down upon. With our modern era placing originality before all else, it is only natural for such commonplace paintings to have been relegated to the lowest position and their true value ignored. These paintings have only served to satisfy the tastes of dilettantes, and many painters these days regard them with contempt. However, I believe that in the future they will be seen in a new light and that a day will come when their value is quite naturally recognised. 吾々は民画の美にいたく心を引かれてゐる。民画と云ふのは民衆の間から生れ る無銘の絵画を云ふのである。こう云ふ種類の絵は普通馬鹿にされてゐたもの である。何も個性々々の近代の事であるから、そう云ふ平凡な絵が下積にされ て、価値が認められなかつたのも無理はない。只好事家の趣味性に満足を与へ たゞけで、今でも多くの画家はそう云ふものを軽蔑してゐる。併しそれ等のも のは今後見直されて、その価値が素直に認められる時が来ると思へる。

39 Yanagi went on to explain that in contrast to the work of famous artists with their overly distinctive style and often inaccessible price, these discreet paintings were in harmony with furniture and enhanced everyday life. He discovered a special beauty in them that resided primarily in their anonymity, in contrast to the art world, in which this “lack of signature” (mumei 無銘) generally gave rise to a condescending attitude.

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40 Finally, Yanagi briefly defined the main characteristics of folk paintings: namely, their inexpensiveness, plurality, ordinariness, rapid production, functional nature, lack of artistic pretension and the fact that they were bought by common folk. Yet according to art history criteria, such characteristics rendered folk paintings worthless. Despite this, Yanagi was convinced there would be a change in the criteria used to judge art, believing that in the future new “criteria of beauty” would lead folk paintings to gain recognition.

41 In 1934 Yanagi dedicated another much longer text to the subject of doro-e, giving it the more general title of “Essay on Painting” (Kaiga-ron).45 The introduction is particularly enlightening with regards the motives that underpin Yanagi’s reflection, namely the promotion of a pictorial art that transcends individual creation: Some will consider it inappropriate to discuss the theory of painting in a journal dedicated to the applied arts; however, I personally believe that, on the contrary, the time has come for painting to be considered from the same angle as crafts. Perhaps professing such a view continues to be like preaching in the wilderness, but I believe that our era is preparing to accept such a view. There is nothing unusual about my way of thinking, but since it appears that nobody has yet approached this issue in a clear and precise manner from the perspective of Beauty, I want to define the problem concisely in order to explain the aesthetic we hope to establish in the future. Using the example of doro-e, I will examine the nature and beauty of folk paintings born from the brushes of tradespeople, all the while encouraging an overhaul of the traditional view of painting as individual creation and explaining the need to promote a pictorial beauty that is in harmony with everyday life. In the future painting will go from a pure art to an applied art and will no longer be appreciated for its artistic value but for its artisanal dimension. 工藝の雑誌で絵画論を説くのは似合はぬと思はれるかも知れぬが、今後絵画は 寧ろ工藝の立場から論じらるべきだと云ふのが私の宿論である。まだ今の所で は野に叫ぶ者の声に過ぎぬかも知れぬが、時代はもうそれを受け容れる準備を 始め出した様にも思ふ。 論旨は寧ろ平凡なのであるが、 美の方面からまだ 明確に此事を語つた人が無いと思ふので、将来建てらるべき美学の為に簡明に 記しておきたい。 泥絵を例として、画工の筆に成る工藝的な絵画の性質とその美を論じ、従来 の個人的絵画観の反省を求めて、生活と交わる絵画美の必要を説く。将来の絵 画の方向は純正より応用へと転じ、絵画が美術的なるが故にではなく工藝的な るが故に評価されるであろう。

42 Here Yanagi was comparing painting in the modern sense, seen as individual creation (kojin-teki kaiga), with doro-e art, characterised by its artisanal dimension, in the sense that it was not the fruit of renowned artists but rather “artisan-painters” (gakō), or anonymous tradespeople. This notion of “folk painting” (kōgei-teki kaiga) would become a central theme for Yanagi and he returned to it in a long article written in 1937.46

43 This comparison reveals a further issue: that of the artistic hierarchy created by art institutions at the beginning of the Meiji era in response to Japan’s encounter with Western art categories during its participation in international fairs. The appearance of the categories bijutsu (fine arts) and kōgei (“industrial arts” or “applied arts”) – neologisms coined in the 1870s – and the emergence of the artist-painter as individual creator led pre-modern forms of pictorial art to be ignored, as they did not fit into the Western definition of art but rather fell into the domain of popular imagery. What Yanagi was advocating here was thus a return to Japan’s old conception of art in which, in his idealised view, the distinction between painting and applied art did not exist, or

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at least was less marked. In fact, on several occasions at the beginning of the 1930s Yanagi discussed the social and aesthetic consequences of the formation of compartmentalised and hierarchical categories of art during the modern era.47

44 In this respect, the transformation of the Nihon Mingei Bijutsukan (Japan Folk Art Museum) into the Nihon Mingeikan (Japan Folk Crafts Museum), between the planning stage in 1926 and its eventual opening in Tokyo in 1936, reflected a conscious decision to abandon the term bijutsukan (fine arts museum), which was a loaded term poorly suited to Yanagi’s ideology.48

45 It should further be noted that from the outset Yanagi presented his essay not only as a re-appraisal of a previously neglected, indeed disparaged, pictorial art, he also asserted its aim of fostering a new aesthetic, one of applied art and of art linked to everyday life, with which he hoped to attract the artists of his time. Ultimately, Yanagi used doro-e as a pretext, an example to suggest a new approach to painting. He invited readers who did not care for this example to replace it with Chinese painted lacquerware from the Han Dynasty or the illuminated manuscripts of the Western Middle Ages.

46 But what exactly are doro-e, literally “mud paintings”? The term refers to an inexpensive type of painting that uses mineral pigments suspended in water, comparable to gouache and featuring the same opaque texture. However, doro-e cannot be reduced to this strictly technical definition based on their medium. The term doro-e, which was seemingly first used in the 1910s,49 instead refers to a rather ill-defined genre characterised by its subject matter and naïve style. These paintings can be seen as a continuation of the landscape perspective views (known as megane-e or “pictures for optical viewing devices”) printed in Japan from the middle of the eighteenth century under the influence of optical prints imported from Europe. The two genres were occasionally confused, for both incorporated formal elements borrowed from Western painting, such as their linear perspective. Nonetheless, as Yanagi pointed out, doro-e emerged after megane-e, as they were chiefly produced at the end of the Edo period during the 1850s and 1860s.50 Just like Ōtsu-e they were intended for sale as souvenirs to travellers and generally represented famous places in the city of Edo, in particular feudal lords’ residences and the shōgun’s castle.

Kinokuni Slope and the Edo Residence of the Feudal Lord of Kii. Doro-e from the Yanagi Collection, presented in the journal Kōgei in 1937

Mingeikan, Tokyo

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47 However, other paintings depicted the Tōkaidō road, Kyoto and Osaka, for doro-e were essentially produced in the Kamigata region and even, to a lesser extent, in Nagasaki.51

View of Dejima and Nagasaki Bay, doro-e from the Yanagi Collection, presented in the journal Kōgei in 1937

Mingeikan, Tokyo

48 Just like Ōtsu-e they were unsigned and did not seek to showcase individual expression. They were above all the work of craftsmen who sought to make a living rather than champion a style. Yanagi believed these factors to explain the lack of interest shown by art historians.

49 Yet Yanagi claimed to undergo a curious experience in the face of such paintings. He could not help seeing a kind of beauty in these primitive, unsigned pictures that transported him to a strange world in which he himself became a “creator”. For these paintings, which he never tired of contemplating, possessed the ability to take his imagination on a journey to an almost dreamlike place. This experience is even more curious when we consider that doro-e were devoid of the qualities generally attributed to pictorial art. And yet they fascinated Yanagi, and this irresistible attraction was felt even by those who, assigning no value to them, would have happily got rid of them.

50 This experience led Yanagi to conclude that the path trodden by renowned artists was not the only way to produce a quality painting. He went even further, declaring that doro-e possessed a unique beauty that was only possible at the hands of anonymous craftsmen producing this type of rudimentary painting. The lack of technical sophistication and the apparent ordinariness of these paintings did not prevent them from delivering an aesthetic shock, quite the contrary. Yanagi therefore believed that painting should no longer be the exclusive domain of geniuses and famous artists; the artworks of ordinary folk also deserved to be celebrated; beauty could go hand in hand with a kind of ordinariness; painting was not incompatible with craftsmanship.

51 The principle characteristic of doro-e is that they are “non-individual” productions, in the sense that they share the same formal conventions whatever the subject, and were created according to the principle of division of labour rather than by one single artist. This is also one of the main causes of the contempt they were shown. Yanagi thus believed in the need to do away with the preconceived notion that a non-individual artwork not bearing the hallmark of a clearly identifiable creator was necessarily devoid of beauty.

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52 He appealed to the painters and critics of his time, asking them why they only revered individual works. Might another place not exist for painting, one free from the primacy of the individual? For while beauty could not entirely reject the individual, it could not be limited to it either. Yanagi qualified his ideas on this point, explaining that the art he desired should be “non-individualistic” (hi-kojin 非個人), but not “devoid of individuality » (mu-kojin 無個人). He spoke of the possibility of a pictorial art that was the fruit of a collaborative effort through a division of labour, and advocated “cooperation » (kyōryoku 協力) in the creative act.

53 For Yanagi, historians bore heavy responsibility for the narrow conception of painting that prevailed at the time. The history of painting, born of a modern era founded on the cult of the individual, often consisted of a commentary on artworks according to the artist’s name, amounting to a series of biographies of celebrated artistic geniuses. Art historians chiefly aimed to “ascribe” works to a particular artist and the same applied for the history of ukiyo-e. However, Yanagi argued that ukiyo-e could not be reduced to a simple issue of authorship, for in the majority of cases the beauty of the finished product – in other words, the print – exceeded the original signed drawing. It was thus the work of anonymous craftsmen, woodblock cutters and printers (and indeed paper and colour manufacturers) that should be taken into consideration. For Yanagi, the ukiyo-e genre was a perfect example of a collaborative art resulting from the collective efforts of various guilds. Despite this, historians persisted in retaining only the names of the “artists” who had produced the original drawings on which the prints were based. Here Yanagi’s views resemble those of Nagai Kafū, who also maintained that in ukiyo-e, the specific qualities of the print made it superior to the original picture.52

54 On the other hand, the beauty of ukiyo-e images from the primitive period – which had also enthralled artists like Kishida Ryūsei (1891-1929) –53 stemmed from the fact that they reflected a tradition, an artistic movement, rather than an individual artist’s style. From this point of view these pictures – just like the primitive prints of the Torii school at the beginning of the eighteenth century – were little influenced by individual genius. Instead they possessed a “formal beauty” (yōshiki no bi 様式の美) based on the reproduction of compositions and characteristics inherited from a tradition.

55 Whereas the absolute value of individual paintings is generally determined by their uniqueness, ukiyo-e made multiplicity – and consequently the linking of beauty with quantity – possible. Yanagi saw this multiplicity as being socially important, for it enabled the artworks to be inexpensive. Yanagi pointed out the use of ukiyo-e in advertising and illustration, fields seen as secondary from the standpoint of a strictly individual art.

56 In this respect the European Middle Ages were presented as an ideal period in which paintings – whether frescos or book illustrations – were the collective work of various craftspeople, before individualism was introduced by the Renaissance. Yanagi desired a return to this state of affairs in which painting was characterised as having a “public” and “multiple” dimension. To this end, arts based on “reproduction” (tensha 転写) offered a promising new approach. Engraving in particular (wood engraving, etching, lithography) possessed this non-individual, social and economic dimension. Reproduction in the form of facsimiles – which, far from depreciating the work of art, were “capable of creating a beauty that exceeded the original” –, as well as mural paintings, would increase society’s awareness of art. Yanagi thus reached the opposite conclusion to Walter Benjamin, who during the same period, in his book The Work of Art

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in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, protested against the destruction of the uniqueness, aura and ritual function of artworks by mechanical mass reproduction54.

57 Above all, Yanagi hoped to restore the link between the Beautiful and the useful, notions which had been considered incompatible, indeed antithetical, since the connection between painting and society had been shattered during the modern era. In contrast to the nineteenth-century notion of art for art’s sake, in which Benjamin saw a “negative theology” depriving art of any social function, Yanagi believed that painting should be “functional”, in the sense that it should be linked to daily life. However, in modern society this functionality often gave rise to ugliness, which in Yanagi’s eyes had been not the case in previous eras.

58 Yanagi contrasted “sublime beauty” (sūkō-bi 崇高美) – the legacy of an era characterised by hero-worship – with the “simple, plain beauty” (heiisa no bi 平易さの 美) lacking in modern paintings. The problem was that modern-day man, conditioned to appreciate only the extraordinary, had difficulty perceiving the beauty of ordinary objects. And yet doro-e, with their ordinary, commonplace beauty, provided a solution, revealing a new direction.

59 Finally, Yanagi hoped to restore the decorative function of painting through a return to the “decorative motifs” (moyō 模様) and stylisation that characterised doro-e, paintings he classified as “beyond description”. The advantage being that motifs are multiple and reproducible, whereas as a painting is unique.

60 In conclusion, Yanagi went much further in his 1934 “Essay on Painting” than in his study of Ōtsu-e, which remained primarily historical, by using doro-e to propose a model for contemporary artistic creation. He protested against the same “individual” art he had championed during his youth, suggesting instead a “collaborative” art with a “social” and “reproducible” dimension. Nonetheless, there is no denying that unlike other art forms such as ceramics, in which the mingei aesthetic found a broad echo, Yanagi’s ideas on painting did not give rise to the “revolution in the concept of painting”, the reversal in values he so desired.

In conclusion

61 In the field of painting Yanagi was solely interested in specific genres from the Edo period, for in his eyes this period represented a unique moment in Japanese history when “culture belonged to the people”.55 He sought to provide a fresh perspective on pictorial art from this period, which historians generally broached through artists’ biographies and the issue of individual creation. One example of this is Fujioka Sakutarō’s 藤岡作太郎 1903 publication Kinsei kaiga-shi 近世絵画史 (History of Early- Modern Painting), the first to be published on the subject in Japan. For Yanagi, just as history could not simply be a series of heroes’ biographies without an analysis of the life of the people, art history could not be reduced to a sequence of artistic geniuses. In this respect Yanagi’s approach provided an alternative to a methodology inspired by Western historiography, which was traditionally based on the artists themselves and on an evolutionary approach to styles. It foreshadowed the recent research on Edo art which takes into account “production” methods and the “purpose” of painting and the printed image.56

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62 Nonetheless, Yanagi’s restrictive definition of “folk painting”, which excludes ukiyo-e for example, is not without posing a certain number of problems and in fact goes some way to explaining his project’s relative lack of success. Cho Cha-yong raised this issue regarding Korean painting in particular, pointing out that it appeared difficult to bring about such a change in perspective while restricting the term “folk painting” to the naïve artwork of craftspeople who lacked a command of basic artistic techniques.57

63 Despite Yanagi’s repeated efforts to promote a new form of “collaborative” painting inspired by the artisanal spirit of rustic Edo-period images, folk painting was undoubtedly the least successful chapter in the Mingei movement. Notable exceptions include some remarkable experiments, such as the engravings of Munakata Shikō 棟方 志功, crafted in the style of Buddhist prints, or the textile creations of Serizawa Keisuke, influenced by Korean paintings composed of stylised Chinese characters and by traditional stencil-dyed fabrics from Okinawa (bingata 紅型).

64 Although his call for a new form of painting went largely unheeded, Yanagi’s historic research remains an essential contribution to our understanding of the art and culture of the Edo period. In this respect one might speculate as to the links between Yanagi’s views and those of certain folklorists, notably Yanagita Kunio 柳田國男 (1875-1962), the founding father of Japanese folk studies. Yanagi clarified this issue himself, first during an interview with the famous folklorist and ethnologist in 1940,58 then again in a lecture given the following year at the anthropology department of Tokyo Imperial University.59

65 What emerges is that while both disciplines share certain characteristics, notably their interest in the “everyday life of the people” and “regional cultures”, they take a fundamentally “different stance”. Folk studies (minzokugaku), whose purpose Yanagita described as the precise knowledge of ancient history through the objective study of customs, everyday objects and popular traditions, are an “empirical” (keikengaku) or “descriptive” (kijutsugaku) science. In contrast, the study of folk crafts (mingeigaku), which looks towards the future, resembles a “normative” science (kihangaku) since it aims to define an aesthetic based on value judgements. Consequently, explained Yanagi, even when the two disciplines study the same object, for example figurative votive plaques (ema), their methods and objectives differ fundamentally, since folk studies seek to obtain a representative sample with a view to studying popular beliefs, regional customs and legends, while folk craft studies make aesthetic choices and establish a hierarchy according to the criteria of beauty. One analyses content and what the object tells us about a specific practice, or even cultural identity; the other studies the object primarily for its aesthetic value.60

66 Another enlightening comparison regarding this difference in approach, as far as the issue of folk painting is concerned, is the ethnographical research conducted by André Leroi-Gourhan (1911-1986) in Japan in the 1930s, which led him to take an interest in the “minor creations” (productions minimes) of folk crafts, in particular votive plaques and Ōtsu-e. Leroi-Gourhan collected a small sample of such objects61 for the Trocadéro Museum of Ethnography (Musée d’ethnographie). This provided him with the material to write a book on popular forms of religious art in Japan (Formes populaires de l’art religieux au Japon)62 at a time when he sought to “assess how current or recent folk art can contribute to the art history of the great nations”.63 At first glance Leroi-Gourhan’s angle of attack appears to resemble that of Yanagi - whose museum and book on Ōtsu-e he discovered while in Japan –64, such as when he writes in the introduction to his book:

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“The history of painting consists of the names of great men. To escape this we must begin with an art that has no names; temporarily leave behind the masterpieces with their technical feats and challenges to brush and paper; take anonymous, interchangeable works, objects that are within the capabilities of thousands of humble artists.65” Yanagi’s work also presented similarities with Leroi-Gourhan’s when he established a typology based chiefly on the themes and meanings of paintings. Their motives were nonetheless markedly different, for Yanagi did not seek to study what Leroi-Gourhan referred to as the “ethnic value” of these images, nor to understand the historical evolution of folk painting themes in order to develop a general theory of representation. In line with his 1926 museum-based plan to “enter the beauty of [folk crafts] into the history books” by selecting the most striking works according to aesthetic criteria,66 he intended to elevate folk painting to the rank of art using a newly broadened definition. Above all, he was a campaigner for the folk craft cause seeking to promote a different form of beauty and suggest models through which to revive contemporary creation. For his part, although he admired the work of certain Mingei movement artists like the potter Kawai Kanjirō 河井寛次郎, who served as his guide in this field,67 Leroi-Gourhan did not seem to share Yanagi’s enthusiasm for a neo-folk art, writing from Kyoto in 1938: “Things are at such a point that artists are currently creating a movement of snobbism towards peasant art. Which means that peasant art is truly dead”.68 Yanagi’s approach to objects remained above all sensitive and intuitive, that of an aesthete, an enthusiast enamoured with collecting. It is this very perspective that enabled folk paintings to escape their status as simple ethnographic or ethno- religious documents by revealing their aesthetic qualities.

NOTES

1. Of the 129 items only two were graphic works and these were modern creations: a woodblock print by Munakata Shikō from the Kannon Sutra series (1938) and a stencil-dyed textile by Serizawa Keisuke depicting Ryūkyū Scenes (1939). 2. At the beginning of the 1910s – despite being barely in his twenties – Yanagi wrote a series of articles on artists like Beardsley (1910), Rodin (1910 and 1912), Renoir (1911), Van Gogh (1912) and Matisse (1913), which appeared in early issues of the journal Shirakaba. He examined the characteristics shared by Post-Impressionist artists in a well-known essay entitled “Kakumei no gaka” 革命の畫家 (Painters of the Revolution), Shirakaba, January 1912, reprinted in Yanagi Sōetsu Zenshū 柳宗悦全集 (hereafter YSZ), vol. 1, Tokyo, Chikuma Shobō, 1981, pp. 543-567. For more on this point see Michael Lucken’s article in this volume. 3. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Chōsen minzoku bijutsu tenrankai ni tsuite” 朝鮮民族美術展覧會に就て (On the Korean Folk Art Exhibition), Shirakaba, no. 21, May 1921 and Yomiuri Shinbun, 9-10 May 1921, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, pp. 84-88. The exhibition of just under 200 items was held at the Ruissō Gallery 流逸荘 in the Ogawa-chō neighbourhood of Kanda, one of the first galleries of its kind in Japan. Opened in 1914, it hosted a number of events by Shirakaba-group artists. 4. 「西洋の藝術に親んだ吾々は、いつか自らの故郷である東洋の藝術を省みる時が来るで あらう」, ibid., p. 85.

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5. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu, ‘“Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan’ no setsuritsu ni tsuite” 「朝鮮民族美術館」 の設立に就て (On the Creation of a Korean Folk Crafts Museum), Shirakaba, January 1921 (later published in English in The Japan Advertiser, 23 January), reprinted in YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, pp. 79-83. 6. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Ushinawaren to suru ichi Chōsen kenchiku no tame ni” 失なわれんとする 一朝鮮建築のために (In Defence of an Endangered Piece of Korean Architecture), Kaizō, September 1922, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, pp. 145-154. In her work on Yanagi, Élisabeth Frolet, quoting Takasaki Sōji 高崎宗司 (Chōsen no tsuchi to natta nihonjin. Asakawa Takumi no shōgai 朝鮮の土となった日本人 — 浅川巧の生涯, 1982), puts Yanagi’s activities into perspective by pointing out that the museum’s opening was made possible “thanks to the decision of the governor-general [of Korea] to conceal his oppression of the country through ‘cultural politics (bunka seiji)”’. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu ou les éléments d’une renaissance artistique au Japon (Yanagi Sōetsu: Elements of an Artistic Revival in Japan), Paris, Publications de la Sorbonne, 1986, p. 66. 7. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Chōsen-ga o nagamete” 朝鮮畫を眺めて (Contemplation of a Korean Painting), Mingei, no. 59, November 1957; “Fushigi-na chōsen minga” 不思議な朝鮮民畫 (The Wonderful Folk Paintings of Korea); “Chōsen no minga” 朝鮮の民畫 (Korean Folk Paintings), Mingei, no. 80, August 1959, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, pp. 496-499, pp. 500-512, pp. 513-518. On Yanagi and Korean paintings, see Ogyū Shinzō 尾久彰三, “Yanagi Muneyoshi ga hakken shita minshū-teki kaiga no ‘!”’ 柳宗悦が発見した民衆的絵画の「!」, Bessatsu Taiyō: Kankoku, Chōsen no kaiga 別冊太陽 — 韓国・朝鮮の絵画, Tokyo, Heibonsha, November 2008, pp. 112-113. 8. For further information on this genre, see Yeolsu Yoon, Folk Painting. Handbook of Korean Art vol 4, London, Laurence King Publishing, 2003, pp. 194-211; catalogue for the exhibition Nostalgies coréennes. Collection Lee U-fan. Peintures et paravents du XVIIe au XIXe siècle (Korean Melancholy. The Lee U-fan Collection. Paintings and Folding Screens from the 17th to the 19th Century), Paris, Musée national des arts asiatiques - Guimet, Réunion des musées nationaux, 2001, pp. 146-162. 9. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Fushigi-na chōsen minga”, op. cit., YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, p. 510. 10. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Chōsen no minga”, op. cit., YSZ, vol. 6, 1981, p. 515. 11. Cho Cha-yong (sometimes transcribed as Zo Zayong), a Harvard-trained Korean architect, was among the first to establish a collection of minhwa in the 1960s (collection held at the Emileh Museum, which he founded in Seoul in 1967), to organise exhibitions and publish articles on the subject. See, among others, Zozayong, Guardians of Happiness. Shamanistic Tradition in Korean Folk Painting, Seoul, Emileh Museum, 1982; Cho Cha-yong 趙子庸, Kim Ch’ŏl-sun 金哲淳, Chosŏn sidae minhwa 朝鮮時代民畫, Seoul, Yegyŏng Sanŏpsa, 1989; Cho Cha-yong, Lee U-fan, Traditional Korean Painting. A Lost Art Rediscovered, Tokyo, Kodansha International, 1990. 12. Cf. Hong Sŏn-pyo 洪善杓, “Chōsen minga no atarashii rikai” 朝鮮民画の新しい理解, Bessatsu Taiyō. Kankoku, Chōsen no kaiga, Tokyo, Heibonsha, November 2008, pp. 108-110. 13. Catalogue for the exhibition Pan’gapta! uri minhwa / Ureshii! Chōsen minga / Happy! Joseon Folk Painting, Seoul, Sŏul yŏksa pangmulgwan, 2005. On the subject of Yanagi’s contribution, see Ogyū Shinzō 尾久彰三, ‘“Ureshii! Chōsen minga” ten ni yosete’ 「うれしい! 朝鮮民画」展に寄せて, pp. 246-251. 14. On the evolution of research on Korean folk painting since Yanagi, see Chŏng Pyŏng-mo 鄭炳 模, “Chōsen minga-ron” 朝鮮民画論 (Theories on Korean Folk Painting), ibid., pp. 262-271. 15. Based on the introduction to his book Shoki Ōtsu-e 初期大津繪 (The Beginnings of Ōtsu-e, 1929), reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, p. 28. 16. See, among others, a series of texts by Yanagi on Tsukishima monogatari emaki 築嶋物語絵巻 (The Tale of Tsukishima Scroll), a 16th-century narrative painted scroll inspired by an edifying tale from the Muromachi period. The texts appeared in a special issue of the journal Kōgei (Crafts) in June 1936, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 400-422. 17. Yanagi explained his broad conception of folk painting in “Minga ni tsuite” 民畫について (On Folk Painting), Mingei zukan 民藝圖鑑, vol. 1, Tokyo, Hōbunkan, 1960, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 502-516.

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18. Yanagi Sōetsu, Zakki no bi 雑器の美 (The Beauty of Miscellaneous Wares), 1927. Based on Mizuo Hiroshi 水尾比呂志, ‘Kosei-bi o koeru mono’ 個性美を超えるもの, YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, p. 743. 19. Remember that the first historical and anthropological studies of votive plaques were only conducted in the 1920s and 1930s. Examples include: Frederick Starr, “Ema” (Transactions of The Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. 48, 1920, a Japanese translation of which was published by the Tōyō Minzoku Hakubutsukan museum in Nara in 1930) and the work of folklorists Yanagita Kunio (“Ema to uma” 繪馬と馬 / Votive Plaques and Horses) and Nakayama Tarō 中山太郎 (‘Ema genryū-kō’ 繪馬源流考 / Thoughts on the Origins of Votive Plaques), which was published in a special edition of the journal Tabi to densetsu in 1930. The journal founded by Yanagi, Kōgei, devoted a special issue to the subject in 1937, featuring among others a text by the painter Serizawa (“Ema ni tsuite” 繪馬について / On Votive Plaques) and a study by the historian Nakamura Naokatsu 中村直勝: “Ema shōshi” 繪馬小史 (A Short History of Votive Plaques). 20. Cf. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Nihon mingei-hin tenrankai mokuroku” 日本民藝品展覧會目録 (Catalogue for the Japan Folk Crafts Exhibition), 15-17 March 1929, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 8, 1980, pp. 357-359. This exhibition, which was held in the Kyoto offices of the Mainichi newspaper, featured 55 paintings, including 21 Ōtsu-e (belonging to Yanagi), 11 doro-e gouache paintings and 19 votive plaques belonging to Serizawa Keisuke. 21. See the eight criteria set out by Yanagi for the objects held at the Mingeikan, in Élisabeth Frolet (in French), op. cit., p. 108. 22. The book was published as the second volume in a collection devoted to folk craft (“Mingei sōsho”). The first volume, also written by Yanagi, focused on The Beauty of Miscellaneous Wares (Zakki no bi), 1927. 23. The first art historian to seriously study the subject was Taki Seiichi 瀧精– (1873-1945), professor of Japanese Art History at Tokyo Imperial University from 1914 to 1943. In an essay published in the prestigious journal Kokka 國華 in January 1940 (“Ōtsu-e setsu” 大津繪説 / “Theories on Ōtsu-e”), he admitted that: “Yanagi Sōetsu’s work The Beginnings of Ōtsu-e, is commendable. However, research on the historical importance of Ōtsu-e considered from a painting perspective remains insufficient.” Taki Setsuan bijutsu ronshū. Nihon-hen 瀧拙庵美術論集 — 日本篇, Tokyo, Zaūhō Kankōkai, 1943, p. 383. 24. Morii Toshiki 森井利喜, Ōtsu-e senshū 大津繪選集, Ōtsu, Ōtsu-e Kai, April 1926. For more information on this exhibition, see YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 147-148. 25. Katagiri Shūzō (ed.), Genshoku Ōtsu-e zufu 原色大津絵図譜, Ōtsu, Ōmi Kyōgei Bijutsukan, Dai- honzan Enman-in Monzeki, 1971; Katagiri Shūzō, Ōtsu-e kōwa 大津絵こう話, Hikone, Ōtsu-e Bunka Kyōkai, 1984. 26. In Shoki Ōtsu-e Yanagi lists 102 motifs categorised into broad genres: Buddhist images, the Seven Lucky Gods, goblins, historical or legendary figures, male characters, female characters, animals, birds, plants and architecture. 27. The Japan Folk Crafts Museum’s Ōtsu-e collection consists of 138 items which were published in Ogyū Shinzō 尾久彰三 (ed.), Ōtsu-e. Nihon mingeikan shozō 大津絵 — 日本民藝館所蔵, Tokyo, Tōhō Shuppan, 2005. The majority came from a posthumous donation received in 1985 from a private individual by the name of Komenami Shōichi 米浪庄弌, who shortly after the Second World War put together the most extensive collection of Ōtsu-e, comprising over 100 items. 28. The Ōtsu City Museum of History also holds over sixty works (some of which were presented in two exhibitions: Kaidō no minga. Ōtsu-e 街道の民画 — 大津絵, 1995, and Ōtsu-e no sekai 大津絵 の世界, 2006), while the Machida City Museum has 46 items, which were recently published (Ōtsu-e. Machida shiritsu hakubutsukan zōhin zuroku 大津絵 — 町田市立博物館蔵品図録, 2006). The most ambitious publication on Ōtsu-e includes some 230 works (Kaidō ni umareta minga. Ōtsu-e 街 道に生まれた民画 — 大津絵, Kyoto, Kōrinsha, 1987).

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29. Basing his calculation on an estimated 50 pictures sold daily at the workshops of painters in and around Ōtsu, Mizuo Hiroshi arrived at a figure of more than 3.5 million paintings sold over the entire Edo period. Kokka 國華, “Tokushū: Ōtsu-e” 特集 — 大津繪, no. 1267, May 2001, p. 21. 30. In Ukiyo-e zakki 浮世繪襍記 (Notes on Ukiyo-e, 1943) Nakada Katsunosuke 仲田勝之助 argued that the appearance of Ōtsu-e should be dated back to the Kan’ei era (1624-1644) and attempted to prove that “satirical paintings” (giga 戯画) had existed before Buddhist themes. Yanagi refuted these arguments in “Ōtsu-e gaisetsu” 大津繪概説 (General Presentation of Ōtsu-e), Kōgei, no. 120, January 1951, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 203-205. 31. “Ōtsu-e no waka” 大津繪の和歌 (Poems in Ōtsu-e), Kōgei, no. 2, February 1931, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 177-202. 32. “Ōtsu-e no hanashi” 大津繪の話 (On Ōtsu-e), a radio conference broadcast in Kyoto on 18 January 1929, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, p. 22. 33. For more information on this point, see my analysis of Kafū’s book, Edo geijutsu-ron 江戸藝術 論 (Essays on Edo-Period Arts, 1920), in Christophe Marquet, « Le regard de Nagai Kafū: une relecture des arts d’Edo au début du XXe siècle » (The Views of Nagai Kafū: Reinterpreting Edo- Period Arts at the Beginning of the 20th Century), Cipango. Cahiers d’études japonaises, INALCO, no 12, 2005, p. 308-329. 34. See Nathalie Heinich, Du peintre à l’artiste. Artisans et académiciens à l’âge classique (From Painter to Artist. Craftsmen and Academicians in the Classical Age), Paris, Les éditions de Minuit, 1993 and L’élite artiste. Excellence et singularité en régime démocratique (Artistic Elite. Excellence and Singularity in a Democratic Regime), Paris, Gallimard, 2005. 35. Yanagi developed this issue in “Kōgei to bijutsu” 工藝と美術 (Applied Arts and Fine Arts), Mingei, no. 27, March 1933, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 8, 1980, pp. 554-570. 36. Yanagi made the following statement in a lecture given in 1936 at the Peers’ Club in Tokyo: “Ukiyo-ye is known the world over, partly because the artists are those of well-established reputation. It is a pity that little attention is paid to ōtsu-ye, which is not inferior to the better- known ukiyo-ye in beauty and grace.” Yanagi Sōetsu, translated by Sakabe Shigeyoshi, Folk-Crafts in Japan, Tokyo, Kokusai Bunka Shinkōkai, 1936, p. 36. 37. For further information on Yanagi’s two trips to the United States (in 1929-1930 and 1952-1953), see Nicole Coolidge Rousmaniere, “Yanagi’s America: Sōetsu Yanagi’s Two Extended Stays in the United States and Their Impact on America”, catalogue to the exhibition Mingei. Two Centuries of Japanese Folk Art (Peabody Essex Museum, Joslyn Art Museum, etc.), The Japan Folk Crafts Museum, 1995, pp. 48-55. 38. Based on a letter addressed to Bernard Leach on 15 September 1929, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 21-1, 1989, pp. 374. 39. This research, with which Yanagi assisted and which was the first detailed presentation of the history of Korean pottery in the United States, was published in the second volume of Eastern Art in 1930 under the title “Kōrai Celadon in America”. Yanagi published “A Note on the Pottery Kilns of the Kōrai Dynasty” in the same issue. 40. Langdon Warner, The Craft of the Japanese Sculptor, New York, MacFarlane, 1936, pp. 53-54. On the subject of Mokujiki, see François Macé’s article in this volume of Cipango. 41. Langdon Warner, The Enduring Art of Japan, Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1952, the chapter “Folk and Traditional Art”, pp. 76-84, in which Yanagi’s article on Ōtsu-e is extensively quoted. Warner accompanied his text with twenty or so examples of paintings, sculptures, ceramics and other folk wares (Fig. 62 to 78). 42. Eastern Art, College Art Association, Philadelphia, vol. II, 1930, pp. 5-36. 43. Cf. “Japanese Peasant Painting”, Fogg Art Museum. Harvard University. Notes, vol. II, no. 5, June 1930, p. 228. Note that another Ōtsu-e exhibition, comprised of 44 items, had been organised two years earlier in London by the art dealer Yamanaka, accompanied by a modest catalogue: Otsuye: Old Japanese Caricatures, London, Yamanaka & Company, 1928, p. 18.

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44. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Sashi-e kaisetsu. Minga ni tsuite” 挿繪解説 — 民畫に就て (Commentary on the Illustrations. On Folk Painting), Kōgei, no. 2, 1931, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 369-375. 45. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Kaiga-ron” 繪畫論 (Essay on Painting), Kōgei, no. 37, January 1934, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 382-399, foreword p. 769. 46. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Kōgei-teki kaiga” 工藝的繪畫 (Folk Painting), Kōgei, no. 73, February 1937, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 13, 1982, pp. 423-436. This article was published in a special issue of the journal Kōgei dedicated to doro-e. 47. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Bijutsu to kōgei” 美術と工藝 (Fine Arts and Applied Arts), Ōsaka Mainichi Shinbun, 10-12 February 1931, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 8, 1980, pp. 432-436; Yanagi Sōetsu, “Kōgei to bijutsu” 工藝と美術 (Applied Arts and Fine Arts), Mingei, no. 27, March 1933, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 8, 1980, pp. 554-570. 48. Yanagi explained this decision in “Nihon mingeikan annai” 日本民藝館案内 (Presentation of the Japan Folk Crafts Museum), Gekkan Mingei, September 1939, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 16, 1981, p. 93. 49. On this point, see Yoshida Shōgorō 吉田小五郎, “Doro-e no hanashi” 泥繪の話 (On Gouache Paintings), Kōgei, no. 73, March 1937. 50. Although the dating of doro-e remains the subject of debate, their production presumably dates back no further than the beginning of the nineteenth century. Indeed, they most likely do not predate the appearance of landscape themes in ukiyo-e, which began in the 1830s with artists like Hiroshige and Hokusai. The widespread use of Prussian Blue in these paintings confirms that they were produced no earlier than the 1820s. See Satō Morihiro, Edo doro-e: Gaze on Urban Space in Early Modern Japan, Master's Essay, Columbia University, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, East Asian Studies, 1996. Japanese summary available on the website http://web.kyoto-inet.or.jp/ people/b-monkey/ 51. See the following publications on doro-e: Edo no doro-e ten. Watanabe Shin.ichirō-shi korekushon 江戸の泥絵展 — 渡辺紳一郎氏コレクション Hamamatsu-shi Bijutsukan, 1977 (exhibition catalogue for the 300-strong Watanabe collection); Ono Tadashige 小野忠重, Garasu-e to doro-e. Bakumatsu, Meiji no shomin-ga kō ガラス絵と泥絵 — 幕末・明治庶民画考, Tokyo, Kawade Shobō Shinsha, 1990; Satō Morihiro 佐藤守弘, “Topogurafia to shite no meisho-e. Edo doro-e to toshi no shikaku bunka” トポグラフィアとしての名所絵 — 江戸泥絵と都市の視覚文化, Bigaku geijutsugaku 美学芸術学, no. 14, 1999; Satō Morihiro 佐藤守弘, “Toshi to sono hyōshō. Shikaku bunka to shite no Edo doro-e” 都市とその表象 — 視覚文化としての江戸泥絵, Bigaku 美学, no. 202, 2000. 52. Cf. Edo geijutsu-ron 江戸藝術論, in Christophe Marquet, op. cit., pp. 319-320. 53. See the book that Kishida Ryūsei 岸田劉生 devoted to this subject in 1926: Shoki nikuhitsu ukiyo-e 初期肉筆浮世繪 (The Beginnings of Ukiyo-e). Kishida also wrote about doro-e, which he described as “crude” (gete no mono 下テのもの) but full of charm, and he provided reproductions of two examples from his own collection, ascribed to the Western-style painter Aōdō Denzen 亜 欧堂田善 (1748-1822). 54. Walter Benjamin, L'Œuvre d'art à l'époque de sa reproductibilité technique (published in English as The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction) (first edition, 1935), translated by Rainer Rochlitz, in Œuvres III (Writings, vol. 3), Paris, Gallimard, 2000, p. 67-113. 55. Yanagi Sōetsu, Zakki no bi, 1927, reprinted in Mingei yonjū-nen, Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten, Iwanami Bunko collection, 1984, p. 95. 56. See, for example, the work of Kishi Fumikazu 岸文和 on the “pictorial act”, Kaiga kōi-ron. Ukiyo-e no puragumatikusu 絵画行為論 — 浮世絵のプラグマティクス, Kyoto, Daigo Shobō, 2008. 57. Cho Cha-yong, “Yi-Dynasty Painting and the Concept of Folk Art”, in Cho Cha-yong, Lee U- fan, Traditional Korean Painting. A Lost Art Rediscoverd, Tokyo, Kodansha International, 1990, pp. 159-173.

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58. Yanagita Kunio, Yanagi Sōetsu, Shikiba Ryūzaburō 式場隆三郎, Higa Shunchō 比嘉春潮, “Mingeigaku to minzokugaku no mondai” 民藝學と民俗學の問題 (The Problem of Folk Craft Studies and Folk Studies), Gekkan Mingei, vol. 2, no. 4, April 1940, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 10, 1982, pp. 735-747. See the translation by Damien Kunik and Jean-Michel Butel at the end of this volume. 59. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Mingeigaku to minzokugaku” 民藝學と民俗學 (Folk Craft Studies and Folk Studies), Kōgei, no. 104, June 1941, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 9, 1980, pp. 272-287. 60. Yanagi also mentions this difference in the approach to votive plaques in “Nihon mingeikan” 日本民藝館 (Japan Folk Crafts Museum), 1954, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 16, 1981, p. 190. 61. In a letter to Jean Buhot on the subject of Ōtsu-e, dated 25 December 1938, Leroi-Gourhan stated: “I have reproductions, originals or late copies of almost all the themes now.” In a letter on the 23rd of the same month he drew up a list of the “folk images” in his possession. Cf. André Leroi-Gourhan, Pages oubliées sur le Japon (Forgotten Pages on Japan), posthumous edition by Jean- François Lesbre, Grenoble, Éditions Jérôme Million, 2004, p. 72 and p. 67. A small number of the votive plaques (22 items) and Ōtsu-e (3 items) collected by Leroi-Gourhan are currently held at the Musée du Quai Branly (see the website http://www.culture.fr/collections 62. This book, which aimed to study various genres of folk painting and crafts (votive plaques, toys, Ōtsu-e, family crests, etc.), as well as their forms and subjects, was begun in the early 1940s but never completed. The manuscript was edited by Jean-François Lesbre in ibid, pp. 276-377. 63. André Leroi-Gourhan, Documents pour l’art comparé de l’Eurasie septentrionale (Documents for the Comparative Art of Northern Eurasia), Paris, Les éditions d’art et d’histoire, 1943, p. 88. 64. In a letter to Buhot (op. cit, Pages oubliées sur le Japon, p. 105) Leroi-Gourhan quotes Yanagi’s book Shoki Ōtsu-e on the interpretation of a painting from Ōtsu. In a letter dated May 1938 (ibid., p. 40) he also mentions his visit to the “Tokyo peasant museum” founded by Yanagi the previous year. Finally, in Formes populaires de l’art religieux au Japon he refers to recent Japanese research on votive plaques, including the work of Akashi Someto 明石染人, who studied them from a “folk art” perspective (Akashi Someto, “Mingei to shite no ema no kōsatsu” 民藝としての繪馬の考察, Bi 美, vol. 23, no. 4-5, Kyoto, Unsōdō, 1929). 65. Ibid., p. 285. 66. Yanagi Sōetsu, “Nihon mingei bijutsukan setsuritsu shuisho” 日本民藝美術館設立趣意書 (Manifesto for the Creation of a Folk Art Museum), April 1926, reprinted in YSZ, vol. 16, 1981, pp. 5-10. 67. During a lecture given at the French Institute of Anthropology in 1940 after returning from Japan, Leroi-Gourhan spoke of having met Kawai Kanjirō, his “precious adviser on folk art”, in Kyoto (op. cit., Pages oubliées sur le Japon, p. 412). 68. Letter to Jean Buhot, 20 May 1938, ibid., p. 40.

ABSTRACTS

After he focused on Pre-Modern Japanese and Korean folk paintings, Yanagi Sōetsu revolutionized the concept of “painting” in order to revitalize contemporary art/creation.

Par la redécouverte d'œuvres picturales populaires japonaises et coréennes antérieures au XXe siècle, Yanagi Sōetsu appelle à révolutionner le concept même de peinture pour renouveler la création contemporaine.

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INDEX

Keywords: material culture, folk art, popular culture, Mingei, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), ethnology, korean painting, art history, folk-crafts, folklore キーワード: kōgei 工芸, minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, busshitsu bunka 物質文化, taishū bunka 大 衆文化, minzoku 民俗, mingei undo 民芸運動, Mingeikan 民芸館, kankokuga 韓国画, minga 民 画, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), minzokugaku 民族学, bijutsushi 美術史, Taishō jidai 大正 時代 (1912-1926), Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Mots-clés: mingei, culture populaire, mouvement artistique, arts populaires, folklore, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), culture matérielle, peinture coréenne, peinture populaire, artisanat, Musée des arts populaires, art paysan, ethnologie, histoire de l'art Chronological index: Taishō (1912-1926), Shōwa (1926-1989)

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And Mokujiki’s smile revealed true beauty to Yanagi Sōetsu Et le sourire de Mokujiki révéla à Yanagi Sōetsu la beauté véritable

François Macé

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original release: François Macé, « Et le sourire de Mokujiki révéla à Yanagi Sōetsu la beauté véritable », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 15 novembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.370.

1 For many Japanese art enthusiasts the names Mokujiki 木喰 (1718-1810) and Enkū 円空 (1632-1695) are inextricably linked, despite the one-hundred-year gap that separates them. In my mind they remain linked to the 1972 exhibition Enkū Mokujiki Ten in Tokyo, which presented their works side by side. At that time they represented the leading figures of a Buddhist art in robust health. They illustrated the vitality of Japanese artists during the Edo period, far from the purported decline of Buddhist art in modern times.

2 And yet these two sculptor-monks, who appear as inseparable as Kanzan 寒山 and Jittoku 拾得, have only been associated quite recently, during the second boom in Mokujiki’s popularity. The first joint exhibition was held in Hokkaidō in 1953,1 with both monks having been long ignored previously by specialists in art history. Considered overly crude, their sculptures did not fall within the framework of an art synonymous with high culture. Simply put, they did not conform to the criteria of beauty. One appeared too primitive and violent, the other too naïve and awkward.

3 However, in order to draw a parallel between them, they first had to be discovered. This was the job of Yanagi Sōetsu, who stepped in to rescue Mokujiki from oblivion, for Enkū had never left people’s memories.

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Enkū

4 In fact, Enkū had been a well-known figure for some time, as evidenced by his inclusion in reference works from the 1920s and 1930s. The Dictionary of Buddhism – the first edition of which was published in 1933 –2 carries an entry on Enkū with accompanying picture, in which we learn that his biography appeared in book eleven of the Sequel to the Biographies of Eminent Monks.3 He is described as a monk, painter and sculptor who used only a billhook and travelled the length of Japan, from Kyūshū to the lands of the Ezo (Ainu), for the purpose of preaching. He generally lived in caves. The dictionary makes no reference to the artistic quality of his works but notes their effectiveness in pacifying dangerous spirits. It stresses the monk’s holiness, describing him as a “present-day Shakya” (Ima Shaka 今釈迦).

5 However, if Enkū appears in the Sequel to the Biographies of Eminent Monks, it is because he had never been forgotten. Barely twenty years after his death, the illustrious Illustrated Compendium of the Three Powers in Japan and China4 noted that Enkū had offered a thousand carvings of Jizō to Mount Osore (Osorezan 恐山).5 The monk enjoyed another mention just a short time later, in the book Eccentrics of Our Times, published in 1790.6 An illustration even shows him carving a Buddha onto a living tree. This book was followed at regular intervals by other publications relating Enkū’s life.

6 Heibonsha’s Great Encyclopaedia, published between 1931 and 1933, devoted an equally long entry to Enkū as the Dictionary of Buddhism and featured the same picture. 7 It indicated that Enkū belonged to the Rinzai School (when in fact he lived as a solitary monk attached to no institution, similar to the yamabushi, or mountain ascetics). These more or less reliable indications all seem to originate from the same source, most likely the Sequel to the Biographies of Eminent Monks. Strangely, neither of the two dictionaries carries a date. The Great Encyclopaedia even cites Enkū’s trip to the Ezo as having taken place during the late Ashikaga period (sixteenth century). Commentators primarily stress the piety that drove him to carve numerous statues, without ever mentioning their artistic value.

7 In fact, the value of his work only came to be recognised much later, after Mokujiki’s. It began with the sculptor Hashimoto Heihachi 橋本平八 (1897-1935), who came across a sculpture by Enkū while staying at Senkōji temple (千光寺) after a trip to Takayama in 1931. He immediately resolved to study these sculptures and their creator, a task that would occupy him for ten years. At the time of his discovery, Hashimoto wrote the following in his diary:8 I cannot speculate as to Yanagi Sōetsu’s state of mind as he studied the venerable Mokujiki, but today, when I think of Enkū as I contemplate his works, I can feel it.

8 He also described his reaction, which was similar to Yanagi’s upon discovering Mokujiki’s first works: The holy man [Enkū] created countless Buddhas at Senkōji more than two hundred and thirty years ago. Yet one has difficulty believing it was so long ago. [These Buddhas] give the impression that just a short period of time separates us, a few years at most.

9 And yet despite Hashimoto’s enthusiasm, Enkū’s renown would not be assured until the 1960s, following a first exhibition held in Kamakura in 1957. The journal Mingei was the first to lead the way in 1959 by devoting a special issue to the monk, including an article by Yanagi entités “Karmic Ties with Enkū’s Buddhas”.9 This article later

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appeared in a volume of his selected writings entitled The Venerable Mokujiki, indicating that Yanagi developed his interest in Enkū through his experience of Mokujiki.10

A forgotten figure

10 The two 1930s’ dictionaries are also consistent in their disregard for Mokujiki. Mochizuki makes no mention of anyone by that name, despite the fact that several have existed in the history of Japanese Buddhism. The Great Encyclopaedia cites just one person, the famous Kōyasan monk Mokujiki Ōgo 木食應其 (1536-1608), a contemporary of Toyotomi Hideyoshi who rubbed shoulders with the mighty of his time and left behind numerous poems (renga) but not a single sculpture.

11 The sculptor Mokujiki – Mokujiki Gogyō 木喰五行 – had been well and truly forgotten. While conducting research in the monk’s native province, Yanagi found no trace of him in regional histories from the period. He cites the example of the highly detailed History of Kai Province,11 which makes no reference whatsoever to Mokujiki. In other words, shortly after his death, Mokujiki had already been forgotten. We can presume that even during his lifetime his renown must have been limited.

12 And yet, his life bears many similarities to that of Enkū, whose memory had remained alive. Both were “itinerant monks” (yugyōsō 遊行僧) who lived a large part of their lives independently from religious establishments. Both traversed Japan from Kyūshū to Ezo. And finally, both produced an astonishing quantity of sculptures. This activity, long considered a pious deed in Buddhism, was an integral part of their practice alongside other ascetic vows, such as living in caves instead of buildings for Enkū, or surviving solely on fruit and nuts for Mokujiki, as his name indicates.12 Although itinerant monks were numerous, holy men capable of melting into the crowd while, paradoxically, leaving behind a name must have been few and far between. Ryōkan 良寛 (1758-1831) enjoyed a certain notoriety during his lifetime. Tōsui Unkei 桃水雲渓, who lived during the seventeenth century, ended his life as a vinegar merchant but made it onto the pages of Eccentrics of Our Times.13 As for sculptors of Mokujiki’s calibre, they were most likely an even rarer breed. Another Mokujiki, a certain Mokujiki Sankyo 木喰山居 (1657-1724), is said to have carved ten thousand Buddhas.14 And then there was Enkū of course. In fact, Gorai Shigeru suggests that it was the discovery of Enkū’s statues in Hokkaidō that incited Mokujiki to follow in his footsteps.15

The discovery

13 The rediscovery of Mokujiki appears to have been fortuitous. Yanagi Sōetsu describes how on 9 January 1923 he travelled to meet a certain Komiyama Seizō 小宮山清三, the village mayor of Ikeda, Yamanashi Prefecture. He was accompanied by Asakawa Takumi 浅川巧 (1891-1931), a specialist in Korean crafts. Both men were hoping to see the Korean porcelain wares that Komiyama collected. Yanagi, then aged 34, was working at the time on his plan to open the Korean Folk Crafts Museum (Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan 朝鮮民族美術館).16 In addition to the ceramic wares they had come to see, Yanagi’s eye was instantly drawn to two sculptures he found in the storeroom of their host. One was a statue of the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, known in Japanese as Jizō

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Bosatsu 地蔵菩薩; the other was of the Tathagata Amitayus, in Japanese Muryōju Nyorai 無量寿如来.

Mokujiki, Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha (Jizō Bosatsu 地蔵菩薩)

Mingeikan Collection, Tokyo

14 Another statue, this time of Namu Daishi 南無大師,17 was found in Komiyama’s reception room. Each of the statues bore the signature of a certain Mokujiki. Yanagi’s enthusiasm for the beauty of these objects was such that Komiyama offered him the Jizō and subsequently helped him in his search for the mysterious sculptor named Mokujiki.

15 That same evening Yanagi wrote to one of his sculptor friends saying that his intuition had not deceived him, the Holy Man (Mokujiki) was indeed the greatest sculptor from the end of the bafuku (first half of the nineteenth century). Upon his return home, a sick Yanagi placed the Jizō statue by his bedside to watch over him. “From that moment on, every day, every evening, I lived with that statue”, he wrote.18

16 It was not entirely by chance that these statues came to be in Ikeda, for Mokujiki himself was born not far away, in present-day Yamanashi Prefecture. Furthermore, during his long travels around Japan he returned to his native village Marubatake 丸畑 on three occasions. His final visit at the age of 83 was his most productive. At the request of local inhabitants he embarked on the construction of a Shikoku Hall, or Shikokudō 四国堂, which enabled the villagers to undertake the famous eighty-eight- temple pilgrimage around Shikoku (Hachijūhakkasho 八十八カ所) without leaving home.19 It was the ninety-one sculptures carved by Mokujiki for the hall that led to his discovery, for the building itself was destroyed during the Taishō era (1912-1926) and

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the statues it contained dispersed shortly before Yanagi’s visit. It was three of these statues that Yanagi saw at Komiyama’s house. The memory of their origins had not had time to be erased.

17 It should be noted that these sculptures belonged to a period in which the monk’s skill was at its peak. If Yanagi had seen statues from Mokujiki’s early period, would he still have been quite so struck by them?

The search

18 If Yanagi was able to gradually piece together details of Mokujiki’s life, this was thanks to the monk’s habit of writing his name on the back of his statues, alongside various other indications that enabled Yanagi to retrace his steps. The following inscription in particular was common:20 Travelling the length and breadth of Japan, contemplating the eight sects with one glance, thinking only of the edification [of all], the sculptor of Buddhas leaves them in places with which he has ties throughout the provinces. This is his main vow among the ten great vows21. Each Buddha is part of Japan’s one thousand statues. 日本順国八宗一見之行想，十大願之内本願として仏を仏師国々因縁ある所にこ れをほどこす、みな千躰之内なり

19 This text would be accompanied by the date of the statue “opening its eyes” and the sculptor’s name.

20 The second stage in Yanagi’s quest was marked by his discovery of Mokujiki’s papers in the monk’s native village. His family had conserved the notebooks in which he recorded the names of all the places in which he had stayed22 and those in which he had made an offering of sutras,23 as well as a collection of poems (waka) and, most of all, what appears to be his autobiography, the Mirror of my Heartfelt Prayers from Shikoku Hall (Shikokudō Shingankyō 四国堂心願鏡). Yanagi wrote of his joy at being able to consult these documents. Having been asked to return it the following day, he spent an entire night feverishly copying out the Mirror of my Heartfelt Prayers. However, with the aid of Komiyama he was later able to borrow the documents and study them at leisure.

21 This information enabled Yanagi to conduct his investigations with a certain precision24 and he rapidly set out to retrace Mokujiki’s footsteps. In less than a year he succeeded in recovering three hundred statues located around Japan. He also enlisted the help of friends such as Mushanokōji Saneatsu 武者小路実篤 (1885-1976),25 taking advantage of Mushanokōji having moved to Kyūshū to establish a cooperative community by asking him to search for the Mokujiki statues he knew to be located on the island. Yanagi published his initial findings in 1924-1925, in seven issues of the journal Josei 女性 (Woman), before publishing them in a single volume entitled Mokujiki shōnin no kenkyū 木喰上人之研究 (Research on the Venerable Mokujiki).26 He continued his research until 1926 before devoting himself entirely to the Folk Crafts Movement. With the trend thus set, other researchers were able to pursue his work with the support of the Mokujiki Research Association (Mokujiki Kenkyūkai) he had set up. Yanagi later organised the first Mokujiki exhibition in Kyoto in 1935.

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Genuine beauty

22 Yanagi was not a historian by trade. It was Mokujiki’s work and personality that interested him. In the book he wrote on the sculptor-monk, Yanagi explained that his chance discovery of Mokujiki was only made possible by three preconditions having been satisfied. The first was his own search for “true beauty” (shin no bi 真の美). Yanagi had never been able to live far from the world of beauty. It was this that had led him to study William Blake as a student, and then Yi Dynasty Korean porcelain wares. It was this true beauty that he detected in Mokujiki’s carvings. Yanagi returned to the subject of beauty towards the end of his book, in a section on the Shikokudō statues. In his eyes, Mokujiki had never sought to create beautiful objects. Nonetheless, it is widely agreed that he created original works, for he succeeded in freeing himself from fixed forms. Yanagi himself acknowledged that:27 From a certain point of view his works could be considered ugly […]. But for he who had become a solitary monk, what reason could he have had to waver before ugliness? Moreover, where is the conflict with beauty? He possessed no-mindness [mushin 無心] in all that he did. Lack of affectation in beauty does not imply lack of beauty. Apparent ugliness is not derived from ugliness. Modern men have endeavoured to capture a new kind of beauty from ugliness. One could call the carvings of this Holy Man modern. However, unlike our current era of conflict, the Holy Man had attained a state of mind where there was no distinction between beauty and ugliness [bishū funi 美醜不二]. In fact, choosing beauty over ugliness is but another passion that clouds the judgement. He continued by advocating simplicity: Simplicity is not crudeness and no-mindness [mushin 無心] is not ignorance. Thus, religious art usually expresses a simple beauty. Artificial ideas do not create art. His works are simple and natural […]. He was aware of his lack of technique and was not ashamed.

23 This simple beauty was expressed in the smile: the smile of Mokujiki, the smile of the Buddhas: What is striking, no matter who we are, is the facial expression. What other sculptor was able to capture and convey the smile of the Buddhas so intensely? In the history of sculpture, smiling Buddhas begin with him […]. This smile makes the Buddhas appear familiar to us.

A folk art

24 The second precondition to discovering Mokujiki related to the coarseness of his sculptures. Yanagi stressed their provincial, rustic and peasant qualities, comparing them to the anonymous earthenware (getemono 下手物) held in contempt by avid collectors of famous signed works. Yanagi, on the other hand, had immediately recognised their astonishing, hidden beauty. Throughout his writings on Mokujiki, Yanagi continually emphasised the unaffected nature of the monk’s work. According to him, Mokujiki had never had a master, never belonged to any school, nor sought fame and glory. Although he signed his statues, he left them in remote, rural locations rather than famous, popular places.28 The holy man chose the people as his friend […]. He left his statues in roadside chapels […]. The Buddhas have left the temples to walk among the towns and villages.29

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25 It was this combination of simple means and unintentional depth that attracted Yanagi and would become the central theme of the Folk Crafts Movement. His interest in folk paintings from Ōtsu followed the same logic.30

26 However, the coarseness of his sculptures does not signify that Mokujiki was ignorant, far from it. As a monk trained in the Shingon School of esoteric Buddhism he knew the seed characters31 for all the great Buddhist figures he carved – over fifty names by Yanagi’s estimate–32 and as we saw earlier, he also left a collection of poems.

27 Mokujiki’s personality posed a further problem. Though he was barely known to his contemporaries, this travelling monk was by no means an anonymous craftsman. Not only did he sign his works, he also gave himself extraordinary titles such as Bodhisattva Gogyō (Gogyō Bosatsu) or Immortal Myōman (Myōman Sennin). By fulfilling his vow to travel around Japan offering thousands of Buddha statues, he had attained a state that was beyond mere humanity. In addition to carving Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, he also created images of himself on several occasions.

Mokujiki, Self-portrait at the age of 84, 1801

Mingeikan Collection, Tokyo

28 Fifteen self-portraits exist, four in the Kyoto-Osaka region alone. The following inscription appears on the back of the statue from the hermitage Inryōan 蔭凉庵:33 … One of Japan’s thousand [Buddha] statues May the world be at péage Self-portrait of the Immortal Myōman for the enlightenment of his mother and father. May the days and months be pure and full of light The 8th day of the 1st month of the 4th year of Bunka

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[Master of] supramundane knowledge, light [of the Buddhas] The Immortal Myōman Aged 90.

29 Enkū is also known to have produced several “self-portraits”. It is impossible to know if these, or those of Mokujiki, revealed the distinctive features of their creators. I believe it is likely. Whatever the case may be, when we consider that the great Zen masters presented their disciples with a self-portrait as a symbol of Dharma transmission, with itinerant monks we are on another level entirely, that of the ascetic providing access to another state. For Yanagi: The Buddha statue represents the holy man himself. All the Buddhas are transformation bodies of the Holy Man.34

30 We are well and truly in the presence of something unique. It was this uniqueness that Yanagi was at pains to highlight in Mokujiki’s style and which belonged to no particular school.

Religion

31 The final element that made Yanagi’s discovery possible was religion. Yanagi had no doubt that Mokujiki’s faith (he employed a term more usually translated as “belief”, shinkō 信仰) was clearly visible in his sculptures. He saw them as an oasis, a shining light at a time when religion was on the decline. Yanagi himself showed a strong inclination towards religion. He remained in contact with Suzuki Daisetsu 鈴木大拙 (1870-1966), his former English teacher at Gakushūin, throughout his entire lifetime. Suzuki improved his understanding of Japanese Buddhism, in particular its non- intellectual aspects. It was his work on Pure Land devotees, or myōkōnin 妙好人 (“wonderfully good people”), that gave Yanagi the idea of conducting field research in Tottori Prefecture.35 We saw earlier that Yanagi took an interest in William Blake during his youth. In fact, he continued to write about religion, culminating in five volumes of selected writings on the subject.36

32 Mokujiki’s religion was a joyous one. The ascetic practices he undertook did not give him a pessimistic view of the body. Under his chisel, all his figures appear to be overcome with joy. Even Fudō Myōō 不動明王 (Acalanātha), the Immovable Wisdom King, appears benevolent rather than fearful.

33 The painter and printmaker Munakata Shikō 棟方志功 (1903-1975) first met Yanagi in 1936 during an exhibition. He certainly must have found an echo of his own aesthetic choices in the optimism of Mokujiki’s sculptures. Both sets of works possess the same round volumes.

A joint discovery

34 As far as Yanagi was concerned, his discovery of the Jizō statue in Ikeda was not of the same order as a collector unearthing a rare find or a historian discovering an unknown document. The statue triggered a profound aesthetic emotion within him that had strong religious connotations. His entire being entered into a kind of communion with Mokujiki, this itinerant monk with an extraordinary vitality who lived his entire life among the common folk. In fact, on several occasions when describing his discovery,

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Yanagi employed a passive-tense construction, suggesting that it was not he who had recognised the statue’s beauty but rather the statue’s beauty that had revealed itself.

35 Regardless of his own personal feelings, Yanagi could not have shared his enthusiasm without having access to a fertile breeding ground. He was a member of the Shirakaba group, a society of Tolstoy admirers who transposed the Master’s ideas on the power of folk wisdom to Japan.37 Over in another field, this was also the period in which Yanagita Kunio 柳田國男 (1875-1962) was at his most active.38 The “common people” (jōmin 常 民) that he and some of his contemporaries strove to save from oblivion was the very same one Mokujiki had lived among.

36 Nevertheless, Yanagi’s conception cannot merely be described as nostalgia for an idealised rural lifestyle or a somewhat chauvinistic taste for the country. First of all, he emphasised the importance of the spiritual quest. It was Mokujiki’s deep faith that shone through in the smile of his statues. I would not have been surprised to learn that Yanagi liked Hakuin Ekaku 白隠慧鶴 (1686-1768) and his laughing Buddhas,39 but I found no evidence of any interest in the paintings of Zen monks, which were probably not rustic enough for his liking. Furthermore, Yanagi never confined himself to Japan. He was also drawn to Blake and Korean folk crafts, something that was highly unusual in a colonial era characterised by oppression and contempt. He fought to save Gwanghwa gate 光化門 at Seoul’s royal palace from destruction and also opened the Korean Folk Crafts Museum in Seoul.40 He contributed to the wave of interest shown in Okinawa by certain intellectuals. In this respect, his research on the crafts of this southern island chain converged with that of the master dyer Serizawa Keisuke.

37 More than anything, Yanagi insisted that Mokujiki had been out of step with his era; that the time had come for him to be discovered; that he was a contemporary artist. Yanagi was not a man with his eyes riveted on the past. His network of friends included numerous artists. We have already met Kawai Kanjirō, Munakata Shikō and Serizawa Keisuke. We could add to this list Umehara Ryūzaburō 梅原龍三郎 (1888-1986), a painter in the Western style with close links to the Shirakaba group. None of these artists could be classed as “regionalist”. Umehara applied the teachings of Renoir, Munakata was the first non-European to be awarded the Grand Prix at the Venice Biennale in 1956, while Serizawa’s reputation spread far beyond Japan’s borders.

38 In his article, Michael Lucken highlights the dissonance between the first period in Yanagi’s intellectual life, when he and his friends were fascinated by the individualism of Western artists like Van Gogh, Renoir and Rodin, and the mingei period centred on anonymous creations by ordinary people. Yanagi’s discovery of Mokujiki took place at the cusp of these two periods. He was already interested in Korean folk porcelain but had not yet launched the Folk Crafts Movement. He remained extremely drawn to originality:41 For this free Holy Man there was neither attachment to tradition nor opposition to tradition […]. Originality was not something he would have invented. It sprang forth from him spontaneously [mushin ni 無心に] […]. His works bear no trace of imitation. He did not seek to preserve a method and had no usual style. There is no doubt in my mind that he should be commemorated as the most original sculptor of Buddhas Japan has ever known.

39 In my opinion, among the elements that enabled Yanagi to see the beauty of Mokujiki’s sculptures, we should not forget his having trained his eye through his study of Western artists, who themselves presented a break from classicism and academicism.

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We have this account from Munakata Shikō, a great admirer of Van Gogh since his youth, upon discovering Enkū’s statues in Ōmiya in 1960. After holding them in his arms and kissing them, he exclame: “Enkū must be the Munakata Shikō of the Genroku era. And Munakata Shikō must be the Enkū of the Shōwa era”.42. The same Munakata had said that he would be another Van Gogh. It was this abolition of time that Yanagi experienced when he contemplated Mokujiki’s Jizō.

40 All the conditions were in place for Mokujiki to step out of the shadows. The least of Yanagi’s merits, in his own modest estimation, was to have played an instrumental role in revealing the monk. His work is not yet complete, for Mokujiki, more than Enkū, seems to have difficulty escaping Japan’s borders.43 He must wait for a new Yanagi.44

NOTES

1. Mokujiki Enkū ryōshōnin isakuten 木喰・円空両上人遺作展, Hokkaidō, Esamachi Kōminkan，江 差町公民館. On Enkū’s reception, see Tanahashi Kazuaki 棚橋一晃, Enkū no geijutsu 円空の芸術, Tōkai Daigaku Shuppankai 東海大学出版会, 1979. For French publications see Anne Bouchy, « Une voie de “l’art premier” dans le Japon du XVIIe siècle. La statuaire d’Enkū, le pérégrin de l’Essentiel » (A “Primitive Art” in 17th-century Japan. The Statues of Enkū, Pilgrim of the Essential), L’Homme, no 165, 2003, p. 143-172. 2. Mochizuki Shinkyō 望月信亨, Bukkyō daijiten 仏教大辞典, 7 volumes. The revised and expanded edition dates from 1958. 3. Zoku Nihon kōsōden 続日本高僧伝, a book begun in 1867 and completed in 1884. 4. Wakan sansai zue 和漢三才図会 by Terajima Ryōan, completed in 1715 and modelled on the Chinese Sancai tuhui 三才図会. 5. Gorai Shigeru 五来重, Enkū butsu 円空佛, Kyoto, Tankōsha 淡交社, 1977, p. 118. 6. Kinsei kijinden 近世畸人伝, by Ban Kōkei 伴蒿蹊 (1733-1806), published in Kyoto in 1790, and containing around 100 biographies, including those of Nakae Tōjū, Kaibara Ekiken, and the monks Tōsui and Keichū. Republished by Iwanami in 1972 in their paperback collection. François Lachaud translates the title as Vies d’excentriques de notre temps (The Lives of Eccentrics of Our Time) in Le vieil homme qui vendait du thé. Excentricité et retrait du monde dans le Japon du XVIIIe siècle (The Old Man Who Sold Tea: Eccentricity and Retirement from the World in 18th-century Japan), Paris, Éditons du Cerf, 2010, p. 50. 7. Dai hyakka jiten 大百科事典, Heibonsha 平凡社, 18 volumes. 8. Page 141 of his diary, quoted in Enkū to Hashimoto Heihachi 円空と橋本平八, edited by Honma Masayoshi 本間正義, Kindai no bijutsu 16 近代の美術 16, Shibundō 至文堂, 1973, p. 18. 9. Enkū butsu to no innen 円空佛との因縁, Mingei, September 1959. 10. Mokujiki shōnin 木喰上人 (The Venerable Mokujiki), Yanagi Sōetsu senshū 柳宗悦選集 (Selected Writings of Yanagi Sōetsu), Tokyo, Shunjūsha 春秋社, vol. 9, 1955, republished in 1972. 11. Kai kokushi 甲斐国志, completed by Matsudaira Sadayoshi 松平定能 in 1814, consists of 124 books. Kai Province roughly corresponds to present-day Yamanashi Prefecture. 12. Our sculptor took the name Mokujiki Gyōdō 木喰行道 (Tree Eater, Path of Asceticism) after receiving the “tree-eating precept” (mokujikikai 木喰戒) in 1762. At the age of 76 he then changed his name to Mokujiki Gogyō Bosatsu 木喰五行菩薩 (the Bodhisattva Tree Eater of the Five

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Practices), before finally becoming Mokujiki Myōman Sennin 木喰明満仙人 (the Immortal Tree Eater Full of Light) at the age of 89. 13. On the subject of Edo-period eccentrics, see François Lachaud op.cit. 14. Gorai Shigeru, Itan no hōrōsha no kanjin to waka 異端の放浪者の勧進と和歌 (The Poems and Quest of Itinerant Heretics), in Tanahashi Kazuaki, Mokujiki butsu, Kajima Kenkyūjo Shuppankai, 1973, p. 122. 15. Ibid., p. 123. 16. For more on this subject see Christophe Marquet’s article in this issue of Cipango. 17. Abbreviation of Namu Daishi Henjō Kongō 南無大師遍照金剛, an alternative name for Kōbō Daishi 弘法大師 (Kūkai 空海) used to invoke him in his mausoleum on Mount Kōya. 18. The details of this discovery are related in his book Mokujiki shōnin, op. cit., pp. 4-14. They had been explained previously using similar wording in 1925, in his Brief Biography of the Venerable Mokujiki Gogyō (Mokujiki Gogyō shōnin ryakuden 木喰五行上人畧伝, which itself was reprinted as Mokujiki shōnin hakken no engi 木喰上人発見の縁起 (Origins of the Discovery of the Venerable Mokujiki) in Mokujiki butsu, edited by Tanahashi Kazuaki, op. cit., pp. 180-199. 19. The term ‘hall’ requires clarification. It would in fact have been a very simple building, just large enough to house the statues. The number 88 refers to the ‘main objects of worship’ (honzon) at each of the temples on the Shikoku pilgrimage. Mokujiki added a statue of Kōbō Daishi, a self- portrait and an image of Daikokuten (Mahākāla). 20. Tanahashi, Mokujiki butsu, op. cit. p 98. 21. These are the Ten Great Vows of the Bodhisattva Samantabhadra (Fugen Bosatsu 普賢菩薩), as described in the Flower Garland Sutra (Kegonkyō 華厳経), and which express the Bodhisattva’s compassion for all living creatures. 22. Yadochō 宿帳: travel diaries in which Mokujiki kept a daily record of the village or hamlet in which he was staying, the type of accommodation (temple, chapel) or the name of the person who took him in. Almost all of the place names were written in katakana. 23. Hōkyōchō 奉經帳: notebooks listing the objects crafted by Mokujiki and left as offerings. 24. It was through these papers that Yanagi knew that Mokujiki had spent a long time on Sado and thus visited the island himself. 25. Mushanokōji was Yanagi’s senior at Gakushūin – a higher educational establishment attended by the children of the Imperial Family, the aristocracy and high society – and a member of the Tolstoy-inspired Shirakaba group, just like another of Yanagi’s friends, Shiga Naoya 志賀直哉 (1883-1971). 26. He released the final version in 1955, with illustrations by Serizawa Keisuke, in volume 9 of his Selected Writings, published by Shunjūsha. Serizawa Keisuke 芹沢銈介 (1895-1984), a master dyer and printmaker, contacted Yanagi in 1928 after reading his essay Kōgei no michi 工藝の道 (The Way of Crafts). 27. Hachijūhachi-tai butsu no bi 八十八躰佛の美 (The Beauty of the 88 Buddhas), in Mokujiki shōnin , op. cit., pp. 237-245 and in particular p. 243 et seq. 28. Yanagi stressed how difficult it was to trace the place names recorded in Mokujiki’s travel diary. Many did not appear on any map. 29. Ibid., p. 244. 30. This was also the opinion of Kawai Kanjirō 河井寛次郎 (1890-1966), a sculptor and above all potter who made a name for himself in 1921 thanks to an exhibition at the department store Takashimaya. Kawai felt unsatisfied with his work. Drawn to the Yi Dynasty porcelain studied by Yanagi, he shared his enthusiasm for these anonymous craft wares and accompanied Yanagi on many of his trips to conduct research on Mokujiki’s sculptures. For further information on Ōtsu-e, see the article by Christophe Marquet in this volume of Cipango.

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31. Shuji 種子: a letter from the Sanskrit alphabet is used to symbolise a Buddha or Bodhisattva, providing a means of representing or invoking them. For example, the letter kiriku (hrih) denotes Amida. 32. Mokujiki shōnin, op. cit., pp. 114-115. 33. Tanahashi, Mokujiki butsu, op. cit., p. 133. 34. “Butsu wa shōnin mizukara de aru” 佛は上人自らである; Hachijūhachi-tai butsu no bi, in Mokujiki shōnin, op. cit., pp. 244-245 35. He published his results in Genza d’Inaba, a Wonderfully Good Man (Myōkōnin Inaba no Genza 妙好 人因幡源左). Genza d’Inaba (1842-1930) was a simple peasant known for his deep faith in Amida. The monograph by Yanagi and Kinugasa Isshō 衣笠一省 was published in 1960 by Hyakkaen 百華 苑. 36. Yanagi Muneyoshi shūkyō senshū 柳宗悦・宗教選集 (Tokyo, Shunjūsha, 1960-1961): 1. Shūkyō to sono shinri 宗教とその真理 (Religion and its Truth), 2. Shūkyō no rikai 宗教の理解 (Understanding Religion), 3. Kami ni tsuite 神について (On the Divine), 4. Namu Amidabutsu 南無阿弥陀佛 (Invocation of Amida Buddha), Ippen shōnin 一遍上人 (Ippen the Holy Man), 5. Shūkyō zuisō 宗教 随想 (Thoughts on Religion). 37. See the article by Michael Lucken in this volume of Cipango. 38. See Damien Kunik’s article and translation of the discussion between the two men. 39. See, for example, Hakuin zen to shoga. Hakuin zenji seitan 320 nen 白隠禅と書画 — 白隠禅師生 誕320年 (Paintings and Calligraphy by Hakuin. 320th Anniversary of the Zen Master’s Birth), Kyōto Bunka Hakubutsukan 京都文化博物館, 2004. 40. See the article by Pierre Souyri in the 2010 volume of Cipango on Korea and the colonial period: « La critique du colonialisme dans le Japon d’avant-guerre » (Criticism of Colonialism in Pre-war Japan). 41. Hachijūhachi-tai butsu no bi, in Mokujiki shōnin, op. cit., p. 237. 42. Akiyama Kikuo 秋山喜久夫, Koi Enkū 恋円空, Urawa, Saitama Ken Kyōdo Shiryō Kankōkai 埼 玉県郷土史料刊行会, 1973, p. 23. 43. To my knowledge there has not yet been a European exhibition on Mokujiki, whereas Enkū’s work was exhibited in Antwerp in 1999. See Jan Van Alphen, Robert Duquenne et al., Enkū, 1632-1695: Timeless Images from 17th-Century Japan, Anvers, Etnografisch Museum. 44. I would like to thank Christophe Marquet and Jean-Michel Butel for their thorough editing and corrections.

ABSTRACTS

At the start of the 1920s, Yanagi Sōetsu stumbled upon Buddhist sculptures of an almost unknown artist: Mokujiki (1718-1810). He then began to increase public awareness of his work.

Au début des années 1920, Yanagi Sōetsu découvre par hasard les œuvres d’un sculpteur tombé dans l’oubli : Mokujiki (1718-1810). Il va dès lors fortement contribuer à sa reconnaissance.

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INDEX

Mots-clés: mingei – mouvement artistique, culture populaire, arts populaires, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), Mokujiki, Enkū, bouddhisme, sculpture bouddhique, moine vagabond Subjects: ethnologie, anthropologie, sciences des religions Keywords: utensils, material culture, folk art, popular culture, Mingei, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), anthropology, ethnology, Mokujiki, buddhism, buddhist sculpture, folklore, Enkū, itinerant monk キーワード: minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, bukkyō 仏教, taishū bunka 大衆文化, Enkū 円空 (1632-1695), mingei undō 民芸運動, yugyōsō 遊行層, bukkyō chōkoku 仏教彫刻, Mokujiki 木喰 (1718-1810), Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), jinruigaku 人類学, minzokugaku 民族学, shūkyōgaku 宗教学, Taishō jidai 大正時代 (1912-1926), Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Chronological index: Shōwa, Edo jidai

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The Folk Crafts Movement and Folklore Studies Mouvement des Arts populaires et études folkloriques

Damien Kunik

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original release: Damien Kunik, « Mouvement des Arts populaires et études folkloriques », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 18 novembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.374.

1 When in 1941 Yanagi Sōetsu (or Muneyoshi) 柳宗悦 wrote an article entitled “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies” for the journal Kōgei 工藝 (Crafts),1 the Folk Crafts Movement (mingei undō 民藝運動) he was largely responsible for establishing was at its height.2 The Japan Folk Crafts Association (Nihon Mingei Kyōkai 日本民藝協会), the movement’s governing body set up seven years earlier, was experiencing a peak in its membership with several thousand supporters. Circulation figures for the association’s two journals, Crafts and Folk Crafts Monthly (Gekkan Mingei 月刊民藝), were at their highest. The Japan Folk Crafts Museum (Nihon Mingeikan 日本民藝館), which spearheaded the group’s activities, was celebrating its fifth anniversary in the Komaba 駒場 neighbourhood of Tokyo. As for Yanagi, he had already written the movement’s corpus of founding texts.3 During this period members of the movement ceased their activities promoting its aesthetic theories in favour of a politically committed activism conducted on a wider national scale. Yanagi thus entered the debate over the protection of the dialect and culture of the Ryūkyū Islands. Yoshida Shōya 吉田璋也 (1898-1972) and Shikiba Ryūzaburō 式場隆三郎 (1898-1965), two leading figures in the Folk Crafts Association, invested considerable energy in Manchuria, Korea and Taiwan,4 where they notably sought to extend the Association’s influence.

2 The Folk Crafts Movement’s success is most clearly measured by the way the aesthetic it advocated permeated many areas of urban culture. In the 1930s, for example,

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department stores – led by Mitsukoshi and Takashimaya – held regular temporary exhibitions to promote the objects endorsed by Yanagi and his followers. Given the importance of these establishments and their influence on consumer tastes, it seems almost certain that the Folk Crafts Movement would have been perceived more generally at that time as a decorative arts movement for the wealthy rather than a marginal intellectual or avant-garde aesthetic movement.

3 Nonetheless, the rural Japanese handicrafts that appeared in department stores, and which were designed to be modern consumer goods, proudly asserted their local colour and popular origins. In fact, their style originated in the nation’s most remote and previously rather discredited regions (San’in, Tōhoku), rediscovered thanks to Thuir “high degree of Japaneseness”. Finally, these craft wares were presented as the visible expression of a social and aesthetic theory developed a few years earlier by people who sought to promote Japan’s tangible heritage, which was waning under the triple impact of industrialisation, modernisation and westernisation.

4 This may explain the confusion that exists over the theories of the Folk Crafts Movement and those of another movement born in the same period and which tackled a closely related subject: the folklore studies (minzokugaku 民俗学) of Yanagita Kunio 柳 田國男 (1875-1962), which will be the focus of this article. This confusion, which outside of specialist circles persists in Japan today, is not recent; on the contrary, it arose during the early years of these two movements which are at times similar, at times complementary, and at times diametrically opposed.

5 That these movements emerged simultaneously and that their common centre of interest was influenced by the times is undeniable. Let us not forget that other contemporaries of Yanagi and Yanagita, such as Yamamoto Kanae 山本鼎 (1882-1946) in the field of the arts and Miyazawa Kenji 宮沢賢治 (1896-1933) in literature, also developed a passion for promoting Japan’s rural folk culture. This interest in the subject during the first half of the twentieth century thus provides a link between individuals who did not necessarily move in the same circles at the time. Their common use of the character min 民 (people, nation) has fuelled confusion further. Lastly, Yanagi and Yanagita shared a common cause: their desire to fight for the preservation of a tangible and cultural heritage that was regional, national and, above all, Asian.

6 At the time of writing “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies”, a short 15-page essay that will be analysed here, Yanagi was well aware that this confusion existed. He thus quite naturally felt the need to compose a text that would allow him to clarify the similarities and differences between his ideology and that of Yanagita. This necessity was further heightened by the fact that 1941 marked a new chapter in the population’s collective contribution to the war effort. The arts and sciences were also called upon, more so than in the previous decade, and underwent an extensive reorganisation and centralisation of their activities, which previously had been allowed to exist in parallel. Yanagi, just like Yanagita, was most certainly forced to justify the independence of his movement and the institutions it had generated.

7 At the same time, “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies”, which crystallised five years of reflections on the relationship between science and folk crafts, concluded a dialogue launched in 1936 between Yanagi and several key figures in Japanese folklore studies, including Shibusawa Keizō 渋沢敬三 (1896-1963), Miyamoto Tsuneichi 宮本常 一 (1907-1981) and Yanagita Kunio himself.5

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8 It should be noted that the two movements, which still exist today, have never since shown a desire or need to meet with each other. Consequently, while it may be tempting to compare Yanagita and Yanagi for their efforts to preserve Japan’s cultural and tangible folk heritage, the truth is that a polite silence divides Japanese folklorists and followers of the Folk Crafts Movement.

9 So while hastily associating the Folk Crafts Movement with folklore studies is a risky enterprise, it would appear just as simplistic to confine Yanagi’s movement to the history of decorative arts, as some Western and Japanese researchers, as well as the curators of recent exhibitions on the subject,6 have tended to do. Of course, given the current trend to lend an exotic flavour to the term mingei,7 one could consider the Folk Crafts Movement to be no more similar to folklore studies than naturalistic painting is to biology or botany. Where Yanagi had a Japanese-inspired aesthetic from a bygone era, Yanagita had science, so to speak. Admittedly this interpretation is not entirely unfounded if we consider the Folk Crafts Movement to be an art movement of the past. However, it is important that we go beyond such a simplistic reading of the movement by giving due weight to its founders’ explicit intentions. Yanagi set them out in the opening line of his essay:8 The aim of this text is to clarify the Folk Crafts Movement’s nature as a scientific discipline. It would seem appropriate, in order to get straight to the heart of the matter, to propose a comparison of the Folk Crafts Movement and folklore studies, for the two approaches have as many similarities as they do differences. Drawing parallels between these two sciences is both necessary and enriching. It is thus useful to understand that these two approaches are destined to work together and help each other in the future. The most striking similarity between folk craft studies and folklore studies is that both place the everyday life of the common people at the heart of their concerns.

10 Thus while for reasons that I hope to explain, the Folk Crafts Movement and folklore studies are often studied by specialists hailing from different disciplines, and while the term mingei is traditionally associated with Japanese decorative arts, it must be conceded that Yanagi himself wished to establish a link between his movement and scholarly ambitions such as those of Yanagita and his disciples. Here, if only in theory, Yanagi asserted his desire to promote a discipline rather than a new aesthetic form.

11 By conducting a detailed analysis of the text “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies”, this article proposes to lift the veil on a lesser known face of the movement, that of its theoretical reflections and questioning, far from the famous achievements of Mingei champions such as Kawai Kanjirō 河井寛次郎 (1890-1966), Hamada Shōji 濱田庄司 (1894-1978) and Munakata Shikō 棟方志功 (1903-1975).

Folk crafts (mingei) and folk tools (mingu)

12 The first written indication of a reflection on the similarities and differences between folk crafts and folklore studies came from Shibusawa Keizō, in the form of an article written in 1933 entitled “The Development of the Attic Museum”.9

13 The grandson of the famous economist Shibusawa Eiichi 渋沢栄一 (1840-1931), Shibusawa Keizō is known primarily for having taken up the baton inherited from his illustrious ancestor. His personal commitment to the world of finance, his position as

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Governor of the Bank of Japan and stint as Finance Minister immediately after the Second World War often conceal his leading role in Japanese folklore studies.

14 Shibusawa is evidently not as famous in the field as Yanagita, something doubtless explained by his primary focus being on an aspect of Japanese folklore that was of little interest to the discipline’s most orthodox branch: collecting and analysing everyday objects (toys, tools, votive plaques and crockery). Fifteen years before the Japan Folk Crafts Museum was created, Shibusawa made his collections available to the public via a small museum he opened in 1921, in the loft of his home in Mita (Tokyo), and which he aptly named the Attic Museum アチック・ミュゼアム. This event would not fail to inspire Yanagi. The bulk of this now defunct museum’s collections was later acquired by the National Museum of Ethnology (Kokuritsu Minzokugaku Hakubutsukan 国立民族学 博物館) upon its creation in Osaka in 1974.10

15 This interest in Japan’s tangible heritage can also be seen in the name Shibusawa gave his field of research, “the study of folk tools” (mingugaku 民具学), and provides a simple explanation for Shibusawa’s interest in Yanagi’s work on Japanese crafts, a field which at first glance closely resembled his own. The two men met on two occasions,11 the first being a visit by Yanagi to the Attic Museum, and the second a field trip12 to the flower festival (hana matsuri 花祭) of Shitara District (Shitara-gun 設楽郡) in Aichi Prefecture, which was jointly organised by the Folk Crafts Association and a handful of folklorists, including Shibusawa.

16 For the purpose of making an initial distinction between folklore studies and the Folk Crafts Movement, it may be useful to examine the specificities of these two terms: mingei 民藝 (folk craft/art), as it was employed by Yanagi, and mingu 民具 (folk tools), as conceived by Shibusawa. When giving these objects [mingu] the name getemono or mingei,13 the main purpose is to underline their individual beauty. Conversely, at the Attic Museum we see them as an integral part of everyday life and strive to reveal the nature of those who created them. In other words, the items presented here form a whole and provide a glimpse into the souls of our ancestors. It is here that we find beauty.14

17 There are several issues to note here. Firstly, logic dictates that the term mingu refers to tools (gu 具) of the people (min 民), in other words purely utilitarian objects, while mingei refers to a popular art (gei 藝) whose aesthetic dimension, even reduced to its simplest form, must be taken into account. Yet if we are to believe the above extract, the terms mingu, getemono and mingei – since they appear to be interchangeable – are primarily labels reflecting different interpretations of similar objects. This observation serves to underline a basic similarity between the two approaches: their study of a common field.

18 These objects, to which members of the Folk Crafts Movement and folklorists alike attach the same importance and heritage value, do not, however, play the same role in the formation of their respective theories. As Shibusawa pointed out, the Folk Crafts Movement was primarily concerned with highlighting the specific beauty of each craft ware. Folklorists, on the other hand, had no interest in aesthetics and sought to use the objects to understand the nature of the Japanese community through an analysis of its tangible heritage.

19 This provides us with an initial definition of folklore studies and the Folk Crafts Movement. The former focuses on mingu, or functional objects, and describes the

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nature of those who use them, while the latter is concerned with the aesthetic value of these same objects.

Tangible things and intangible things

20 Despite the validity of this initial distinction between the Folk Crafts Movement and folklore studies, which establishes Yanagi as an observer of beauty and Shibusawa as an analyst of the character of the Japanese people, it is far from enabling us to summarise the two movements’ respective characteristics. Shibusawa in fact represented an extremely marginal area of folklore studies, for the use of tangible heritage to describe popular cultural phenomena was a somewhat unorthodox method within the field. Yanagita, who made a more lasting impression in the discipline, was always more concerned with studying folklore through religious rites and festivals, or the oral traditions and vocabulary of rural Japan.

21 Perhaps his encounters with Shibusawa made Yanagi aware of this, for in 1936, in an article entités “Tangible Things and Intangible Things”,15 Yanagi proposed a second distinction between the two approaches, which he later clarified with even greater concision and pertinence in “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies”. He suggested that while both disciplines were indeed concerned with popular culture and “the daily life of the people”,16 the Folk Crafts Movement focused on objects and Japanese crafts, which he termed mono, or “tangible things”, while folklore studies were more interested in analysing social, ritual and religious phenomena, or “intangible things” (koto). Folk craft studies inevitably take tangible objects as their subject; whilst in folklore studies objects serve as complementary material. We often use the example of ceramics in particular, while folklorists make little reference to these objects, despite them being an extremely common feature of everyday Japanese life […]. Conversely, folklore studies take a much keener interest in religious rituals.17

22 This pertinent argument reflects a perception that still exists today on the nature of the two movements. Thus, while Yanagi’s movement continues to be characterised by its clear interest in tangible folk heritage, folklore studies focuses instead on Japanese practices and what they tell us about Japanese culture.

23 Yanagi even attempted to re-evaluate Shibusawa’s work from this new perspective:18 In light of research on folk tools [民具 mingu] it should be possible to say that folklore studies also take an interest in concrete objects [具体的なもの gutaitekina mono]. However, upon closer inspection it appears that rather than discussing folk objects themselves, these wares are collected in order to discuss the events [koto] that surround them. Rather than observing tangible things [mono], folklorists look at the intangible things around them. Rather than observing concrete folk objects, they observe the abstract world that surrounds folk tools.

24 While demonstrating that in this case the two approaches differ in the focus of their study, Yanagi nonetheless acknowledges that folklorists and proponents of the folk crafts method study “elements that always end up blending into one another”.19 Nevertheless, Yanagi believed that the Folk Crafts Movement was not intended to be a descriptive science of tangible heritage. On the contrary, he reflected on ways to extricate the object from the context of its use. His approach differed in that it aimed not to understand the object in its factual context but rather to identify an element

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that transcended its environment and era: in other words, beauty, which gave the object its true value. He explained this position in the following terms:20 Take the following example. Imagine presenting a teabowl to a customer. Two types of reaction may be observed. Some will say: “What is the name of this bowl? Where does it come from? When was it made? Who made it?” This type of customer is more interested in the elements surrounding the bowl than the bowl itself. Others, on the other hand, will exclaim admiringly: “This bowl is magnificent!” or “What a remarkable style!” And since their eye is drawn to the aesthetic value of the bowl, it is only at a later stage that they take an interest in the events surrounding the object. On the one hand there are those who make their judgments based on the factual world, and on the other, those who, by looking at the objects directly, search for their true value, in other words their beauty.

25 In this way, although they focus on tangible Japanese heritage, folk craft studies are primarily concerned with the aesthetic value of such objects. They deviate from folklore studies not only in their subject matter – tangible culture versus cultural phenomena – but also on the question of the object’s intrinsic value and do not hesitate to take the object out its context, leaving nothing but its essence.

26 The decontextualisation of Japan’s craft heritage remains a core issue within the “folk crafts method”. A visit to the Japan Folk Crafts Museum today confirms that the objects displayed are classed neither chronologically nor geographically, but rather by the indigenous craft technique used to create them: pottery, lacquerware or woodworking, for example. The object is thus separated from its era and place of origin and serves merely to illustrate its aesthetic value and the skill of the anonymous artisan who created it.

The axiological approach and the descriptive approach

27 This observation constitutes the main argument of the essay “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies” and, for reasons that will be explained here, gives meaning to the term mingeigaku, or “folk craft studies”.21

28 In order to understand the scope of this term it should be pointed out that Yanagi’s text draws heavily on the theoretical framework of the neo-Kantian philosopher Wilhelm Windelband (1848-1912), who was widely translated in Japan at the time,22 and his theory on the complementary nature of judgments of fact and judgements of value. In his 1894 book History and Natural Science (Geschichte und Naturwissenschaft), Windelband stated that the distinction between the natural sciences and the human sciences stemmed not from the object studied but rather the method employed by both to arrive at their conclusions. It was using this exact same concept that Yanagi planned to establish the Folk Crafts Movement as a science which, by adopting its own method, could offer a similar scientific credibility to folklore studies. The real distinction between his approach and Yanagita’s was based on the fact that while folklore studies were a descriptive science, just like physics or biology, Mingei, much more than a simple aesthetic movement, resembled an axiological science, in other words a science of values (Wert), a kind of ethical and normative tool for establishing the value of folk crafts:23 We classify sciences that describe reality as empirical sciences [経験学 keikengaku], and sciences that deal with what ought to be, normative sciences [規範学

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kihangaku].24 Folklore studies fall into the former category, folk craft studies, the latter. Let us take another example. Botany belongs to the realm of the real; it refers to the real world. Conversely, ethics deals with concepts that tackle a world of ideals. There is a fundamental difference between the two. Biology must be a descriptive science, while ethics must strive to establish norms. […] Botany is not the science of the beauty of plants. Ethics is not the science of man, it is the discipline concerned with proper human behaviour […]. The overriding objective of folk craft studies is to establish a norm for value critique.

29 Thus while Yanagi considered the subject matter underpinning his science to be the same as that which interested folklorists, he planned to use it as a normative tool for establishing a new national aesthetic. This concept of “normative science” characterised mingei research and, as the following example will illustrate, would serve as the dogmatic foundation of the movement’s mission to reappraise Japan’s tangible folk heritage during the 1930s and 1940s.

From normative science to shop displays

30 The Folk Crafts Movement is today too often reduced to a handful of names whose importance is admittedly indisputable (Kawai, Hamada, Yanagi), but whose efforts are perhaps the least representative of mingei activism during the immediate pre-war years. The record number of members joining the Folk Crafts Association during the 1940s has already been mentioned. And while Yanagi will forever remain the movement’s theoretician, and Kawai and Hamada the stars of exhibitions on the subject, in reality it was the Association’s army of supporters who lent the movement its weight, importance and ability to establish a new aesthetic.

31 Among these supporters, one example chosen among many, a man utterly devoted to Yanagi’s cause, perfectly illustrates the practical application of the movement’s theories. Yoshida Shōya 吉田璋也 (1898-1972), an ear nose and throat specialist originally from Tottori Prefecture, met Yanagi for the first time in 1919. Captivated by the man himself, from that moment on he devoted his free time to collecting folk wares and promoting the nascent mingei doctrine, which at the time had not yet been named. After moving back to his home town of Tottori in 1931, he transformed and restored some former granaries he had acquired. In June 1932 he opened the first museum of Japanese folk crafts25 as well as a shop that quickly occupied the majority of his time.

32 Yoshida primarily wanted to revive the craft industry in his region, which had been hard hit by the recession of the period. With this in mind, he contacted several Tottori craftspeople and promised them an outlet for their merchandise through his shop, Takumi たくみ (Craft). Equally concerned by the disappearance of certain traditional craft techniques, he guaranteed the sale of any objects produced by artisans choosing to return to such techniques.26 Delighted by Yoshida’s determination, Yanagi devoted several articles to him in the journal Kōgei.

33 Yoshida’s efforts appear to have been a success. The money made from pottery production in turn enabled investments to be made in textile production. Yoshida set up weavers in his home and presented them with examples of fabrics from his own collection.27 Having rediscovered these techniques the weavers went on to train others, generating a multiplier effect by which textile production enabled investments in

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woodworking, lacquerware, metalworking, basketry, papermaking and, finally, the production of ink stones.

34 After a while, the Tottori region ceased to be sufficient to distribute the burgeoning production of the craftspeople associated with Takumi. Thus, in December 1933 a second branch of Takumi was opened in Ginza in the heart of Tokyo. This branch continues today to follow the same method by placing orders with Japanese craftspeople whose work is inspired by objects and techniques inherited from the past. It then sells their creations in order to provide financial support to the Association and contribute to the survival of manual trades that, at least in theory, are representative of a national heritage.28

35 A visit to the Takumi store in Ginza is intriguing in that the goods displayed there differ considerably from the items presented during Mingei exhibitions. Rather than the vases by Kawai, bowls by Hamada and large dishes by Bernard Leach (1887-1979) that are usually associated with the movement, it is forks, neckties, cushions and hats that crowd the shelves of the Ginza store. And let there be no mistake, it was undeniably such modest consumer goods that set the Folk Crafts Movement on the path to success in the 1940s. Nothing could be more misguided than believing that the Mingei movement consisted merely of theories and museum pieces. Without the support of the consumers who flocked en mass to Takumi and the department store Takashimaya, the aesthetic dogma developed by Yanagi and his associates would certainly never have gone beyond the circle of intellectuals to which he belonged. The translation of the discussion between Yanagi and Yanagita found in this issue of Cipango speaks volumes on this point, for it illustrates the movement’s two major preoccupations during the 1940s: defining itself (legitimising its existence) on the one hand, and promoting its products (ensuring its survival) on the other.

36 In fact, this was how the aforementioned concept of a normative approach took shape. Hinted at behind the objects sold at Takumi or during the exhibitions held in certain department stores is a theory by which Japan’s tangible folk heritage should serve as a norm for the production – according to beauty criteria set out by Yanagi for almost twenty years – of consumer goods that would in turn disseminate these criteria throughout the entire Japanese population.29 It is without doubt this point that most clearly sets folklore studies apart from the Folk Crafts Movement. Whereas the former, as we saw earlier, is a descriptive science, the latter sought to promote an aesthetic ideal that, while admittedly drawing inspiration from the same source, aimed to generate a new marketable mingei production. This no doubt explains why since 1941, folklorists and Mingei followers have never again felt the need to develop ties or work together to create a joint science: their objectives are simply too different.

Conclusion

37 The aim of this article was to give serious consideration to Yanagi’s “scientific” stance. To do so I examined the links between the Folk Crafts Movement and folklore studies in order to understand the similarities and differences between these two approaches which are inspired by the same folk heritage and a growing interest in the ‘people’ at the time of their emergence. Although both simultaneously took an interest in the tangible and cultural productions of the working classes – or more precisely, the rural classes – of Japanese society, I established that it was the intrinsic value ascribed to the

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object studied that provided the fundamental distinction between the two movements. Whereas folklore studies seek to understand and determine the character of the Japanese people by cataloguing popular practices, the Folk Crafts Movement aims to reassess the beauty of the objects produced by this same people and establish this expression of Beauty as a new norm. This leads me to recall Yanagi’s proposal that folklore studies be understood as an empirical science and folk craft studies as a normative science.

38 This article presented two aspects of the Mingei movement, among many others, which are still rarely mentioned in books on the subject. Firstly, as I pointed out, the Folk Crafts Movement sees itself as a science and accordingly has striven to establish a considered and normalised system whose structure has still yet to be studied. Secondly, Mingei sees itself as a commercial movement. Despite this dimension being clearly asserted by Takumi and in the Folk Crafts Museum’s store in Tokyo, it is regularly sidelined in discussions on the topic. And yet the movement has a real desire to revive regional craft production according to a redefined aesthetic norm, and is actively committed to finding new outlets for the hats, cushions and slippers produced, whether in Japan or overseas.

39 This desire to establish a new beauty norm and concerns over the commercial viability of new crafts are both pertinent elements helping to distinguish the Folk Crafts Movement from folklore studies. It is nonetheless tempting at this point to turn these elements around and reassess folklore studies through the prism of Mingei. If we accept that the Folk Crafts Movement established a norm and consumer goods, is it not equally possible to consider that folklore studies also constituted a normative system, defining what Japanese “tradition” ought to be by producing idealised cultural forms from a past considered to be “proper”?

40 Although the issue no longer concerns the Folk Crafts Movement directly, it illustrates just how desperately an in-depth study of the subject is called for and how enriching it could be for many closely-related topics. To my great regret, the consensual approach adopted by the majority of Mingei exhibitions neglects several essential aspects of the movement, which in turn could provide a new perspective on the emergence of the humanities and social sciences in Japan during the first half of the twentieth century.

NOTES

1. “Mingeigaku to minzokugakuv 民藝學と民俗學 (1941), reprinted in Yanagi Sōetsu zenshū (YSZ) 柳宗悦全集 (The Complete Works of Yanagi Sōetsu), Tokyo, Chikuma Shobō, 1981, vol. 9, pp. 272-287. 2. Mingei 民芸 or 民藝 is a relatively standard term in Japan today. When written with the character 芸 it refers, through improper usage, to the regional folk crafts sold in local souvenir shops. For this reason Japanese specialists prefer to use the character 藝 (used during Yanagi’s time) when referring to the Folk Crafts Movement, in order to make a clear distinction. I have respected this use here.

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3. In particular “Getemono no bi” 下手ものの美 (The Beauty of Everyday Objects, 1926), YSZ, op. cit., vol.8, pp. 3-14; “Kōgei no michi” 工藝の道 (The Way of Crafts, 1928), Tokyo, Kōdansha, “Kōdan gakujutsu bunko” collection, 2005. 4. On this subject see the chapter “Renovating Greater East Asia”, Kim Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty. Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan, Durham, Duke University Press, 2007, pp. 173-222. 5. See my translation in this volume of Cipango. 6. Such as with the Musée du Quai Branly exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan, held in Paris from 30 September 2008 to 11 January 2009, the Arts & Crafts from Morris to Mingei exhibition, held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum (Tōkyō-to bijutsukan 東京都美術館) from 24 January to 5 April 2009, and before these the International Arts & Crafts exhibition, held at the Victoria & Albert Museum, London, from 17 March to 24 July 2005. 7. See the article by Coralie Castel in this volume of Cipango. 8. “Folk Craft Studies and Folklore Studies”, op. cit., p. 272, emphasis is my own. 9. Achikku no seichō アチックの成長 (The Development of the Attic Museum) in Miyamoto Tsuneichi 宮本常一, Nihon minzokugaku taikei 3: Shibusawa Keizō 日本民俗学大系３・渋沢敬三 (Compendium of Japanese Folklore Studies 3: Shibusawa Keizō), Tokyo, Kōdansha, 1978. 10. Yoshida Kenji, “Tōhaku and Minpaku within the History of Modern Japanese Civilization: Museum Collections in Modern Japan”, Senri Ethnological Studies no. 54, Osaka, National Museum of Ethnology, 2000, pp. 91-92. 11. Kanetani Miwa 金谷美和, “Bunka no shōhi: Nihon mingei undō no tenji o megutte” 文化の消 費 — 日本民藝運動の展示をめぐって (The Consumption of Culture. On the Exhibitions of the Japan Folk Crafts Movement), Jinbun gakuhō 人文学報 no. 77, Kyoto, Kyōto Daigaku Jinbunkagaku Kenkyūjo, 1996, p. 80. 12. An account of the event appears in “Zazechi” no koto” 「ざぜち」のこと (On “Zazechi” Paper Decorations), YSZ, op. cit., vol. 11, pp. 424-432. 13. Until the 1940s Yanagi used both terms indiscriminately. 14. Achikku no seichō, op. cit., p. 168. 15. ‘“Mono’ to ‘koto”’ 「もの」と「こと」 (“Tangible Things” and “Intangible Things”, 1936), YSZ, vol. 9, pp. 170-181. 16. “Mingeigaku to minzokugaku”, op. cit., p. 272. 17. Ibid., p. 279. 18. Ibid., p. 279. 19. Ibid., p. 278. 20. Ibid., p. 278. 21. It would be amusing to cobble together a translation of mingeigaku as “folk craftology”. While such a translation obviously lacks credibility, it certainly captures the strangeness of the Japanese term. 22. Over a dozen of his books were translated between 1902 and 1941. 23. “Mingeigaku to minzokugaku” op. cit., p. 274 and p. 276. 24. This distinction between Sein, “what is”, and Sollen, what “ought to be”, is highly characteristic of Windelband’s thought. 25. Ogyū Shinzō 尾久彰三 (ed.), Yanagi Muneyoshi no sekai. “Mingei” no hakken to sono shisō 柳宗悦 の世界 — 『民藝』の発見とその思想, (The World of Yanagi Muneyoshi. His Discovery and Theory of “Folk Crafts”), Tokyo, Bessatsu Taiyō, Heibonsha, 2006, p. 171. 26. Kikuchi Yuko, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism, New York, Routledge Curzon, 2004, p. 74. 27. Kim Brandt, op. cit., p. 95. 28. http://www.ginza-takumi.co.jp/top.htm

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29. Although in reality, new folk craft products were only within the reaches of the relatively wealthy urban classes.

ABSTRACTS

At about the same time as mingei appeared Yanagita Kunio’s Folkloristics (minzokugaku). Often confused, the two differ in many ways.

À la même période que le mingei de Yanagi apparaît le mouvement des études folkloriques (minzokugaku) de Yanagita Kunio. Souvent associés, les deux entretiennent toutefois nombre de différences.

INDEX

Subjects: anthropologie, ethnologie Mots-clés: arts populaires, culture populaire, outils, mingei – mouvement artistique, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), folklore, études folkloriques Chronological index: Shōwa キーワード: minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, taishū bunka 大衆文化, mingu 民具, mingei undō 民芸 運動, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), minzoku 民俗, Shibusawa Keizō 渋沢敬三 (1896-1963), jinruigaku人類学, minzokugaku 民族学, Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Keywords: anthropology, ethnology, folk art, material culture, Mingei, popular culture, mingu, utensils, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961)

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Folk Crafts and Folklore Studies Debate between Yanagita Kunio and Yanagi Sōetsu at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum1 Folk art et folk studies : débat entre Yanagita Kunio et Yanagi Sōetsu, à la Maison des arts populaires

Yanagita Kunio and Yanagi Sōetsu Damien Kunik (ed.) Translation : Damien Kunik and Jean-Michel Butel

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original relevasse: Kunio Yanagita, Sōetsu Yanagi, « Folk art et folk studies », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 18 décembre 2011, DOI: 10.4000/cipango.355.

Introducing the debate by Damien Kunik

1 Between 1938 and 1940 Yanagi Sōetsu, along with several members of the Japan Folk Crafts Association, made three trips to Okinawa to study the local craft industry. Exasperated by the assimilation policy of the local Japanese authorities, he took up the defence of Okinawa’s regional heritage and local idiosyncrasies. The heated debate over the preservation of Okinawa’s dialects, which were being undermined by the promotion of standard Japanese, made the front pages on several occasions during this period.

2 Having become a kind of “specialist on Okinawa”, Yanagi was approached by NHK in early 1940 to take part in a radio debate with another scholar interested in the Ryūkyū issue, Yanagita Kunio.

3 Despite this being their first meeting, Yanagi and Yanagita already knew of each other through their publications. However, on this occasion it was not so much Okinawa that interested them as the distinctions between the approaches of their respective movements. The Okinawan debate

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was thus essentially put to one side in favour of a discussion on the nature of their methods. The present article is a translation of this particular section of the discussion.

4 While Yanagi and Yanagita require no introduction, we would like to present the third participant in the debate, Shikiba Ryūzaburō 式場隆三郎 (1898- 1965), whose importance in the Folk Crafts Movement during the 1930s and 1940s is highly underestimated. A doctor and psychiatrist by profession, Shikiba was also a prolific writer and avid painting enthusiast. A translator and critic of the Marquis de Sade, author of several books on sex education for young girls and patron of the “Japanese Van Gogh”, Yamashita Kiyoshi 山下清 (1922- 1971), Shikiba left his mark on the Folk Crafts Movement with his complex personality. Along with Yoshida Shōya he jointly edited the Folk Crafts Monthly (Gekkan Mingei 月刊民藝), the so-called “machine gun”2 of the movement, from 1939 onwards. His political activism, which was instrumental in promoting the Folk Crafts ideology to the Konoe administration during this period, was discreetly forgotten post-1945. After the war, Shikiba founded the publishing companies Tokyo Times and Romance, the latter printing titles of a sensational nature. However, his omnipresence within the Folk Crafts Movement prior to the end of the war explains his appearance at this debate, which at first glance does not seem to concern him.

5 We have chosen to translate this discussion in the hope that readers will discover largely unknown aspects of the Folk Crafts Movement, such as its desire to define the discipline and affirm its identity, or its mercantile preoccupations, for example. By doing so we hope to provide an alternative to the consensual discourse regarding Yanagi’s movement, which qualifies it as a decorative arts movement with an ethereal philosophy. As readers will see, this is far removed from the day-to-day activities of the movement, which was more concerned with the success of its exhibitions and the distribution of its goods.3

What is “folklore studies”?

Moderator: Shikiba Ryūzaburō. Attended by Higa Shunchō from Okinawa Prefecture. Shikiba: Allow me to introduce today’s debate. The Folk Crafts Movement currently led by the Japan Folk Crafts Museum [Mingeikan 民藝館] and Professor Yanagita Kunio’s folklore studies are often confused. We thought it was important, therefore, to bring Mr Yanagita and Mr Yanagi face to face in order to clearly establish the differences between their approaches. In fact, this might prove beneficial to both disciplines.

Yanagi: I would like to know when the study of indigenous customs4 took off as a discipline. Yanagita: It actually predates the appearance of psychology and can be compared to ethnology,5 I believe.

Yanagi: Is it still the focus of attention in England and the United States? Yanagita: Little interest is shown in the study of national customs in those countries. Instead, emphasis is generally placed on the study of ethnic groups.6

Shikiba: Professor Yanagita, what would be the correct term for what you do? The study of indigenous customs [dozokugaku]? Or perhaps folk customs [minzokugaku 民俗学]? Yanagita: We consider the term “the study of indigenous customs” to be highly problematic, as in some ways it calls to mind the term aboriginal.7 We avoid it for this

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reason and prefer “folklore studies”, which comes with its own particular set of problems as it is a homonym of the term ethnology.8

Yanagi: Am I correct in thinking that ethnology is primarily concerned with primitive peoples?9 Yanagita: Yes, undeveloped or semi-developed peoples. 10 However, in Japan nowadays such research can only be conducted through books. In contrast, although folklore studies may at times involve consulting written documents, it primarily draws on direct observation. The two methods thus differ in their basic principle.

Yanagi: I believe Ōyama Kashiwa, for example, uses the term “prehistoric”11 studies to describe his activities. Yanagita: In actual fact, his research is closer to anthropology. A distinction can be made between physical anthropology and cultural anthropology;12 I believe what you are referring to would be classed as cultural anthropology. Given that it is primarily a concrete study unconcerned with distinguishing between a study of the researcher’s native country and a study of another country, I consider it to be similar to archaeology13 and thus very different to our project.

Shikiba: Professor Yanagita, your books contain many references to language and vocabulary. Does this reflect a methodological stance? Yanagita: There are many reasons for that, the first being that I have a passion for words and no doubt get carried away by my interest in linguistics!14 But it is also practical as a method. It would be nice to always have something tangible to study but sometimes that is not the case. A word, however, can lead to all manner of discoveries if we only examine the context in which it is used. Nonetheless, sufficient care must be taken with words as mistakes can easily be made. Prudence is necessary. In reality, folklorists should also examine tangible objects a little more often than we do, but in doing so we would run the risk of pigeonholing ourselves into this type of research. So for the moment we content ourselves with studying illustrations and photographs.

Shikiba: Nevertheless, from a methodological point of view, any study that does not take into account real objects, such as folk crafts,15 could be considered incomplete, could it not? Yanagita: Let us take the example of transportations:16 things that enable us to transport objects. In order to study them we must of course analyse the various types of baskets, for example. Not many remain these days since the advent of cars and trains, but until very recently a wide variety of baskets was used. The yokes used to carry these baskets differed significantly depending on whether or not they had a protuberance at each end. Where this was not the case, a particular kind of knot had to be tied. Thus many different types of poles existed. We would like to see an organised display of these objects. I don’t believe that the Japan Folk Crafts Museum handles such implements, but they are something that could be entrusted to the Attic Museum founded by Shibusawa Keizō.17 I am not entirely sure of Shibusawa’s intentions but his approach appears to resemble that of folklore studies. This is undoubtedly one difference between the Japan Folk Crafts Museum and the Attic Museum.

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Yanagi: It is true that our objective at the Folk Crafts Museum is not to amass all manner of antique objects, but rather to collect only beautiful and honest folk crafts.18 Yanagita: For my part, in terms of method I try to focus my efforts on the following point: culture does not advance evenly across all fronts like an army marching in serried ranks. If a blockage occurs somewhere, that aspect of the culture will fall behind. A comprehensive look at Japan shows us that its culture has progressed unevenly: development in the capital and the countryside differs significantly. The result is that, even in the absence of written documentation, identifying and comparing these “frozen” elements allows us to understand how Japan has evolved. Perhaps in the plains of Siberia or the United States, for example, we can consider culture to simply advance in an orderly fashion, with a line marking where its core elements have come to a halt, but in a mountainous country as diverse as Japan, each advance leads to a dead end. This phenomenon can be seen between Tokyo and the border of the Shinshū region,19 for example, where ancient cultural forms continue to survive. In this way, the cultural differences visible in Japan today can be used productively to retrace a history that is not dependent on written documents. What is more, no other country but Japan possesses several hundred islands each with its own distinct culture. In this sense, comparing the far-flung corners of Japan is particularly revealing and we frequently employ this method. We travel throughout Japan conducting our research and are thus in contact with people from every region. The north-east is often contrasted with the south-west, but in reality cultural forms in the two regions are extremely similar. Occasional differences stemming from the surrounding context do of course exist; however, these regions resemble each other because they are both located hundreds of miles from the centre. The same can be said for part of the Noto Peninsula and the Kishū region.20 Shikiba: What does folklore studies hope to achieve by adopting such a method? Yanagita: We hope to establish the history of Japan as a modern science. Whatever method we adopt, our aim is to accurately determine the past. This is our main bone of contention with the so-called “historical sciences”, which content themselves with written sources. Indeed, we have succeeded in understanding things that were not understood previously. Of course, one could argue that, strictly speaking, our current activities do not constitute a “science”.21 However, should the word “science” take on a rigorously defined meaning in the future, we are quite willing to abandon the name “folklore science” in favour of “history” (shi 史) or “archivism” (shi 誌).22

The differences between “folk crafts” and “folklore studies”

Shikiba: Thanks to your explanations, Professor Yanagita, we have gained an insight into the nature of folklore studies. If I have understood correctly, and if we take the example of language, folklore studies considers that by cataloguing the dialects of each region and analysing those words that represent the oldest form of these dialects, we can discover the ancient form of Japanese words. Or does folklore studies aim to take action with regards the Japanese language, to supplement its regional languages and further strengthen modern Japanese itself? Is folklore studies a field that aims to understand the past, or does it look towards the present and the future? Yanagita: Folklore studies is of course a discipline that aims to provide an accurate account of the past and for this reason the future is not part of our field of study. Although I often discuss the future of our language, I do not do so as a folklorist, for I am both a folklorist and an ordinary man. In short, I speak of such things as a patriot.

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While folklore studies may certainly inform my arguments, this does not mean that discussing the future of the Japanese language is one of the discipline’s objectives. That is why expressing my opinion on the debate over language policy risks creating confusion over my work.23

Shikiba: So there is nothing in folklore studies that directly implies a particular stance on culture, is that right? Yanagita: That is correct. 24 It is true that historians today sometimes discuss the future or how we should understand modern man; however, we do not consider this as being within the remit of history as a science. Historians today are also patriots and as such they want to participate in political debate, yet in doing so they simply use historical knowledge to support a political agenda. We believe that it is sufficient to accurately describe the facts.

Yanagi: Folklore studies exists, then, as an empirical science?25 Shikiba: This is surely the main distinction between the Folk Crafts Movement and folklore studies. What do you think, Professor Yanagi? Yanagi: I see the Folk Crafts Movement as corresponding to a normative 26 rather than an empirical science. Our aim is not to know everything that exists or has existed: on the contrary, our mission is to study the world of everything that ought to exist. The difference between folk crafts and folklore studies is clear on this point. Yanagita: Extremely clear, yes. That is not our approach at all. Yanagi: The Folk Crafts Movement thus shares similarities with aesthetics and attaches great importance to the debate on the intrinsic value of objects. Yanagita: Yes, I imagine that is what you get.

Shikiba: What is the relationship between folklore studies and archaeology? Yanagita: For the purpose of providing a clear distinction, I believe you could say that the difference resides essentially in whether the subject studied is tangible or intangible. The question is thus: is there or not something concrete to study? I would therefore class folk crafts as leaning towards archaeology, since the focus is on the tangible. Yanagi: That is true, but only in so much as both study objects. Yanagita: Folklorists, on the other hand, collect photographs and sketches of real objects, but only as a back-up, and we use them as illustrations only when words alone are not enough.

Shikiba: Professor Yanagi, what is your opinion on the relationship between the Folk Crafts Movement and archaeology? Yanagi: The two disciplines do resemble each other in that both involve examining a large number of objects. However, I don’t believe that archaeology could be described as a normative science, nor does it attempt to discuss the value of objects. Yanagita: There are nevertheless similarities between archaeology and art history. If we look to the past, their interest in textiles is but one example. Archaeology’s advocates were passionate about the subject and hoped that textiles could be preserved as far as possible in the future. However, you are certainly right in saying that archaeology does not claim to be a normative science, as you do.

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Yanagi: For the Folk Crafts Movement, the issue of the future can never be eliminated.

Yanagita: Nonetheless, allow me to pose a question: do you believe that a time will come when the traditional folk wares collected here at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum will lead to the emergence of a new folk art? Yanagi: We believe that, sooner or later, not only will new folk crafts appear, but also that old folk crafts possess something that must appear. That is why we are championing the Folk Crafts Movement.

The common characteristics of ‘folk crafts” and “folklore studies”

Shikiba: I think that the distinctions between the empirical nature of Professor Yanagita’s folklore studies and the normative character of Professor Yanagi’s folk crafts have been clearly illustrated. However, despite the differing perspectives of folklore studies, which examine the past, and the Folk Crafts Movement, which equally focuses on the future, both disciplines clearly share common ground in terms of their choice of subject matter. First of all, folk crafts and folklore studies no longer focus solely on aristocratic culture but attach great importance to the culture of the masses.27 At the same time, they both recognise regional particularities.28 Yanagita: Exactly. And I would also add that we believe that the people of the past were much more intelligent than they are given credit for today. Intelligence is not simply about being well-educated, for example. People in the past were endowed with a kind of perceptiveness. This is upheld by followers of the Folk Crafts Movement and folklorists alike. Many people continue to believe that those who came before us were inferior to modern-day man and imagining that this was particularly true of peasants, tend to judge all kinds of things a little peremptorily. One can be perceptive without being able to read. Our predecessors’ memories, in particular, were remarkable. In fact, humans lost their ability to remember when they learned how to read. In any case, people in bygone days had extraordinary talents. Yanagi: Yes, we feel the same way. I was struck by a food-related experience during one of my recent trips to the Tōhoku region.29 People in Tokyo tend to imagine that there is nothing good to eat in the countryside, whereas this is far from being the case. Whilst I was in Aomori I asked to taste some of the local pickled vegetables [tsukemono]. Somebody then told me about the vegetables his family prepared at home and proceeded to bring me a dozen different varieties wrapped in a piece of fabric. They were all delicious! I love tsukemono and am quite picky about them at home, but I never have more than one or two varieties at any given time. Yanagita: Country fare is generally extremely simple. There are only a few days in the year when anything other than ordinary food is consumed, hence why people are so happy on these particular days. However, there are many other occasions to rejoice, such as wearing a newly woven kimono for the first time, for example. As you can imagine, such occasions give rise to great joy. For me, it is precisely this joy that the objects at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum convey. Yanagi: That’s right. The Folk Crafts Museum is currently exhibiting a selection of horse harnesses. It is said that when a new harness was used, even the horse rejoiced.

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Of course, it was probably just in the imagination of the driver, who was also very happy. Nonetheless, I think that a woman’s joy and satisfaction at seeing a man wear the kimono she has made must have been a very powerful emotion. Shikiba: Discovering the value people attached to these objects is thus one element that unites folk crafts and folklore studies!

On the future of folk crafts

Shikiba: Professor Yanagi, could you tell us a little more about your trip to the Tōhoku region? Yanagita: Where did you go? Yanagi: I visited all six prefectures in the Tōhoku region. I only stayed for about a month but the circumstances were extremely interesting. My trip was organised by the Yamagata Research Centre for Snow Damage, which had set up an exhibition of new folk crafts in each prefecture. I attended in my role as adviser to discuss the potential for the future. In Yamagata, with which the research centre obviously has the closest links, there were not one but three exhibitions held in three different venues. Numerous items were exhibited, including many objects that we didn’t even know existed. Given the research centre’s close ties with the Ministry of Agriculture, the majority of objects – many of which were crafted in wood or bamboo – were naturally linked to farming activities and mainly came from the Shōnai region.30 We were able to hold an exhibition and discussion on annual rites and I think that next year we will be able to present a greater variety of objects. After that I would like to hold a major event at the Mitsukoshi department store in Tokyo, for example, which I think will be an excellent opportunity for people to discover what exists in Japan. Shikiba: No doubt. Yanagi: I imagine that from a linguistic point of view this region must raise serious questions for Mr Yanagita, but for us, Tōhoku is certainly the region with the greatest wealth of folk crafts. We believe that rather than allowing these crafts to die out, in the future they must be given a new life, all the while preserving their regional particularities, in order to provide a source of income for Tōhoku villages. Yanagita: There are many craftspeople in the Tōhoku region, as you say, but with a tendency to produce an increasing number of poor quality articles. Yanagi: That is indeed increasingly the case.

Yanagita: And apparently high quality products only reappear during exhibitions… Yanagi: Such a tendency does exist. However, the exhibitions I visited were primarily composed of items that really are used today, which shows that some wonderful techniques have been preserved. Yanagita: I think it is inevitable that the economic situation, as well as the way work is organised, will have adversely impacted the quality of such objects, but it would be a shame for the most gifted craftspeople to disappear completely. Yanagi: From what I saw, there is a major revival of these crafts and a thriving production. What is more, these objects need not be reserved for use in the

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countryside; we could also encourage their use in the city. I believe it is absolutely vital that we consider making objects that can be used in our modern lives. Yanagita: That would seem a very difficult task. Shikiba: I recently visited Sendai,31 and seeing the exhibition held there, it seemed that many of the objects on display could be introduced into the daily lives of our contemporaries. Yanagi: I have great hopes for slippers.32

Yanagita: Are you not worried that this commercialisation, for which, as you say, there is a market, is only possible for objects that can be used throughout the year? Yanagi: That really depends on what direction we want the business to take. Take the example of nizo headwear, produced in the Aizu region. An order for 3,000 nizo has just arrived from the United States. Apparently they are used as beach hats in the summer. Real potential exists if we are able to adapt to demand in this way. Shikiba: I don’t believe it is necessary for the Folk Crafts Movement to keep all of these traditional objects alive; instead we should simply use them to fulfil the needs of the contemporary world where a need really exists. We just mentioned slippers, but there is no reason for us to preserve the European concept of slippers indefinitely. If we think about it, Japan has many of its own straw plaiting techniques that could be used in slipper-making. In such cases, we should begin by reminding people of the existence of Japanese craftsmanship, thus paving the way to transforming the Western concept of slippers into Japanese slippers made using Japanese technology. In this way, the Folk Crafts Movement hopes to make Japanese culture more specifically Japanese; it is a movement that aims to strengthen Japanese culture. With this in mind, we must first train our eyes to be attentive to folk crafts as this will enable us to use our expert eye to select a variety of exceptional craft objects. From this moment on, we simply need to have faith: it is up to each individual to find ways of using such objects in our daily lives. Yanagita: That is a very coherent position. Shikiba: A cutting-edge architect recently visited us at the Folk Crafts Museum and was shocked to discover the various Okinawan fabrics, which he said were magnificent and extremely useable in interior design. Yanagi: We are absolutely convinced that objects which possess the true beauty of crafts never lose their novelty value, no matter how much time passes. If we take a new look at the traditional kasuri textiles of Okinawa, many of the motifs are extremely modern.33 There were also many surprising objects in the Tōhoku exhibitions I mentioned earlier. It would be a real shame, for the whole of Japanese culture, if these objects, which really do exist, were to arouse no attachment and were to be rejected under the pretext that everything is destined to change. Yanagita: If a revived folk craft industry is indeed possible, people must of course be educated about it. Yanagi: Furthermore, I believe that certain things can change if we follow this same logic. Take the silks from Yūki,34 for example. Although these extremely expensive items are not intended for the mass market, their reputation for quality means that they always attract buyers, no matter what the object is or how high its price. Selling

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large quantities at low prices is one strategy; another excellent one is to not be afraid to put a high price on objects that merit it. Yanagita: It is possible to halt the decline of the craft industry as long as understanding people are in charge and provide their support. However, mechanical progress is rapid and I fear a day may come when even crafts are industrially produced.

Shikiba: Nonetheless, and I address my question to Professor Yanagi, will advances in machinery enable the ‘handmade’ appearance of crafts to be recreated? Yanagi: They can imitate it at any rate. Yanagita: You can’t tell the difference at first glance! Yanagi: Be that as it may, crafts and industrial goods are fundamentally different. I believe that whatever advances are made, the value of crafts cannot be surpassed. Yanagita: Machines are also used to decorate ceramics. You can easily be fooled sometimes… Yanagi: In some ways the Folk Crafts Movement is opposed to machines, but I think that we merely need to work in a complementary way, proposing a world that is beyond the reach of machines. Although many of the objects we select are antique craft wares, it is not simply because they are antiques or handicrafts, but because many beautiful objects are the fruit of a time-honoured industry. Nor do we wish to content ourselves with simply saying that these objects are beautiful; we strive to understand what makes them beautiful and how that beauty was achieved. Furthermore, since we believe that in the future we must also create things of beauty, we analyse the criteria for beauty at work in these antique crafts and consider how we can use such objects in the future. That is, I believe, the task we have assigned ourselves.35

NOTES

1. Translation of “Mingei to minzokugaku no mondai” 民藝と民俗學の問題 (The Issue of Folk Crafts and Folklore Studies), Gekkan Mingei, vol. 2, no. 4, April 1940; YSZ 10, pp. 735-747. 2. Regretting the limited circulation of the journal Crafts (Kōgei 工藝) run by Yanagi, Shikiba and Yoshida created a militant monthly publication with a wide circulation in order to promote the “mingei aesthetic” to the general public. In the editorial of its first issue, Shikiba introduced Folk Crafts Monthly as the movement’s machine gun (kikanjū 機関銃), or “weapon of mass circulation”. Despite being known for his pacifism and antimilitarism, Yanagi does not seem to have objected to the use of such vocabulary and offered to finance the magazine through the Japan Folk Crafts Association. In fact, the discussion translated here was published in Folk Crafts Monthly. 3. All footnotes are the original French translators’ own. 4. Here, no doubt due to his ignorance of the terms in use at that time, Yanagi employs an obsolete term, dozokugaku 土俗学. Literally meaning the branch of knowledge (gaku) pertaining to the customs (zoku) of a specific land (do), the term was initially used at the beginning of the

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Meiji era to refer to the field of anthropology concerned with cultural artefacts. However, it quickly came to mean the study of Japan’s periphery, then non-Japanese ethnic groups and aborigines. It was replaced by the term minzokugaku 民族学in the 1920s and subsequently disappeared. This explains Yanagita’s reluctance to reply to Yanagi and the need felt by Shikiba to redefine the two terms later on in the discussion. 5. Esunorojī エスノロジー, from the English word ethnology. 6. Minzoku 民族. 7. In other words, undeveloped peoples, which in Yanagita’s eyes could not possibly include the Japanese. 8. As Yanagita explains, the Japanese word for folklore studies is problematic as its pronunciation is identical to the word used for ethnology. They can only be distinguished by examining the Chinese characters used: in one case zoku refers to “customs” 俗 (of the “people”: min), in the other it refers to “families” or “lineages” 族 (“family of the people”: ethnic group). We thus go from taking an interest in social practices to the idea that belonging to a particular group (potentially a race) is essential for defining identity. The contrast between dozoku/minzoku (which both use the same character for zoku) is of a different order. The initial focus on “do”– the land, that which is local or even autochthonous – was abandoned in the first quarter of the twentieth century, swept aside by the increasing emphasis on the nation and the concept of “people”. In fact, it is this very “people” that links folk crafts (min-gei) to the science of popular customs, or folklore studies (min-zoku gaku), through their names, objectives and concerns. 9. Genshi minzoku 原始民俗. 10. Respectively: mikaijin 未開人, hankaijin 半開人. 11. Shizengaku 史前学. Ōyama Kashiwa (1889-1969), a researcher who alternated between scientific research and participating in Japan’s military expansion (he was a captain in the army but also taught at Keiō), is primarily known for his contribution to archaeology throughout the 1920s and 1930s and for his work on the Jōmon period. In 1928 he set up a ‘Research Centre for Prehistory’ at his home, which was destroyed during the American bombings of May 1945. 12. Taishitsu jinruigaku 体質人類学 and bunka jinruigaku 文化人類学. 13. Kōkogaku 考古学. 14. In reality, Yanagita was more attracted to language than to linguistics. Folklore studies subsequently established many glossaries listing various regional terms by theme (marriage, fishing, etc.). 15. Mingei 民藝. 16. In English in the original text. 17. The Attic Museum’s goal was to collect a wide variety of ‘folk tools’ (mingu 民具) in order to meticulously analyse how they were made and used; see Damien Kunik’s article in this volume of Cipango. 18. Utsukushii tadashii mingeihin. 19. Shinshū, the mountainous region (Japanese Alps) of central Honshū, corresponds to present- day Nagano Prefecture. 20. Noto (in Ishikawa Prefecture) is a peninsula that extends into the Sea of Japan from central Honshū. Kishū corresponds to the south-easterly tip of Wakayama peninsula, which lies in the Pacific Ocean. The two areas lie directly opposite each other if we take the Kyoto-Tokyo axis as the centre. Since both are located at an equal distance from the capital and at the tip of a peninsula, folklorists believe that these two ‘lands’ cannot help but resemble each other. Yanagita was convinced that the further away one moved from the capital, the further back in Japan’s past one went. He reasoned quite logically that the oldest remnants of Japan’s ancient civilisation lived on in Okinawa or in the lands of the Ainu, and advocated studying Japan’s peripheries in order to understand the true meaning of its ancient traditions. This stance clearly denies the ability of each particular area to evolve and ignores the establishment of networks

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(administrative, religious, trade, family, etc.) which, each in their own way, have helped to transform the areas they link over the course of Japan’s history. In any case, the idea of cultural progress radiating out in concentric circles from a central hub – the imperial capital – is no longer considered a serious hypothesis today. 21. Gaku 学 has been translated elsewhere as “studies” or “branch of knowledge” but can also be given the meaning of “science”, as Yanagita does in this sentence. 22. Here the character employed by Yanagita is used as the equivalent of “-graphy”, as in ethnography. He long fought for the use of the term minzoku-shi, in other words the discipline that aims to identify and describe folk customs (hence our translation of “archivism”) with a view to enabling regional comparisons. Shi more literally brings to mind the idea of taking note. 23. Yanagita is taking precautions in anticipation of the debate on Japan’s language policy in Okinawa which concludes this discussion (non-translated section). 24. This assertion is curious as Yanagita wanted to establish folklore studies as a branch of knowledge that benefitted its era by attempting, through so-called “emergency” surveys (kinkyū chōsa 緊急調査), to rediscover the practices that previously cemented Japanese society, which was being weakened by urbanisation. It therefore applies strictly within the scope of this dialogue. 25. Keikengaku 経験学. 26. Kihangaku 規範学. Yanagi uses a term established since 1922 as the equivalent of the German word norm. 27. Taishū-sei 大衆性, “characteristic” shared by the masses. 28. Chihō-sei, or “regional character”. 29. The north-eastern region of Honshū. 30. An area within the Tōhoku region that roughly corresponds to the part of Yamagata Prefecture that borders the Sea of Japan. 31. Capital of Miyagi Prefecture in the Tōhoku region. 32. This issue was discussed by the two men outside of this debate. 33. Kasuri is a kind of “double ikat”: the weft and warp yarns are first dyed in specific places before being woven together to form a pattern. This technique is particularly prevalent in the Ryūkyū Islands. 34. Area to the west of Ibaraki Prefecture. 35. The discussion continues on the issue of Japan’s language policy in Okinawa. Since this passage does not concern the links between mingei and minzokugaku, we have taken the liberty of ending the translation here.

ABSTRACTS

Discussion between Yanagi Sōetsu and Yanagita Kunio on their own discipline and methods, at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum (1940).

Débat entre Yanagi Sōetsu et Yanagita Kunio sur la nature de leurs discipline et méthodes respectives, à la Maison des arts populaires (1940).

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INDEX

Chronological index: Shōwa キーワード: minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, taishū bunka 大衆文化, mingei undō 民芸運動, mingu 民具, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), minzoku 民俗, jinruigaku 人類学, minzokugaku 民族学, kōkogaku 考古学, Yanagita Kunio 柳田國男 (1875-1962), Okinawa 沖縄, Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Mots-clés: arts populaires, culture populaire, mingei – mouvement artistique, outils, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), folklore, études folkloriques Subjects: anthropologie, ethnologie, archeologie Keywords: anthropology, ethnology, folk art, material culture, Mingei, popular culture, utensils, mingu, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), archeology

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“Nihonjinron” in the Museums of Paris: design and Japanese identity Des « nippologies » dans les musées : Design et identité japonaise à Paris

Coralie Castel

EDITOR'S NOTE

Original release: Coralie Castel, « Des « nippologies » dans les musées », Cipango [En ligne], 16 | 2009, mis en ligne le 18 novembre 2011, consulté le 13 juin 2013. DOI: 10.4000/cipango.389.

1 Three exhibitions on Japanese design recently took place in Paris as part of celebrations to mark the 150th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between France and Japan. From 30 September 2008 to 11 January 2009 the Musée du Quai Branly presented The Mingei Spirit in Japan: From Folk Craft to Design. From 22 October 2008 to 31 January 2009 the Japan Cultural Institute in Paris (Maison de la culture du Japon à Paris, hereafter MCJP) presented Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today. And finally, from 12 to 21 December 2008 the Museum of Decorative Arts (Musée des Arts décoratifs) in Paris hosted the Kansei: Japan Design Exhibition.

2 These three exhibitions were organised independently, without any consultation between the institutions. The Musée du Quai Branly exhibition was developed jointly with the Mingeikan in Tokyo or Japan Folk Crafts Museum. The MCJP exhibition was organised by the Tokyo headquarters of the Japan Foundation. And finally, the Museum of Decorative Arts exhibition was orchestrated entirely by the Japanese Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry (METI) and the Japan External Trade Organisation (JETRO). All three exhibitions were thus produced by Japanese people, partly in the case of Quai Branly and almost entirely for the other two.

3 In his book L’exposition à l’œuvre1 (The Exhibition at Work), the sociologist Jean Davallon argues that the organising of an exhibition stems from a fixed agenda and is underpinned by a specific world view. As a medium, exhibitions do not merely show the

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objects; they also, and above all, indicate how we should view the objects, relying in the process on “communication strategies”. The same idea underpins the thinking of anthropologist Benoît de l’Estoile, who recounts the history of France’s “museums of the Others” in Le goût des autres (A Taste for the Others):2 Because the act of exhibiting implies the spatial and sensory (and in particular visual) translation of explicit or implicit standpoints, it provides an embodiment of world views. Museums are both the expression of artistic, scientific and political movements that develop outside of the museum and a place for producing and disseminating representations, which in no small measure help to define reality and provide frameworks for interpreting and deciphering it.

4 Drawing on this observation, I assigned myself the task of examining how the aforementioned exhibitions portrayed Japan, despite them being held in three separate museums with differing objectives in terms of intercultural dialogue, promoting Japanese culture and boosting trade. In practical terms, I propose to examine the images of Japan overseas that were presented in Paris during the winter of 2008.

5 Ethnographic analysis of the exhibitions initially focused on a detailed examination of the exhibition space itself. The exhibits, scenography and explanation panels all provide visitors with information; what is more, brochures, maps and other written documentation distributed to the public clarify the exhibition’s message. The views of the French-side organisers also served to reveal certain biases in the exhibitions. Finally, the press releases sent out by the organisers and the resulting press coverage provided an opportunity to assess how the organisers’ messages were perceived and relayed.

6 Onsite analysis of each exhibition highlighted the disparate nature of the exhibits: the coexistence of varying types of objects created a sense of confusion that was further intensified by the rather discreet scenography. Nonetheless, what consistently emerged was “one” single Japan presented as being homogeneous. What are the leitmotifs that enabled the exhibitions to establish a consistent identity? Do they replicate a recurrent mode of discourse applied to Japan and by Japan to itself?

Musée du Quai Branly and the “mingei spirit”

7 The Musée du Quai Branly’s mission is to illustrate the diversity of world cultures via exhibitions that place a heavy emphasis on the aesthetic appreciation of the exhibits. The Mingei Spirit in Japan: From Folk Craft to Design exhibition focuses on Yanagi Sōetsu 柳 宗悦 (1889-1961) and the movement he launched in the 1920s for the discovery and reappraisal of Korean and Japanese crafts. While the exhibition was organised under the guidance of Germain Viatte, curator at the Musée du Quai Branly, the majority of exhibits came from the Mingeikan, the museum founded by Yanagi in 1936.

8 The scenography of the exhibition space is extremely understated. The display cabinet bases are white and the exhibits presented on neutral stands. On the walls, a smattering of labels summarises Yanagi Sōetsu’s approach. The neutral final result does not suggest any specific bias on behalf of the Musée du Quai Branly compared to the Mingeikan.

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Fig. 1: A display case at the Mingei exhibition, Musée du quai Branly, 2008

Fig 2: Items of clothing presented at the Mingei exhibition are showcased for their design

A card gives the approximate date they were made but no other information. Musée du quai Branly, 2008. The objects featuring in the first display case hail from a wide variety of places and eras: a 1952 plate by the English potter Bernard Leach, who lived in Japan, sits side by side with Chinese and Korean bowls and trays dating from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, a sculpture from the Jōmon period (tenth century B.C.) and even a twentieth-century funeral urn from Okinawa.

9 The next display contains three distinct sets of exhibits: “Japanese Folk Crafts” presents Japanese lacquerware, pottery and clothing from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; a few steps further on, “Folk Crafts from Japan’s Periphery” displays Korean and Okinawan objects made between the sixteenth and the twentieth century; and finally, “Yanagi Sōetsu’s Early Associates” features ceramic items made during the 1930s and 1940s by mingei-influenced artists.

10 A large circular room at the end of the exhibition gallery highlights the work of “Three International Artists in Japan” who were active between 1930 and 1950: the German Bruno Taut (lacquerware), the American artist Isamu Noguchi (lamps, furniture, terracotta ware), and the French designer Charlotte Perriand (furniture). The “Yanagi Sōri and the Design Issue” space features the most celebrated works of the designer – the son of Yanagi Sōetsu – created between the 1950s and 1970s: the Butterfly stool, created in 1956, is showcased separately. A coffee table on the way out displays a collection of “bamboo objects”: anonymous pieces from the Edo period sit side by side with works by Bruno Taut.

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11 Generally speaking, and even within the display cases themselves, the exhibition juxtaposes objects hailing from a wide variety of geographical locations and eras. They also represent a variety of genres: the presence of anonymous objects reflects a conservation-oriented approach, while other objects, whose authors are showcased, stem from an art-oriented approach.

“The spirit of harmony” at the Japan Cultural Institute in Paris

12 As an institution, the Japan Cultural Institute in Paris partly depends on the Japan Foundation, whose headquarters are based in Tokyo. It regularly organises exhibitions on a variety of themes in accordance with its mission to promote Japanese culture.

13 The exhibition Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today features very different objects to those seen at Quai Branly. Visitors enter via a white corridor displaying objects that illustrate the concept of “wa” 和, presented as a “traditional view of harmony”: the objects are described as “combining antagonistic properties”. This category includes a sake barrel, a bubble-shaped humidifier and an electric piano.

Fig 3: Exhibits from the first gallery of the Wa exhibition at the MCJP, 2008

14 This corridor leads to a vast, dimly lit room featuring walls draped with black cloth and pieces of white fabric suspended from the ceiling. The leaflet lists 160 items described as providing a representative panorama of the everyday objects used by Japanese people today. The majority of these objects date from between 1980 and 2008, although a few older celebrated works, such as the Butterfly stool seen at Quai Branly, are also on display.

15 The objects are displayed in cases measuring approximately 1.2 metres high and whose width takes up virtually all the space, forming corridors in which visitors circulate. The first six rows, as well as the two platforms at the back, display objects grouped together by functional category. In order, the twelve functional categories are: “tableware”, “bath items”, “home appliances and small electronic devices”, “digital technology”, “toys”, “stationery”, “miscellaneous domestic articles”, “clothing and accessories”, “packaging and bags”, “vehicles”, “furniture”, and finally, “lighting apparatus”. The final three display cases present objects divided according to six “keywords” transcribed into Roman letters and then translated: kawaii (cute), kurafuto (craft), kime

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(fineness of the grain), tezawari (touch), minimaru (minimal), kokoro kubari (thoughtfulness). According to the brochure these words reflect “concepts, sensations or tastes that are particularly present in Japanese design”. Each of the functional categories and concepts is introduced in a very brief text placed at each end of the display cases. For example, the paragraph explaining the notion of kokoro kubari begins as follows: “In the eyes of the Japanese, thoughtfulness is a virtue as well as a kind of wisdom that enables people to live together in society harmoniously and pleasantly”. Finally, a “discovery space” set back from the main room provides visitors with the opportunity to handle a certain number of objects, including a guitar, some notebooks and a basket.

16 In the brochure’s own words the exhibition is characterised by its desire to present a varied collection ‘representing the multitude of objects’ used by the Japanese every day. This results in the coexistence, in the same room, of musical instruments, scale models of cars, pens and a competition swimsuit. Certain objects are the work of famous designers (such as the Hiroshima chair by Fukasawa Naoto), while others come from less well-known agencies. The collection seems rather random.

Fig. 4: One of the “press visuals” from the Wa exhibition at the MCJP

Three of the six objects shown here are food-related

The Museum of Decorative Arts and the Kansei sensibility

17 The Museum of Decorative Arts regularly hosts design exhibitions. According to the brochure the Kansei exhibition, jointly organised by the METI 3 and JETRO4, united the “private, public and academic sectors in a joint push for industrial competitiveness”. The exhibition’s mission is thus to promote the manufacturing of Japanese-designed goods.

18 The Kansei exhibition space is divided into three sections within the Nave of the museum. A large hall in the centre contains nine LED screens broadcasting animated images borrowed from illustrated scrolls of the Tale of Genji. Two vast sculptures occupy the space from floor to ceiling: “Ikebana”, created by the Japanese school of floral art Ikenobō, is a structure made from chopsticks; “Scène de Nō” (Noh Stage) is an installation by the designer Kita Toshiyuki which can be dismantled and transported. The presence of large banners bearing calligraphy for the characters “kansei” 感性, as well as a translation of the word (sensibility), completes the venue’s impressive feel.

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19 The left-hand gallery of the Nave proposes an exhibition of 104 objects displayed without cases on white platforms of varying heights. The objects are grouped into three themes – “expression”, “movement” and “heart” – each illustrating “kansei values” and linked to four sub-concepts. The themes and concepts are given in Japanese, in kanji or hiragana, before being romanized and then translated. For example, one of the panels reads: “動作, dōsa, movement”.5

20 Just as at the MCJP, the objects exhibited reflect a wide variety of usages and values: from animal-shaped elastic bands to fizzy drink cans, furniture, crockery, jewellery and mobile phones, the exhibition covers all manner of “everyday items”. All of these are recent creations (2000s); however, certain purportedly “traditional” models (kettle, tea ceremony whisks, etc.), which are not contemporary design pieces, are also present.

21 The opposite gallery is separated into six rooms, four of which present a “master” artisan (in printing, leatherwork or dyeing) and his or her works; the remaining two are dedicated to the works of Japanese graphic designers. Some of the artists are themselves present in the rooms.

22 Here too, the exhibition contains an extremely diverse selection of objects. Those in the first gallery are at least as eclectic as those seen at the MCJP; the presence of art installations alongside a presentation of the work of craft workshops further accentuates the diversity of the items exhibited.

A wide spectrum of objects

23 The overall coherence of each exhibition is not immediately apparent. And yet, let us remember, every exhibition carries a message: what view of Japan did the organisers hope to project by selecting such a wide spectrum of objects? Is it possible to identify a link between them?

24 The objects exhibited at the MCJP, presented as being representative of what modern- day Japanese people use, are in reality not all for domestic or everyday use. Amongst the crockery, mobile phones, school notebooks and lamps are a sake barrel, a tenori-on (digital musical instrument) and even a reproduction of a park (Moerenuma in Sapporo) designed by the sculptor Isamu Noguchi: it contains several pieces of play equipment and is represented at the exhibition in the “toys” category using photographs.

25 In the Kansei exhibition, chairs rub shoulders with watches, a bike, plastic bottles, a therapeutic robot for the infirm, and a four-stringed guitar, all of which are recent creations. Although the aim is to demonstrate the vitality of modern design, the inclusion of a bamboo tea whisk, a fan and Shintō amulets also introduces a supposedly “traditional” dimension.

26 The Quai Branly exhibition also juxtaposes objects from a variety of places and periods. The display method chosen merges contemporary and old under the label mingei.

A silent scenography

27 The overall impression of a mixture of objects is further heightened by the scenography of the exhibitions: indeed, the juxtaposition of objects is accompanied by few explanations and where given they are difficult to access.

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28 Visitors are provided with few explanations at the MCJP. Aside from a few lines at the entrance under the title “Wa: harmony”, and the brief wall labels introducing each category, the display cases give no indication as to the function or origins of the objects. Only a number refers visitors to a brochure distributed at the entrance and which provides further explanations. However, the brochure is a 40 x 60 cm document folded in eight and featuring photographs of the 160 exhibits with the name of the object, the date it was made, the name of its creator and its function. The font chosen is small and the printing in shades of blue, while the order of the objects occasionally differs from that seen in the exhibition. Needless to say, reading the brochure in the dim exhibition space is no easy task. Furthermore, confusion seems to exist as to the boundaries of the exhibition space: certain items are displayed without cases, notably an oven and a washing machine, and are frequently touched by visitors, who are quickly called to order by museum attendants.

29 Signage at the Musée du Quai Branly is not any clearer. Let us remember that the objects are displayed together without distinction, against a white background and under neutral lighting. They are placed at different heights within the display cases. The labels specifying their name, the date they were made and their origin are extremely brief and are placed at the foot of each display case. They carry numbers which in turn can be found on a diagram placed on the floor, in the centre of the display case. The diagram reproduces the layout of the objects in order to link the object with the relevant label. This system renders the information featured on the labels, already brief, even more discreet and difficult to access, as reading it involves bending down. Differences in period, geographical origin or approach (conservation- oriented, art-oriented) are not apparent. Three tiny 10-inch screens showing a series of photographs complete the scenography. A few paragraphs describing the life and intellectual views of Yanagi Sōetsu appear on signs but their contents also appear virtually word-for-word in the small four-page, A5-format brochure. This brochure also carries an interview with Germain Viatte, the only text to place the Folk Crafts Movement in a historical context from the Meiji modernisation to the 1930s. No information is given as to the purpose of the objects.

30 In contrast, the scenography of the first gallery of objects at the Museum of Decorative Arts creates a luxurious impression. Lighting is abundant and the objects are displayed without cases on shiny black-and-white stands. The exhibition space is adorned with white calligraphy on black panels which highlights and explains the concepts used. Each object is numbered and given a Japanese title, a date and an origin. However, the objects’ use is not explained in the exhibition itself. For this information visitors must refer to an extensive 53-page brochure, which carries all the exhibition texts in addition to explanations from the organisers. For each exhibit a colour photograph accompanies a paragraph explaining the object’s use and its connection to the associated concept. The sheer quantity of information provided for each object means that visitors are highly unlikely to refer to it systematically.

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Fig. 5: Description of animal-shaped rubber bands

These objects are presented in the catalogue in the category mottai. Kansei exhibition, Musée des Arts décoratifs, 2008

31 Moreover, Japanese writing, whether syllabaries or Chinese characters, is omnipresent in all three exhibitions, and particularly at the Museum of Decorative Arts. The “concepts” that define the objects are calligraphed in the brochure and on the large vertical panels that hang in the exhibition space. This display technique is used repeatedly throughout the exhibition: each object is associated with a Japanese concept, which is calligraphed and then romanized before possibly being translated and finally explained.

Fig. 6: Presentation of the “value” karoyaka

The brochure associates it with the concept of kokoro. Kansei exhibition, Musée des Arts décoratifs, 2008

32 However, this Japanese writing is incomprehensible to the vast majority of French visitors, for most of whom it represents a “silent” script that is more of an obstacle to understanding than a supplementary source of information. Its role is primarily to ensure the visual unity of the exhibitions.

33 The confusion of genres and lack of accessible information combine to create an impression of uniformity between the exhibitions, an impression that is supported by the rhetoric employed. The exhibitions continually refer to the entire Japanese population, and reference to a supposedly characteristic “spirit” is recurrent. The MCJP’s press release describes harmony as “a Japanese virtue par excellence” – and thus shared by all Japanese people – that pervades all Japanese-designed goods. The MCJP’s aim is to show what “the Japanese” use on a daily basis. This habit of referring to all Japanese collectively is particularly evident in the case of the Museum of Decorative Arts: for example, kansei is embodied in the sculpture Scène de Nō (Noh Stage), intended to illustrate “the sensibility of the Japanese, who consider the Noh stage to be a profoundly sacred space”. The concepts set out in this exhibition are

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expressed even more bombastically and stress that these notions are shared by all Japanese people. For example, the word hyōjō 表情 is tortuously described as “what the Japanese refer to as the “expression” of an object”.

34 Next I propose to examine the objects themselves and the way they are presented: how is this feeling of unity brought about? What clues point to this?

In search of a common message

Partial unity: the materials

35 The first source of unity in the exhibits is provided by the materials used to make them. The space dedicated to bamboo objects at the Mingei exhibition is revealing. It features pieces of furniture, in particular stools, and combines anonymous items from the Edo period, bought by Charlotte Perriand, with creations by Bruno Taut. The unifying element in this space is thus bamboo, which “seems to embody the archetypal Japanese material for foreigners”6 and unites the objects through its Japaneseness. Similarly, the Japaneseness of objects at the other two exhibitions also seems to stem from the materials in which they were crafted. For example, the MCJP displays a coat “made from rice”, a lacquered speaker, a basket in lacquered stainless steel and crockery made from kimono fabric cast in resin; while the Museum of Decorative Arts displays, among others, a bag made from rice straw, a lacquered telephone and paper lanterns: so many natural materials that are reminiscent of Japan. This phenomenon is echoed in the scenography: the information signs at the Mingei exhibition seem to be made from washi paper and the pieces of fabric hanging from the ceiling at the MCJP have also been designed to resemble this type of paper.

36 Japaneseness also seems to be visible in the use of food-related objects. The prevalence of objects belonging to this genre is striking: bowls, soy sauce bottles, rice cookers, teapots, kitchen knives, radish graters, tea whisks, sake cups, cutlery, chopsticks, and so on. The essence of Japanese identity would appear to be linked to what the Japanese eat and how they eat it. Food-related objects thus provide the perfect medium for conveying the exhibitions’ message (Figs. 3 and 4).

37 Through the materials used, which constitute partial sources of unity, and the references to food, the Japanese identity of the objects is shaped by elements that make reference to nature; in other words, their identity is presented as being natural.

Shared references to a Japanese “spirit”

38 The exhibitions echo each other on several points, including the theme of a timeless Japan, the use of the Japanese language to convey specific concepts, and the emphasis on harmony as a value responsible for the quality of Japanese design. All of these point to a “spirit” that appears to reside in the Japanese “heart” or kokoro 心. The brochures and press releases display a real convergence in their discourse on these themes.

The timelessness of Japanese culture

39 At the Musée du Quai Branly, this timelessness is emphasised from the moment visitors enter the exhibition through the juxtaposition of objects from a variety of periods.

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Presented in this manner, the Folk Crafts Movement appears to draw inspiration from a “spirit” presented as having travelled down through the ages and being visible in objects rooted in Japanese culture, regardless of their period. In fact, this impression is created by the use of the term “rediscovery” to describe Yanagi Sōetsu’s attempt to promote folk crafts: the use of this word suggests that Yanagi merely brought back to the fore a character (“spiritual” in this case, according to the brochure) that had always distinguished these objects and had simply been forgotten. Finally, the area dedicated to Charlotte Perriand emphasises this continuity between crafts and design by quoting the designer’s words on the subject of mingei: “the spirit of truth that pervades these works is an eternal spirit”.7

40 Similarly, at the MCJP the repeated use of expressions such as “today as in the past”, “since long ago” or “traditional” is striking: they appear in each explanatory text – despite them being brief – and stress the continuity between past and present. The objects and their production methods “retain something of these bygone crafts”. The main concept in the exhibition is that of “wa”, or “harmony”. This concept derives its legitimacy from its old age, particularly as it is often used to refer to Japan, appearing in words such as washi (Japanese paper) and wakotoba (sic, Japanese words):8 the press release reminds visitors that wa first appeared in 604, in the first “Constitution” of Shōtoku Taishi. Modern design is defined by the phrase: “Manufacturing in Japan: when the past enters the future”. Finally, according to the same press release, the scenography designed by the Japanese agency Tonerico “perpetuates the tradition” of the Japanese home by proposing a “minimalist architecture of space”.9

41 As for the Museum of Decorative Arts exhibition, it presents the notion of kansei as having been born with the Tale of Genji in the year 1000 and which, having travelled down through the centuries unaltered, has reinvented itself in contemporary design as a “collection of Japanese traditions shaped over time”: it is this that justifies the coexistence in the same space of illustrations from illuminated scrolls and objects from the 2000s. These illustrations presented using modern technology (large LED screens) show animated images in a style that brings to mind the old cinematic film. The style of calligraphy, known as reisho, seen on the panels and in the brochures is archaistic and non-standard. The anachronistic visual effects are designed to strengthen the exhibition’s message, the aim being to show that kansei was “handed down from Genji’s era”, and “has survived throughout the generations until today”. The unchanging nature of Japaneseness thus appears to be one of the main points on which all three exhibitions agree.

The Japanese language as key

42 Reliance on the Japanese language represents a further similarity between the three exhibitions, all of which promote concepts presented as being specifically Japanese and difficult to translate. This phenomenon begins with the exhibition titles, which feature Japanese words followed by a colon (:) introducing an explanation that is not necessarily, or not merely, the exact translation of the Japanese term. The title of the exhibition is thus presented from the outset as untranslatable. In order to introduce its classification of the exhibits into six “Japanese” concepts,10 the MCJP’s exhibition brochure states that “just like words, objects reveal our sensibility”. Similarly, the Museum of Decorative Arts presents the terms that convey the “kansei” design

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sensibility as being uniquely Japanese notions expressed by “words peculiar to the culture and everyday life of the Japanese”. These words are particularly numerous: with four concepts associated with each of the three themes, a total of fifteen Japanese words are presented as the keys to understanding Japanese design (cf. table 1).

43 This exhibition also stresses that the fifteen concepts conveying the essence of Japanese design are expressed in purely Japanese words, or “yamato kotoba […], as opposed to kango, or Sino-Japanese words borrowed from classical Chinese”.

44 The use of words that are incomprehensible to visitors creates the impression that the concepts themselves are unfathomable. The two are intimately linked: the general curator of the Kansei exhibition hopes that “by the end of the exhibition, the French public will have discovered a new approach to Japanese design and learned a new word: kansei”. Japanese design is presented as being the product of an exclusively Japanese sensibility, an understanding of which can only be achieved by employing the Japanese term.

Table 1: classification of objects by theme and keyword for the Kansei exhibition

表情hyōjō 動作dōsa 心kokoro MAIN THEMES Expression Movement Heart

かげろう もったい しつらえる Kagerou Mottai Shitsuraeru To go from shadow to Fundamental To arrange light value

にしき しなる もてなし Nishiki Shinaru Motenashi KEYWORDS ASSOCIATED WITH Brocade To bend Hospitality THE はぶく THEMES たたずまい かろやか Habuku Tatazumai Karoyaka To eliminate the Appearance Light superfluous

きめ おる むすび Kime Oru Musubi Grain To fold Knot

A conventional image of a “spiritual” Japan

“Harmony”

45 Presenting Japanese design in this way via concepts that are impenetrable to non- Japanese speakers projects the image of an elusive Japan: sensitive and spiritual, any understanding of it is necessarily intuitive. This Japanese “spirit” visible in the exhibits is characterised by the theme of “harmony”, or wa.

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46 Harmony is promoted as being a uniquely Japanese concept in all three design exhibitions and in particular at the MCJP, which takes the term as its title. The MCJP defines it as one of the “most highly prized values for Japanese people”. As we saw earlier, the press release quotes the opening line of the 604 Constitution in an effort to support this claim: “Harmony is to be valued and avoidance of wanton opposition is to be honoured”. This historic line refers to a notion of social harmony, yet the exhibitions associate it with the idea of aesthetic harmony. Indeed, this conception of wa enables a fusion of old and modern elements, or even industry and crafts, and is presented as being responsible for the characteristic high quality of Japanese design. The exhibition’s scenography is inspired by the same idea, with the organisers describing the understated black-and-white exhibition space as “extremely Japanese”, in that it is characterised by “beauty, order and harmony”.

47 The Museum of Decorative Arts exhibition also mentions harmony, describing it as “an element of Japan’s spiritual and traditional culture” and a spirit of fusion that distinguishes Japanese design. As for the Musée du Quai Branly, although it does not explicitly stress the term, the idea of a fusion and symbiosis between folk crafts and modern design once again underpins its message, allowing the museum to feature the works of famous designers alongside folk objects.

The “heart” as the home of an essence

48 The essence of the “spirit” portrayed in the three exhibitions resides in the “heart” of the Japanese people. This notion of kokoro was promoted in the eighteenth century by so-called “national studies” or kokugaku. The result of a backlash against Chinese influence, this search for a native Japanese essence led – through reinterpretations of eighth-century texts such as the Kojiki or the Man’yōshū – to the emergence of the concept of kokoro as an intuitive understanding of things, with rational understanding a feature of Chinese logic.

49 This “heart” is present more or less explicitly in all three exhibitions: it can be found in the “kokoro kubari” of exhibits at the MCJP, conveyed through the “thoughtfulness” of the designer towards the user. According to the Kansei brochure, to understand an object’s design one must perceive “the movement that takes place in the gesture or heart”11 of the creator: hence the concept of dōsa or “movement”.

50 When touching an object “it is not rare for the user to begin to feel an emotion”: kokoro is an emotion that passes between creator and user. In its description of a reed-shaped lamp, the brochure states that “for the Japanese, seeing the pale beige Eulalia grass gently swaying in the breeze evokes autumn and creates a feeling of transience with regards the passing of time”. The Kansei exhibition’s repeated use of yamato kotoba to refer to “representations that are perceived by the five senses” and which, according to the brochure, are written solely in the hiragana syllabary and not with Chinese characters, also stems from the concept of kokoro, the purity of which is associated with its native origins.

51 Although the kokoro seen in these exhibitions relates to aesthetic considerations, it also evokes the physical dimension of the heart as an organ. It is the physical place where the “Japanese spirit” takes shape. Indeed, the Musée du Quai Branly carries on the work of Yanagi Sōetsu by striving to “show the beauty of everyday objects and their spiritual dimension”, which reveals “the spirit of the people”. Kansei is a “rich sensibility”, a

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kind of “philosophy” on which the exhibition attempts to “lift the veil”. The MCJP’s brochure also presents this spirit as being extremely mysterious, questioning “why at first glance we perceive a design as being typically Japanese, without knowing exactly why”.

Contextualising the message behind the three exhibitions

52 Both the Wa and Kansei exhibitions were designed by Japanese people; as for the Quai Branly exhibition, although organised by a French institution, it originated in the Japanese museum that supplied the exhibits along with their inherent message. When all is said and done, the messages relayed by the three exhibitions resemble each other and are based on the same arguments. Where does this discourse fit in to the panorama of images of Japan produced by the Japanese themselves?

The influence of “Nihonjinron”

Tried and tested references

53 All three exhibitions are consistent in disseminating the idea of an ahistorical Japan, a Japanese language that alone is capable of conveying exclusively Japanese concepts, and a Japanese “spirit” characterised by the notions of harmony and heart. These references echo the theories put forward in so-called “Nihonjinron” 日本人論, in which the same arguments can be found.

54 A body of culturalist works written by the Japanese about themselves, Nihonjinron are defined by Jacqueline Pigeot as “essays that, since the war, the Japanese have devoted to analysing their unique national characteristics, their society and their culture”.12 This genre, which is identified and labelled as such in bookshops, emerged after the war and experienced a boom in the 1960s, spurred on by the post-war economic miracle. It should been noted, however, that similar literature in terms of both form and content has existed since the beginning of the twentieth century.13

55 Still buoyant today, this genre comprises thousands of titles: Harumi Befu has identified diverse forms running the entire gamut of literature from scientific studies through to popular essays: books, academic papers, magazine and newspaper articles combine to constitute a mass cultural phenomenon.14 Befu has also established a typology of the main ideas upon which these treatises on the Japanese rely. It transpires that they are identical to the ones I identified in the three Paris exhibitions.

56 First of all, the ahistorical nature of the Japanese essence is a central tenet of Nihonjinron discourse. Any historical rough patches are passed over in silence. Pigeot quotes authors such as Umesao Tadao and Nishio Kanji, whose literature “preaches Japanese immutability”.15

57 Secondly, a language-based argument emerges which Befu deems to be inevitably at the heart of Nihonjinron texts, for the fundamental Japanese traits they highlight are expressed in Japanese using concepts that are purportedly difficult to translate16. Driving this argument of uniqueness through language is the idea that Japanese is spoken only by the Japanese, and by all Japanese: Befu describes this as the perfect isomorphism between linguistic area (native Japanese speakers), land (inhabitants of

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the country) and culture. The resulting suggestion is that the logic of the Japanese language differs from Western languages and, consequently, that its speakers’ pattern of thinking must also be fundamentally different.17

58 Finally, the essence of Japanese identity, according to Nihonjinron discourse, is intuition and is correlated with the use of themes such as harmony and the heart. Pigeot describes harmony as a “dogma” around which Japan’s social structure, as depicted in Nihonjinron, is organized.18 As for kokoro being the cradle of the essence of Japanese culture, Befu describes it as an immanent notion, a “substance” in the quintessence of Japan and which reflects a feeling of nostalgia for a pure and original Japan.19

59 Given that these exhibitions draw on Nihonjinron rhetoric, they may be described as adopting the same approach. Nihonjinron have a uniform structure and paint a conventional picture of Japanese culture: a uniquely Japanese paradigm is identified (environmental, linguistic or psychological, for example) which subsequently allows the author to give an “impressionistic” description of various aspects of Japanese culture rather than a dialectic presentation.20 The same process underlies the three exhibitions, which construct similar discourses on Japan using concepts established as paradigms: mingei at Quai Branly, wa at the MCJP and kansei at the Museum of Decorative Arts.

The prescriptive method

60 Although the homogeneous character of the exhibitions is presented as stemming from the objects exhibited, it is simply the product of a scenography and rhetoric that draw on Nihonjinron discourse and bring together a miscellaneous collection of objects.

61 This rhetoric is supported by standardised turns of phrase and a strenuous hammering home of the museums’ arguments. At the MCJP, variations on the theme of “harmony” appear in every sentence; the rhetoric of symbiosis and fusion (of values, manufacturing processes, etc.) proves to be fertile ground for most of the articles written by the curators and also features in the press release. The Musée du Quai Branly hinges its explanations (of the scenography and brochure) on the semantic fields of anonymity, spirituality and the folk. As for the Kansei exhibition, the large number of texts used to support the exhibition’s message renders the standardised wording particularly obvious: keywords such as sensibility, spirit, nature, tradition and philosophy abound in the brochure. They are occasionally combined in phrasing that verges on abstruse: take the earlier example of dōsa, described as the “movement that takes place in the gesture or heart [of the creator]”; or “aesthetic sense [is] developed within a culture that is intensely present”. Furthermore, the paragraphs describing the exhibits systematically employ the related Japanese concept and are thus particularly repetitive. The exhibition brochures do not appear to be designed to be read extensively by visitors. Accordingly, repetitive and standardised wording serves a communicative purpose: whatever passage is read, the essence of the exhibition’s message is sure to be conveyed.

62 However, the exhibitions, and thus the accompanying texts – at least in the case of Wa and Kansei – were developed by Japanese institutions. The Museum of Decorative Arts exhibition was entirely orchestrated by the METI and is part of a wider initiative – launched in May 2007 and entitled “Kansei Value Creation” – to promote Japanese industry overseas. The Museum of Decorative Arts does not appear to have been

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involved in the process of developing the Paris exhibition. As for the MCJP, it usually presents exhibitions that have either been developed internally in Paris or partly in advance by the Japan Foundation. However, in the case of the Wa exhibition, the Japanese headquarters were responsible for virtually all decision-making, since Wa is a “travelling exhibition” designed to be presented in several countries. All of the exhibition curators were therefore Japanese and even the scenography, which is usually entrusted to a French agency, was on this occasion developed by a Japanese agency. From the objects selected to their transportation and contact with the companies who made them, every detail was managed by the Foundation’s Tokyo headquarters. The texts used in exhibitions are generally based on a Japanese outline provided by the Foundation, which leaves the French team the task of translating, expanding and adapting the content to the French public. However, on this occasion the MCJP was instructed to merely translate the texts, which were also considerably shorter than usual.

63 All of this reflects what Befu describes as the characteristically “prescriptive” nature of Nihonjinron.21 Indeed, Befu posits that the phenomena catalogued in Nihonjinron and the theories they give rise to are presented as observations, whereas in reality they represent a “positive ideal”: the Japanese described in these treatises and their associated characteristics become normative standards. The same view is expressed by Pigeot, who asserts that the Nihonjinron that stress social consensus are less “objects for analysis” and rather “incantations” (formules conjuratoires) repeated without explanation.22 The Japanese institutions organising the exhibitions stipulated the image of Japan that was to be disseminated in France. The Japan Foundation expressed a clear desire to allow the objects to “speak for themselves” in order to reveal an intuitive Japan, similar to the one portrayed in Nihonjinron, and to impose it on the Parisian public.

64 At the Musée du Quai Branly, on the other hand, although the objects were provided by a Japanese museum, the curators stress their independence from the Mingeikan, both financially and in terms of the exhibition’s design. And yet, as we saw, its message resembles that of the other exhibitions. The image projected by Japan to the West has thus been perfected assimilated. This appropriation illustrates the mirror effect provided by the Other in the construction of Japanese identity.

Japan and the West: an exchange of reciprocal influences

Japanese identity: a mirror construction

65 Japanese-produced discourse on Japan’s cultural identity was thus implemented and taken up in France by the museums, which in turn communicated it to the public. In the case of the Musée du Quai Branly, despite having organised the exhibition independently, what resulted was nonetheless a message guided by and featuring the same arguments as the two exhibitions produced in Japan. What is more, in the case of all three exhibitions this message was accepted and disseminated to the general public. This is particularly obvious in press coverage on the exhibitions, with articles on the exhibitions employing the same vocabulary used in the press releases. Occasionally the wording is strictly identical, suggesting a simple copy-and-paste of the source material. However, a special issue of AD (Architectural Digest) devoted to Japanese design featured views that reveal a real appropriation of Nihonjinron rhetoric:23

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What if the essence of design was well and truly to be found in Japan? Sometimes, without knowing exactly why, we are able to pick out those objects made in Japan from a myriad of others from around the world. It is as if, despite intense globalisation, the eye was able to recognise that “little something” that is eminently Japanese.

66 Sensibility, intuitive understanding, harmony and timelessness: the same themes reappear and form the blueprint for the image of Japan constructed in France.

67 To be precise, the Japanese identity put forward in Nihonjinron discourse is both intended for and validated by overseas dissemination. This definition of the self is only valid because it is accepted by the outside. This is why, according to Befu, the Japanese Government expends so much energy propagating Nihonjinron overseas by financing English translations24 or, in this case, culturalist exhibitions.

68 The exhibitions Wa, Mingei and Kansei simply re-launch an exchange of images between Japan and the West that predates them in the definition of Japanese identity. It is a complex game of mirrors that operates on a principle of contact and reaction in both directions and on a wide historical scale. Japan developed its self-image through permanent comparison with foreign countries. Michael Lucken illustrated this fact through the example of the formulation of artistic concepts at the end of the nineteenth century;25 Laurence Caillet also notes that in order for current theories produced by the Japanese about Japan to be successful, they must first make a detour via Western research.26 This movement is illustrated by an article written by a French- side curator at the Musée du Quai Branly, published in the journal Mingei in Japan to demonstrate the exhibition’s reception in France.27 The curator ascribes the exhibition’s success to the museum having adapted its content to a French public. In other words, the Japan presented in the exhibition was a hit because it corresponded to a highly photogenic image of Japan, to which the French public is very receptive: the mirror effect is never-ending.

Rejection of foreigners and universalist aspirations

69 This view of Japanese identity embraces two paradoxical and complementary positions. Being purely Japanese it excludes foreigners, who are incapable of understanding it; but at the same time, being spiritual in nature, the Japanese essence has a universal vocation, the aim being to disseminate it as widely as possible throughout the world.

70 Nihonjinron are based consistently, if only implicitly, on comparison and contrast with the West. Indeed, the message communicated by the three exhibitions is presented as concerning the entire Japanese population and all other nationalities are excluded from understanding this identity. An anecdote at the Musée du Quai Branly introducing its “bamboo objects” clearly suggests the inaccessibility of Japanese concepts to foreigners: it is said that Yanagi Sōetsu considered the objects bought by Charlotte Perriand to be in extremely bad taste!

71 This exclusion of foreigners is also visible in the explanation of AD journalists that understanding the defining characteristics of Japanese design can only be achieved through “Japanese semantics”. One journalist lists the Japanese concepts side by side without translating them and muses ironically over their impenetrableness (“Kawaii, kurafuto, minimaru… only that!”). Further on he writes that “kokoroburaki28 [is] a virtue that verges on wisdom”. The Japanese term has not been employed for precision, as the syllables have been carelessly mixed up. Instead, this use of the Japanese concept seems

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to stem from a taste for the exotic. Finally, he concludes that “the mystery of the Japanese item nonetheless remains to be solved”, confirming once and for all the insurmountable differences between the Japanese and the rest of the world – the main premise of Nihonjinron.

72 However, this uniquely Japanese essence has a universal raison d’être. The aforementioned article published in the journal Mingei claims that the exhibition’s greatest virtue is to have fascinated the public with the “universal message” it contained: from the “silent words” of the objects emerged a “truth shared with the West”. The text, written by the Japanese Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry as the introduction to the exhibition brochure, presents the kansei sensibility as a concept “elucidated” by Japan and which is destined to be “spread throughout the world”. Although the roots of this rhetoric can be traced back to an essentialised Japan, it nonetheless has international aspirations.

73 When Japanese design is presented as a symbiosis between past and present, or craft and industry, it establishes itself as a model. The aim is not merely to project an image of Japan to the outside world, but equally to show that the qualities of this Japan are an example to follow, in this instance for design everywhere. Similarly, the showcasing of international designers at the Mingei exhibition demonstrates that foreigners moved to Japan in order to draw inspiration from a uniquely Japanese essence that enabled them to elevate their work to a level that transcended borders, and even time itself: this “higher level” is attained thanks to the fusion of values made possible by the concept of “wa”.

74 An article on the three exhibitions published in the French newspaper Libération raised these issues, quoting the words of the fashion designer Issey Miyake in its introduction: “Measures can be imagined that would enable us to rebuild the nation based on a design that has its place all around the world”.29 Design appears to provide the ideal foundation for the international aspirations of those wishing to promote a Japanese essence.

Conclusion

75 The three exhibitions Mingei, Wa and Kansei all fall into the framework of, and in fact themselves constitute, Nihonjinron. The Japan presented at the exhibitions is the same one theorised about in Nihonjinron literature, while the exhibitions contribute to the promotion of this Japan abroad. They draw on the same arguments and methods of persuasion. Through their being held in Paris in the winter of 2008, the acceptance of their message and the coverage they received in the media, they illustrated and revived the image created by Japan in comparison of itself with the West.

76 Germain Viatte summed up the message of the Mingei exhibition in two paragraphs during a brief interview with an art magazine: he successively mentioned Japan’s characteristic “spiritual dimension” and his desire to illustrate “the universal nature of the techniques”.30 The juxtaposition of these two ideas indicates that they provide the basic framework underpinning the exhibition’s message: Japanese essence and universalism. I demonstrated that these ideas in fact constitute two threads running through the discourses produced by the museums and those who in turn relayed them.

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However, more generally speaking, discourse on the universal nature of the Japanese model appears to be a constituent part of culturalist theories.

77 This process is not a neutral one. According to the philosopher Bernard Stevens it can be problematic in that it revives the theme of Japan’s “overcoming of modernity”, which carries an “ideological slant” he deems dangerous.31 Indeed, he recalls how during the 1930s and 1940s Kyoto School philosophers used this theme to justify ultra- nationalism and imperialism. The search for Japanese specificity was accompanied by a “reinterpretation of Hegel’s philosophy of history” in which Japan was placed in “the ultimate position in the advent of the Spirit”. Here the “spiritual vocation” was merely a pretext; the universalist plan, on the contrary, was entirely concrete in that it aimed to put each nation back in its rightful place, with Japan at their head. This “overcoming of modernity”, the title of the famous 1942 symposium, today expresses itself in what Stevens terms a “new Asiatism”. What makes it disturbing is the way it has been hijacked by neo-nationalists, for whom Japan’s economic strength is correlated with the universal vocation of Japanese culture.

78 Accordingly, although caution appears to be necessary regarding the potential political and ideological implications, Stevens concedes that the idea of a universal Japanese essence nonetheless remains welcome in certain fields, such as aesthetics. My analysis of the exhibitions Mingei, Wa and Kansei shows how design represents an ideal means of developing this rhetoric.

79 Culture as an intangible essence is presented here as being embodied in tangible objects. Retracing the selection process sheds light on the “world view” that underpins and transcends these objects. Stevens’ historical contextualisation thus serves as a warning: the manipulation of Japanese identity/otherness described here has implications that extend well beyond the museums’ doors.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Press

AD. Architectural Digest, no. 79, special issue « Art, archi, photo, design… Inspiration Japon » (Art, Architecture, Photo, Design… Japanese Inspiration), November 2008, Paris.

BOUCRELLE, Virginie, 2008, « Kansei, la nouvelle valeur du design » (Kansei, the New Design Value), Planète Japon, no 13.

FÈVRE, Anne-Marie, 4 November 2008, « France-Japon, relations d’harmonie » (France and Japan, a Harmonious Relationship), Libération.

GEOFFROY-SCHNEITER, Bérénice, November 2008, « Le Mingei ou la beauté dans l’ordinaire… » (Mingei or Ordinary Beauty), L’Œil, no 607, (last accessed on 17/12/2009).

SHIRAHA, Akemi白羽明美, March 2009, “Ke buranrī bijutsukan tenrankai hōkoku. Furansu, Pari tokubetsu-ten o oete” ケ・ブランリー美術館展覧会報告 — フランス・パリ特別展を終えて

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(Report on the Musée du Quai Branly Exhibition. End of the Special Exhibition in Paris, France), Mingei民藝, no. 675, March 2009, pp. 50-54.

Official press releases

Kansei, online press release: (last accessed on 4/12/08).

Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today: printed press release.

Exhibition catalogues

Japan Foundation, 2008, Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today, exhibition catalogue (Maison de la culture du Japon à Paris, Paris, 22 October 2008-31 January 2009), Tokyo, the Japan Foundation.

Musée du quai Branly, 2008, The Mingei Spirit in Japan, exhibition catalogue (Musée du quai Branly, Paris, 20 September 2008-11 January 2009), Paris, Musée du quai Branly / Actes Sud.

Free leaflets

The Mingei Spirit in Japan, (s. l.), Musée du quai Branly, 2008.

Wa: The Spirit of Harmony and Japanese Design Today, (s.l.), Maison de la culture du Japon à Paris, 2008.

Kansei, Japan Design Exhibition, (s. l.), (s. n.), 2008.

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BENEDICT, Ruth, 1946, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, Boston, Houghton Mifflin.

BUTEL, Jean-Michel, « #005 Exposition: L'esprit Mingei au Japon - Musée du quai Branly (#005 The Musée du quai Branly Exhibition The Mingei Spirit in Japan) », podcast, (last accessed on 25/05/2009).

CAILLET, Laurence (ed.), 2006, Ateliers, no 30: « Ethnographies japonaises » (Japanese Ethnographies), Département d’ethnologie de l’Université Paris X Nanterre.

CHAPPUIS Romain, 2008, « La japonité selon Jeanne d'Arc » (Japaneseness According to Joan of Arc), Critique internationale, no 38, p. 55-72.

DAVALLON, Jean, 1999, L’exposition à l’œuvre. Stratégies de communication et médiation symbolique (The Exhibition at Work. Communication Strategies and Symbolic Mediation), Paris, L’Harmattan.

DOI, Takeo 土井健郎, 1971, Amae no kōzō ｢甘え｣の構造, Tokyo, Kōbundō, French translation by E. Dale Saunders: Le jeu de l’indulgence. Étude de psychologie fondée sur le concept japonais d’amae (The Game of Indulgence. A Psychological Study Founded on the Japanese Concept of Amae), Paris, L’Asiathèque, 1982.

GONSETH, Marc-Olivier, HAINARD, Jacques, KAERH, Roland (eds.), 2002 Le musée cannibale (The Cannibal Museum), Neuchâtel, Musée d’ethnographie.

HOBSBAWN, Eric, RANGER, Terence, 1983, The Invention of Tradition, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

IVY, Marilyn, 1995, Discourses of the Vanishing: Modernity, Phantasm, Japan, Chicago, University of Chicago Press.

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L’ESTOILE, Benoît de, 2004, « Quand l’anthropologie s’expose » (When Anthropology Exhibits Itself), Critique. Revue générale des publications françaises et étrangères, no 680-681, vol. 60, Jan-Feb. 2004, p. 5-15.

L’ESTOILE, Benoît de, 2007, Le goût des autres. De l'Exposition coloniale aux arts premiers (A Taste for the Others. From the Colonial Exhibition to Primitive Arts), Paris, Flammarion.

LUCKEN, Michael, 2001, L’art du Japon au vingtième siècle (Japanese Art in the Twentieth Century), Paris, Hermann.

OGUMA, Eiji小熊英二, 1995, 単 一 民俗神話の起源Tan'itsu minzoku shinwa no kigen / The Myth of the Homogeneous Nation, Tokyo, Shin’yōsha.

PELLETIER, Philippe, 2004, Japon – Idées reçues (Clichés on Japan), Le cavalier bleu, 2004

PIGEOT, Jacqueline, 1983, « Les Japonais peints par eux-mêmes » (The Japanese as Portrayed by Themselves), Le débat, no 23, p. 19-33.

RAISON, Bertrand, 1989, L’empire des objets (The Empire of Objects), Paris, éditions du May.

SABATA, Toyoyuki鯖田豊之, 1972, Nikushoku bunka to beishoku bunka肉食文化と米食文化 (Meat- eating Civilisation, Rice-eating Civilisation), Tokyo, Kōdansha.

STEVENS, Bernard, 1995, « Ambitions japonaises, nouvel asiatisme et dépassement de la modernité » (Japanese Ambitions, New Asiatism and Overcoming Modernity), Esprit, no 213, July 1995, p. 5-29.

SUZUKI, Hideo鈴木秀夫, 1978, 森林の思考・砂漠の思考Shinrin no shikō, sabaku no shikō (Forest Thinking, Desert Thinking), Tokyo, Nippon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai.

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VLASTOS, Stephen, 1998, Mirror of Modernity: Invented Traditions of Modern Japan, Berkeley, University of California Press.

YOSHIDA, Kenji, 2001, ‘“Tōhaku” and “Minpaku” within the History of Modern Japanese Civilization: Museum Collections in Modern Japan’, Japanese Civilization in the Modern World, XVII, Collection and Representation, Senri Ethnological Studies, no. 54, pp. 77-104.

NOTES

1. Jean Davallon, L’exposition à l’œuvre. Stratégies de communication et médiation symbolique (The Exhibition at Work. Communication Strategies and Symbolic Mediation), Paris, L’Harmattan, 1999. 2. Benoît de L’Estoile, Le goût des autres. De l’Exposition coloniale aux arts premiers (A Taste for the Others. From the Colonial Exhibition to Primitive Arts), Paris, Flammarion, 2007. 3. METI: Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry. 4. JETRO: Japan External Trade Organization.

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5. See the list of concepts and their translations further on in this article. 6. Quote taken from the wall text displayed in the “bamboo objects” area. 7. Extract from an introductory speech given at an exhibition in Tokyo at the department store Takashimaya in 1941. 8. The term wakotoba appears in the documentation for this exhibition but is unattested in Japanese, unless it is a neologism coined for the occasion. It is most likely a translating error for the term yamato kotoba, which is written with the same characters. 9. According to the wording of the press release. 10. As a reminder: kawaii (cute), kurafuto (craft), kime (fineness of the grain), tezawari (touch), minimaru (minimal), kokoro kubari (thoughtfulness). 11. I will return to this vague turn of phrase later. 12. Jacqueline Pigeot, « Les Japonais peints par eux-mêmes » (The Japanese as Portrayed by Themselves), Le débat, no 23, 1983, p. 19. 13. In particular Iki no kōzō by Kuki Shūzō, published in 1930, in which the author defines a specifically Japanese notion, iki, as being essential to the traditional aesthetic; Kuki Shūzō, La structure de l’iki, Tokyo, Maison franco-japonaise, 1984 (for the French translation). Translated into English by John Clark as Reflections on Japanese Taste: the Structure of Iki, Sydney, Power Publications, 1997. 14. Harumi Befu, Hegemony of Homogeneity: An Anthropological Analysis of Nihonjinron, Melbourne, Trans Pacific Press, 2001. 15. Pigeot, op. cit., p. 23. 16. Befu, op. cit., p. 35. 17. Ibid., p. 36. 18. Pigeot, op. cit., p. 30. 19. Befu, op. cit., pp. 32-33. 20. For example, the Nihonjinron of Suzuki Hideo contrasts the forest landscapes of Japan with the desert landscapes of the West: the former is posited as being the cause of the keen analytical skills that characterise the Japanese; in contrast, the latter explains the Western ability to summarise. Suzuki Hideo, Shinrin no shikō, sabaku no shikō (Forest Thinking, Desert Thinking), Tokyo, Nippon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai, 1978, quoted by Laurence Caillet, « Introduction », Ateliers, no 30: « Ethnographies japonaises » (Japanese Ethnographies), Département d’ethnologie de l’Université Paris X Nanterre, 2006, p. 16. 21. Befu, op. cit., p. 78. 22. Pigeot, op. cit., p. 32. 23. Christian Simenc, « La beauté de l’utile » (The Beauty of the Useful), AD. Architectural Digest, no. 79, special issue on « Art, archi, photo, design… Inspiration Japon » (Art, Architecture, Photo, Design… Japanese Inspiration), November 2008, p. 68. 24. Befu, op. cit., p. 82. 25. Michael Lucken, L’art du Japon au vingtième siècle (Japanese Art in the Twentieth Century), Paris, Hermann, 2001, p. 23-27. 26. Laurence Caillet, op. cit., p. 9-34. 27. Shiraha Akemi 白羽明美, “Ke buranrī bijutsukan tenrankai hōkoku. Furansu, Pari tokubetsu- ten o oete” ケ・ブランリー美術館展覧会報告 — フランス・パリ特別展を終えて (Report on the Musée du Quai Branly Exhibition. End of the Special Exhibition in Paris, France), Mingei 民藝, no 675, March 2009, p. 50-54. 28. In reality this should read “kokoro kubari”. 29. Anne-Marie Fèvre, « France-Japon, relations d’harmonie » (France and Japan, a Harmonious Relationship), Libération, 4 November 2008, (last accessed on 27/11/08). 30. Bérénice Geoffroy-Schneiter, « Le Mingei ou la beauté dans l’ordinaire… » (Mingei or Ordinary Beauty), L’Œil, no 607, November 2008, (last accessed on 27/11/08).

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31. Bernard Stevens, « Ambitions japonaises, nouvel asiatisme et dépassement de la modernité » (Japanese Ambitions, New Asiatism and Overcoming Modernity), Esprit, no 213, July 1995, p. 5-29.

ABSTRACTS

In 2008-2009 were held in Paris three exhibitions on Japanese design. Although expectations were different, they referred to “Theories of Japaneseness” (nihonjinron) and a supposed particularism.

En 2008-2009 ont été organisées à Paris trois expositions sur le design japonais, aux ambitions différentes. Elles font cependant toutes écho aux thèses des « nippologies » (nihonjinron) et insistent sur les spécificités japonaises.

INDEX

Chronological index: Shōwa Mots-clés: arts populaires, culture populaire, mingei – mouvement artistique, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), folklore, études folkloriques, musée, nippologie, Nihonjin-ron Subjects: anthropologie, ethnologie, histoire de l'art, muséolographie キーワード: minshū geijutsu 民衆芸術, taishū bunka 大衆文化, minzoku 民俗, mingei undō 民 芸運動, bijutsukan 美術館, nihonjinron 日本人論, Yanagi Sōetsu 柳宗悦 (1889-1961), jinruigaku 人類学, minzokugaku 民族学, bijutsushi 美術史, hakubutsukan shiryō kiroku gijutsu 博物館資料 記録技術, Shōwa jidai 昭和時代 (1926-1989) Keywords: anthropology, ethnology, folk art, material culture, Mingei, popular culture, utensils, Yanagi Sōetsu (1889-1961), museum, museography, nihonjin-ron

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Bibliography: The Invention of “Folk Crafts” Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei

Jean-Michel Butel, Damien Kunik, Michael Lucken, François Macé, Christophe Marquet et Laurent Nespoulous

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31 HONG Sŏn-pyo 洪善杓, 2008 « Chōsen minga no atarashii rikai » 朝鮮民画の新しい理解 (Vers une nouvelle compréhension de la peinture populaire coréenne), Bessatsu Taiyō 別冊太陽 : Kankoku, Chōsen no kaiga 韓国・朝鮮の絵画 (La peinture coréenne), Tōkyō, Heibonsha 平凡社, p. 108-110.

32 HONMA Masayoshi 本間正義 (dir.), 1973 Enkū to Hashimoto Heihachi 円空と橋本平八 (Enkū et Hashimoto Heihachi), Kindai no bijutsu 近代の美術, vol. 16, Shibundō 至文堂, 106 p.

33 INAGA Shigemi, 1999 « Reconsidering the Mingei Undō as a Colonial Discourse: The Politics of Visualizing Asian “Folk Craft” », Asiatische Studien, vol. 53, no 2, p. 219-230.

34 INOUE Enryō 井上円了, 1987-2004 Inoue Enryō senshū 井上円了選集 (Œuvres choisies d’Inoue Enryō), Tōkyō, Tōyō daigaku 東洋大学, 25 vol.

35 International Arts & Crafts, Londres, Victoria & Albert Museum, 2005.

36 « Japanese Peasant Painting », Fogg Art Museum. Harvard University. Notes, vol. II, n° 5, juin 1930.

37 KATAGIRI Shūzō 片桐修三 (dir.), 1971 Genshoku Ōtsu-e zufu 原色大津絵図譜 (Album de peintures d’Ōtsu reproduites en couleurs), Ōtsu, Ōmi kyōgei bijutsukan Dai-honzan Enman-in monzeki 近江郷芸美術館・大本山円満院門跡, 172 + 22 p.

38 KATAGIRI Shūzō 片桐修三, 1984 Ōtsu-e kōwa 大津絵こう話, Hikone, Ōtsu-e bunka kyōkai 大津絵文化協会, 244 + 53 p.

39 KANETANI Miwa 金谷美和, 1996 « Bunka no shōhi. Nihon mingei undō no tenji o megutte » 文化の消費 — 日本民芸運動の展示をめぐって (Consommer la culture. Au sujet des expositions du mouvement des Arts populaires japonais), Jinbun gakuhō (Bulletin de la faculté des sciences humaines), n° 77, Kyōto, Kyōto daigaku jinbunkagaku kenkyūjo 京都大学人文科学研究所, p. 63-97.

40 KASHIWAGI Hiroshi et al., 2008 Wa : l’harmonie au quotidien. Design japonais d’aujourd’hui, Paris, Maison de la culture du Japon.

41 KIDA Takuya 木田拓也, 2007 « Yanagi Sōri no dezain to mingei » 柳宗理のデザインと民 藝 (Le design de Yanagi Sōri et le mingei) in Yanagi Sōri. Seikatsu no naka no dezain 柳宗 理 — 生活のなかのデザイン (Yanagi Sōri. Le design dans la vie quotidienne), Tōkyō kokuritsu kindai bijutsukan, p. 12-14.

42 KIKUCHI Yuko, 1994 « The Myth of Yanagi’s Originality: The Formation of Mingei Theory and its Social and Historical Context », Journal of Design History, n° 7, Oxford University Press, p. 247-266.

43 KIKUCHI Yuko, 1997 « A Japanese William Morris: Yanagi Sōetsu and Mingei Theory », Journal of William Morris Studies, n° 12-2, London, William Morris Society, p. 39-45.

44 KIKUCHI Yuko, 2004 Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism, New York, Routledge Curzon, 309 p.

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45 KIMURA Shōhachi 木村荘八, 2003 Kimura Shōhachi nikki 木村荘八日記 (Journal de Kimura Shōhachi), Nikkō, Kosugi Hōan kinen Nikkō bijutsukan 小杉放菴記念日光美術 館, 472 p.

46 KINOSHITA Nagahiro 木下長宏, 1992 Shisō-shi toshite no Gohho. Fukusei juyō to sōzōryoku 思 想史としてのゴッホ — 複製受容と想像力 (Van Gogh comme élément d’histoire de la pensée. Réception des reproductions et imagination), Tōkyō, Gakugei shorin 学芸書林, 429 p.

47 KISHI Fumikazu 岸文和, 2008 Kaiga kōi-ron. Ukiyo-e no puragumatikusu 絵画行為論 — 浮 世絵のプラグマティクス (Théorie de l’acte pictural. Pragmatique de l’ukiyo-e), Kyōto, Daigo shobō 醍醐書房, 2008, 442 p.

48 KISHIDA Ryūsei 岸田劉生, 1912a « Jiko no geijutsu » 自己の芸術 (Les Arts du soi), Yomiuri shinbun 読売新聞, 17 octobre 1912, p. 5 ; repris dans Kishida Ryūsei zenshū 岸田 劉生全集 (KRZ, Œuvres complètes de Kishida Ryūsei), vol. 1, Tōkyō, Iwanami shoten 岩 波書店, 1979, p. 39-43.

49 KISHIDA Ryūsei 岸田劉生, 1912b « Omoide oyobi kondo no tenrankai ni sai shite » 思い 出及び今度の展覧會に際して (Souvenirs. Autour de cette présente exposition), KRZ 2, Tōkyō, Iwanami shoten, 1979, p. 234-238.

50 KISHIDA Ryūsei 岸田劉生, 1926 Shoki nikuhitsu ukiyo-e 初期肉筆浮世繪 (Les débuts de la peinture ukiyo-e), Tōkyō, Iwanami Shoten, 150 p.

51 KURATA Hyakuzō 倉田百三, 1917 Shukke to sono deshi 出家とその弟子, Tōkyō, Iwanami shoten, 293 p. Traduction française : Le prêtre et ses disciples, traduit par Kuni Matsuo et Émile Steinilber-Oberlin, Paris, Rieder, 1932, 290 p.

52 LACHAUD François, 2010 Le vieil homme qui vendait du thé. Excentricité et retrait du monde dans le Japon du XVIIIe siècle, Paris, Éditions du Cerf, 152 p.

53 LEACH Bernard, 1960 A Potter in Japan 1952-1954, London, Faber & Faber, 246 p.

54 LEACH Bernard, (1978) 1985 Beyond East and West: Memoirs, Portraits and Essays, London, Faber & Faber, 320 p.

55 LEROI-GOURHAN André, 1943 Documents pour l’art comparé de l’Eurasie septentrionale, Paris, Les éditions d’art et d’histoire, 97 p.

56 LEROI-GOURHAN André, 2004 Pages oubliées sur le Japon, recueil posthume établi par Jean- François Lesbre, Grenoble, Éditions Jérôme Million, 500 p.

57 LODGE Oliver, 1909 The Survival of Man: A Study in Unrecognised Human Faculty, London, Methuen, 406 p.

58 LOMBROSO Cesare, 1909 After Death – What?, Boston, Small Maynard & Co, 440 p.

59 LONGENECKER Martha, 2006 Mingei of Japan. The Legacy of the Founders. Sōetsu Yanagi, Shōji Yamada, Kanjirō Kawai, San Diego, Mingei International Museum.

60 LUCKEN Michael, 2001 L’Art du Japon au vingtième siècle, Paris, Hermann, 350 p.

61 LUCKEN Michael, 2009 « Une esthétique de la réplication ou comment les fantômes sont à l’œuvre. La peinture de Kishida Ryūsei », Arts asiatiques, tome 64, Musée Guimet / EFEO, p. 79-94.

62 MARQUET Christophe, 2005 « Le regard de Nagai Kafū : une relecture des arts d’Edo au début du XXe siècle », Cipango. Cahiers d’études japonaises, INALCO, no 12, p. 308-329.

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63 MIYAMOTO Tsuneichi 宮本常一, 1978 Nihon minzokugaku taikei 3 : Shibusawa Keizō 日本民 俗学大系３・渋沢敬三, Tōkyō, Kōdansha 講談社.

64 MORII Toshiki 森井利喜, 1926 Ōtsu-e senshū 大津絵選集 (Choix de peintures d’Ōtsu), Ōtsu, Ōtsu-e kai, avril 1926.

65 MORITANI Miho 森谷美保, 2008 « Yanagi Muneyoshi no Mokujiki kenkyū. Taishō makki ni okotta Mokujiki butsu hakken no sōdō ni tsuite » 柳宗悦の木喰研究 — 大正末期に 起こった木喰仏発見の騒動について (Les recherches de Yanagi Muneyoshi sur Mokujiki. À propos de l’agitation provoquée par la découverte des bouddhas de Mokujiki à la fin de Taishō), in ŌKUBO Kenji 大久保憲次 et KOJIMA Teiji 小島梯次 (éd), 2008, p. 194-197.

66 MURAYAMA Kaita 村山槐多, 1997 Murayama Kaita zenshū 村山槐多全集 (Œuvres complètes de Murayama Kaita), Tōkyō, Yayoi shobō 弥生書房, 444 p.

67 NAKAMI Mari 中見真理, 2003 Yanagi Muneyoshi. Jidai to shisō 柳宗悦 — 時代と思想 (Yanagi Muneyoshi. Son époque et sa pensée), Tōkyō daigaku shuppankai 東京大学出 版会, 388 p.

68 NIETZSCHE Friedrich, 1911 Tsaratusutora ツァラトゥストラ (Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra), traduction d’Ikuta Chōkō 生田長江, Tōkyō, Shinchōsha 新潮社, 609 p.

69 OGYŪ Shinzō 尾久彰三 (dir.), 2005a « “Ureshii! Chōsen minga” ten ni yosete » 「うれし い ! 朝鮮民画」展に寄せて (À l’occasion à l’exposition « Ureshii ! Chōsen minga ») in Pan’gapta ! uri minhwa 반갑다 ! 우리민화 / Ureshii ! Chōsen minga うれしい！朝鮮民画 / Happy ! Joseon Folk Painting, Séoul, Sŏul yŏksa pangmulgwan 서울역사박물관, p. 246-251.

70 OGYŪ Shinzō 尾久彰三(dir.), 2005b Ōtsu-e. Nihon mingeikan shozō 大津絵 — 日本民藝館 所蔵 (Peintures d’Ōtsu. Collection de la Maison des arts populaires du Japon), Tōkyō, Tōhō shuppan 東方出版, 183 p.

71 OGYŪ Shinzō 尾久彰三(dir.), 2006 Yanagi Muneyoshi no sekai. « Mingei » no hakken to sono shisō 柳宗悦の世界 — 『民藝』の発見とその思想 (L’univers de Yanagi Muneyoshi. Sa découverte des « arts populaires » et sa pensée), Tōkyō, Bessatsu Taiyō 別冊太陽, Heibonsha 平凡社, 182 p.

72 OGYŪ Shinzō 尾久彰三, 2008 « Yanagi Muneyoshi ga hakken shita minshū-teki kaiga no “ !” » 柳宗悦が発見した民衆的絵画の「!」, Bessatsu Taiyō 別冊太陽: Kankoku, Chōsen no kaiga 韓国・朝鮮の絵画 (La peinture coréenne) Tōkyō, Heibonsha, novembre 2008, p. 112-113.

73 ŌKUBO Kenji 大久保憲次, KOJIMA Teiji 小島梯次 (éd.), 2008 Mokujiki ten. Shomin no shinkō, bishōbutsu 木喰展 — 庶民の信仰、微笑佛 (Exposition Mokujiki. Croyances populaires, bouddhas souriants), catalogue de l’exposition organisée par les grands magasins Sogō, Kōbe, Kōbe shinbun 神戸新聞.

74 ONO Tadashige 小野忠重, 1990 Garasu-e to doro-e. Bakumatsu, Meiji no shomin-ga kō ガラス 絵と泥絵 — 幕末・明治庶民画考 (Peinture sur verre et peinture à la gouache. Réflexion sur la peinture populaire à la fin d’Edo et à l’époque de Meiji), Tōkyō, Kawade shobō shinsha 河出書房新社, 188 p.

75 ORIGAS Jean-Jacques, 2008 « Yanagi Sōetsu : les mots, les images et la terre », in La Lampe d’Akutagawa. Essais sur la littérature japonaise moderne, Paris, Les Belles Lettres, coll. « Japon », p. 325-333.

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76 SATŌ Morihiro, 1996 Edo doro-e: Gaze on Urban Space in Early Modern Japan, Master’s Essay, Columbia University, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, East Asian Studies.

77 SATŌ Morihiro 佐藤守弘, 1999 « Topogurafia to shite no meisho-e. Edo doro-e to toshi no shikaku bunka » トポグラフィアとしての名所絵 — 江戸泥絵と都市の視覚文 化 (Les peintures de lieux célèbres comme topographie. Peintures à la gouache d’Edo et culture visuelle de la ville), Bigaku geijutsugaku 美学芸術学, no 14.

78 SATŌ Morihiro 佐藤守弘, 2000 « Toshi to sono hyōshō. Shikaku bunka to shite no Edo doro-e » 都市とその表象 — 視覚文化としての江戸泥絵 (La ville et sa représentation. Peintures à la gouache d’Edo et culture visuelle), Bigaku 美学, no 202.

79 SHIBUSAWA Keizō 渋沢敬三, 1933« Achikku no seichō » アチックの成長 (Le développement de l’Attic Museum), in MIYAMOTO Tsuneichi 宮本常一, 1978.

80 TAKAMURA Kōtarō 高村光太郎 , (1950) 1990 Takamura Kōtarō shishū 高村光太郎詩集 (Anthologie des poèmes de Takamura Kōtarō), Tōkyō, Shinchōsha, 241 p.

81 TAKI Seiichi 瀧精一, 1943 Taki Setsuan bijutsu ronshū. Nihon-hen 瀧拙庵美術論集 — 日本 篇 (Recueil d’essais de de Taki Setsuan sur les beaux-arts. Le Japon), Tōkyō, Zayūhō kankōkai 座右宝刊行会, 444 p.

82 TANAHASHI Kazuaki 棚橋一晃 (dir.), 1973 Mokujiki butsu 木喰佛 (Les bouddhas de Mokujiki), Kajima kenkyūjo shuppankai 鹿島研究所出版会, 213 p.

83 TANAHASHI Kazuaki 棚橋一晃, 1979 Enkū no geijutsu 円空の芸術 (Enkū et son art), Tōkai daigaku shuppankai 東海大学出版会, 202 p.

84 TANSMAN Alan, 2009 « A Vision of Beautiful Things: Yanagi Sōetsu », in Alan Tansman, The Aesthetics of Japanese Fascism, Berkeley, University of California Press, p. 107-118.

85 TSCHUDIN Jean-Jacques, 1979 Les Semeurs – Tanemaku hito : la première revue de littérature prolétarienne japonaise, Paris, L’Asiathèque, 170 p.

86 TSUCHIDA Maki 土田眞紀, 2005 « Yanagi Sōetsu to “kindai bijutsushi” : “miru” to iu jissen » 柳宗悦と〈近代美術史〉 — 〈見る〉という実践 (Yanagi Sōetsu et l’« Histoire des arts modernes ». L’art de « voir »), in Taishō-ki bijutsu tenrankai no kenkyū 大正期美術展覧会の研究 (Études sur les expositions d’art de la période Taishō), Tōkyō, Tōkyō bunkazai kenkyūjo 東京文化財研究所, p. 555-574.

87 VIATTE Germain (dir.), 2008 L’esprit mingei au Japon, Actes Sud, Musée du quai Branly, 144 p.

88 WARNER Langdon, 1936 The Craft of the Japanese Sculptor, New York, MacFarlane, 412 p.

89 WARNER Langdon, 1952 The Enduring Art of Japan, Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 113 p.

90 WARNER Lorraine d'ORÉMIEULX, 1930 « Kōrai Celadon in America », Eastern Art, College Art Association, Philadelphia, vol. II.

91 WINDELBAND Wilhelm, 1894 Geschichte und Naturwissenschaft, Strasbourg, J. H. Heitz.

92 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1980-1992 Yanagi Sōetsu zenshū 柳宗悦全集 ( YSZ, Œuvres complètes de Yanagi Sōetsu), Tōkyō, Chikuma shobō 筑摩書房, 22 vol.

93 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1910 « Atarashiki kagaku » 新らしき科學 (Une nouvelle science), Shirakaba, vol. 1-6, vol. 1-7, Tōkyō, septembre, octobre 1910 ; YSZ 1, p. 7-62.

94 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1911 « Runoā to sono ippa » ルノアーと其の一派 (Renoir et son école), Shirakaba, vol. 2-3, mars 1911 ; YSZ 1, p. 492-500.

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95 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1912 « Kakumei no gaka » 革命の畫家 (Les peintres de la révolution), Shirakaba, vol. 3-1, janvier 1912 ; YSZ 1, p. 543-567.

96 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1914 Wiriamu Burēku ヰリアムブレーク (William Blake), Tōkyō, Rakuyōdō ; YSZ, 4, p. 9-625

97 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1921a « “Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan” no setsuritsu ni tsuite »「朝鮮民族美術館」の設立に就て (À propos de la création d’un Musée des arts populaires coréens), Shirakaba, janvier 1921 (puis publié en anglais dans The Japan Advertiser le 23 janvier) ; YSZ 6, p. 79-83.

98 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1921b « Chōsen minzoku bijutsu tenrankai ni tsuite » 朝鮮民族美 術展覧會に就て (À propos de l’Exposition des arts populaires coréens), Shirakaba, n° 21, mai 1921, et Yomiuri shinbun, 9-10 mai 1921 ; YSZ 6, p. 84-88.

99 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1922a Chōsen to sono geijutsu 朝鮮とその藝術 (La Corée et ses arts), Tōkyō, Sōbunkaku 叢文閣 ; YSZ 6, p. 3-167.

100 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1922b « Ushinawaren to suru ichi Chōsen kenchiku no tame ni » 失われんとする一朝鮮建築のために (Pour la défense d’une œuvre architecturale coréenne en péril), Kaizō, septembre 1922 ; YSZ 6, p. 145-154.

101 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1924-1925 Mokujiki shōnin no kenkyū 木喰上人之研究 (Études sur le vénérable Mokujiki), Josei 女性 ; Yanagi Sōetsu senshū 柳宗悦選集 (Œuvres choisies de Yanagi Sōetsu), Tōkyō.

102 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1914 Wiriamu Burēku ヰリアムブレーク (William Blake), Tōkyō, Rakuyōdō ; YSZ, 4, p. 9-625

103 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1921a « “Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan” no setsuritsu ni tsuite »「朝鮮民族美術館」の設立に就て (À propos de la création d’un Musée des arts populaires coréens), Shirakaba, janvier 1921 (puis publié en anglais dans The Japan Advertiser le 23 janvier) ; YSZ 6, p. 79-83.

104 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1921b « Chōsen minzoku bijutsu tenrankai ni tsuite » 朝鮮民族美 術展覧會に就て (À propos de l’Exposition des arts populaires coréens), Shirakaba, n° 21, mai 1921, et Yomiuri shinbun, 9-10 mai 1921 ; YSZ 6, p. 84-88.

105 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1922a Chōsen to sono geijutsu 朝鮮とその藝術 (La Corée et ses arts), Tōkyō, Sōbunkaku 叢文閣 ; YSZ 6, p. 3-167.

106 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1922b « Ushinawaren to suru ichi Chōsen kenchiku no tame ni » 失われんとする一朝鮮建築のために (Pour la défense d’une œuvre architecturale coréenne en péril), Kaizō, septembre 1922 ; YSZ 6, p. 145-154.

107 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1924-1925 Mokujiki shōnin no kenkyū 木喰上人之研究 (Études sur le vénérable Mokujiki), Josei 女性 ; Yanagi Sōetsu senshū 柳宗悦選集 (Œuvres choisies de Yanagi Sōetsu), Tōkyō, Shunjūsha 春秋社, vol. 9, 1955, rééd. 1972, 396 p., seize photographies et une carte hors texte ; YSZ 7, p. 5-229.

108 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1926a « Nihon mingei bijutsukan setsuritsu shuisho » 日本民藝 美術館設立趣意書 (Manifeste pour la création d’un Musée des arts populaires), avril 1926 ; YSZ 16, p. 5-10.

109 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1926b « Getemono no bi » 下手ものの美 (La beauté des objets du quotidien) ; YSZ 8, p. 3-14.

110 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1927 Zakki no bi 雑器の美 (La beauté des objets usuels), Tōkyō, Kōseikai 工政会, coll. « Mingei sōsho » 民藝叢書.

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111 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1928 « Kōgei no michi » 工藝の道 (La voie de l’artisanat), Tōkyō, Kōdansha, coll. « Kōdansha gakujutsu bunko » 講談社学術文庫, 2005.

112 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1929a « Ōtsu-e no hanashi » 大津繪の話 (Propos sur les peintures d’Ōtsu), conférence radiophonique diffusée à Kyōto le 18 janvier 1929; YSZ 13, p. 3-24.

113 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1929b Shoki Ōtsu-e 初期大津繪 (Les débuts de la peinture d’Ōtsu) ; YSZ 13, p. 25-175.

114 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1929c « Nihon mingei-hin tenrankai mokuroku » 日本民藝品展 覧會目録 (Catalogue de l’exposition d’œuvres d’art populaire japonais), 15-17 mars 1929 ; YSZ 8, p. 357-359.

115 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1930a « The Peasant Paintings of Ōtsu, Japan », Eastern Art, College Art Association, Philadelphia, vol. II, p. 5-36.

116 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1930b « A Note on the Pottery Kilns of the Kōrai Dynasty », Eastern Art, College Art Association, Philadelphia, vol. II.

117 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1931a « Ōtsu-e no waka » 大津繪の和歌 (Les poèmes des peintures d’Ōtsu), Kōgei, n° 2, février 1931 ; YSZ 13, p. 177-202.

118 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1931b « Sashi-e kaisetsu. Minga ni tsuite » 挿繪解説 — 民畫に就 て (Commentaire sur les illustrations. À propos de la peinture populaire), Kōgei, n° 2 ; YSZ 13, p. 369-375.

119 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1931c « Bijutsu to kōgei » 美術と工藝 (Les beaux-arts et les arts industriels), Ōsaka Mainichi shinbun 大阪毎日新聞, 10-12 février 1931 ; YSZ 8, p. 432-436.

120 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1933a « Mingei no shushi » 民藝の趣旨 (Le nature du mingei), in Yanagi Sōetsu, Mingei yonjū-nen 民藝四十年 (Quarante années du mouvement des Arts populaires), Tōkyō, 1958, réédité par Iwanami shoten, coll. « Iwanami bunko », 1984, p. 159-173.

121 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1933b « Kōgei to bijutsu » 工藝と美術 (Les arts industriels et les beaux-arts), Mingei, n° 27, mars 1933 ; YSZ 8, p. 554-570.

122 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1934a « Kaiga-ron » 繪畫論 (Essai sur la peinture), Kōgei, n° 37, janvier 1934 ; YSZ 13, p. 382-399, avant-propos p. 769.

123 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1934b Bi to kōgei 美と工藝 (Le beau et l’artisanat), Tōkyō, Kensetsusha 建設社 ; YSZ 8, p. 283-337. Première publication juin 1928 : « Nani o getemono kara manabiuru ka » 何を『下手物』から學び得るか (Que peut-on apprendre des objets du quotidien ?), Bungei shunjū 文藝春秋.

124 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1935 « Mingeikan no seiritsu » 民藝館の生立 (La création de la Maison des arts populaires) 1935 ; YSZ 16, p. 52-53.

125 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1936a Tsukishima monogatari emaki o mite 築嶋繪巻を見て (En observant le rouleau du conte de l’île artificielle), Kōgei, juin 1936 ; YSZ 13, p. 400-405.

126 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1936b « “Mono” to “koto” » 「もの」と「こと」 (Les « choses » et les « faits »), YSZ 9, p. 170-181.

127 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1936c Folk-Crafts in Japan, translated by Sakabe Shigeyoshi, Tōkyō, Kokusai bunka shinkōkai, 55 p.

128 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1937a « Kōgei-teki kaiga » 工藝的繪畫 (La peinture artisanale), Kōgei, n° 73, février 1937 ; YSZ 13, p. 423-436.

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129 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1937b « Zazechi » no koto » 「ざぜち」のこと (Au sujet des papiers découpés « zazechi »), YSZ 11, p. 424-432.

130 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1939 « Nihon mingeikan annai » 日本民藝館案内 (Présentation de la Maison des arts populaires), Gekkan Mingei 月刊民藝 (Le Mensuel des Arts populaires), septembre 1939 ; YSZ 16, p. 87-95.

131 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1941 « Mingeigaku to minzokugaku » 民藝學と民俗學 (Études sur les arts populaires et études folkloriques), Kōgei 工藝, n° 104, juin 1941 ; YSZ 9, p. 272-287.

132 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1951 « Ōtsu-e gaisetsu » 大津繪概説 (Exposé sommaire sur les peintures d’Ōtsu), Kōgei, n° 120, janvier 1951, repris dans YSZ, t. 13, 1982, p. 203-221.

133 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1954 « Nihon mingeikan » 日本民藝館 (La Maison des arts populaires) ; YSZ 16, p. 171-253.

134 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1957a « Chōsen-ga o nagamete » 朝鮮畫を眺めて (En contemplant une peinture coréenne), Mingei, n° 59, novembre 1957 ; YSZ 6, p. 496-499.

135 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1957b « Fushigi-na chōsen minga » 不思議な朝鮮民畫 (Les merveilleuses peintures populaires coréennes) ; YSZ 6, p. 500-512.

136 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1959 « Chōsen no minga » 朝鮮の民畫 (La peinture populaire coréenne), Mingei, n° 80, août 1959 ; YSZ 6, p. 513-518.

137 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1960a « Minga ni tsuite » 民畫について (À propos de la peinture populaire), Mingei zukan 民藝図鑑, vol. 1, Tōkyō, Hōbunkan, 1960 ; YSZ 13, p. 502-516.

138 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1960b Yanagi Muneyoshi shūkyō senshū 柳宗悦・宗教選集 (Choix d’écrits de Yanagi Muneyoshi sur les religions), Tōkyō, Shunjūsha, 1960-1961.

139 YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, 1992 Artisan et inconnu. La beauté dans l’esthétique japonaise, texte de Yanagi Sōetsu adapté par Bernard Leach, traduction française Mathilde Bellaigue, Paris, L’Asiathèque, 165 p.

140 YANAGITA Kunio 柳田國男, YANAGI Sōetsu 柳宗悦, SHIKIBA Ryūzaburō 式場隆三郎, HIGA Shunchō 比嘉春潮, 1940 « Mingei to minzokugaku no mondai » 民藝と民俗學の問題 (La question des arts populaires et des études folkloriques), Gekkan Mingei, vol. 2, no 4, avril 1940 ; YSZ 10, p. 735-747.

141 YEOLSU Yoon, 2003 Folk Painting. Handbook of Korean Art vol. 4, Londres, Laurence King Publishing, 376 p.

142 YOSHIDA Kenji, 2000 « Tōhaku and Minpaku within the History of Modern Japanese Civilization: Museum Collections in Modern Japan », Senri Ethnological Studies, n° 54, Ōsaka, National Museum of Ethnology, p. 77-102.

143 YOSHIDA Shōgorō 吉田小五郎, 1937 « Doro-e no hanashi » 泥繪の話 (Propos sur les peintures à la gouache), Kōgei, n° 73, mars 1937.

Cipango - French Journal of Japanese Studies, 1 | 2012