Seikado Bunko Art Museum: 'Eye-Pleasing: The Essence of Seikado Tea Utensils from Former Daimyo Collections'

First day of my Tokyo museum tour.

I took the Shinkansen from the land of Mikawa. Although the weather was good, it was crowded, so I couldn't see Mt. Fuji.
I arrived at Tokyo Station just after 10:00 AM. I met up with a friend in Tokyo who is providing me with a place to stay. It was just before 11:00 AM when we arrived at our first destination, the Seikado Bunko Art Museum.

My friend, a 'graphic designer guy (Captain Syntax)', works in 3DCG and art direction at a game production company, and his hobby is taking photos of buildings and the like.
He said he wasn't interested in tea utensils, but I wanted to see the architecture of the Seikado Bunko Art Museum with my own eyes, so I persuaded him to come along by saying, 'The building looks interesting.'
I'd like to pull him into the crafts swamp, too, though.

Seikado Bunko Art Museum: 'Eye-Pleasing: The Essence of Seikado Tea Utensils from Former Daimyo Collections'

The buildings lined up in Marunouchi aren't particularly unique, but I couldn't help but look around at the unfamiliar scenery where glass walls seemed to connect all the way to the sky.
While wandering, I found an old-fashioned stone structure. The Meiji Yasuda Life Insurance Building. I entered, wondering if this was it, and found that it was indeed the Seikado Bunko Art Museum.

Oil-spot Tenmoku (Jian ware) and cinnabar lacquer Tenmoku stand.

Perhaps because people are aiming for the National Treasure Yohen Tenmoku, there are quite a lot of people. I prefer this oil-spot Tenmoku.
The Tenmoku pattern is scattered softly on the outside of the bowl as well.
The color of the stars in the Tenmoku, both inside and out, is bluer toward the bottom, sinking into the jet-black ground color like faint bubbles rising from the bottom of the water. However, as it approaches the rim, it creates a gradation, becoming redder or greener, increasing in brightness like a rainbow, flickering depending on the angle of view like sunlight filtering through trees, and changing color like mother-of-pearl inlay set in lacquer. Is that due to the thickness of the glaze, or the angle of the light reflecting off the gently curving opening?
The cinnabar lacquer Tenmoku stand is the exact opposite; the thickness of the generously applied red lacquer feels plump, and the carved areas are white and bright, so it doesn't feel heavy. The design is of large peony flowers and their leaves. The carving is fine-lined but deep and dense. The dense feeling of the carving is exactly like the appearance of petals and leaves growing without gaps.
An absorbing black, the flickering of scattered stars, and the sensuality of a warm red so deep you can feel the moisture. If you add the yellow of the tatami mats and the white of the shoji screens to this contrast, and pour in dark green tea, what kind of scene would that be?

Ash-covered Tenmoku (Mori Tenmoku) and cinnabar lacquer carved Tenmoku stand.

What kind of color is this?
A green like thick leaves covered in a thick layer of wax, glistening.
That deep green color is submerged under the pitch-black glaze, as if it were a dark night, but camellia leaves are floating in the dim light.
Is it the white, blade-like light running in a single line along the thin rim that is illuminating it?
I wonder if it's the design of the cinnabar lacquer Tenmoku stand that makes me have such somewhat eerie delusions.
It already has a plump form, and the red color feels like flesh, full of moisture and weight, and on top of that, large swirls that look like they are about to spill out of the bowl are carved in circles. The deep, thick carvings are bundles of fine lines, brown like animal hide and black like coarse hair.

Even though they are the same Tenmoku tea bowl and the same cinnabar lacquer Tenmoku stand, can they really be this different? It's terrifying.

Ido tea bowl, inscribed 'Echigo' and inscribed 'Konchi-in'.

Even among Ido tea bowls, the one inscribed 'Echigo' has rough crazing and kairagi (plum blossom pattern), and the large spatula marks still have clear edges, and there is even a huge crack that looks like it was split in two. The one inscribed 'Konchi-in' has fine crazing, and the kairagi is modest. The spatula marks have also disappeared as if they had melted away, and the whole thing is warm like morning mist, gently colored as if blushing.
Just by casually placing these two contrasting bowls side by side, they teach you the fun of Ido tea bowls. I'm so happy.

Black Raku tea bowl, inscribed 'Kamiya-guro' and Red Raku tea bowl, inscribed 'Sonohara'.

The black one is by the first generation, Chojiro, from the Momoyama period, and the red one is by the third generation, Donyu, from the Edo period... I don't know much about them. I can only think that there is about a hundred-year gap between them.
I wonder if the firing temperature is quite different. The black one is a distorted cylinder, and the red one is hemispherical. Both are Raku, so they are thick, but the black one looks thicker, perhaps because of its straight, falling shape. The red one, perhaps because of its shape or its bright color, feels light even though it should be thick.
The inside of the black one is brownish, and if you look closely at the outside, there is a faint hint of brown. Perhaps because of its smoothed-over shape and slimy texture, it looks like mud at the bottom of a rice paddy, and I even get the feeling that if I touched it, it might still be mushy mud.
The red one is a pale, bright pink, too light to be called red, and has smooth, fine irregularities like citrus fruit. Overlapping those irregularities are scattered whitish spots. If the black one is rice paddy mud, the red one is like a stone from the upper reaches of a river. It feels like a hard colored stone that has been polished to a shine while retaining its fine irregularities. It looks like it would feel cool to the touch.
Since the black one is a deep cylindrical tea bowl, is it for autumn and winter, and the red one for spring and summer?

The problem of having too many tea caddies.

They are all said to be famous items or great famous items, but there are so many of them that I don't know what's what. I can barely tell the difference between a 'nasu' (eggplant) shape and a 'katatsuki' (shouldered) shape, so I'm in trouble even if they show me this many.
I give up and compare the changes in the amber color. Since it's basically iron glaze, it's a glossy, reddish-black brown, but perhaps because it was partially reduced, it has a faint bluish tint, or perhaps because copper was mixed in, it has green or pink hues.

About the shapes. Is it because they are small that they wobble when thrown on a potter's wheel or when using a spatula? Even with the same 'katatsuki' or 'nasu' shapes, they are all subtly different. Many are intentionally changed, but you can see elements of chance somewhere in all of them.
As for rare shapes, there were 'imo-ko' (taro), 'o-umi' (large sea), and 'hyotan' (gourd) shapes. I don't remember seeing those. I regret my lack of study.
When I see the set of eighteen tea caddies that Nonomura Ninsei himself called mass-produced items, I see things that look like Ajinomoto bottles, things that look like sukiyaki pots, and of course jars, as well as plum vases, melon shapes, and ones with handles, so it seems he tried various things. Was he using them as samples when receiving orders? You can really see the sales and development efforts.
However, for famous items and great famous items, standard designs are still the main ones. The shapes are standard, but many have interesting glaze colors and flows.

The problem of having too many accessories.

Even so, famous items and great famous items have more accessories than the tea caddy itself! They even come with trays! Above all, there are so many boxes and wrappings!
There are two or three boxes, some plain wood and some lacquered, and they seem to get larger in size one after another. I wonder if they are nested like Russian dolls.
The wrappings are just the right size for the tea caddy, but there are many of them. Old brocade and gold-brocaded cloth. The fineness of the weave, the amount of work put into it, the fact that it looks like it's from overseas—none of them have the atmosphere of ordinary cloth. The cords also look like appropriately well-woven items, but... I can't see the fine details well because they are far away behind the glass. Even if I could see them, I wouldn't understand because of my lack of study. Probably.
Every time they were passed down through generations or passed from one famous family to another, new boxes were made and wrappings were renewed. The number of boxes and bags is proof that it is a masterpiece.

Various famous families.

To begin with, this museum itself is based on the collection of the Iwasaki family, founders of the Mitsubishi zaibatsu, so most of the items are from the collections of former noble and samurai families. Or rather, the very title of this special exhibition suggests the purpose of reminiscing about the elegant style of daimyo families.
After all, titles like 'meibutsu' (famous items) or 'o-meibutsu' (great famous items) are designations that only exist because they were once in the hands of significant figures.

The names that appear are full of people you'd see in a historical drama: the Iwasaki family, the Tokugawa shogunal family, the Ashikaga shogunal family, Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Date Masamune, Maeda Toshiie, and Kasuga no Tsubone. There are also names like the Omi Kobori family and the Himeji Sakai family; while I don't know them well, I imagine they are the kind of names that would make enthusiasts scream with excitement.
Even when someone mentions the Kobori family of Omi, I only know Kobori Enshu. Matsudaira Fumai... was he a famous tea master, I wonder? That's the extent of my knowledge.

There were quite a few letters on display, and since many people were reading them intently, perhaps this exhibition was also aimed at Japanese history buffs.
Among the many masterpieces, there were a few that had been repaired, such as items burned in the Honno-ji Incident or damaged in the Siege of Osaka.
I truly regret not studying harder when I had the chance. If I had the knowledge, I could have enjoyed this with much higher resolution.
'So the previous owner was the Konoike family... that's the big merchant house that appeared in the rakugo story "Hatena no Chawan"... I wonder if the Lord Takatsukasa was a real person too?'
Or something like that.

Sen no Rikyu: Black Lacquered Large Natsume (Tea Caddy).

Since Kobori Enshu and Matsudaira Fumai are here, naturally, Sen no Rikyu is here too.
A natsume. A lacquered tea caddy.
A small cylinder of black lacquer sitting quietly in a glass case. Of course, it's not a simple cylinder; the way it subtly tapers from the middle to the base is exquisite. The edge of the lid is at the boundary between sharpness and roundness, and the lacquer, carefully applied in thin layers, is flawless, with a single, unwavering streak of luster.
Like tortoiseshell or amber, the red lacquer is faintly visible underneath. How deep is this red? Even though it's a size that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand, the black lacquer looks like a deep darkness, and the red lacquer appears as if it were infinitely far away.
In short, it should just be a tool for tea, but I'm too afraid to even open something like this. No, perhaps the surprise lies in the fact that when you open this lump that looks like night in the palm of your hand, bright green tea appears, and instead of darkness, a fragrance rises...
Honestly, you can't understand these things unless you actually use them. I always drink matcha at a ryurei-style (table and chair) tea service, and I've never seen a tea caddy being opened. If I have the chance, I'll ask to see it being prepared.
But do they actually use famous items of this level in a tea ceremony?
Of course, the original owner, Sen no Rikyu, must have used it many times. And before it was stored in this museum and became an art object, no matter how special it was, it was still just a tea utensil, so perhaps they brought it out for occasions like the first tea ceremony of the year or year-end gatherings.

Sen no Rikyu: Bamboo Tea Scoop, named 'Ryohi' (Two Gutters).

There was also a tea scoop associated with Rikyu.
I saw his posthumous work, the 'Tear Tea Scoop,' at the Tokugawa Art Museum, but this is the first time I've seen a tea scoop from his prime.
The 'Tear Tea Scoop' looked so thin and fragile, as if it were about to break, and its color seemed dark, but this one is still thick and sturdy. It looks so lively that it seems like it might sprout leaves if I planted it.
...That's probably just my imagination.
It's been so many years since I saw the 'Tear Tea Scoop' that, given my memory, I shouldn't be able to remember its color or shape. My only certain memory is that there was a window cut into the bamboo case.
Now, seeing this tea scoop from his energetic days, the image in my memory has likely been redrawn.
Experiencing this kind of strange feeling is one of the joys of visiting museums.

Nonomura Ninsei: 'Tea Jar with Yoshino Mountain Design in Overglaze Enamels'

There are many artists whose work, if you own even one piece, elevates the status of a museum. In ceramics, especially Kyo-yaki, Nonomura Ninsei is the representative. And there are four of his works on display here.
In addition to a set of eighteen tea caddies, there is the tea jar with the Yoshino Mountain design, a conch shell incense burner, and a white heron incense burner. It's an exhibition that firmly captures the highlights of Ninsei's charm: his overglaze enamels and his modeling.

The tea jar with the Yoshino Mountain design means it has cherry blossoms painted on it. Since the background is a heavy black, could this be cherry blossoms at night? However, from the shoulder to the mouth, gold is sprinkled like clouds in a picture scroll. The cherry blossoms in full bloom on the body—did he build up the glaze for these? Each petal is expressed in three dimensions. Supporting them, the fluffy green trailing lines must be branches and leaves. Furthermore, as if to fill the gaps, golden mist is embedded. If you look closely, fine grasses and flowers are painted; are these the undergrowth of Mount Yoshino?
Since there are golden clouds floating and the undergrowth is also illuminated in gold, even if the background is black, this might be a daytime scene. Even in maki-e lacquerware, if the base is black lacquer, it's a daytime scene even with a black background.
Interpretations like this probably depend on how you stage the tea ceremony, including the combination with other tea utensils, the hanging scroll, and the flowers arranged.
Ultimately, the tea ceremony, including the host and guests, is the finished form, and no matter how famous a tea utensil may be, it is only an incomplete part on its own.

That said, I'm not a tea master, so I can just let Ninsei's ceramics be, and just go, 'Ah, wow,' and leave it at that.

Nonomura Ninsei: 'Conch Shell Incense Burner in Overglaze Enamels'

Hey, this conch shell incense burner, what's going on with it?
Ceramics are made from clay. Clay is a soft, pliable material. Moreover, firing pottery essentially means melting the clay particles once.
And yet... how can you create such detailed and realistic craftsmanship?
The modeling is so realistically rugged that it looks like it was molded. But a mold wouldn't produce this kind of vibrant, raw quality. It looks as if you can see the flow of the waves as they wash over the shell, covering it and washing away the bumps.
Even though the modeling is so realistic, why choose these colors? Red, green, navy—colors that aren't the colors of a seashell—are scattered across the fine textures. It's like that mosaic that Antonio Gaudi covered his objects with. Or Seurat's pointillism? No, combining such distant hues with such boldness is perhaps closer to Signac.
This, too... I can't even imagine how dazzlingly it would sparkle if it were placed not in a bright museum case, but on a dimly lit alcove in a tea room with subdued tones.

Nonomura Ninsei: 'White Heron Incense Burner with Iron Glaze'

The white heron incense burner. The eyes look like they were poked with the tip of an ultra-fine brush. The beak, feet, crest, and wings are deformed, so thin, shallow, and fine that you have to look closely to notice.
Because of that, the emphasis is inevitably on its form.
The silhouette looks like a kitchen ladle with its handle standing vertically.
The body, like a golf driver head, sits firmly, and the tip, which narrows sharply, extends straight and vertically. The way it stretches, the tension and the power contained within it, like a bowstring. The white porcelain skin looks even whiter.
Perhaps if it were in the alcove of a dark tea room, it would look as if light were piercing sharply only into that spot.
It's a design that eliminates details as much as possible and pursues a simple form, a concept completely opposite to the conch shell.
Brancusi would be surprised. I'm surprised too.
Why is Ninsei so free?

National Treasure: Yohen Tenmoku Tea Bowl (Jian Ware)

Besides that, there are various interesting items like the celadon Kinuta flower vase, the Mishima straw-bale-shaped flower vase, the Mishima taro-head water pitcher, and incense containers. They are all good items, but if I were to talk about them, I'd want to use the Tokugawa Art Museum, the Aichi Prefectural Ceramic Museum, or the Kimura Teizo collection as a starting point.

And so, the climax of this exhibition.
It is a National Treasure. The Yohen Tenmoku tea bowl.
I think about the difference between this and an oil-spot tenmoku. Are there fewer stars?
There are no stars at all on the outside; the black glaze is applied thickly, and the hem, dripping like silk, is about to reach the foot.
No, can I even call this black? Is it blue?
What I'm seeing is certainly supposed to be black, but I feel a bluish-white light, as if the light that was once absorbed is returning from the far, deep depths and seeping out.
If you peer inside, you can see the light wandering about in that darkness. It's blue, it's white, flickering and blinking.

Are you supposed to drink tea from this? Just touching it feels like I'd be taken to another world. Or rather, why on earth would someone make something with this color and brilliance just to drink tea?
No matter how I think about it, it's not a color that invites appetite or the desire to drink. It doesn't seem like a vessel for something you put in your mouth.
...Could that be the point?

A tea ceremony that uses this is not just the act of drinking tea. It's an act of a completely different dimension, one that follows rituals or divine services if you will.
That's why such a vessel, which can hardly be called tableware, was necessary.
That's why this Yohen tea bowl was necessary as a symbol of the elements that make a tea ceremony a tea ceremony.
That's why, in order for the tea ceremony to remain a tea ceremony, and for the Way of Tea to continue to be the Way of Tea, this must be a National Treasure.
...Is that what it is?

As I was lost in thought, my friend nudged me, and I managed to return to reality. I'm glad I had company. I was about to drift off to the other side.

My friend seemed to like the architecture, but it appeared he still had no interest in the tea utensils. Well, maybe that's for the best.
It's bottomless, and I don't even know how one is supposed to study it. There's a limit to how deep this rabbit hole goes.

Promising that the next museum probably wouldn't be boring, the two middle-aged men headed off to get some lunch.