hardly anyone can resist giving it another throw to start it off once again.
All of my childhood tops were plain colored and the excitement of seeing them spin was more in knowing what they were doing than in actually visualizing the movement. Japanese tops tend to have patterns of concentrically painted, multicolored circles. Oyama tops offers a broadside view of rich purple while its top has assorted circular widths of red and purple. The thick hemp rope is perhaps one of the more surprising aspects of the Japanese top and no doubt one of the hardest-to-master features. The dexterity of small children with such a bulky rope amazes me yet.
Formerly, tops were popular gifts at New Year’s (shogatsu) when the children had to play inside more often due to the harsh weather. In fact, a children’s song sung prior to the coming of shogatsu used to wistfully dream of new spinning tops and hoping the days until the holidays will quickly pass so their new toys will be in hand.
If you get a top whilst traveling, you’d best get some expert instruction on how to properly wind it and set it going its merry way. It’s no do-it-yourself trick and the frustration of having it constantly falter, instead of dance as hoped, is enough to make one cry.
Koma come in all sizes but most are at least fist-sized while many are a great deal larger. Almost without exception are they ovoid and smoothly finished.
| 17 | YAMANASHI |
| KOSHU-INDEN | |
KOSHU-INDEN is made of softened deerskin onto which has been stenciled a thick design of lacquer. The Koshu portion of its name comes from the former designation given the prefecture now called Yama-nashi-ken.
The making of this peculiar art work dates back 13 generations (and perhaps even farther in other areas.) Some of the earliest examples of this lacquer strengthened leather work is to be found in yoroi (ancient Japanese armor). Large plattens of deerskin and sometimes pigskin were thickened and thereby toughened by coating the outer surfaces with fine designs of colorful lacquering.
When armor was widely used, production of inden was rather widespread. The end of the warrior era forced many inden makers to either quit or find new outlets. Yamanashi makers turned to the production of inro or cases for medicine and/or personal seals. These items became much sought-after for their unusual styling as well as their serviceability. Yamanashi makers kept abreast of the times and as changes in style and need occurred, production of related inden articles took new directions.
The drawing shows a rather finely decorated change purse. The tiny white dots represent its lacquered design while the black background is a very soft-to-the-touch dyed buckskin. Lacquer coloring resembles the variety of the spectrum although only one shade is used on a single work. The backing leather is similarly dyed in single tones and the combination of the two colors is usually a most compatible contrast.
The range available these days tends to be an assortment of bags — from small pouches for hanko through change purses shown here to large handbags with pull-string closures. Several sizes of wallet along with comb, meishi and teiki cases make up the current goods available in traditional Koshu-inden.
Practical and lightweight, inden is a modernized mingei with an undeniable link to Japan’s romantic historical past. Simplicity and function — two inherent aspects of folk art that are surely applicable to this 20th century updating.
| 18 | TOYAMA |
| YANAGI-GORI | |
One has to have lived long in Japan to have memories of this folk ware. Almost every family looked forward to the annual visit of the medicine peddlers from Toyama-ken who came with a rather huge but extremely lightweight box of supplies on their back. The trunk along with its inner goods are traditional products in this Japan Sea coast prefecture originating near and in the city of Toyama itself.
Made of willow wands with edges and corners reinforced with strips of cloth or lacquered leather, the broad expanses of willow are woven on the same type loom used to make goza (tatami coverings) but differ in that warps are spaced farther apart. They are occasionally four-hettle loomed allowing the weaver to create intricate patterns dependent on the spacings of both warp and weft.
To get back to the medicine peddler, they usually made a set round of villages visiting each home at about the same time annually. With a large furoshiki of green and white covering a payload of medicines, their yearly arrival was typically announced by a chorus of village children singing any of a number of nonsense songs, some quite rude, about Toyama kusuri. Unwrapping his main YANAGI-GORI (willow wand case), he must have seemed to be some kind of magician to the children crowding around when an array of ever smaller willow boxes was displayed. The housewife usually brought out that particular kusuriya-san’s company bag which hung in a closet and had the goods used over the past year replenished. Medicines used were tallied up and charged for as well as replenished. Trust was an integral part of both the sale and the use of this style medicine.
One reason why children seemed to look forward to the peddler’s visit so much probably hinged on the rather unusual paper balloons they passed out, as appreciated and looked forward to as shogatsu koma.
Unfortunately, the whole style of peddling Toyama medicines has altered greatly with the economic resurgence of modern Japan. The peddler no longer trudges or bikes from village to village nor does he leave a black paper medicine sack, this having been replaced by convenient plastic bags. The willow wand cases with all their inner compartment boxes too have gone and one finds this style box only as a storage case for summer/winter clothes in homes where tradition dies hard.
| 19 | SHIZUOKA |
| TAKO | |
Akite
in the same place
in yesterday’s sky!
This Buson haiku (translated by Blyth) captures the floating freedom one naturally feels on seeing a small wisp of paper and bamboo sailing lightly aloft, tied to land only by the thinnest cord. The East is famed for its variety. Crowded Edo spawned miniature varieties flown on slim threads, kites smaller than the size of a modern calling card. Other locales created monstrous behemoths that required a steady breeze and 40 able men to send them soaring skyward and to keep them aloft. The in between ranges run the whole gamut in sizing with washi and take as materials. Kite makers talents are slowly being recognized as worthy of propagation.
Not to slight any locale, this chapter is concentrating on just one particular kite — the fighting kite of Hamamatsu in Shizuoka Prefecture. For three days every spring a kite festival brings thousands of spectators and hundreds of participants from all over Japan. Kites used all resemble the one pictured, although their visual design varies greatly. Huge kites often have a single complex kanji. Others use crests (mon) and some pictoral representations such as the Japanese crested crane, symbol for happiness for over 1,000 years. The kite shown has the katakana “na” as its sole pattern. No doubt size (paper face being about 70 cm square) dictates the simpler design but some small kites are vertitable works of art with intricate patterns.
Formalized fighting, pitting one district against another, was the final outcome of restrictive regulations on size and decor. Limited on two fronts, flyers turned to fighting style to express their enthusiasm during the May fete. By friction of string on string, one or more bridle cords holding the kite to a stable flight position will snap. Uneven pressure will then break its remaining holds, causing it to run free and fall. The winning team is delirious and the losing team anxious to repair their fallen wonder for another try. A related photo
