Wasshoi! Magazine #3 by Wasshoi! Magazine

WASSHOI! Interdisciplinary Magazine on Japan

WA SSHOIMAG A ZINE.ORG/MAG A ZINE • ISSUE 3, W INTER 2021/22

NEW CONTENT: PHOTO-ESSAY

SHINTO RITUALS IN TAKACHIHO A Photographic Exploration of Rural Japan KEYNOTE

KUGYŎL AND KATAKANA LETTERS A Linguistic Confrontation between Korea and Japan

ESSAY

ARTICLE

DRAWING MEMORIES

TOKYO OLYMPICS

An Artistic Link between Two Contemporary Artists

Narrating the Torch Relays since 1964 1

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

EDITORIAL

HISTORY

KEYNOTE

A FOCUS ON THE INSCRIPTIONS OF KOGURYŎ AND PAEKCHE OF KOREA AND THE POSSIBLE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE KUGYŎL AND KATAKANA LETTERS AU T H O R : O LIV IE R BAIBLÉ I L LU S T R ATOR: E NRICO BACH MANN 12

ANTHROPOLOGY

PHOTO ESSAY

TAKACHIHO’S NIGHT KAGURA: A CHRONICLE OF ETHNOGRAPHIC FIELDWORK IN RURAL JAPAN MARTY BORSOTTI 28

ARTS

HISTORY

WHAT’S IN A NAME? UTAGAWA HIROSHIGE III AND THE ART OF REINVENTING ONESELF F R E YA T E RRYN

ARTS

HISTORY

PHOTOGRAPHY IN 19TH CENTURY JAPAN: IMAGES OF A FLEETING WORLD AU R E L I A ANTONINI 56

ARTS

ESSAY

DRAWING MEMORIES R O O S J E B AE LE

FILM

REVIEW

BEYOND THE INFINITE TWO MINUTES (DOROSUTO NO HATE DE BOKURA ドロステのはてで僕ら) CLÉMENT VEUILLOT in collaboration with NIPPON CONNECTION 72

HISTORY

BILINGUAL ARTICLE

日本人漂流民と初期アメリカの対日関係の展開: 1837年のモリソン号事件をめぐって JAPANESE CASTAWAYS AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY JAPAN-UNITED STATES RELATIONS: THE MORRISON INCIDENT OF 1837 AU T H O R : CHIT S HING S O T R ANS L ATO R: AM ELIA LIP KO 98

HISTORY

SPORT

CARRYING FORTH HOPE: THE NARRATIVES OF THE TOKYO OLYMPICS TORCH RELAYS CL É M E NT V EU ILLOT 110

SOCIOLOGY

ANTHROPOLOGY

BETWEEN FAMILY AND STATE: CHANGES IN JAPAN’S AGEING AND ELDERLY CARE S AM I R A HÜ S LER 118

ILLUSTRATED SHORT STORY

VISITORS AT THE SHRINE AU T H O R : DAWA LAM A I L LU S T R ATOR: E NRICO BACH MANN

EDITORIAL AU REL BAE LE , LUIGI Z ENI , MARTY BORSOT TI

A full year has passed since we released our first issue and we have now reached our third. Wasshoi! has been progressing steadily thanks to the positive comments and suggestions of our readers, together with the enthusiasm of all those people behind the project. We are looking forward to developing our ideas and broadening our network to bring new and original contributions, as well as promoting young authors and artists while increasing the quality of what we would like to keep a multifaceted initiative. To achieve this, we officially founded an association in September, providing a stronger support for the production of the magazine. This will enable us to better manage our financial assets and work more organically in the publication of Wasshoi!. After all, even though each issue comes with free access, it is not without costs. Producing a magazine is an endeavour that requires the invaluable help of many contributors, from editors to designers, and of course our writers. With our newly acquired status, we will do our best in achieving our goal of remunerating all members of staff for the amazing work they are producing. We are in the middle of the winter season and the New Year has just begun. In Japan, one of the typical decorations found in homes during this period is the kagami mochi 鏡餅. It is usually made of two layers of mochi (rice cake) with a mandarin on top. The 4

whole composition is in the shape of a pyramid and the purpose of this item is to bring luck, hope, and prosperity. In fact, the shape of the kagami mochi is reminiscent of ancient bronze mirrors – kagami means ‘mirror’ – which were considered auspicious items. Kagami mochi are usually displayed in several places around the house until the 11 th January, when the rice cake is eaten as part of a soup called ozōni お雑煮. With a stylised kagami mochi surrounding Wasshoi!, our new visual logo recalls the annual custom which takes place at this time of year. Now let’s introduce the current issue for which we have yet again assembled a talented group of young and prolific contributors. Olivier Bailblé, Associate Professor in Korean Studies and Head of the Asian Department at Aix-Marseille University, did us the honour of opening this issue with a piece on the possible connections between the Korean kugyŏl ‘half characters’ and the constitution of the Japanese katakana alphabet. Our readers will notice that several of the articles provide insights into the realm of visual art, which is unsurprising given that our experience of the world is dominated by our perceptions. In modern times we are constantly bombarded with visual input, making it difficult to think critically about what we see in our everyday lives. Marty Borsotti shows us the reality of kagura dances in a Japanese rural village. His vivid and energetic photographs, taken

Turn to page 118 and meet this fox together with Mariko!

just before the pandemic, illustrate that traditions still live on, adapting to modern needs and challenges. Dr. Freya Terryn takes us back to the Meiji Period with Japan’s popular visual culture, the ukiyo-e. She illustrates the importance of the artist’s different names in grasping the complexity of their work, as in the case of Hiroshige III (1842–1894). Aurelia Antonini comes closer to our own times with a piece dedicated to the adoption of photography in 19th century Japan. Following the activity of Felice Beato (1832–1909), a pioneer photographer in Japan, she explores the birth of Japan’s first school of photography, based in Yokohama. A more philosophical take on the visual arts is the opinion piece by Roosje Baele, where she draws lines between the work of contemporary artist Shiota Chiharu and her own work, explaining Shiota’s influences. Chit Shing leads our journey from art to history with his bilingual contribution about the pivotal moment that was the 19 th century. The so called sakoku or closed country policy implemented by the Tokugawa shogunate (1603–1868) might not have been as impermeable as people tend to believe, as he will prove with a case study of Japanese sailors rescued and brought back to Japan by Westerners. Clément Veuillot then brings us a different way of seeing the past, with the first part of a double article on the Tokyo Olympics. Here, he opens with the Tokyo Olympics of 1964 and the

narrative created around this landmark in Japanese history. He suggests how these narratives were created, the purpose they served, and why they were significant within the context of the 2021 ‘Recovery Olympics’. Following this, Samira Hüsler continues her extensive consideration of Japan’s demographic issues in the second part of her tetraptych. This time she looks at the role of the Japanese state and family in elderly care. Moreover, in this issue we continue our collaboration with Nippon Connection by presenting a review of the movie ‘Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes’ (Dorosuto no hate de bokuraドロステのはてで僕ら). And last but not least, Dawa Lama offers us an intimate short story about growing up and leaving home, once again brilliantly illustrated by Enrico Bachmann. Thus, without further ado, let’s officially open the third issue of our magazine. We very much hope you will enjoy it! Wasshoi! Wasshoi!

HISTORY

KEYNOTE

A FOCUS ON THE INSCRIPTIONS OF KOGURYŎ AND PAEKCHE OF KOREA AND THE POSSIBLE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE KUGYŎL AND KATAKANA LETTERS A U T H O R : O L I V IER BAIBLÉ

ILLUSTRATOR: ENRICO BACH MA N N

As s o ciat e Pro fe ssor in K orean Studie s a n d H ead o f t h e A sia n Depa rtment at Ai x - M ars eille University

The following article briefly introduces some Chinese characters that emerged in Korea during the period of the Three Kingdoms 1, especially within Koguryŏ and Paekche. Data from both kingdoms includes very few characters that are not found in Chinese materials, except in cursive writing styles. Such characters are called ‘half characters’ (半字), and they were used later on in Korea to help the reading of the sutras during the Great Silla (668–935) and the Koryŏ (918–1392). These ‘half characters’ are now called kugyŏl letters, and we can find them not only among Koguryŏ’s materials but also on the wooden tablets of Paekche. Korean scholars such as Chŏng Chae-yŏng and Lee Sŭng-chae, as well as the Japanese scholar Kobayashi Yoshinori, believe that these types of characters from Korea are the ancestors of katakana letters.

Historical Background Despite increased trade with China, the hostility of Wiman Chosŏn 2 and its alliance with the Xiongnu 3 forced Emperor Han Wudi (Western Han) to raise an attack on the Korean Peninsula. China established four garrisons across almost four centuries, from 108 BCE to 313 CE, in order to control this area. This is reflected in the state of Korea today, except for the southern provinces. The cities were administered by governors, officials, and Chinese merchants. These events provide the context in which Korean culture began to develop. It was during this period that the elites of the proto-Korean kingdoms started to become familiar with the use of Chinese writing. Koguryŏ (37 BCE–668 CE), one of the proto-kingdoms in the North, slowly began to conquer the garrisons and eventually absorbed them into its

own territory. The remains of the Chinese occupation escaped to the Southwest of the peninsula and joined the kingdom of Paekche. From the 5th century, the use of Chinese characters became increasingly common in the Three Kingdoms area, particularly due to the importation of sutras. The 5th century is also known as a period of mutation for Korean syntax.

1 First century BCE to the seventh century CE. 2 Former kingdom in the Korean peninsula (198-108 BCE). 3 Nomadic people, ferocious enemies of Han China.

Chinese and Korean: Two Radically Different Typologies

Chinese and Korean belong to two very distinct language families. Chinese comes from Sino-Tibetan, with a typology of ‘Subject-Verb-Object’. Korean, meanwhile, belongs to the Ural-Altaic languages, which characteristically put the object before the verb, ‘Subject-Object-Verb’, as is the case with Turkish, Mongolian, and Japanese. Korean is an agglutinative 4 language, attaching a large number of suffixes onto a stem. It has no linguistic relationship with Chinese, thus making the reading of Chinese (by Koreans) extremely difficult. For those reasons, Korean scholars, including monks, created writing systems in order to make the reading of Classical Chinese easier. One of these systems is called kugyŏl, a writing system supposedly invented and used on a large scale around the 8th century under the Koryŏ dynasty. Written indications called t’o (토~吐), or kugyŏl (구결~ 口訣), were inserted into sentences and allowed the novice reader in Classical Chinese to determine the grammatical value of the sinograms. A monk named Ŭisang is commonly associated with its creation. Korean monks who, after

having spent a long time in China mastering the reading of Classical Chinese, upon their return to Korea, would go on to promote and teach this system of writing. Kugyŏl would allow their disciples to decipher the sutras more easily and would become over time an essential visual support for reading the texts of Buddhism, which was a rapidly expanding religion at the end of Great Silla, and which reached its apogee under Koryŏ (918–1392). This kugyŏl glossing practice lasted well into the Chosŏn dynasty, despite Buddhism being rejected in favour of Neo-Confucianism. It is only in the 15th century that we can start to see the rise of a new writing system, the Han’gŭl alphabet. It would slowly replace the use of Chinese characters and Classical Chinese, going on to supplant other writing systems, such as idu and kugyŏl, by the beginning of the 20 th century.

Character Type Kugyŏl

Agglutination:

grammatical

process in which words are composed of a sequence of morphemes

‘Character Type kugyŏl’ (문자구결~文字口訣) are Chinese characters that have been simplified in order to insert them into a Buddhist text. (Fig.1) for example, is an abbreviation of the character mi 彌. Below is an example taken from the last text found in kugyŏl, the Chabidoryangch’ambŏp, discovered in December 2015 in Kilim Temple, near Kyŏngju. For practical reasons, the phrase here is presented horizontally, though it would normally be written vertically. The brackets [] indicate that the kugyŏl characters are to the right of the character; where brackets are absent, they appear on the left.

(Fig. 2, 3, 4)

(meaningful word elements), each of which represents not more than a single grammatical category. This term is traditionally employed in the typological classification of languages. Turkish, Finnish, and Japanese are among the languages that form words by agglutination. Source: Encyclopaedia Britannica. 5 TER: Endings; ACC: Accusative form; CC: Coordinating Conjunction; MAR: Topic marker; DAT: Dative form.

(Fig. 5) (Fig. 1)

abandon-TER-hell of the body-ACC-obtain-CC-gold-diamond-body-ACC 5 Abandon the hell of the body and obtain the body of Vajra (gilded diamond body).

(Fig. 2)

(Fig. 3)

(Fig. 4)

(Fig. 5)

(Fig. 1)

We can see very clearly that the kugyŏl characters stand for the grammatical function of the structure of Korean. The text and his kugyŏl glossing come from a sutra which was imported by Korean monks in the 10 th century. 9

Data from Koguryŏ and Paekche

The local elites of the Koguryŏ were mainly exposed to Medieval Chinese, 6 the language which was used during Han China and during the Eastern Jin dynasty. But those elites also had access to ancient texts such as the corpus of Confucius and the Warring States period, which is Classical Chinese par excellence. This category of Classical Chinese in Koguryŏ represents the majority of the corpus we have today. 7 Half-characters are very important in the development of a Chinese-influenced writing system within the Korean language. Such inscriptions appear on the earthen vessels of Koguryŏ, on stamping tiles, and on the fortress of Pyongyang.

This is the fourth inscription 8 from the citadel of Pyongyang (6 th century): 丙戌十二月中漢城下後卩(Fig. 6) 小兄文達節自此西北行徏之 The character 部 is written as the half character 卩. In Japan, from the 7th century, 9 卩was transformed into マ. Data from Paekche also contains half characters, some of which we can find on wooden tablets, for instance. 10

巴以如巴ラ十(Fig. 7, 8)

(Fig. 7)

(Fig. 8)

Above, we see a half character from a Paekche inscription, from the temple of Mirŭk – Southwest of Korea, in Iksan. This fact shows that Paekche and Koguryŏ shared the same tradition of a Chinese-influenced writing system. (Fig. 6)

History through the Spectrum of Linguistics Missions have been organised from Japan to China since the 7th century, but there is evidence of a special relationship between Paekche and Yamato existing long before, found in both historical records and archaeological findings. On the stele of Kwanggaet’o, Paekche and Japan (called the Wa) were at war against Koguryŏ and Silla. This alliance probably played an important role in circulating the writing system throughout the archipelago. The diffusion of Chinese writing was mainly favoured by the spread of Buddhism in Korea and Japan, a statement supported by Japanese history books such as the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki. It has been written that a scholar named Wang In, from the kingdom of Paekche, journeyed to Yamato, Japan, bringing with him ten volumes of the Analects and one volume of the Thousand Character Classic.

6 The Medieval period starts from the first century BCE to the middle of the thirteen century CE. 7 It’s approximately 3000 Chinese characters. 8 In total, we have six inscriptions remaining

from

the

fortress

Pyongyang. 9 See the Okadayama Tumulus Sword inscription. 10 596 wooden tablets have been unearthed in Korea, 440 of them have confirmable inscriptions.

Suggested Readings Chŏng, Chae-yŏng. The Language and Writing of Ancient Korea in Korea journal vol. 50, n° 2. Seoul: Korean national commission for UNESCO, 2010. Nam, P’ung-hyŏn. Old Korean in The languages of Japan and Korea. New York: Routledge, 2012. Sohn, Oh-min. Korean Language in Culture and Society. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2006. Kim, Yŏng-hwang, History of Korean Language. 1997.

Fig. 1 Mai-Biraki dance (舞開), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

ANTHROPOLOGY

PHOTO-ESSAY

TAKACHIHO’S NIGHT KAGURA

A CHRONICLE OF ETHNOGRAPHIC FIELDWORK IN RURAL JAPAN M A RT Y B O R S OT T I

The purpose of this photo-essay is two-fold. Firstly, it introduces the appeal of the ‘Takachiho Night Kagura’ by presenting them as they were celebrated before the pandemic. Secondly, it will analyse how these centuries-old practices adapt to an ever-changing society, focusing on the commitment of those who decided to live and work in their birthplaces to support local development. Fig. 1-2 Deep in the mountains of central Kyūshū, where the Oita, Kumamoto, and Miyazaki prefectures meet, lies the rural town of Takachiho, described as the ‘birthplace of Japanese mythology’. This refers to a peculiar place within the municipality, considered to be the location of one of the most celebrated chapters in Japanese mythology: the Heavenly Rock Dwelling 1 (Ama no Iwato 天の岩戸).

According to the story, the Sun Goddess Amaterasu hid in a cave, irate from the irreverence of her brother Susanoo, and thus deprived the world of the sun. After locating her hiding place, the eight hundred myriad deities gathered in front of the cave, pleading in vain that the goddess restore light to the world. The delicate situation was ultimately solved by the joint action of Ame no Uzume, a female dancer, and

The

myth

the

Heavenly

Rock-Dwelling has been presented previously on Wasshoi! #1 in the article ‘On Shinto’s sacred botany, when Fig. 2 Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet photographed by the opposite side of the valley.

myths speak about long forgotten pasts’ by the same author.

Tajikarao, the strongest of the gods. The plan was rather simple: Uzume’s sensual dance provoked a commotion of such proportions that even Amaterasu was won by curiosity. As she peeped out of her hideout, she was mesmerised by her reflection in a mirror, deliberately hung in front of the cave. This allowed Tajikarao to drag her out, restoring the natural order of things in the process. Imagery from this story is therefore particularly vivid within the municipality of Takachiho, serving not only as a nod to the Ama no Iwato cave, but as a representation of the very climax of the ‘Takachiho Night Kagura’ 2 (Takachiho no

Yokagura 高千穂の夜神楽 – referred to as ‘Yokagura’ hereafter), the local folk performance art (minzoku geinō 民俗芸能). In 1978, kagura dances belonging to the many villages and hamlets of the municipality were collectively declared as an Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property (jūyō mukei minzoku bunkazai重要無形民俗文化財). Each of these Yokagura consists of an ensemble of thirty-three dances, performed over the span of one night by local male officiants, and is organised independently by hamlets and villages between November and February, according to their preferences.

Fig. 3 Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet’s Shinto shrine, affiliated to the village’s Ama no Iwato main shrine.

Fig. 3-4 Where Yokagura Begins This essay presents a Yokagura that I observed in 2018, as part of my first long-term ethnographic fieldwork in Takachiho, namely the one organised by Kaminaga no uchi上永の内, a hamlet of the Iwato village, situated in the eastern part of the municipality. Despite the entirety of the village being under the protection of the Ama no Iwato village shrine, which manages local religious activities, local Yokagura also involve smaller shrines, tended to by the hamlets’ communities. Each Yokagura begins with a procession from these smaller shrines to the places where dances will be held – usually a house or community hall, designated for the occasion as kagura no yado 神楽の宿 (lit. lodging of the kagura). The purpose of this is to transport a physical representation of the village’s guardian deity (ujigami 氏神) – usually mirrors lent by the central shrine – signifying the arrival of the deities through the hamlet shrine in order to take part in the Yokagura. Along the way, many rituals are performed by both the Shinto priest and officiants to cleanse the space and ensure a safe passage. And it was on a rather warm late November evening

when, in a similar way, the deities stepped inside a house of the Kaminaga no uchi hamlet.

Fig. 5–6 Iwato Yokagura Case Study Intangible cultural assets react and mutate according to their own environments. As such, the Takachiho Night Kagura are well embedded in their hamlets and may reflect changes happening in those micro-societies. From this perspective, Iwato village offers an interesting case study into the adaptive nature of these practices. Out of the four hamlets still organising fulllength Yokagura each year, three of them lend their officiants to each other. One must consider that dances are

performed in succession for more than fifteen hours straight, with little to no break. It is said that to properly hold a Yokagura, one hamlet needs about a dozen fully trained dancers. Joint dances by different hamlets are generally avoided in Takachiho, as dancing styles, even within the same village, differ to the extent that officiants cannot dance harmoniously on stage. However, in Iwato, these three hamlets decided to prioritise sharing the effort of holding such event, which would otherwise be quite demanding in

2 Kagura are Shinto rituals aimed to please the deities through dances and musical performances. As such, many typologies exist, from those performed by female attendants in shrines to those conducted by officiants in people’s houses.

Fig. 4 Ama no Iwato bridge, connecting eastern and western sides of the Iwato village, over the homonymous river.

Fig. 5 Sodehana dance (袖花), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

those places where human resources are painfully scarce, due to rural exodus and ageing populations. The pictures I took in Kaminaga no uchi represent people belonging to various hamlets, dancing with their own inherited styles, who decided to put aside their differences to ensure the continuation of their practices. Nonetheless, officiants in each hamlet belong to their own officially recognised ‘group for the preservation of Yokagura practices’ (yokagura hozonkai 夜神楽保存会). Each group therefore has its own well-established identity, passed down through generations. The continuation of these different styles, despite collective dances during Yokagura, recalls anthropologist Bruno Martinelli’s idea of ‘style’, referring to ways in which communities singularise ‘forms, values and rhythms’ as well as ‘ways of being’, ‘ways of doing’, and ‘turns of mind’. 3 16

Fig. 6 Moments before the beginning of the Yokagura dances, Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 7–8–9 People Behind the Mask Organising a Yokagura is a feat undertaken by a whole hamlet, where every member of the community is mobilised as tasks are shared. For example, some may prepare the food offerings while others will set up the venues. Usually, visitors do not have the chance to assist in these preparations, as they are completed long before the publicised hour of the event. Thus, the dancing officiants are those who fascinate visitors the most, through their efforts but also their good spirits. While performing complex warding rites through Shugendō-influenced movements, their commitment to the practice is clearly visible in their expressions. 4 Yet at a moment’s notice they might joke around, as one of a pair turns left instead of going right, playing up his own mistake. Such is the mood during a Yokagura, although each hamlet still expresses its own

3 Bruno Martinelli, L’interrogatino du Style: anthropologie, technique et esthetique. Aix-en-Provence: Publication de l’université de Provence, 2005, 6.

4 Shungendō 修験道 is a millennium-old Japanese religious practice significantly influenced by esoteric Buddhism, where the syncretism of Shintō, Buddhism and folk-religious practices is peculiarly developed.

personality, and some of these traits might be more or less marked. Traditionally, becoming an officiant was one of the familial duties of firstborn males. This was an emanation of the ‘house (ie 家)’ family system, a patriarchal structure relying on firstborn males to inherit the family’s possessions, whilst also being bound to fulfil practical and spiritual duties – most importantly taking care of aging

Fig. 7 Yamamori dance (山森) Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

parents and continuing the ancestor’s cult. Mastering the basic dance movements requires several years of practice, thus it could be argued that this long formative process might have been associated – consciously or not – with a rite of passage, leading to a new generation of hamlet heads. However, the post-war period brought with it a barrage of change within Japanese society, sparking a trend of evergrowing urbanisation, coupled with the decline of some customs, among which was the ‘house’ system.

Fig. 8 (up) Yumishōgo dance (弓正護), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 9 (down) Jigatame dance (地固), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 10–11–12 Firstborns and their brothers are now granted the choice to stay with their families, or to leave and seek their fortune in the city. Many of them leave Takachiho for a time, either to study or for work, and some return after. However, those who take part in Yokagura (as officiants) try their best to be present for it. If officiants live far away, they may return to their hamlets even for just a couple of days to lend a helping hand. Therefore, being an officiant invested in a hamlet’s development became a more nuanced decision: an idea of deliberate choice was associated to the perceived sense of duty. While transmission methods of kagura dances are almost unchanged, it could be argued that something might

have shifted regarding the moral engagement of officiants. They are aware of the widespread dire condition of Japanese rurality, as well as the fact that keeping inherited practices alive is part of an effort to counter the demographic erosion of their villages. By deciding to remain in their birthplaces, they will be drawn to participate in the management of their hamlets and villages, sometimes even of the whole municipality. The words of one of my interviewees cleverly summarise the reason behind officiants’ engagement in their hometowns: ‘they probably want to make a place where their child would like to live and be invested as adults’.

Fig. 10 Yonin Chinju (四人鎮守) Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 11 Sumi-Yoshi dance (住吉), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018

Fig. 12 Iwakuguri dance (岩くぐり), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 14–15–16 Dancing Gods for the Sake of the Village In their dances, officiants impersonate deities from the Japanese pantheon, channelling their divine protection over the hamlet. The godly presence is conveyed further during more theatrical dances, where officiants wear masks that are normally preserved as sacred objects in local shrines and in people’s houses. The inherited masks are treated as physical manifestations of deities, and are sometimes even part of a family’s ancestral cult. Ethnologists suggests that these masked dances were influenced by urban performing arts, such as Sarugaku, Noh, and Kabuki theatre, which slowly permeated into rurality between the 14 th and 19 th centuries. While Takachiho’s masks are clearly reminiscent of Noh theatre, some of their colour patterns and expressions instead point to Kabuki influences. One of those suggestive dances is ‘Yatsubachi’, portrayed above. In the Iwato village tradition an officiant

wanders around the audience carrying a wooden phallus, bestowing fertility and prosperity on all those present. Masks also play an important role in the climactic Iwato ensemble of six dances, which enacts the mythical episode of the Heavenly Rock-Dwelling. The two masks most representative of Takachiho, the female Ame no Uzume and the male Tajikarao – shown here on the right – appear during this ensemble. Tajikarao steps in right after Uzume’s peaceful dance, displaying his strength before opening the cave, and queuing ‘Mai Biraki’, the last dance of the ensemble. For this segment, the local Shinto priest sits in front of the altar, where the physical representation of the guardian deity is placed, to chant prayers addressed to it. He then bestows two mirrors into the hands of Tajikarao, as a proxy signifying the presence of Amaterasu, which will be used by the strongest god in his dance celebrating the return of the Sun Goddess, re-establishing order to the natural world.

Fig. 13 Sugi nobori dance (杉登り), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 14 Yatsubachi dance (八つ鉢), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 15-16 Totori dance (戸取), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

Fig. 17 The Resilience of the Japanese Countryside Rural Japan has long been ignored by the public-eye, despite being an almost endless source of cultural diversity, greatly contributing to the construction of what has been internationally praised as Japanese folklore and traditions. This idea applies not only to a foreign perspective, but is perhaps even more evident in Japan’s collective consideration – or rather lack thereof – for its countryside. Practices like the Takachiho Night Kagura are heralds of this cultural multiplicity and rural creativity, and as such they must be preserved and passed on to future

generations. However, by the same token, they should be allowed to live on their own, as freezing them in a set time would simply cut their roots and dry them to extinction. Letting them grow according to their own environments instead will lead to constant innovation, forming a pillar for developing local villages. The current situation is probably one of the most delicate for such practices since the Second World War, which drafted many young men. Due to the current pandemic, the Takachiho Night Kagura have been forcefully put on hold, as it is still quite difficult to

gather many people in a relatively confined space. However, this has also highlighted the creativity of locals in coping with the situation. For example, among the initiatives proposed was live streaming an abridged performance of Yokagura, the recording of which is still available on YouTube. 5 Thus, it seems that the locals will overcome this latest challenge, just as they have been able to do many times in the past. Let’s hope that the hypnotic sounds of the drum and flutes, as well as the iyasa no sa sa chanted by officiants, will continue to resonate for years to come in the valleys of Takachiho.

5 https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=PuKEvjo652A

Fig. 17 Mai-Biraki dance (舞開), Iwato village, Kaminaga no Uchi hamlet, 2018.

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ARTS

HISTORY

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

UTAGAWA HIROSHIGE III AND THE ART OF REINVENTING ONESELF FR E YA T E R R Y N 1 The buoyant world of Japanese woodblock prints, or Japanese ukiyo-e wood浮世 The buoyant world of 絵 (literally, ‘pictures the (literally, floating block prints, or ukiyo-e of 浮世絵 world’), Western artists, has art ‘pictureshas of enticed the floating world’), collectors, and the general ever enticed Western artists, art public collectors, since its introduction in the second and the general public ever sincehalf its of the nineteenth century. Iconographic introduction in the second half of the images such as Under the Wave imoff nineteenth century. Iconographic Kanagawa (Kanagawa-oki namioff ura 神 ages such as Under the Wave Kan奈川沖浪裏) by Katsushika (葛 agawa (Kanagawa-oki namiHokusai ura 神奈川飾北斎; andHokusai Sudden Shower 沖浪裏) 1760-1849) by Katsushika (葛飾北 over Shin-Ōhashi Bridge Shower and Atake 斎; 1760-1849) and Sudden over (Ōhashi atakeBridge no yūdachi 大はしあたけの Shin-Ōhashi and Atake (Ōhashi 夕立) Utagawa Hiroshige (安藤 atake byno yūdachiAndō 大はしあたけの夕立) 広重; 1797-1858) among (安藤広重; the most by Utagawa Andōare Hiroshige representative onemost of therepremost 1797-1858) areimages amongofthe influential art forms artofhistory. At the sentative images of in one the most inheart of the production this graphic fluential art forms in art of history. At the art was collaboration between at heart of the production of this graphic least five the parties, notably the publisher, art was collaboration between at the the engraver, the printer, leastartist, five parties, notably the publisher, and the consumer. Today, however, it the artist, the engraver, the printer, and remains common practice to portray the consumer. Today, however, it rethe artist as the lone mastermind andthe to mains common practice to portray celebrate the lone printsmastermind solely in his and name. artist as the to This ‘genius is flawed as it celebrate the narrative’ prints solely in his name. directs attention away from the context This ‘genius narrative’ is flawed as it of collaboration in which artists directs attention away fromprint the context were working, while it tends to artists focus of collaboration in which print on only one ofwhile the it artist’s were working, tends signatures. to focus on This focus on artist’s the artist originates only one of the signatures. This in howon the name influences focus the artist’s artist originates in how

aesthetic and value judgments of visual art. The West notably aesthetic glorifies the artist’s name influences the artist, as the art of market on and value judgments visualrelies art. The a hierarchy attribution in which West notablyofglorifies the artist, as the single signature is athe most valuable. art market relies on hierarchy of attriYet, thein signature an artist, when bution which the of single signature is attributed to more one work, the most valuable. Yet,than the signature of becomes descriptive and to can come to an artist, when attributed more than bothwork, represent anddescriptive misrepresent all one becomes and can the artist’s works. Whenand it misreprecomes to come to both represent Japanese print artists, thisWhen results in the sent all the artist’s works. it comes neglect of not only their versatility to Japanese print artists, this resultsbut in alsoneglect of theirofdifferent names, or gō the not onlyart their versatility 号, for common practice to use but alsoitofwas their different art names, or different throughout gō 号, for itsignatures was common practice totheir use career as well as for different purposes. different signatures throughout their This article employs Utagawa purposes. Hiroshige career as well as for different III (三代歌川広重; 1842-1894) as a case This article employs Utagawa Hiroshige study to investigate the circumstances III (三代歌川広重; 1842-1894) as a case that prompted a change his art names study to investigate theincircumstances and prompted the function served in art doing so. that a change in his names Re-examining his names way will and the function servedininthis doing so. help to clarify his their role in Re-examining names in the thisdifferent way will stages his career, as well as what they help to of clarify their role in the different conveyof about his self-identification. stages his career, as well as what they convey about his self-identification. 1 Freya Terryn is an art historian 1 Freya Terryn is art historian who specialises in an Japanese visual who print specialises visual and culture inof Japanese the nineteenth and printShe culture the in nineteenth century. holds of a PhD Japanese century. from She holds a PhD in Japanese Studies the University of LeuStudies theand University of Leuven (KU from Leuven) her research is

Fig. 1 1 Utagawa Utagawa Hiroshige Hiroshige III III 三代歌川広重三代歌川広重 Fig. (1842-1894). Collection Collection of of Famous Famous Places Places of of (1842-1894). Tokyo Prefecture: Prefecture: Brick Brick Stone Stone Street Street of of Kyōbashi Kyōbashi Tokyo (Tōkyō fuka fuka meisho meisho tsukushi: tsukushi: Kyobashi Kyobashi yori yori renren(Tōkyō ga-ishi no zu 東京府下名所尽: 京橋従煉瓦石之図), ga-ishi no zu 東京府下名所尽: 京橋従煉瓦石之図), October 1874; 1874; published published by by Tsujiokaya Tsujiokaya KameKameOctober kichi 辻岡屋亀吉. 辻岡屋亀吉. Ōban Ōban nishiki-e. nishiki-e. kichi

ven (KUbyLeuven) and her research funded the Research Foundation funded(FWO). by the Research Foun–was Flanders She would like to dation –her Flanders She to would express sincere(FWO). gratitude the like toexpress sincere gratitude editorial team her of Wasshoi! for their to the editorial team on of Wasshoi! for insightful comments earlier vertheir insightful comments on earlier sions of this paper. versions of this paper .

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Hiroshige III as We Know Him Beforewewecan canconsider consider the the function Before of Hiroshige III’s art names, it is first howhow previous liternecessary totodiscuss discuss previous ature has defined him, what names literature has defined him, art what art have been introduced, and more names have been introduced, andimpormore tantly, the limitations this has this brought importantly, the limitations has 2 to the discussion of Hiroshige III. brought to the discussion of Hiroshige III.It2 Itisisgenerally generallyagreed agreed that that Hiroshige III is a representative artist of the Meiji period (1868-1912) who chronicled the Westernisation and modernisation of that time. The discussion of his work revolves around his kaika-e 開化絵: prints representing specific symbols of Westernization, modernisation, and industrialisation such as brick buildings, steam trains, and other new modes of transportation (Fig. 1). Hence, is argued arguedthat thatHiroshige HiroshigeIII’s III’s value it is value is is to found in how prints work to be be found in how his his prints work as as vital cultural records theperiod. Meiji vital cultural records of the of Meiji period. This evaluation, culThis evaluation, however, however, culminates in minates his work beingasdescribed as his work in being described ‘illustrating ‘illustrating the utter of decadence’ of the the utter decadence’ the time and ‘of little artistic importance’; such views

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time and ‘of little importance’; originate from theartistic general contempt such Meiji viewsprints originate general that werefrom held the in over the contempt thatnineteenth Meiji printsand were held in course of the twentieth over the course the association nineteenth with and centuries due to of their twentieth centuriesofdue to their associa harsh palette synthetic aniline ation 3 with a harsh palette of synthetic dyes. Moreover, this evaluation is 3 aniline to dyes. thissignatures, evaluation linked onlyMoreover, one of his is linked Hiroshige to only one広重, of hisand signatures, namely largely namely Hiroshige and largely overlooks his other広重, signatures such overlooks his 重政, other Ichiryūsai signatures一立斎, such as Shigemasa as Shigemasa 重政, Ichiryūsai 一立斎, Ryūsai 立斎, Utashige 歌重, Hiroshige Ryūsai 立斎, Utashige 歌重, Hiroshige III III 三世広重, and Hiroshige II 二世広重. 三世広重, and Hiroshige II evaluation 二世広重. The The repetitive and limited of repetitive III and evaluation HiHiroshige in limited reference books notofonly roshige III the in reference books not only proscribes usage of his different art proscribes his different art names but the alsousage leavesofcrucial questions names but alsosuch leaves questions unanswered, as crucial what prompted unanswered, such as what prompted a change in his self-identification and a change in his self-identification and why. Ultimately, it halts his evaluation why. it halts his woodblock evaluation as a Ultimately, versatile and popular as a versatile andMeiji popular woodblock print artist of the period. So, who printHiroshige artist of the was III? Meiji period. So, who was Hiroshige III?

2 In order to identify the art names associated with Hiroshige III, the author cross-referenced 58 key texts — written in Japanese, English, French, German, and Dutch dating from 1893 to 2019 — relating to the study of Hiroshige, his students, the history of Japanese woodblock prints, and its artists. 3 For more on this see, for example, Oikawa Shigeru, ‘The Maintenance

From Torakichi to Shigemasa Hiroshige III was born as Gotō Torakichi (後藤寅吉) on the twenty-eight day of the twelfth month of the thirteenth year of Tenpō 天保 (1842) — or on 28th January 1843 according to the Western Gregorian calendar — in the Fukugawa district of Edo (modern-day Tokyo), as the son of boatbuilder Gotō Takehira (後藤武平; dates unknown). Around the age of sixteen he was adopted by Momokawa Mozaemon (百川茂左衛門; dates unknown) who owned a firstclass traditional Japanese restaurant specialising in banquet dishes. It is said that Momokawa introduced the young Torakichi at his restaurant to Utagawa Hiroshige (歌川広重; 1797-1858), who accepted him as a student in 1858 prior to his passing on 12th October. Despite his short apprenticeship with Hiroshige, Torakichi continued to study with Shigenobu 重宣, another student of Hiroshige and born as Suzuki Chinpei (鈴木鎮平; 1826-1869). Shigenobu took over Hiroshige’s studio around December 1858 through his marriage to Hiroshige’s adoptive daughter Otatsu (お辰; 1846-1879), allowing Shigenobu to assume his master’s name and leaving Hiroshige III with a new master. From that time onward Shigenobu used his master’s signatures and is better known today as Hiroshige II.

of Tradition in the Face of Contemporary Demands: A Reassessment of Meiji Prints,’ in The Hotei Encyclopedia of Japanese Prints, ed. Amy Reigle Newland, vol. 1, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Hotei Publishing, 2005), p. 261-265.

As far as can be reliably established, Hiroshige III’s first art name, Shigemasa, appeared for the first time in 1864, suggesting that he made his artistic debut after six years of training. He contributed illustrations to the ninth volume of the illustrated woodblock-printed book Picture Book of Edo Souvenirs (Ehon Edo miyage 絵本江戸土産). The following year Hiroshige III produced his first woodblock print, to the author’s knowledge, entitled The Great Commercial Goods Tree (Shōeki shobutsu no taiju 商易諸物の大樹; 1865/ III), which was simultaneously his first satirical print. To his signature, which reads Shigemasa, he attached the word giga 戯画 (literally ‘frolicking pictures’) to stress the print’s intention to ridicule and satirise people’s attachment to material goods by depicting figures trying to get a hold of rice, sake, textiles, and other goods hanging from a giant tree.

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Shigemasa Reborn as Hiroshige A A change changeininHiroshige Hiroshige III’s III’s signature followed in when he he married in early early1867 1867 when marOtatsu afterafter Hiroshige II divorced her ried Otatsu Hiroshige II divorced sometime between 19th 19th October 1865 her sometime between October 4 and 1866. 186526th andJune 26th June4 Although 1866. Although it remains it unclear what prompted Hiroshige HiroII to remains unclear what prompted leave the studio, shige II toAndō leavehousehold the Andō and household it has beenit suggested that his that bad and studio, has been suggested relationship with Otatsu as well as as well the his bad relationship with Otatsu twenty-year age gap them as the twenty-year agebetween gap between were the causescauses of theofdivorce. them weremain the main the diAdditional reasons are found in the vorce. Additional reasons are found in contrasting physical the contrasting physicalappearance appearance of Hiroshige II and Hiroshige III. Hiroshige II is often described as an ugly man with a square-shaped, pock-marked face, whereas Hiroshige III, who was roughly the same age as Otatsu, was said to have been a man with a slender build, a handsome face, and a gentle nature. Whatever the reason might have been, in the end Hiroshige II was stripped of his right to sign his works as Hiroshige — or prohibited from using any other signature or seal associated with the studio — and henceforth signed his works as Risshō 立祥. Hiroshige III did not immediately marry Otatsu after her divorce for he still signed his prints as Shigemasa as late as the twelfth month of the second year of Keiō 慶応 (1866), or between 6th January and 4th February 1867. That same month, however, he also used the signatures Ryūsai Hiroshige 立斎広重 and Ichiryūsai 一立斎 (Fig. 2). These prints confirm that he had inherited the leadership over Hiroshige’s studio hismarriage marriage to Otatsu, through his to Otatsu, allowallowing him to assume his master’s ing him to assume his master’s name

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name to his employ his signatures. and to and employ signatures. They are They are known有卦絵/有気絵, as uke-e 有卦絵/有気 known as uke-e or prints 絵, good or prints of good (fuku 福), of fortune (fuku fortune 福), designed acdesignedtoaccording the five elements cording the five to elements of water, of water, earth, wood, andAs metal. earth, wood, fire, and fire, metal. picAs pictures good they fortune, they tures of goodoffortune, announce announce that the person this that the person born in thisborn year in would year would enter a seven-year period of enter a seven-year period of good luck, good luck, the represent pictures represent which the which pictures through through the inclusion of seven features, the inclusion of seven features, each each beginning withsound the fu. sound fu. beginning with the In the In the of 2,Figure this isFuji; Mount case of case Figure this is2,Mount the Fuji; the large-headed male doll brings which large-headed male doll which bringsluck good luck as known as Fukusuke good known Fukusuke 福助; a 福助; a(fumi letter (fumi 文); 阿亀 Okame 阿亀 or letter 文); Okame or Otafuku Otafukuhere 阿多福 here identified as the 阿多福 identified as the ‘woman ‘woman good luck’onna (fukuふく女); onna ふく女); of good of luck’ (fuku a bag a bag (fukuro a calabash (fukube ふ (fukuro 袋); a 袋); calabash (fukube ふくべ); くべ); and Fukurokuju 福禄寿, is one and Fukurokuju 福禄寿, whowho is one of of the SevenLucky Lucky Gods. Gods. Henceforth, the Seven Hiroshige III identified himself with the signatures Ryūsai, Ichiryūsai, and Hiroshige — or he combined Ryūsai/ Ichiryūsai with Hiroshige — while he satirical reserved Utashige Utashige solely solelyfor forhis his satiriprints, justjust as as his cal prints, hismasters masters had had done before him.

Fig. 2 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894). People Born under the Element of Fire, Second Month Seventh Day Hour of the Rabbit: Good Luck for Seven Years until the Year of the Rooster (Kinshō nigatsu nanoka u no koku uke ni iru tori no toshi made nananen no aida uke nari 金性二月七日卯の刻うけに入酉の年迄七年の間有気也), 1866/XII; published by Maruya Heijirō 丸屋平次郎. Ōban nishiki-e.

4 These dates are the result of an examination of both Hiroshige II and Hiroshige III’s signatures from 1865 to 1867. Reference books, in contrast, merely suggest this happened in 1865.

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Hiroshige III’s ‘acquisition’ of these signatures simultaneously launched his career as the sole print artist continuing the studio’s specialty, notably landscapes and views of famous places in and around Edo, of the stations on the Tōkaidō 東海道 (main highway between Edo and Kyoto), and of the various provinces. In 1868 he used the signature Hiroshige for his first serialised print series dedicated to views of Edo, celebrating the city which had just been renamed Tokyo in 50 prints published over the span of two years under the title Pictorial Record of Scenic Spots in Tokyo (Tōkyō meishō zue 東京名勝図絵; 1868/X1870/VII; 50 prints and title page). Prior to the publication of this print series, however, Hiroshige III made the effort to clarify that he had indeed assumed leadership of Hiroshige’s studio. In 1867 he co-designed with Toyohara Kunichika (豊原国周; 1835-1900) a print series which matched kabuki actors with the stations on the Tōkaidō, entitled Tōkaidō — One Look at a Thousand Ryō

(Tōkaidō hitome senryō 東海道一ト眼千両; 1867/II-IV; 55 prints of which 34 are known; Fig. 3), in which he used not one but five different signatures. Among the signatures are those that confirmed his leadership, such as Hiroshige, Ichiryūsai Hiroshige, and Ryūsai Hiroshige. There are also two additional signatures which accentuate his change in self-identification. Firstly, with the signature ‘Hiroshige formerly Shigemasa’ (Shigemasa aratame Hiroshige 重政改広重) Hiroshige III confirmed that he had given up his art name Shigemasa in favour of Hiroshige. Secondly, with the signature ‘Hiroshige III’ (Sansei Hiroshige 三世広重; Fig. 3) he clearly stressed that he was the third generation Hiroshige to assume control of the studio. Hence, with these new signatures Hiroshige III announced that he was the third artist to adopt the art name Hiroshige and would henceforth continue to use the art names attached to the studio.

Fig. 3 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894) and Toyohara Kunichika 豊原国周 (1835-1900). Tōkaidō— One Look at a ThouFig. 3 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894) and Toyohara Kunichika 豊原国周 sand Ryō: Fuchū—Teranishi Kanshin (Tōkaidō (1835-1900). Tōkaidō— One Look at a Thousand hitome senryō: Fuchū Teranishi Kanshin 東海道 Ryō: Fuchū—Teranishi Kanshin (Tōkaidō hitome 一ト眼千両: 府中・寺西閑心), 1867/III; published senryō: Fuchū Teranishi Kanshin 東海道一ト眼 by Maruya Tetsujirō 丸屋鉄次郎. Ōban nishiki-e. 千両: 府中・寺西閑心), 1867/III; published by Maruya Tetsujirō 丸屋鉄次郎. Ōban nishiki-e. Photograph ©️ Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

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Hiroshige III or Hiroshige II? Although AlthoughHiroshige HiroshigeIII III identified identified as the third generation in 1867, he came to revisit revisit this thisself-identification self-identification later later in in career, occasions he his his career, for for on on six six occasions he inintroduced himself——or or was was introduced troduced himself — as Hiroshige II. In 1878, the popular fiction writer writer Kanagaki KanagakiRobun Robun(仮名垣魯 (仮名垣文; 1829-1894) published his work 魯文; 1829-1894) published his Album work of One of Hundred Cats (Hyaku gafu 百 Album One Hundred Cats neko (Hyaku neko 猫画譜), for which III provided gafu 百猫画譜), forHiroshige which Hiroshige III the illustrations. The Tokyo Daily provided the illustrations. The Tokyo Newspaper (Tōkyō Nichi Shinbun Daily Newspaper (TōkyōNichi Nichi Nichi 東京日日新聞) and Tokyo Illustrated Shinbun 東京日日新聞) and Tokyo IllusNewspaper (Tōkyō(Tōkyō E-iri E-iri Shinbun 東 trated Newspaper Shinbun 京絵入新聞) 東京絵入新聞)promoted promoted its its publication and asserted that the illustrations were by ‘Andō Hiroshige II’ (nisei Andō Hiroshige 二世安藤広重). 55 As far as can be reliably reliablyestablished, established, is first the thisthis is the first contemporary source to identify contemporary source to identify HiroHiroshige as second the second generation. shige III asIIIthe generation. This This self-identification suggests new new self-identification suggests thatthat his his acquaintances perceived to the be acquaintances perceived him him to be the second generation that Hiroshige second generation ororthat III had requested Kanagaki to identify him as such for the advertisement. Later in 1883 this art name resurfaced when the illustrated book and parodic poetry anthology Lessons in Civilisation: One Hundred Poets, One Humorous Poem Each (Kaika kyōkun: Dōge hyakunin isshu 開化教訓: 道戯百人一首) was published, for which Hiroshige III was not only

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the but alsoIIIthe editor. for illustrator which Hiroshige was not Here only as it was but Kanagaki who identified thewell, illustrator also the editor. Here him as Andō in the book’s as well, it wasHiroshige KanagakiIIwho identified introduction. him as Andō Hiroshige II in the book’s Alongside illustrated books this introduction. artAlongside name can also be books found this on two illustrated art privately prints andprivately on two name can published also be found on two paintings. Firstly,and Hiroshige III selfpublished prints on two paintings. identified as Hiroshige II on the prints Firstly, Hiroshige III self-identified as he had published to commemorate Hiroshige II on the prints he had pubthe memorial service andthe thememorial erection lished to commemorate of a stone monument fora stone his master service and the erection of monHiroshige in master 1882 (Fig. 4) and for ument for his Hiroshige in 1882 Utagawa (歌川豊広; (Fig. 4) andToyohiro for Utagawa Toyohiro1773(歌川 1828), Hiroshige’s master, master, in 1887. 豊広; 1773-1828), Hiroshige’s in These printsprints not not only served 1887. These only servedas as a memento and and proof proofofofhishis dedication dedication to to master and the history of his his master and to thetohistory of the art the artHiroshige, name Hiroshige, also name but werebut alsowere a means a attract sponsors (as case was to means attract to sponsors (as was the the with for theToyohiro’s print for memorial). Toyohiro’s with case the print memorial). On these prints On these prints Hiroshige III Hiroshige self-idenIII self-identified as ‘Ryūsai II’ Hiroshige tified as ‘Ryūsai Hiroshige (Ryūsai II’ (Ryūsainisei Hiroshige nisei 立斎広重二世) Hiroshige 立斎広重二世) in 1882 and in and asHiroshige ‘Ichiryūsai II’ as 1882 ‘Ichiryūsai II’ Hiroshige (nisei Ichiry(nisei Ichiryūsai二世一立斎広重) Hiroshige 二世一立斎広 ūsai Hiroshige in 1887, 重) in 1887, erasing practically erasing II’s Hiroshige practically Hiroshige use of II’s of the Hiroshige. art name Hiroshige. the use art name

5 ‘Robun chinpō hachi hen kyū hen hyaku neko gafu,’ Tōkyō Nichi Nichi Shinbun, February 23, 1878; ‘Robun chinpō hachi hen kyū hen hyaku neko gafu,’ Tōkyō E-iri Shinbun, February 24, 1878.

Fig. 4 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894). Stone Memorial for Hiroshige, April 1882; publisher unknown. Ōban single sheet.

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Secondly, Hiroshige III employed this art name for two hanging scroll paintings (kakemono 掛物). These paintings, although signed Hiroshige, carry a seal that reads ‘painting seal of Ichiryūsai Hiroshige II’ (nisei Ichiryūsai Hiroshige gain 二世一立斎広重画印; Fig. 5 & 6). Despite the lack of a production date, the seal and the motif of Mount Fuji in the spring suggest that he painted them circa 1885-1887. In Figure 5 the slopes of Mount Fuji provide the setting for two women strolling along the embankment of the Sumida River from which the red temple buildings of Sensō-ji 浅草寺 in Asakusa can also be seen. Figure 6 then offers a distant view of a snow-covered Mount Fuji, while two women are boarding a covered pleasure boat (yane-bune 屋根船) at a landing stage near the Ryōgoku bridge. At the time, Mount Fuji could easily be viewed from both the locations depicted in the paintings but also from Asakusa, the neighbourhood where Hiroshige III was living between 1883 and 1889. He was especially proud to be living in such a place as several sketches from 1885 and 1887, as well as a newspaper article on the upcoming memorial service for Toyohiro in 1887, stressed that he was living ‘with a view of Mount Fuji’. 6 Considering that the seal exactly matches the signature he used for the privately published print of the 1887 memorial service, it can be inferred that the scroll paintings were painted at the banquet, calligraphy, and painting event that Hiroshige III organised to accompany the memorial.

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Fig. 5 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894). The Sumida Embankment, late 19th century. Ink and color on silk, painting 88.8 x 29.8 cm.

66Watanabe Akira, Sandai Utagawa Watanabe Akira. Sandai Utagawa suru ikkōsatsu: Hiroshige ninikan kan suru ikkōsatsu: Itōke shozō shiryō o o chūshin chūshin ni. ni. UkiUkiyo-e Kenkyū. 2013, vol. 11yo-e Kenkyū. 2013, vol. 4, 4, p.p.61-107, 14; 61-107; Yokota Yōichi. ‘Sandai 11-14: 66-67; Yokota Yōichi. ‘Sandai Hiroshige to Bunmei Bunmei Kaika Kaika no no nishinishiRekishi ki-e (1).’ (1).’ Kanagawa KanagawaKenritsu Kenritsu Rekishi Hakubutsukan Kenkyū Kenkyū Hōkoku. Hōkoku.1987, 1987, 56-93 13, p. 56-93.

Fig. 6 Utagawa Hiroshige III 三代歌川広重 (1842-1894). Ryōgoku Bridge, late 19th century. Ink and color on silk, painting 88.8 x 29.8 cm.

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So who was III? II? Hiroshige IIIHiroshige or Hiroshige It Itremains unclearwhat what prompted remains unclear prompted HiHiroshige III’s collaborators to roshige III’s collaborators to introduce introduce him as II, Hiroshige II,chose or why him as Hiroshige or why he to he chose adopt this new art name adopt thistonew art name himself. Was himself. Was he trying deliberately tryingthe to he deliberately to ignore ignore the prior use short-lived use of prior short-lived of the name by the his 7 name by his predecessor II? 7 predecessor Hiroshige II?Hiroshige If so, why would he want to distance from If so, why would he wanthimself to distance the previous headprevious of the studio himself from the head offrom the whom had whom receivedhetraining? Unforstudio he from had received tunately, there are no contemporary training? Unfortunately, there are no sources that shed light on shed this light matter. contemporary sources that on Nevertheless, it is very clear this matter. Nevertheless, it is that very Hiroclear shige III assigned specific purpose to that Hiroshige III aassigned a specific each of his names. differpurpose to art each of hisBy artusing names. By ent artdifferent names Hiroshige III gave himusing art names Hiroshige self greater freedom to be creativetoand III gave himself greater freedom be to go beyond thegousual constraints or creative and to beyond the usual responsibilities attached to oneattached specific constraints or responsibilities name. As a starting he usedprint the to one specific name. print As a starting art to illustrate books he name used Shigemasa the art name Shigemasa to and to produce mainly satirical mainly prints. illustrate books and to produce When he married satirical prints. Otatsu When and he assumed married leadership the studio, he adopted Otatsu andof assumed leadership of the art namehe Hiroshige continue the studio, adoptedtothe art name established for which the studio Hiroshige totopics continue the established topics for which the studio was known, specialising in the changing cityscape of

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Tokyoknown, and itsspecialising famous places. However, was in the changwithcityscape art namesofsuch as Andō Hiroshige ing Tokyo and its famous II, Ryūsai Hiroshige and Ichiryūsai places. However, withII,art names such Hiroshige II he was able to detach as Andō Hiroshige II, Ryūsai Hiroshige himself his main work and II, and from Ichiryūsai Hiroshige II engage he was in new ventures and collaborations, able to detach himself from his main ranging from popular fiction and poetry work and engage in new ventures and to paintings and privately collaborations, ranging frompublished popular prints commemorating the historyand of fiction and poetry to paintings his studio.published In other prints words,commemoHiroshige privately III changed his art name depending rating the history of his studio. In other on his Hiroshige public: forIIIthe generalhis printwords, changed art buyingdepending public he on signed his work name his public: for first the as Shigemasa and then as he Hiroshige general print-buying public signed but work for afirst more audience with his as targeted Shigemasa and then as interest in but popular and poetry, Hiroshige for aliterature more targeted audiand those to popular pay respect to the ence with wanting interest in literature printpoetry, master and Hiroshige, he signed as and those wanting to itpay Hiroshige is in these latter respect to II. theThus, printitmaster Hiroshige, works thatit Hiroshige III’sII.personality he signed as Hiroshige Thus, it is andthese new latter aspectsworks of histhat career come in Hiroshige forward, allowing rewrite III’s personality and us newtoaspects of his biography through theallowing study ofushis career come forward, to art renames. write his biography through the study of his art names.

77Timothy ed., 100 Views of of TimothyClark, Clark, ed., 100 Views Mount Fuji (London: British Museum 36. Press, 2001), 36..

Suggested Readings Suggested Readings Terryn, Freya. ‘Japanese Woodblock Prints and the Meiji State: Production, Reception, Utagawa Hiroshige III.’III.’ PhD and Intention Intention in in the thePrints PrintsofofTsukioka TsukiokaYoshitoshi Yoshitoshiand and Utagawa Hiroshige PhD dissertation, KU Leuven, 2021. Watanabe Akira. Sandai Utagawa Hiroshige ni kan suru ikkōsatsu: Itōke shozō shiryō 11-14, 61-107. o chūshin ni. Ukiyo-e Kenkyū. 2013, vol. 4, p. 61-107, 11-14. Yokota Yōichi. ‘Sandai Hiroshige to Bunmei Bunmei Kaika Kaika no no nishiki-e nishiki-e (1).’ (1).’ Kanagawa Kanagawa Kenritsu Kenritsu Rekishi Hakubutsukan Kenkyū Hōkoku. 1987, 13, p. 56-93. 41 37

Fig. 1 Felice Beato, A curio shop selling traditional Japanese products like lacquer-ware, carved ivory and bamboo work; interior, ca. 1868, handcolored albumen silver print.

ARTS

HISTORY

PHOTOGRAPHY IN 19 TH CENTURY JAPAN IMAGES OF A FLEETING WORLD A U R E L I A ANTONINI

During the expansion of its colonial empires, Western powers encountered an unexpected degree of ethnic diversity, and so the discipline of anthropology developed as a way to give meaning to this diversity. A medium that was particularly useful in this process was photography. Ethnographers were attracted to the exotic aspects of other cultures, such as their customs and rituals. They were also interested in the more mundane and intimate aspects of people’s lives, thereby showing a human reality that contrasted the imagined exotic (Fig. 1). Ethnographic photography in this period usually involved the photographer documenting ethnic groups for an audience that was also external to that world. Due to the rapid assimilation of this approach by local photographers like Kusakabe Kimbei (日下部金兵衛, 1841–1934), photography in Japan began to take on the ideological expectations of the West. In this way, a certain

idea of exotic Japan was produced, that consequently became rooted in the collective imagination (Fig. 2). Indeed, the rediscovery of Japan in the middle of the 19 th century was a historic event. The apparent total otherness of its culture provoked an unparalleled aesthetic and literary shift in the form of Japonisme, influencing painting, architecture, and European literature of the period. Despite adopting Western customs in the following years, the Japanese were able to preserve their cultural identity to some extent, utilising photography to present their distinctiveness through a kind of auto-exoticism. In the following article we will explore the development of photography in Japan’s Meiji’s Era, and its impact on both Western and Japanese culture, through the experiences of the early photographers who captured a glimpse of a country in a moment of great transformation.

Fig. 2 Kusakabe Kimbei, Woman washing her hair, ca. 1880, albumen silver print.

The Introduction of Photography in 19th Century Japan

By the mid-19 th century, the Japanese were already familiar with the invention of photography, thanks to commercial relations with the Dutch. However, their understanding was more theoretical than practical, with most of their knowledge coming from the broader discipline of Western studies (Rangaku 蘭学). In 1854, when Commodore Perry forcefully opened several Japanese ports with his US naval fleet, he brought with him daguerreotypist 1 Eliphalet Brown (1816–1886). This display of technological advancement had the advantage of presenting a less menacing image of the West than that given by his armed ships. It was therefore around this time that daguerreotypes were introduced to the country, with Brown taking portraits of officials during diplomatic meetings. However, it was not until later that photography began to develop domes-

tically. Due to the limited knowledge of chemistry in Japan and the lack of necessary materials, few were able to easily produce a daguerreotype. In contrast, the collodion process developed soon after was quickly assimilated and mastered by 1857, as it was simpler and more economical. With the demise of the old shogunate and the establishment of a new, Western-influenced political system, the 1860’s was a tumultuous period in Japan, one which came to be known as the Meiji Restoration. During this time, Japanese rulers, inspired by Western powers, aimed to industrialise their country to keep up with rapid technological developments overseas. Photography was thus presented as one of the hallmarks of urbanisation and westernisation, and quickly became Fig. 3 Felice Beato, Goten, Fuji-Yama, ca. 1860, handcolored albumen silver print.

1 See index at the end of the article for full definitions of photographic terminology.

a symbol of Japan’s own race towards modernity. In the early days, the photographs produced in Japan reflected the convergence of Western technology and Japanese culture. It allowed the West to get a glimpse of Japan in a series of photographs for tourists, thereby meeting the need for documentation of this recently opened country (Fig. 3). Westerners were hungry for depictions of a supposedly closeted and untouched world, whose exoticism appealed to scholars and the general public alike. The Japanese subsequently developed their own art, applying Western photographic techniques to a wider range of subjects, while their foreign counterparts were restricted to living and practicing in port towns (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4 Kusakabe Kimbei, Chuzan Lake and Nantai Mountain, Nikko, Japan, ca. 1885, albumen silver print.

Photographic Techniques of the Time

The success of the ambrotype in Japan, commonly called garasu shashin (ガラス写真 glass photography) is comparable to the spread of the daguerreotype and ferrotype in the United States. Most of the portraits made by the first photographers during the period (1860–1863) were ambrotypes, making them an important part of Japanese production until 1900. Japanese photographers, despite limited means, showed an extraordinary dynamism in embracing the technique: at the beginning of the 1870s, photography was present even in remote villages, through the activity of travelling photographers working with ambrotypes. The ambrotypes had the advantage of being quick to produce, and the finished product was easy to carry, protected in wooden boxes.

Another technique adopted later involved albumen printswhich for the first time created a commercially viable production process for paper-based prints. While initially it was difficult to obtain western paper, which was essential for making albumen prints, as the price decreased in Japan it became the technique of choice in producing images for tourists, since it could be easily replicated multiple times. These techniques disappeared in the early 20 th century, being replaced by the gelatin silver process, which is now a fundamental method for both black-and-white and analogue colour photography. Fig. 5 Felice Beato, Scene of life in Japan: Jonkina ( Japanese dance), three dancers and three musicians, ca. 1875-80, handcolored albumen silver print.

Photographic Production during the Meiji Period

Photographers in Japan mainly produced two kinds of images. The first were pictures that catered to tourists: images of Japanese landscapes and culture that acted as exotic souvenirs (Fig. 5). This style was characterised by its colourisation, as well as the high quality of both the materials used and the end product. The main producers were initially foreigners, but this style was then emulated and disseminated throughout the country by numerous Japanese photographers. The second approach was developed independent-

ly by the Japanese after having learned photographic techniques. It was more focused on documenting the culture than producing souvenirs for foreigners, and expressed itself in the creation of portraits and photographic recordings of notable events (Fig. 6). This new medium was further legitimised by the interest of Japanese aristocrats, who began institutionalising it through the commission of official portraits, as well as the ostentation of richly decorated cameras.

Fig. 6 Kusakabe Kimbei, A Buddhist Procession, ca. 1865-75, handcolored albumen silver print.

The Yokohama School

In the mid-19 th century, Western countries had a warped perception of Japan, seeing it as a stagnant and inward-looking country, since it was depicted as such by contemporary photography. The first photographers to arrive in the country produced images that conformed to the typical colonial-influenced ethnographic scene. Subjects were photographed with distinctive clothing, utensils, and weapons in order to show a particular ‘type’: a ‘category’ of people, such as fisherman and samurai. This was linked to a strong desire for exotic pictures by some, but by others, a need to capture the traditional culture before it disappeared due to colonisation or urbanisation. Most of these photos were done in a studio, with stereotypically dressed locals posing for the photographer (Fig. 7).

The first place where photography widely circulated was the city of Yokohama, an industrious commercial port where European and Japanese amateur photographers alike opened workshops for producing and selling their works. These early photographers are commonly grouped under the name of the Yokohama School, due to their similar characteristics and styles. Attracted by the newly opened country, Italian-British photographer Felice Beato (1832–1909) arrived in Yokohama in 1863. This marked a shift in the development of photography in Japan, as his skills made him the strongest competitor domestically. Fig. 7 Felice Beato, Sumōtori or Wrestlers, ca. 1868, handcolored albumen silver print.

Beato was accompanied by an international reputation, as he was already known for his photojournalism during the Crimean War (1853–1856), as well as his rapid production of work, which he distributed with great commercial skill. His style was to present distinctly authentic landscapes and street scenes, producing realistic portraits of characters such as traditionally dressed samurai, but also scenes of intimacy, such as women bathing or dressing (Fig. 8). In contrast, his successor, the Austrian baron Raimund von Stillfried

(1839–1911), who bought Beato’s studio and plates in 1877, was not able to reproduce the same quality. Because of the rapid urbanisation of the country, Stillfried was compelled to photograph actors dressed in traditional clothes. The portraits were produced in his studio and each subject was presented against a painted backdrop, with a traditional object in the foreground (Fig. 9). The baron sold his studio to his student, Kusakabe Kimbei, who by 1893 was the leading supplier of Japanese photography to Western buyers.

Fig. 8 Felice Beato, Scene of life in Japan: Japanese taking their bath, a maid blowing to start the fire, ca. 1875-80, handcolored albumen silver print.

Fig. 9 Raimund von Stillfried, Kabuki actors dressed like samurai, ca. 1880, handcolored albumen silver print .

Fig. 10 Felice Beato, Fruit Vendor, ca. 1860, handcolored albumen silver print.

The individuals depicted by the Yokohama School provided glimpses into the day-to-day economic and social activities of the Japanese people. Beato set the standard for choice of subject by travelling around the country and building a catalogue of ‘Views of Japan’, along with a series of studio portraits he called ‘Native Types’, highlighting the individuals that epitomised a supposedly traditional Japanese culture (Fig. 10). The images were highly stereotyped to make them as recognisable as possible, often depicting distinct social groups such as nobles, actors, musicians, and warriors. 50

A Precursor to Colour Photography

The Yokohama School was particularly known for its coloured photographs thanks to the employment of skilled Japanese colourists, who were already experienced in the colourisation of Japanese woodblock prints (mokuhanga 木版画). Whilst the colourisation of photographic images was still uncommon in Europe, in Japan it had greatly increased in popularity, becoming one of the essential characteristics of tourist photography. Beato was the first to systematically colourise studio and landscape photography, which he would sell individually or bind into albums consisting of large format prints, a formula that saw great commercial success. The Italian-British photographer faced competition from Japanese photographers in the smaller formats such as portraits, as the latter also catered to the general Japanese population. The best-selling format though was the cart de visite, or business card, a small photograph made of albumen

print that could be easily produced en masse and traded between friends and families. This format was already extremely popular in the Western world, as people would collect pictures not only of their family but also of prominent figures. A peculiarity of the Yokohama School is its connection with the pre-existing Japanese artistic practice, woodblock prints. This connection is evident in the decision to use colour in photographs, as well as the depiction of typical iconographic themes of Tokugawa-era paintings and prints, such as female portraits and scenes of day-to-day life. The use of natural pigments by Japanese painters to colour photographs greatly changed the image rendering. It was characterised by soft, transparent tones that adhered to the original colours of the clothes, with far more nuance and realism than the simple colours and lines found in prints (Fig. 11). Foreign visitors placed great value in how these colour schemes more accurately depicted the culture as it was, thus furthering the idea of a fleeting world captured as it faded from existence. The photographic vision of both Westerners

Fig. 11 Felice Beato, Woman with Tea Set Playing the Koto, ca. 1860, handcolored albumen silver print.

and Japanese photographers was then influenced by feelings of nostalgia, due to the accelerated transformation of the country and the rapid westernisation of Japanese society. Images reminiscent of simpler times were therefore imposed by a market that fed the myth of Japonisme to sell photographs and albums with ‘typical’ images of Japan (Fig. 12).

Fig. 12 Kusakabe Kimbei, Umbrella Maker, ca. 1880, handcolored albumen silver print.

A Meeting of Two Worlds

The development of photography in 19 th century Japan is evidently unique in its historical, technical, and cultural aspects. Despite being the result of Western technology, it blended with the aesthetics and the iconography of Japanese visual art. Through its subjects, delicate colourisation, and choices of composition, Japanese photography formed an important part of the Meiji Restoration – a period torn between the

imposing Western-influenced drive toward urbanisation and technological progress, and a nostalgic yearning for a fading era of Japanese tradition and culture. The intertwining of Western and Japanese motifs in these images allows us to grasp the period in which two seemingly disparate worlds met, producing a truly fascinating outcome.

Index of Photographic Techniques

Daguerreotype: The first publicly available photographic process, invented by Louis Daguerre (1787-1851) and introduced globally in 1839. By 1860 it was almost completely superseded by new, more affordable processes that produced more readily viewable images. The process involved polishing a sheet of silver-plated copper to a mirror finish and creating a light-sensitive surface by treating it with fumes. The sheet was then exposed within a camera and the resulting latent image was made visible by fuming it with mercury vapor.

Collodion process: Known also as the ‘wet plate collodion process’, it is a method that involves the photographic material being coated, sensitised, exposed, and developed within the space of fifteen minutes. A portable darkroom was thus required for use in the field. Theorised in 1850 by Gustave Le Gray, the invention is actually attributed to Frederick Scott Archer in 1851. By the end of the 1860s it had almost entirely replaced the daguerreotype, having been refined by many photographers and experimenters over the decades.

Ambrotype: Introduced in the 1850s, the ambrotype is a variant of the wet plate collodion process, and was also invented by Frederick Scott Archer. The ambrotypes were deliberately underexposed negatives on glass, optimised for viewing as positives instead. In the vein of its predecessor, the daguerreotype, each is a unique original that could only be copied using a camera. By the end of the 1860s it had been superseded by the tintype. 53

Ferrotype/Tintype: A photograph made by coating a thin sheet of metal with a dark lacquer or enamel, supporting the photographic emulsion and creating a direct positive. Tintypes were most widely used during the 1860s and 1870s, with lesser use of the medium persisting into the early 20 th century. The lacquered iron support did not need drying due to its resilience, so a tintype could be handed to the customer mere minutes after the picture had been taken.

Albumen print: Patented in January 1847 by Louis Désiré Blanquart-Evrard, it used the albumen in egg whites to bind the photographic chemicals to the paper. It was the first commercially available method of producing a photographic print on a paper base from a negative, and became the dominant form of photographic positives from the mid-1800s to the beginning of the 20th century, particularly between the 1860s and 1890s. In the mid-19th century, one of the main applications of the albumen method was in carte de visite photography.

Gelatin silver process: This method was introduced by Richard Leach Maddox in 1871, but was improved upon significantly by Charles Harper Bennet in 1878. It is the chief chemical process used in black-and-white photography, and underpins the chemical process for modern analogue colour photography. An emulsion of silver salts suspended in gelatin is coated onto a support such as flexible plastic or film, glass, or resin-coated paper. These light-sensitive materials are stable under standard preservation conditions, and can even be exposed and processed many years after being made.

Suggested Readings Tani Akiyoshi, Mayor Grégoire, Japan in early photographs: the Aimé Humbert Collection at the Museum of Ethnography, Neuchâtel, Musée d’ethnographie de Neuchatel, 2018. Campione Francesco Paolo, Fagioli Marco, Ineffabile perfezione, la fotografia del Giappone, 1860/1910, exhibition’s catalogue, Museo delle Culture, Giunti, Lugano, 23 october 2010-27 february 2011. Bonneville Patrick, La photographie japonaise sous l’ère Meiji (1868-1912), Les Editions de l’Amateur, Paris, 2006. Estèbe Claude, Les premiers ateliers de photographie japonais 1859-1872, Études photographiques, n°19, Paris, 2006, p. 1-27. 55

ARTS

ESSAY

DRAWING MEMORIES R O O S J E B AE L E

Oblivion and perseverance are at the origin of art, which begins from memory of a past event always already forgotten in memory.

Cit. Jean Fisher, ‘On Drawing’, The Stage of Drawing: Gesture and Act. Selected from the Tate Collection, 224.

It must have been 2018 when I first saw the work of Shiota Chiharu at Art Brussels, one of the focal points for contemporary art in Belgium. I remember wandering down the bright white halls of Tour & Taxis, mingling with all the fancy collectors, gazing at the ridiculous expensive art works. Somewhere I noticed a glass display with a dark haze, so I went to have a closer look. A web of black, fixed lines filled the small glass space. In the middle, these lines caught a white dress. It looked like a ghost, trapped and elusive. It struck me as a mysterious whole of interwoven lines, as an interplay between drawing, sculpture and installation. Shiota Chiharu is a Japanese contemporary artist, who lives and works in Berlin. She had her international break through with the work The Key in the Hand (2015) on the 56th Biennial of Venice, installed in the Japanese Pavilion. The huge installation consisted of red yarn, a collection of keys (imbued with memories and connecting the viewer to the everyday life) and Venetian boats (as a subtle nod to the location). Shiota Fig. 1 Roosje Baele, C.S. says (after Chiharu Shiota’s State of Being – Children’s Dress, 2013), pencil on paper, 14,8 x 21 cm, 2021.

was born in 1972 in Osaka. She studied painting at Seika University, Kyoto, in 1992 and spent the following year as an exchange student in Canberra, Australia, at the ANU School of Art. In this period, she noticed that painting did not suffice as a means of her artistic expression. In interviews, Shiota has often stressed that she experienced painting on canvas as far too limited and therefore looked for a medium that she could call her own. From 1994 she traded the two-dimensional canvas for installation, performance, and the three-dimensional space, concentrating on her own physical body. In the following years, she would complete her education in Germany. An important encounter during her development as a visual artist, was the meeting with Marina Abramović. It was Abramović who encouraged her to focus more on performance art. During a workshop under the former’s guidance, Shiota was fastening with some fellow students for several days. At one point, during the fast, Abramović asked Shiota to write down the first word that came to her mind. The word she wrote was ‘Japan’, possibly from exhaustion but also from homesickness. 57

Her work consists mainly of installations with yarn, however, she never gave up drawing and painting on a two-dimensional surface. I can’t help noticing that the lines she traces in her drawings (see the pastel drawing Red Line, One hand, 2014) are completely different, more harsh, more direct. It’s as if she can’t fully grasp what she really wants to say: how lines connect us all but in various ways. Recurring topics in her practice are human relations, human body, identity and memory. The latter finds its expression in everyday objects, such as chairs, dresses, books and keys. Her approach is always led by a personal experience or emotion, but through these everyday objects the individual transcends into the universal. Through her installations (or indeed her web) she seeks a connection with the audience. Shiota always uses yarn in the colours red, white or black. The artist associates the colour red with blood, as in blood ties, which connects one human to another. Looking closely, the red yarn recalls blood vessels and veins, themselves a complex network of lines and connections. In thinking that, I am also reminded of the element of memory and its relation to our blood, our DNA: certain emotions or even family traumas can be passed on for generations. 1

In both Eastern as Western cultures red carries different layers of meanings, attached to certain times and places. In antiquity, red was considered one of the four basic colours (besides black, white and yellow); it was related to the four elements, and thus to the Hippocratic theory of the four bodily humours (blood, phlegm, yellow bile and black bile). To be healthy meant that these humours were perfectly balanced. 2 Historically, red has also been connected with fire, blood and love. Like red, the symbolic meanings of black and white go back a long way. White can be connected, on a universal level, to life and death, to purity and innocence. As with the blank page, the gesso on the canvas, or even the blank space, it is considered a point zero, an absence. In drawing, the white surface is ‘a reserve’ and becomes an integral part of the image. Unlike painting, where the surface must be filled up (horror vacui) and can be painted over (starting from a clean slate), drawing is always visible on the white space. The drawn line is there, it is inscribed, etched. It becomes a trace. 3 Black, as white’s metaphorical contrast, carries both positive and negative connotations, from evil to humility and even elegance (think of Burgundian black). 4 It reminds me of etching techniques: the lines must present a deep black, as a mark of good quality.

Nulla dies sine linea/ Not a day without a line drawn.

Cit. Apelles.

‘Chiharu Shiota in conversation

with Zara Sigglekow’, Ocula Magazine, 18 October 2018; Inga Nelli. ‘Conversations Chiharu Shiota’, Coeur et art, 2019. 2 John Gage. Colour and Culture. Practice and Meaning from Antiquity to Abstraction. London: Thames & Hudson, 1993, 29. 3 Norman Bryson. ‘A Walk for a Walk’s Sake.’ in The Stage of Drawing: Gesture and Act. Selected from the Tate Collection, edited by Catherine De Zegher, 149-151. New York: Tate Publishing/ The Drawing Center, 2003. 4 Michel Pastoureau & Dominique Simonnet. Le petit livre des couleurs. Paris: Editions du Panama, 2005, 3133, 48-49, 95-96.

Fig. 2 Roosje Baele, C.S. says II (after Chiharu Shiota’s A Key in the Hand, 2015), pencil on paper, 14,8 x 21 cm, 2021.

The element that strikes me the most in Shiota’s work is the concept of drawing. ‘For me, it is drawing in the air. I can make lines in space like I would in drawings on paper’, she explains, her lines in yarn mirroring her emotions. 5 As a result, the traced lines form a compound unity, they increase and decrease in the given room. One has to be careful not to be caught up in its web. Indeed, the complex networks of lines sketched in wool show a certain graphic or drawn character, at once sharp yet vague and soft. As a draftswoman I recognize its depth: lines that come together become darker, lines that depart have a lighter tonality. In this sense drawing is a place of appearing and disappearing, between entering and departing. 6 Through the line Shiota confronts us with our human relations: we meet, we get mixed up, we break up, some encounters are brief, others long-lasting. Shiota translates these meetings into mostly straight lines, some of these lines run parallel, while others cross or get knotted. When the exhibition ends, she cuts all the threads of the installation. Like her work, relations and associated memories are temporary and fragile. Our surroundings are defined by line, as Ingold writes in his Lines. A Brief History. 7 Even so, in our daily lives we don’t always pay attention. We leave them behind, everywhere we go, as a trace and a memory. But not every line that surrounds us, is purely of human making. Just take a look at the plants with their leaves and roots, or even the clouds.

Fig. 3 Roosje Baele, Untitled, mural, charcoal, 1 x 3 meters. Part of an installation in Brussels, former VGC building, 2012.

5 ‘Chiharu Shiota in Conversation with Zara Sigglekow’, Ocula Magazine, 18 October 2018. 6 Michael Newman. ‘The Mark, Traces, and Gestures of Drawing.’ In The Stage of Drawing: Gesture and Act. Selected from the Tate Collection, edited by Catherine De Zegher, 95. New York: Tate Publishing/ The Drawing Center, 2003. 7 Tim Ingold. Lines. A brief History. London: Routledge, 2016, 1, 39-40.

Besides being an art historian, I am an artist. I say this with great reticence and unease, because I’m not working as an artist professionally. But don’t we all experience some sort of self-existential crisis once in a while? I draw in my spare time, during the twilight hours. I like to trace lines whenever I can and I love to share my collection of lines with whoever wants to see it. Art school teaches you that your art can only live or achieve meaning when it is ‘activated’ by the audience, but for me personally it is more about the idea of what you can read between the lines. The bottom line is that I speak in lines, with lines and between the lines. I trace lines on scraps of paper, because I experience this feeling, an urge to execute this on the two-dimensional surface and out there. Berger would describe this as ‘an act of drawing’, an act that the art historian subsequently tries to capture in words. Translating art into words, however, is a challenging task and I mostly lack the vocabulary to explain the thing I do. Even now, while I try to compare the work of Shiota to mine in a way, uncertainty lurks behind the door. It is, as Baert beautifully describes in her letter to Vivian Gornick (rekto verso, 7 May 2021) ‘a joy and weight’ because those artistic encounters, those acts are often located in interspaces of the scientific - the imagination.

Fig. 4 Roosje Baele, You were quite the labyrinth, pencil drawing/ sketchnote, 14,5 x 10,5 cm, 2021.

The encounter that drastically changed my artistic language was with the artist Marc Raes at the Municipal Academy of Leuven, where I received a specialised training in drawing. His oeuvre focuses on charcoal drawings of human figures, mainly the female body and blurry faces. Or, as Dewulf puts it, Raes’s drawings are about the motives of drawing. In every work he searches for answers through the line, through ashes, light and shadow. This quest or artistic urge (or indeed motive) that haunts every artist is also one of the main questions that occupies the mind of the art historian. 8 Raes introduced me to charcoal drawing and showed me the seemingly endless possibilities of the line (sharp, soft, brusque, blurry, gentle, erased etc). I learned how every line can betray a certain feeling or thought, much like someone’s handwriting. Every line or mark tells us a story. When I take a closer look at Shiota’s drawings in yarn, I wonder whose fragile white dresses are

floating in the black haze, or who read the books caught in the labyrinth of red lines. I want to enter the memories they breathe, but they remain hidden to mine and every other gaze that tries to unlock them. I was introduced to drawing from memory. The first lessons, however, consisted of studying plaster busts (you know, those dusty busts of Voltaire, Erasmus, Rodin’s Thinker, etc.) and skeletons: I learned to create depth by means of lines, of light and dark tones. Later on, I studied the nudes and drawings by the old masters like Rubens, Pontormo, Degas, Ingres and so on. Every pose, every gesture I memorised, every face I made my own. Every drawing I began during Raes’s lesson I resumed at home, remaking it again and again (tracing marks with charcoal, erasing them, starting over), and amassed an archive of marks and traces. As Shiota uses objects from life

8 Barbara Baert. ‘Sfumato, sfiorare. Slotakkoord met Mark Eyskens’ In Barbara Baert. Uil in de grot. Gesprekken met beelden, kunstenaars en schrijvers, 218-219. Kalmthout: Pelckmans Pro, 2019. 9 ‘The line is a visible action’, see Roland Barthes. ‘Cy Twombly: Works on Paper.’ 170, 2016.

as an intermediary for memories, I use genderless and anonymous faces built with lines. Sometimes they become abstract, a woven pattern of memories, lost in the materiality of graphite, charcoal or ink, and the fibres of the paper. They are present yet absent, they seek contact but look away. The line is a trace, a witness of an action in a certain time. It refers to, as Barthes wrote about Cy Twombly’s drawings, a past force, an energy. 9

I write down what I feel in order to lower the fever of feeling.

Cit. Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet. London: Serpent’s Tail, 2010, 24.

Even though Shiota does not explicitly use Japanese elements in her installations, her cultural background remains present. Of course, you can’t ignore your roots: they are woven into your self. Her work, however, should not be defined as something typically Japanese nor as something typically feminine, since other questions come to the foreground. 10 What is Shiota looking for through the line? What does she try to find? Her work Try and Go Home (1997), for example, is a search for identity, for a home. She presented this work after she wrote the word Japan at Abramović’s workshop. In this performance, Shiota tries – in vain – to climb a slope, but falls down time and time again. She keeps repeating the attempt, almost like a modern Sisyphus. Whenever Shiota visits her homeland, she experiences a sense of loss. She does not find what she was looking for, namely connection. 11 This sense of displacement reminds me of many expats (amongst them my own mother), who left their homelands for opportunities elsewhere. Once they return, their home has drastically changed, or even disappeared. Through her lines in yarn, it is as if Shiota tries to find a home. Laying out lines, weaving them in spaces, connecting the dots and retracing her steps through the objects dispersed in the room. It recalls how Theseus uses a

ball of yarn to find his way through the labyrinth, to the exit and, ultimately, his love. Being born half Japanese (or Hāfu) I always felt like a misfit, neither Belgian nor Japanese. It was something strange, yet exotic and even fascinating. While Japanese roots are part of my identity, I do not recognize them as such. They are foreign to me. Growing up closeted formed an extra layer of turmoil in my search for identity, for belonging. Looking back at my early drawings they reveal someone who desperately seeks connection but cannot find it. They represent chaos. ‘I see knots, so many knots!’, Baert once told me, upon showing her one of my drawings. Back then, I tried to fit in, I tried to trace lines that were not my own. They were entangled and missed a clear motive. Like Shiota, I was trying to find myself a home, but rather in my self. A place where I could find my own voice and express it through the line, without fear and shame. It took me some time to untwine the knots in my drawings, but the struggle is still on. Just like life itself, it is never fixed, but in constant flux - like lines you emerge or grow, like the branches of trees.

10 Inga Nelli, ‘Converstations Chiharu Shiota’, C006Feur et art, 2019. Fig. 5 Roosje Baele, Jij kwam en ging ook weer, Pencil on paper, 14,8 x 21 cm, a Wasshoi! special, 2021.

11 Hans November. Chiharu Shiota. Between the Lines. Zwolle: WBooks, 2017, 11, 15, 21.

Overall, drawing, whether on the two-dimensional surface or in three-dimensional space, can be recognised as a reaction or a response to something that draws the attention of the artist, as Fisher suggests. It is a response to something outside or inside the artist’s mind. The lines reach the surface, and afterwards they nest in the mind of the beholder. The lines do not depict a perfect representation of the visible world (it is not about mimesis); it goes beyond observation and perception. They present themselves as memories and thoughts, as an affect. Memories or thoughts are bound to time, they are something fleeting, fragile and ungraspable, like memories that alter con-

stantly through the years. Sometimes we wonder if we experienced them or if they were a dream. As such, drawings, like those of Shiota and the ones I make during the twilight hours, symbolize uncertainty. They can become a vast net or a labyrinth of some sort, that expands or even festers in the corners of a given room (like the anchor points in the space where the yarn holds itself) or the knots on paper. At the same time, they have the capacity to be unraveled, by the hand and mind of the artist or by the gaze of the other.

Art school teaches you that your art can only live or achieve meaning when it is ‘activated’ by the audience, but for me personally it is more about the idea of what you can read between the lines.

Suggested Readings Baert, Barbara. Uil in de grot. Gesprekken met beelden, kunstenaars en schrijvers. Kalmthout: Pelckmans Pro, 2019. Berger, John. ‘To Take Paper, To Draw.’ In Landscapes. John Berger on Art, 20-26. London/ New York: Verso, 2016. Dewulf, Bernard. ‘De holte van alles. Over Marc Raes.’ In Toewijdingen. Verzamelde beschouwingen, 217-220. Amsterdam/ Antwerpen: Atlas Contact, 2014. De Zegher, Catherine. The Stage of Drawing: Gesture and Act. Selected from the Tate Collection. New York: Tate Publishing/ The Drawing Center, 2003. Ingold, Tim. Lines. A Brief History. London: Routledge, 2016. November, Hans. Chiharu Shiota. Between the Lines. Zwolle: WBooks, 2017.

FILM

REVIEW

BEYOND THE INFINITE TWO MINUTES (DOROSUTO NO HATE DE BOKURA, ドロステのはてで僕ら) C L ÉM E N T V E UILLOT in collaboration with N I P P ON CON N ECTI ON ‘I am you, two minutes into the future’, says café owner Katō (Tosa Kazunari) to himself through a computer monitor. ‘Your monitor and the café’s TV are linked, with a two-minute delay’, he explains. ‘Come down and explain this to your past self ’. He goes downstairs to the café below his apartment and sees himself on the TV, sitting in his room, exactly as he was two minutes ago. His employee, Aya (Fujitani Riko) becomes intrigued by her boss’ strange antics, and they are soon joined by three other friends (Ishida, Sakai, and Suwa). The whole group gets excited about this ‘Time TV’ that lets them witness and then enact upcoming events, and start going back and forth between the room and the café, testing the possibilities of the time delay. What would happen if I texted my future friend? What if Kato asks this girl out? Then one of them has a brilliant idea: they face the two monitors towards each other to create a ‘Droste effect’; a recursive projection of an image within itself. Think of a character holding a picture of themselves holding a picture of themselves holding a picture of themselves. Thus, they become able to not only see two minutes into the future, but four minutes, six minutes, eight minutes and so on. The time-window expands, and a ‘time-machine’ is created. No complicated space module, no grand effects, no time-travelling car, just two screens facing each other. From then on, the possibilities are 68

Directed by Yamaguchi Junta Written by Ueda Makoto Starring Tosa Kazunari, Fujitani Riko, Asakura Aki, Ishida Gota, Sakai Yoshifumi, Suwa Masah Genre Comedy Released date June 5 th , 2020

almost endless. Their experiments go on to create a series of unusual, rapidly escalating situations, as well as an encounter with some shady gangsters and two members of the ‘Time and Space Bureau’– Men in Black-type characters dressed in white. This film is the first feature by Kyoto-based theatre company Europe Kikaku, and the theatrical influence is evident throughout. The chemistry between the actors really elevates the dynamic and rapid exchanges of dialogue, making for a well-paced 70-minute story. Additionally, the movie was filmed in one long take; a sequence shot that is both technically remarkable and a clever directorial decision. Not only does it create a sense of perpetual continuity that complements the narrative element of time-exploration, but it also instills a sense of urgency as the characters chase the ‘two-minute window’. In any case, it is executed smoothly thanks to the film’s minimalistic staging.

Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes is a self-proclaimed ‘time suspense comedy’ with a consistently humorous, sometimes downright silly tone. Even when the plot leads its characters into more serious territory, it lands back on its feet with a twist. For instance, as the plot advances and the group starts to face the chain-reaction of future events, Kato vocalises some perfectly valid philosophical concerns. Yet, when the real reason behind his concerns is revealed, it turns out to be more comical than profound. In short, Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes is an example of cinema that doesn’t take itself too seriously, whilst showing that comedy can be more than just goof and spoof. It’s smart, original, and actually requires some attention from the viewer, making for a highly engaging cinematic experience.

We are in the middle of the winter season and the New Year has just begun. In Japan, one of the typical decorations found in homes during this period is the kagami mochi 鏡餅. It is usually made of two layers of mochi (rice cake) with a mandarin on top. The whole composition is in the shape of a pyramid and the purpose of this item is to bring luck, hope, and prosperity. In fact, the shape of the kagami mochi is reminiscent of ancient bronze mirrors – kagami means ‘mirror’ – which were considered auspicious items.

Kagami mochi are usually displayed in several places around the house until the 11th January, when the rice cake is eaten as part of a soup called ozōni お雑煮. With a stylised kagami mochi surrounding Wasshoi!, our new visual logo recalls the annual custom which takes place at this time of year.

Fig. 1 Charles Gützlaff, missionary to China in the dress of a Fokein [Fokkien] sailor (Charles Gützlaff. “Frontispiece”, Journal of Three Voyages along the Coast of China in 1831, 1832, & 1833, with Notices of Siam, Corea, & the Loo-choo Islands. 3rd edition. (London: Thomas Ward and Co., [ca 1840]). )

HISTORY

BILINGUAL ARTICLE

日本人漂流民と初期アメリカの対日関係の展開 1837年のモリソン号事件をめぐって

JAPANESE CASTAWAYS AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF EARLY JAPAN-UNITED STATES RELATIONS THE MORRISON INCIDENT OF 1837 AUTHOR: CHI T SHI N G S O TRANSLATOR: AMELIA LI P KO

1603年、日本は徳川幕府の成立に伴い、新しい時代に入った。しかし同時期の対外政策も厳しくなっていった。そのきっかけは1637年から1638年の日本人キリスト教徒によって起きた島原・天草の乱により、幕府は国内のポルトガル人を追放し、西洋人（オランダ人以外）の許可なしに来航すること、およびキリスト教への信仰を全面的に禁止することであった。また幕府の政策により、日本人の海外渡航と在外日本人の帰国も禁じられた。そのような政策を取った結果、日本はいわゆる「鎖国」の時 1 代に入った。

本来、「鎖国」という言葉は志筑忠雄

（1760-1806）がE・ケンペル（Engelbert Kämpfer, 1651-1716）の『日本誌』（ The History of Japan）を『鎖国論』に翻訳され

た後に広がれた概念である。実際上、江戸時代の日本は完全なる鎖国でなく、例えば長崎にはオランダ人・中国人向けの貿易港が設置され、また対馬藩で行った朝鮮との貿易および薩摩藩の支配に置かれた琉球との貿易、という限られた海外との貿易活動がある

In 1603, Japan entered a new era with the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate. At this time, foreign policy was becoming increasingly severe. After the Shimabara-Amakusa Rebellion – staged by Japanese Christians between 1637 and 1638 – the shogunate expelled the Portuguese who resided in the country, banned Westerners (except for the Dutch) from entering Japan, and completely prohibited any belief in Christianity. Official policy also forbade Japanese nationals from traveling abroad, even forbidding the return of those residing overseas. With the introduction of such laws Japan entered the so-called sakoku (‘closed country’) period. 1

1 The word sakoku was popularised when

Shizuki

Tadao

(1760–1806)

translated Engelbert Kämpfer’s The History of Japan (1651–1716) as Sakokuron (‘The theory of Sakoku’). In reality, Edo period Japan was never completely closed. It conducted some limited business with foreign lands: for example, it exchanged with the Dutch and Chinese in a trade port in Nagasaki, with Koreans in the Tsushima Domain, and also traded with Ryukyu, which was under the rule of the Satsuma Domain.

その後、1808年のフェートン号事件、1824年の大津浜事件と宝島事件などイギリス人による「侵入事件」を契機として、幕府は1825年に「異国船打払令」を発令した。これは日本沿海に接近する外国船を見つけた場合、警告なしに直接発砲してもよいという法令である。この法令に基づき、従来の鎖国政策はさらに強化され、日本と西洋世界の交流がより困難な状況になった。ところで、「異国船打払令」の対象とされた外国船はただ「敵意を持つ侵略者」でなく、善意を持って日本に来航する場合もある。その代表例は西洋人による日本人漂流民送還である。19世紀までの海洋活動は造船・航海技術が未発達であったため常に危険と隣り合わせであった。特に日本においては、幕府の鎖国政策により、遠洋航海を可能とする大型船の建造が禁止されていたため、日本船のほとんどは嵐に耐えるほどの頑丈さはなかった。そのような船に乗り、不幸な災害に遭遇した一部の日本人は偶然外国に漂着し、運良くに生存した彼らは時折外国人によって救助され、日本まで運ばれた。ところが、幕府の「異国船打払令」により、たとえ外国船は漂流民送還という目的を持って来航したとしても、無差別に攻撃対象として扱われた。1837年のアメリカ商船モリソン号による漂流民送還（いわばモリソン号事件）はまさにその典型例である

Later on, as a consequence of British intrusions – such as the 1808 Phaeton Incident, the 1824 Ōtsuhama Incident, and Takarajima Incident – the shogunate promulgated the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels in 1825. It stated that all foreign ships approaching the Japanese coast were to be fired upon without warning. This made Japan’s isolationist policy even more severe, rendering any exchange between Japan and the Western world especially difficult. Significantly, the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels applied to all ships – not only the ones intruding with malicious intent, but also those arriving with good will. A typical example would be Westerners helping Japanese castaways return home. As shipbuilding and navigation were quite undeveloped until the 19 th century, sailing was accompanied by great danger, particularly in Japan, since the sakoku policy forbade building large vessels apt for long-distance voyages. As a result, almost none of the Japanese ships were sturdy enough to withstand a storm. The sailors who boarded such vessels and were struck by natural disasters drifted overseas, and if they were lucky enough to survive, they would sometimes be rescued by foreigners and transported back to Japan. However, because of Japan’s Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels, even sailing with the intent of helping a Japanese castaway return home was indiscriminately considered a reason for attack. The attempted repatriation of castaways by the American merchant ship Morrison in 1837 (the so-called Morrison incident) is a representative example of this.

マカオにいる七人の日本人漂流民 1832年10月、一隻の千石船（宝順丸（Hōjunmaru））は鳥羽（今の三重県鳥羽市）から食糧を江戸へ運ぶ予定であったが、途中暴風に遭い、難破した。そして14ヶ月の漂流を経て、船はアメリカ西岸のコロンビア川（今アメリカのワシントン州・オリンビック半島）付近に漂着したが、14名の乗組員うち生存者は音吉、岩吉、久吉の3名のみであった。（ Fig. 1）上陸した3人は現地住民のインディアンによって発見されて捕らえられ、奴隷として扱われた。

Seven Japanese Castaways in Macao

In October 1832, a large junk ship named Hojunmaru was supposed to carry provisions from Toba (now Toba city, Mie prefecture) to Edo, but encountered a windstorm on the way and suffered great damage. After fourteen months of drifting, the ship washed up on the shore of North America’s West Coast in the vicinity of the Columbia River (now the Olympic Peninsula, Washington State). Out of fourteen crew members, only three survived: Otokichi, Iwakichi, and Kyūkichi (Fig. 1). Upon landing, the three were discovered and taken in as slaves by indigenous locals Fig. 2 Japan, the Islands of Loochoo & Formosa, and the Maritime Provinces of China with the tract of the Morrison’s Voyage in 1837.

数ヶ月後、アメリカの毛皮会社ハドソン湾会社（Hudson's Bay Company）は毛皮の取引のためにインディアンの所に訪ねてきた。音吉ら3 人の日本人を見つけたハドソン湾会社はすぐにインディアンと取引をし、3人を奴隷生活から解放した。そして音吉らが帰国したいという願いを理解した後、3 人を会社の船に乗せ、ロンドンを経て1 8 3 4 年 1 2月にマカオまで送り、在中国イギリス商務総監（Superintendents of British Trade in China）に3人の日本送還を依頼し、送還するまでの間に3 人をイギリス東インド会社の中国語通訳官であるドイツ人宣教師K・ギュツラフ（Karl F. A. Gützlaff, 1803-1851）（ Fig. 3 2 ）の家に寄寓させた。しかし、イギリス側は音吉らの日本送還を積極的に行わなかったため、音吉らはただ待つことしかできなかった。他にも、音吉らのようにマカオまで送られたもう一組の漂流民がいた。彼らは1 8 3 4 年 1 2 月に一隻の輸送船（若吉丸（ Wa k a y oshi-maru））に乗り、長崎に向けて天草を出港したが難破し、35日間の漂流を経て、ルソン（今のフィリピン）の北岸に漂着した。乗組員のうち生存者は庄蔵、寿三郎、力松、熊太郎の 4名だけであった。そして上陸した庄蔵ら4人は現地住民によって捕らえられ、所持品も全て奪われた。その後、彼らは異なる村落の間に移転されるうちにスペインの植民地であるマニラに運ばれた。彼らはスペイン人に保護され、1837年3月にマカオまで送られ、そこで同郷の音吉らと合流し、同じくギュツラフの家に身を寄せた。

After several months, an American furrier (Hudson’s Bay Company) visited the locals to trade pelts. When they found the three Japanese there, they immediately negotiated with the natives and bought them out of slavery. Once they understood that Otokichi and his companions wished to go back home, they put the three on a ship in December 1834 and sent them to Macao through London, requesting that the Superintendents of British Trade in China deliver them to Japan. For a time, they were to be hosted by Karl F. A. Gützlaff (1803–1851), 2 a German missionary who worked as a Chinese interpreter for the British East India Company (Fig. 3). The British were not very active in transporting the Japanese home, so Otokichi and the rest were left to wait. Coincidentally, there was one more group of Japanese castaways sent to Macao. In December 1834 they boarded a transport ship (Wakayoshimaru) in Amakusa and set sail for Nagasaki, but were shipwrecked, and after 35 days of drifting arrived at the northern coast of Luzon (now Philippines). Only four members of the crew survived: Shōzō, Jusaburō, Rikimatsu, and Kumatarō. Upon landing they were seized by the local inhabitants and stripped of their belongings. Afterwards, they were moved from settlement to settlement, eventually reaching a Spanish colony in Manila. The Spaniards took custody of these survivors, transported them to Macao in March 1837, and placed them under Gützlaff ’s roof, where their paths crossed with those of their compatriots

2 ギュツラフは19世紀の在華プロテスタント宣教師として有名、また通訳官としてイギリスと中国の外交交渉においても活躍している。彼と日本の繋がりに関して、彼が試みた聖書の和訳（Fig. 4 & 5）は聖

書和訳の先鞭をつけ、のちのベテルハイム（B. J. Bettelheim, 1811-1870）、ヘボン（J. C. Hepburn, 1815-1911）、ブラウン（S. R. Brown, 1810-1880）の聖書和訳

に大きな影響を与え、聖書翻訳史におい

て特筆すべきものである。

2 Gützlaff was famous as a Protestant missionary living in China in

the 19 th century, while also acting as an interpreter between Britain and China in their international negotiations. As for his relevance in Japan, he deserves a mention for his attempt at translating the Holy Bible into Japanese (Fig. 4 & 5), which set the example for others to come, and had great impact on subsequent translations by B. J. Bettelheim (1811–1870), J. C. Hepburn (1815–1911), and S. R. Brown (1810–1880).

Fig. 3 Gospel of John in Japanese by Gützlaff.

7名の日本人漂流民がマカオに送られたのは、表向きは彼らを日本に送還するためであった。しかしその裏には、漂流民送還をきっかけに、「鎖国」以降中断されたキリスト教の対日布教の再開、およびオランダの対日貿易の独占という現状を打破する意図が隠れていた。例えば音吉らを受け入れたギュツラフは、彼らの力を借りて、『約翰福音之伝』（ Yohane fukuin no den, Gospel of John）（ Fig. 4）と『約翰上中下書』（ Yohane jōchūge-sho, Epistles of John）（ Fig. 5）を和訳し、そこから対日布教を狙っていた。イギリスの音吉らの日本送還が微々として進まない現状に対してアメリカ側も動き始めた。アメリカのオリファント商会（Olyphant & Co.）は音吉ら7人の日本送還を契機として、日本との貿易を行おうと考えていた。オリファント商会のC・W・キング（C. W. King, ?-?）は、通訳者としてのギュツラフ、アメリカ医療宣教師 P・パーカー（ P e t e r Parker, 1804-1888）（ Fig. 6）、アメリカ宣教師でありアマチュア博物学者であるS・W・ウィリアムズ（S. W. Williams, 1812-1884）（Fig. 7）、を主要メンバーとして3 、7人の日本送還と合わせて対日通商、医薬伝来、自然探索などを目的として、計画を立てた。ここで注意すべきは、彼らは幕府の排外的政策を知っており、日本側に配慮して、武装を整えず、布教用の書物すら用意せず、ただ商品、薬品、西洋知識のみを紹介する書籍を準備したのである。そして1837年7月3日にオリファント商会の商船モリソン号はギュツラフを除いた関係者を集め、イギリス軍艦を乗せて別行動とするギュツラフと待ち合わせるため、琉球（今日は沖縄とも呼ばれている）に向けてマカオを出港した。

Officially, the seven Japanese castaways were sent to Macao to be helped home. However, behind this declaration was the hidden intention of promoting Christianity in Japan (an endeavour that came to a halt under sakoku), and of ending the Dutch monopoly on trade with Japan. For example, Gützlaff used the help of his guests to translate the Gospel of John (Fig. 4) and the Epistles of John (Fig. 5) into Japanese, hoping to spread Christianity among the Japanese in this way. Meanwhile, since the British were not taking any action to actually send the castaways back home, the Americans made a move – the American Olyphant & Co. came up with the idea of trading with Japan, taking advantage of the repatriation expedition. C. W. King from Olyphant & Co. devised a plan to send the seven Japanese men home while also trading with Japan, exchanging medicine, and exploring the natural habitat (Fig. 7); it involved Gützlaff as the interpreter, as well as American medical missionary Peter Parker (1804–1888) (Fig. 6) and American missionary and amateur natural historian S. W. Williams (1812–1884) 3 . It is important to keep in mind that they were aware of the shogunate’s strict foreign policy and, consequently, they brought no weapons and no evangelical writings – only goods for trade, medication, and books introducing Western knowledge. Thus, on 3 July 1837, a merchant ship of the Olyphant & Co. named the SS Morrison, carrying all those concerned – except for Gützlaff, who boarded a British battleship and was supposed to join them later – set sail from Macao for Ryūkyū (known today as Okinawa).

Fig. 4 Epistles of John in Japanese by Gützlaff.

3 Morrison’s expedition to Japan was recorded in writing by King, Parker and Williams. C. W. King, Notes of the Voyage of the Morrison from Canton to Japan (New York: E. French, 1839). Peter Parker, Journal of an Expedition from Singapore to Japan (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1838). Samuel Wells Williams, Narrative of a voyage of the ship Morrison, captain D. Ingersoll, to Lewchew and Japan, in the months of July and August, 1837 ([Canton]: [Printed for the proprietors], [1837?]).

モリソン号の日本来航記録はキング、

パーカー、ウィリアムズの著作が挙げられる。 C. W. King. Notes of the Voyage of the Morrison from Canton to Japan. (New York: E. French, 1839). Peter Parker. Journal of an Expedition from Sincapore to Japan. (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1838). S. W. Williams. “Narrative of a Voyage of the Ship Morrison,” Chinese Repository, 6:5 (Sep. 1837); 6:8 (Dec. 1837).

Fig. 5 Pater Parker, oil by Lamqua

Fig. 6 Samuel Wells Williams

Fig. 7 Nautical Chart around Bay of Yedo (Tokyo)

琉球滞在中のモリソン号

The Morrison on Ryūkyū

モリソン号は約九日かけて、7月12日に琉球の那覇港に到着した。当時の琉球は1609年の琉球侵攻によって、名目上の薩摩藩の支配下にあった。一方で、琉球は明朝以来中国の朝貢国であった。そのため、一部の琉球人は母語の琉球語の他に、日本語と中国語も使える。琉球の役人がモリソン号の来航の目的を尋ねる際に使ったのはまさに中国語であった。もちろん、数年間中国で生活したキング、パーカー、ウィリアムズは3人とも簡単な中国語を使えるが、口語は流暢に使えるほどでないため、役人とのやりとりは主に漢字を用いて筆談で行われた。

It took the Morrison approximately nine days to reach Ryūkyū, as the party entered the Naha harbour on 12 July. Following the 1609 Ryūkyū Invasion, the Kingdom was considered a vassal state under the Satsuma Domain. However, it had also been a tributary state of China since the time of the Ming dynasty. Some Ryūkyūans thus not only spoke their mother tongue Ryūkyūan, but also used Japanese and Chinese. In fact, when Ryūkyūan officials asked the Morrison for the reason of their arrival, they spoke Chinese. King, Parker, and Williams, who had all lived in China for several years, knew some basic Chinese but did not speak it fluently, so for the most part they communicated with the officials on paper, using kanji characters.

4 Samuel Wells Williams. Narrative of a voyage of the ship Morrison, 214.

しかしその時、Anyah（安仁屋政輔、?-?）という役人は片言の英語を使って、キングたちに次のように尋ねてきた。 “Dis what ship? Dis Amerikan ship?” （これは何の船？アメリカの船？）

At one point, as recorded by S. W. Williams, an official called Anyah asked King and his company the following in broken English: ‘Dis what ship? Dis Amerikan ship?’

“Yes.”（そうです。）

‘Yes.’

“How many mans?”（何人がいる？）

‘How many mans?’

“Twenty-eight men.”（28人。）

‘Twenty-eight men.’

“Plenty mans! Have got guns?” （大勢の人！銃砲を備えているか？） “No; this is a merchant ship.” （いいえ、これは商船です。） “Plenty mans! Plenty guns! I talked mandarin”（大勢の人！多量の銃砲！私は中国の役人に報告する）4 このように、片言の英語による誤解もあったが、双方の対話は順調に進み、モリソン号の琉球での短期滞在も許された。

‘Plenty mans! Have got guns?’ ‘No; this is a merchant ship.’ ‘Plenty mans! Plenty guns! I talked mandarin’ (Meaning: ‘I will report to the Chinese official’.) 4 So there were some misunderstandings, but all in all the talks between the two sides went well and the Morrison was allowed to stay in Ryūkyū for a short time.

モリソン号の琉球滞在は主にギュツラフの到来を待つことが目的であったが、乗員たちは待つ間に上陸して村、寺院、畑などを見物した。そのうち、特に医療宣教師のパーカーはA・ピアソン（Alexander Pearson, 17801874）の牛痘種痘法の漢訳本 5を琉球人のある老医師に貸して全文の筆写を許した。その後、パーカーは牛痘のワクチン、ランセットなどの医薬品・医療器具を持参して上陸し、老医師に種痘法を説明した後、老医師と接種希望者にワクチンを接種し、老医師が連れてきた病人たちの診察も行った。このようにパーカーが老医師に伝授した牛痘種痘法は18世紀末発見したばかりの治療法であり、当時最先端の技術であったため琉球医学史・防疫史の発展にとって大きな一歩となった。そして7月15日に、イギリス軍艦はギュツラフを伴い琉球に到着した。そこからギュツラフを迎えた後、モリソン号は計画通りに日本の江戸へ出航した

Though the main purpose was waiting for Gützlaff, the crew also took this chance to disembark and visit the village, temples, and fields. Importantly, the medical missionary Parker showed a Ryūkyūan doctor the Chinese translation of Alexander Pearson’s (1780–1874) publication on cowpox vaccination, giving him a copy of its contents. 5 Afterwards, Parker brought medical equipment, vaccines, and lancets from the ship. He explained the vaccination process to the doctor, before vaccinating him as well as other local people willing to take the injection. He also examined the sick brought in by the doctor. The cowpox vaccine had just been developed at the end of the 18th century and was considered cutting-edge technology, so it was a huge step in the Ryūkyūan history of medicine and the prevention of epidemics. Eventually, on 15 July, the British battleship with Gützlaff onboard arrived in Ryūkyū. The Morrison welcomed him and, according to plan, sailed off for Edo, Japan.

5 The title of the publication was not mentioned, but it is generally believed to have been Pierson’s Wonder Book on Inoculation (1805). 6 Williams afterwards participated in the Perry Expedition to Japan as the main interpreter, during which he pointed to the locations of the cannons, ensuring the safety of the fleet.

書名ははっきりしなかったが、一般的

にピアソンの『𠸄咭唎國新出種痘竒書』

（1805年）を指している。

6 乗員のウィリアムズはのちに首席通訳

官としてペリー提督の日本遠征に参加し、艦隊に大砲の所在を指し示したから、艦隊 Fig. 8 A Copy of ship Morrison’s request (Chinese)

の安全を守った。

江戸と鹿児島の砲撃

The Bombardment in Edo and Kagoshima

7月30日の午前、モリソン号は江戸湾に着き、朝霧による視界の低下もあり、ゆっくりと浦賀沖（今神奈川県の横須賀市東部）（ Fig. 8）に接近する。しかし突然砲声が響き、モリソン号は陸上から砲撃された。幸いなことに、視界の悪さによって砲撃の精度が下がっており、正午の時に霧が散った後、モリソン号は大砲の所在を見極め、砲撃が届かない海岸線から約 2マイル離れた所に停泊した。6

On the morning of the 30 th July, the Morrison arrived at Edo Bay. Visibility was limited because of the morning mist, so they approached the coast of Uraga (now the eastern part of Yokosuka city in Kanagawa prefecture) with caution (Fig. 8). Suddenly they heard shots – the Morrison was being bombarded from the land. Yet thanks to the worsened visibility, the attack was not very accurate. When the mist dispelled at noon, the Morrison determined the location of the cannons and sailed about two miles away from the coast to a spot where the shots could not reach them. 6 83

その後、日本人の漁船はモリソン号を囲み、漁民は好奇心からモリソン号に乗り込んだ。その時、キングたちは7名の漂流民を漁民に引き渡せば、7人の身の安全が幕府に保障されるかどうかは不明であるため、役人と直接交渉する前に、7人を漁民から見えないように船員室に入れた。そこで、ギュツラフは学んできた日本語を用いて漁民と話し、一枚の布とカードを役人に渡すように漁民に頼んだ。この一枚の布（Fig. 9）は横7尺4寸、縦2尺 3寸、表裏に以下の12字が書かれた。

Afterwards, Japanese fishing boats surrounded the Morrison and the fishermen came aboard out of curiosity. If King had handed over the seven castaways at that time, he would not have been able to assure their safety from the shogunate, so he hid them in the crew cabins until he could personally negotiate with the officials. Gützlaff, who had learnt some Japanese, spoke to the fishermen and asked them to pass on a cloth and a card that he had prepared for the officials. The cloth (Fig. 9) was 7 shaku 4 sun (app. 224 cm) long and 2 shaku 3 sun (app. 70 cm) wide. It had the following twelve characters written on both sides:

請老爺臨卑船我乃朋友要水 ‘We respectfully invite the officers to visit our ship. We are your friends and require the provision of water.’ 7

Fig. 9 A Copy of ship Morrison’s request (Japanese)

箭内健次編、『通航一覧続輯』第4巻（

7 Kenji Yanai, Tsūkō ichiran zokushū,

大阪：清文堂、1972年）、11頁。今日、『通

vol. 4 (Osaka: Seibundo, 1972), 11.

航一覧続輯』の稿本は日本国立公文書館

The manuscript of the book is cur-

に所蔵されているが、（注7）の引用を含め、

rently held in the National Archives

（Fig. 9）と（Fig. 10）の画像は印刷本か

of Japan; Fig. 9 and Fig. 10, including

ら引用されたものである。 8

the citation mentioned in point 7,

箭内健次編、『通航一覧続輯』第4

come from the printed version.

巻、14頁。これに関して、春名徹は、「原文（

8 Kenji Yanai, Tsūkō ichiran zokushū,

中略）では最初の「コ」と二行目の「アメリ

Vol. 4, 14. Akira Haruna analyses it

カのニン商」（仁商？）は小さく、本来の漢

as follows: ‘In the original text […] ‘

コ’ at the beginning and ‘アメリカの

文は「請大官登卑船」で、役人が本船に来

ニン商’（仁商？）in the second line are

て欲しいという意味かと思われます。おそ

small. The kanbun part is ‘請大官登卑

らく中国語に堪能だったギュツラフによる

船’, which expresses a wish that the

文章だと思いますが、日本人むけの古典漢文というよりは中国人対象という印象が

officials come to the ship. The mes-

あります」、と説明した。春名徹、「モリソン

sage was most likely written by Güt-

号事件とマンハッタン号事件：文化の誤解

zlaff, skilled in Chinese. It does not

から認識へ」、『開国史研究』第4号（2005

seem to be classical kanbun geared

年4月）、9頁。

towards Japanese people but rather the Chinese.’ Akira Haruna, ‘Morison gō jiken: bunka no gokai kara chishiki he,’ Kaikokushi kenkyū, No. 4 (2005), 9.

一枚のカード（Fig. 10）では、

The card (Fig.10) read:

請コアメリカのニン商人大官登卑船 8

と書かれ、漢文の内容と同じく役人をモリソン号に誘いたいということを意味する。しかし、キングたちはそれが役人に渡したかどうかを知る術はなかった。なぜならば、翌日の夜明けに、陸上の砲撃が再開され、危険を感じたモリソン号はすぐに抜錨して浦賀を退去したからである。

It was the Japanese version of the kanbun (Chinese writing) text from the cloth, inviting officials to the ship. However, King and his companions did not find out whether their message reached the recipients. The next evening the Morrison was once again bombarded from the land and, feeling endangered, they immediately weighed anchor and retreated from Uraga. 85

とはいえ、たとえ幕府側に拒絶されたとしても、キングたちは今回の目的を諦めたくなかった。鳥羽付近を通過する時に7人を直接陸に送りたいが、大風に遭い、岸に着けなかったため、モリソン号はそのまま南へ航行し続けた。そして8月10日に、モリソン号は薩摩藩の山川（今鹿児島県の指宿市）に着いた後、浦賀のように直接に砲撃されることを避けるために、すぐに現地の役人を船に連れてくるように7名漂流民うちの二人（庄蔵と寿三郎）を岸に送った。そして約1時間後、二人は数名の下級役人を船に連れ、来航の目的を彼らに伝えた。それを理解した後、下級役人は部下を数名残し、2名の漂流民（庄蔵と岩吉）を連れて、彼らの上司に会い、来航の目的をもう一度説明させた。そして約3、4時間後、二人は3名の役人をモリソン号に連れてきた。役人からは、薩摩の都城である鹿児島城への通達は彼らの上司によって拒絶されたが、その代わりに詳細の報告書を藩に送ったため、おそらく7人を迎えるために再び来訪するかもしれないと伝えられた。この時、キングたちは希望を感じ、7人もようやく家族や友人を再び会えると期待した。

Nevertheless, in spite of the refusal from the shogunate, they did not want to abandon their mission. When passing by Toba, they planned to let the seven castaways disembark, but encountered strong winds and were unable to reach the shore, so they continued travelling south. On the 10 th August they reached Yamagawa in the Satsuma Domain (now Ibusuki city in Kagoshima prefecture). In order to avoid a repeat of the bombardment in Uraga, they immediately sent two of the seven castaways (Shōzō and Jusaburō) to shore, entrusting them with the task of bringing the local officials onboard. About an hour later, they came back with several lower-ranking officials and explained to them why the ship had arrived there. With this knowledge, the officials left several of their subordinates and took two castaways (Shōzō and Iwakichi) to meet with their supervisor, explaining the situation once again. After three or four hours, the two returned to the Morrison with three officials. They said that the supervisor would not allow the crew access to Kagoshima Castle, Satsuma’s capital, but that a detailed report had been sent to the ruler of the feudal domain, so they might be coming back to the ship to receive the castaways. This gave hope to King and his companions, with the seven Japanese finally believing that they could once again see their friends and families

Fig. 10 Nautical Chart around Kagosima (Kagoshima)

しかし8月12日の朝、キングたちは沿岸部の行動を警戒し始めた。人々は走り回って、沿岸の高台に集って、旗を揚げた。これは7人を迎えるというよりも、対モリソン号の戦闘体勢の方が強く感じられた。一行は浦賀のような砲撃を避けるために、密かに錨を揚げ、退去する準備を整えた。間も無く大砲が発砲され、彼らが敵意を持っていることが明らかになったのである。幸いなことに、砲弾は全部当たらず、モリソン号は無事に退去できた。これを受けて、キングたちは7人に長崎へもう一度試みようと提案したが、二回の砲撃を経て、彼らは幕府への信頼感を完全に失った。そしてお互いに相談した結果、彼らは全員が外国で余生を過ごすことを決意した。特に 7人うちの3人は過去と決別するように髪を坊主頭に剃り落としたという。その後、彼らはキングたちと共にマカオに戻った。

However, on the morning of 12 th August, suspicious mobilisation was observed on the land. People were running about and gathering on high ground at the coast, flying a flag. They were evidently preparing to battle against the Morrison, rather than to welcome the castaways. In order to avoid another attack the crew secretly raised the anchor and prepared to retreat. Soon the canons started shooting, and it became clear that the inhabitants were hostile. Luckily, all the shots misfired and the Morrison departed safely. King then suggested that the seven castaways should try again in Nagasaki, but the two bombardments made them lose all trust in the shogunate. After some deliberation, they all decided to live out their days in foreign lands. Three of the seven are said to have shaved their heads as a symbol of their particularly strong intent to part with the past. They went back to Macao with King and his companions 87

日本の開国に向けてモリソン号事件は江戸時代における数多の漂流民送還事件において、特に日本開国に及ぼした影響が大きい。モリソン号の来航は翌年の1 8 3 8 年に、オランダ人によって日本人漂流民送還という目的を持っていたことが幕府に報告された。しかし幕府側は引き続き従来の対外方針を維持し、外国船が漂流民送還のために来航したとしても、「異国船打払令」に従い、国を守るために外国船を追い払うべきという意見が主流であった。それに対して、蘭学者の高野長英と渡辺華山は『戊戌夢物語』（ Bojū yume monogatari）と『慎機論』（ Shinki-ron）を書いて幕府の鎖国政策を批判したが、結局に幕府によって捕らえられて投獄された。これは「蛮社の獄」というのちに日本開国に大きな影響を及ぼした事件である。そして1842年、マカオに滞在している漂流民の庄蔵と寿三郎は S・W・ウィリアムズの協力を得て、オランダ出島商館 (Fig. 11) を通じて、7人の遭難からモリソン号事件までの経緯を書いた手紙を日本に送ることができた。その結果、幕府は過去の態度を一転し、1840年に中国とイギリスの間に起きたアヘン戦争の影響も踏まえ、1843年に従来の「異国船打払令」を緩和し、「薪水給与令」という遭難した外国船に対して薪や水などの物資を与えることを認めた。このような西洋人に対する緩和政策はやがてのちの開国に繋がった。

Towards the Opening of Japan Although multiple foreign ships tried to help Japanese castaways back home during the Edo period, the Morrison incident had a particularly strong influence on the opening of Japan to the world. The following year, in 1838, the shogunate was informed by the Dutch that Morrison’s aim was to repatriate Japanese castaways. Nevertheless, it continued the strict foreign policy, upholding that even such ships were subject to the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels. The mainstream opinion was that foreigners should be kept away in order to protect the country. Some did, however, oppose this belief; the Rangaku scholars Takano Chōei and Watanabe Kazan wrote Bojutsu yume monogatari (The Tale of a Dream) and Shinki-ron (Exercising Restraint over Auguries), criticising the sakoku policy. They were, however, eventually seized by the shogunate and imprisoned. This event, known as the ‘Bansha no goku’ (‘indictment of the society for western study’), also significantly contributed to the opening of Japan. In 1842, Shōzō and Jusaburō, who were staying in Macao, were able to send letters to Japan (with the help of S. W. Williams) through the Dejima Dutch Trading Post (Fig. 11), in which they described the hardships that the castaways endured and the Morrison incident as a whole. As a result – within the context of the 1840

Opium War between China and Britain – the shogunate revised its stance, easing the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels in 1843 and issuing an Order for the Provision of Firewood and Water, which allowed foreign shipwrecked vessels to be given resources. Such mitigation measures regarding Westerners eventually led to the opening of the country. 一方、モリソン号事件の当事者であるウィリアムズは事件後 7 名漂流民うちの庄蔵と寿三郎を彼の印刷所に受け入れ、彼らから日本語を学びながら、『創世記』（ Sōseiki, Genesis）と『マタイ福音書』（ Matai fukuinsho, Gospel of Matthew）を和訳した。また1844年までの間に、ウィリアムズはギュツラフに引き続きマカオに送られた日本人漂流民を受け入れ、モリソン号事件の経験から、直接送還せずに中国人やオランダ人を通じて彼らを長崎まで送還するようになった。そして1846年から1848年の間に、ウィリアムズは一時アメリカに帰国し、そこで彼の日本との関係が一部の好事家によって広がり、1840年代において唯一日本語を習熟していたアメリカ人として認められた。そのため、彼は1853 年にペリー提督（Matthew C. Perry, 17941 8 5 8 ）に日本遠征の首席通訳官として雇われ、「神奈川条約」の締結に大きな役割を果たし、日本開国を行わせることに成功した。

On a related note, Williams, who participated in the Morrison incident, accepted two of the castaways – Shōzō and Jusaburō – into his printing office, learned their language, and translated Genesis and the Gospel of Matthew into Japanese. He also followed Gützlaff ’s footsteps and until 1844 hosted Japanese castaways sent to Macao, helping them return to Japan. However, having learned from the Morrison incident, he did not try to do so in person, but sent them to Nagasaki with the Chinese and the Dutch instead. He returned to the US temporarily between 1846 and 1848, where a number of enthusiasts spread the word about his connections with Japan, which led to him being generally acknowledged in the 1840s as the only American who had mastered the Japanese language. As a result, in 1853 he was hired by Matthew C. Perry (1794– 1858) to be the main interpreter on the commodore’s expedition to Japan, and played a huge role in the signing of the Convention of Kanagawa, successfully opening the country.

Fig. 11 Anonymous, The Trading Post at Dejima, c. 1840, ink on silk and paper, 15 x 113 cm, Rijksmuseum

モリソン号事件は初期日米関係の重要事件として、のちの日本開国に直接・間接に影響を及ぼした一方、この事件の要である漂流民というグループも鎖国期日本人の海外発展と近代日本の対外関係に繋がる。特にアメリカに関して、アメリカ人養子となった万次郎（ 1 8 2 7 - 1 8 9 8 ）はアメリカで教育を受け、帰国後に通訳官・英語教師として幕末明治期日本の対外交渉や英語教育に貢献を果たしたこと、初めてアメリカ市民権を所得したジョセフ・ヒコ（Joseph Heco）と呼ばれた彦蔵（1837-1897）は第14・15・16代アメリカ大統領と会見したことがあって、日本開国後に在日アメリカ大使館の通訳官、また退職後はジャーナリスト、実業家として近代日本の発展に努めたこと、などの例が挙げられる。

It is widely-acknowledged that the Morrison incident marks an important point on the timeline of early Japan– United States relations, as well as the end of Japan’s isolation. Nonetheless, the experiences of the main heroes of this story – the group of castaways – also says a lot about the lives led by Japanese people abroad during the sakoku period, and about the foreign policy of early modern Japan. In regard to the US, a castaway called Banjirō was taken in by an American family (1827–1898) and received education there; afterwards he went back to his country and contributed to forming foreign relations at the end of the Edo era and the beginning of the Meiji period, while also learning English, working as an interpreter, and being an English teacher. Hikozō (1837–1897), who went by the name of Joseph Heco, was the first Japanese person to be naturalised as a US citizen, and personally met with the 14 th , 15 th , and 16 th presidents of the United States. After Japan was opened he worked as an interpreter at the American Embassy in Japan, and during his retirement years he was active as a journalist and businessman, eagerly contributing to the development of early modern Japan. These are just some of the examples of early Japanese experiences abroad that one could raise.

このように、鎖国期日本は鎖国政策をとって、西洋と距離を保つながら国家／政権を守る同時に、外国に漂着した日本人漂流民はその反対側にある日本と西洋の交流を象徴している。特に日本語・洋語と日本知識・西洋知識を身につけた漂流民は日本と西洋の両方のアプローチに助力を与え、鎖国期ないし開国後の日本と世界の繋がりを反映する架け橋となった。

While sakoku-period Japan implemented strict foreign policy and distanced itself from the West to protect the country and its regime, Japanese castaways who drifted off to foreign lands found themselves on the opposite side, symbolising an exchange between Japan and the Western world. Those who spoke Japanese and other languages, and acquainted themselves with both Japanese and Western knowledge, helped the two environments to recognise each other. They became a bridge between Japan and the world, connecting them during the sakoku period and later on.

Fig. 1 Charles Gützlaff, missionary to China in the dress of a Fokein [Fokkien] sailor. (Charles Gützlaff. ‘Frontispiece’, Journal of Three Voyages along the Coast of China in 1831, 1832, & 1833, with Notices of Siam, Corea, & the Loo-choo Islands. 3rd edition. (London: Thomas Ward and Co., [ca 1840]).).

Fig. 2 Japan, the Islands of Loochoo & Formosa, and the Maritime Provinces of China with the tract of the Morrison’s Voyage in 1837. （相良良一、「口絵」、『天保八年米船モリソン号渡来の研究』（東京：野人社、1954年））。

Fig. 3 Gospel of John in Japanese by Gützlaff. (善徳、「標題紙」、『約翰福音之伝』（新嘉坡：堅夏書院蔵版、[ca. 1837]）(新教出版社復刻版（東京：新教出版社、1976年）)。

Fig. 4 Epistles of John in Japanese by Gützlaff. (善徳、「標題紙」、『約翰上中下書』（新嘉坡：堅夏書院蔵版、[ca. 1837]）(新教出版社復刻版（東京：新教出版社、1976年）)。

Fig. 5 Pater Parker, oil by Lamqua. (Edward V. Gulick. ‘Frontispiece’, Peter Parker and the Opening of China. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1973).).

Fig. 6 Samuel Wells Williams. (Frederick Wells Williams. ‘Frontispiece’, The Life and Letter of Samuel Wells Williams, LL.D., Missionary, Diplomatist, Sinologue. (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1889).).

Fig. 7 Nautical Chart around Bay of Yedo (Tokyo). (Charles W. King. Notes of the Voyage of the Morrison from Canton to Japan. (New York: E. French, 1839), p. 1.

Fig. 8 A Copy of ship Morrison’s request (Chinese). （箭内健次編、『通航一覧続輯』第4巻（大阪：清文堂出版社、1972年）、11頁。)。

Fig. 9 A Copy of ship Morrison’s request ( Japanese). （箭内健次編、『通航一覧続輯』第4巻（大阪：清文堂出版社、1972年）、14頁。)。

Fig. 10 Nautical Chart around Kagosima (Kagoshima). (Charles W. King. Notes of the Voyage of the Morrison from Canton to Japan. (New York: E. French, 1839), p. 1).

Suggested Readings Aihara, Ryōichi. Tenpō 8-nen beisen Morison-gō torai no kenkyū. Tōkyō: Yajinsha, 1954. Plummer, Katherine. The Shogun’s Reluctant Ambassadors: Sea Drifters. Tōkyō: Lotus Press, 1984. Webber, Bert. Wrecked Japanese Junks Adrift in the North Pacific Ocean. Fairfield, Wash.: Ye Galleon Press, 1984. Haruna, Tōru. Nippon Ōtokichi hyōryūki. Tōkyō: Chūōkōron-sha, 1988. Aoki, Takeshi. Bakumatsu hyōryō: Nibbei kaikoku hiwa. Tōkyō: Kwade Shobō Shinsha, 2004. Caprio, Mark, and Matsuda, Koichirō (eds). Japan and the Pacific: 1540-1920. Aldershot: Ashgate, Variorum, 2006. Tokunaga, Kazunobu. Kaiyōkokka Satsuma. Kagoshima: Nanpō shinsha, 2011.

推薦図書 Aihara, Ryōichi. 天保8年米船モリソン号渡来の研究. Tokyo: Yajinsha, 1954. Plummer, Katherine. The Shogun’s Reluctant Ambassadors: Sea Drifters. Tokyo: Lotus Press, 1984. Haruna, Tōru. にっぽん音吉漂流記. Tokyo: Chūōkōron-sha, 1988. Aoki, Takeshi. 幕末漂流：日米開国秘話. Tokyo: Kwade Shobō Shinsha, 2004. Caprio, Mark, and Matsuda, Koichirō (eds). Japan and the Pacific: 1540-1920. Aldershot: Ashgate, Variorum, 2006. Tokunaga, Kazunobu. 海洋国家薩摩. Kagoshima: Nanpō sinsha, 2011.

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Fig. 1 Official poster of the 1964 Olympics, designed by Kamekura Yusaku

HISTORY

SPORT

CARRYING FORTH HOPE

THE NARRATIVES OF THE TOKYO OLYMPICS TORCH RELAYS CLÉMENT VEUILLOT

Looking Forward: The 1964 Post-War Olympics Discussing the tangible stakes and effects of the Olympic Games is a rather difficult issue. Official discourses tend to rely on the truisms of economic profit, international influence, and national pride. On one hand, the economic aftermath of an Olympiad is never easy to evaluate, and it has become increasingly obvious that their organisation is hardly profitable anymore. On the other hand, notions of national pride or international influence are tricky terrains to tread, since they mostly belong to the nebulous realm of political discourse. That being said, hindsight provides us with a useful reference point: the historical significance that is attached to a particular Olympiad. Much has already been written about the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. They are today remembered as the year Japan ‘reopened’ itself to the world amid a peaceful era, leaving behind bleak memories of the past. The Games were also the perfect stage to showcase its post-war economic rebound – nowadays commonly referred to as a ‘miracle’ – which propelled the country into a new era of super-modernity: a brand-new Tokyo city centre, international broadcasting of the competition via satellite, and the launching of the famous Shinkansen, to name a few notable examples. As the 2020 Tokyo Olympics finally took place,

it might be of interest to question one of the ways Japan seeks to summon similar winds of change. The ‘Recovery Olympics’, as they’ve been dubbed, may be framed as an event that will allow the country to move past the trauma of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, and let the world know that it is ready to move on from it. In a two-fold exploration of the Japanese Olympiads, I aim to explore the common narratives of hope told through the staging of the Olympic torch relays. This first article focuses on the 1964 relay, and more particularly on the ways in which it came to symbolise the aspirations of post-war Japan. After I have provided a few elements of context for the torch relay, arguing that it can be a vessel for meaning beyond its supposed tradition, we will take a closer look at when the flame landed in Okinawa. When put into context, the welcoming ceremony and the run that followed resonate vibrantly with the complex history of the island. Finally, I will consider the life of an improbable hero: Sakai Yoshinori, the last runner in the 1964 torch relay, also known as the ‘atomic boy’. I will argue that Sakai represented the country’s recovery after the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, and the hope for a brighter future. 99

Ancient Ritual, Modern Style The different steps of the relay are now familiar: the flame is first lit on the ground of Olympia, birthplace of the ancient Greek games, by one of several women acting as Greek priestesses of old. This solemn ceremony is held in the presence of a congregation of representatives from the Olympic institution, as well as national officials. The torch is then handed to the first runner, and will make its way to several locations, often by plane, where runners will pass through cities or major hubs and display the torch to crowds. The last leg of the relay takes place on the territory of the host nation and is usually led entirely on foot. But where does the relay come from? The decorum of the lighting ceremony could make one believe that it is part of the heritage of the ancient Greek games of Olympia, brought back to life by the modern Olympics. This is partially the case, but the current practice finds its origin primarily in more recent times. It evidently takes inspiration from the lampadedromia, torch relays that were held during various events and festivities as religious rituals dedicated to gods. However, there was no such thing as an olympic torch relay during the Greek Games. The idea of a local relay came with the creation of the modern Games in 1894, but the international relay as we know it emerged at the 1936 Berlin

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Olympics. For the first time, a flame was lit up in Olympia and relayed all the way to Germany, where a cauldron was lit, signifying the opening of the Olympiad. These contextual elements suffice to indicate a textbook example of what historian Eric Hobsbawm dubbed an ‘invented tradition’. The point of tradition is to build continuity with past times through the repetition of formalised practice. The substance of these practices, namely the set of values and meanings that are meant to be passed on, is embedded within decorum: a chain of actions, spoken words, costumes, material symbols, etc. Such decorum is supposed to testify to this continuity with the past. However, in the case of an invented tradition, the continuation is largely fictitious. The seemingly immemorial apparatus surrounding it was not passed on through mere continuation, but was rather developed at a later point in time. In other words, it is not as ancient as it might seem. Such is the case, for example, within the British monarchy; many of the ceremonial traditions for which it is now renowned were developed towards the end of the 19th century, though they may appear to be far older. 1

1 Eric Hobsbawm, in Hobsbawm & Ranger (ed.), ‘Introduction: In-

The point here is not to nit-pick at the accuracy or historical validity of the torch relay. Just because that ‘ancient’ ritual is largely invented does not mean that it lacks signification, quite the opposite. In fact, one could argue that it is precisely because it does not hold any particular age-old meaning that attention must be paid to its symbolism, and what it tells us about the present. Anthropologist and Olympic scholar John MacAloon explores the ritual aspect of the relay and elaborates on its potential for meaning. As he notes, fire is a primal human symbol, and a universal one, which implies that it could stand for numerous ideas and narratives, making them each shine with sacred gravitas. 2 Incidentally, in Japanese the flame is referred to as seika (聖火), the ‘sacred flame’. The relay is furthermore a literal rite of passage, containing pure drama; a human chain transporting a fragile flame from one point of the Earth to the other, engaging all those who witness it. In short, the torch is not just a metaphorical key that opens the Games. It is rather a blank canvas for narratives, and the general absence of official meaning makes the Olympic flame a particularly open signifier. 3

venting Traditions’, in The Invention of Tradition, Cambridge University Press, 1983, 1-14. 2 John J. MacAloon, ‘Introduction: The

Olympic

Flame

Relay.

Local

Knowledges of a Global Ritual Form’, in Sport in Society, no.5, 2012, 583585. 3 This last point must be nuanced in the case of the 2021 Olympics, where an official exegesis is provided and will be discussed in an upcoming part.

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The Okinawa Landing Having established the subject matter, let us now return to 1964. After the lighting ceremony took place in Greece on the 21 st August, the flame travelled through twelve countries. It most notably crossed several cities that were once under Japan’s colonial rule, such as Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Manilla, HongKong, and Taipei, among others. It then landed at Naha Airport, Okinawa, on 7 th September. Let’s provide some historical context in order to understand the significance behind the Okinawa leg of the relay. After the end of World War II, Japan was placed under US occupation until 1952, when it regained its political independence. However, the Ryūkyū Islands, a small archipelago between the islands of Kyūshū and Taiwan to which Okinawa belongs, remained under US

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territorial, administrative, and political control. The 1960s were a troubled time for Okinawa. Local protests against American rule led to tensions and incidents, which did nothing to ease the already tense diplomatic dialogue between Tokyo and Washington on the matter of sovereignty over these islands. Consequently, when Tokyo was chosen as the Olympic capital, the idea of a relay transiting through Okinawa quickly emerged. The idea was confirmed by decree of the Japanese Olympic Committee ( JOC) in 1962; the Japanese leg of the relay was to go through every prefecture, and Okinawa would not only be included, but would be its first step.

The Olympic Games are officially apolitical, although that statement is very much a matter for debate since their history is riddled with supposedly apolitical moments that had decidedly political implications. It is unclear whether integrating Okinawa as part of the relay was a way for Japan to subtly lay claim over that insular territory, but it certainly could not have been a thoughtless move. When he met with US Secretary of State Christian Herter and US ambassador Edwin O. Reischauer in 1961, Minister of Foreign Affairs Kosaka Zentarō stated that Japan had no ambitions of sovereignty over the Ryūkyū islands. In reality, when the flame landed in Naha, the welcoming events left little to the imagination. During the welcoming ceremony held at Onoyama Stadium, the national anthem of Japan, Kimigayo, was played and the Japanese flag, Hinomaru, was hoisted. It is useful to clarify that at the time, displaying the Hinomaru and playing the national anthem were forbidden on Okinawan soil, since they were perceived by the Occupation Forces as subversive, anti-US acts. On that special day, though, they were tolerated, not to mention the uncanny similarity between the Hinomaru and the official emblem of the 1964 Olympics, which was present everywhere the flame went. During the ceremony, Nagamine Akio, President of the Legislative Government of the Ryūkyū Islands, insisted on the sig-

nificance of the flame landing in Okinawa, where World War II ended, as a symbol of hope for world peace. By that he was referring to the Allies’ campaign on Okinawa, which led to the last major battle of the war. President of the JOC Yosano Shigeru, who was also present at the ceremony, declared that although it could not be said that Japan and Okinawa were united, Okinawa was both the first step of the torch relay on Japanese territory and the last step of the international relay. One can assume that Yosano was obliged to present the event in such a convoluted and diplomatic way, but it clearly did not hinder the collective sentiment of unity that prevailed. The flame travelled south towards Nago, where another celebration was held, and Okinawans cheered for the torch bearers and waved the Hinomaru along the way. It passed by former battlegrounds of the Battle of Okinawa, as well as the Himeyuri memorial that commemorates the deaths of the medical unit of Himeyuri students. According to reports, a group of children waving Japanese flags and women holding portraits of their fallen husbands greeted the relay in front of that memorial. The day after, an article in the Okinawa Times covering the event wrote that the flame had been passed on ‘to the Japanese by the hand of the Japanese living under occupation of the American army’.

Fig. 2 The Flame Relay in Naha

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In short, the Okinawa leg of the 1964 Olympic relay was highly symbolic, as it represented both the opportunity to collectively ease the traumas of the war, and the hope for national reunion between the islands and the mainland. It is easy to imagine how Okinawans, who by then had already succumbed to a feeling of abandonment after all the lives given for Japan during the war, could have entertained such hopes for the future. Okinawa was only returned to Japan in 1972, as we know. A flame dancing on the tip of a torch, even an Olympic one, could not have been the

Fig. 3 Sakai Yoshinori after he lit the cauldron

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decisive factor for that reversion. Yet, it does not seem too much of a stretch to view the event as one of the first instances of Japan claiming sovereignty over the estranged islands. Once again, the supposedly apolitical Games make a convenient frame for subtle political expression. The landing of the flame is a detail of the complex modern history of Okinawa, which still entertains its lot of grievances against Japan. But that is another story. 4

Sakai Yoshinori, the Unlikely Hero Before leaving Okinawa, the flame was separated into four different torches. Two of them landed in Kagoshima, and the other two in Hokkaido. These four different relays could thus cover every prefecture in Japan. The flames reached Tokyo on 9 th October, finally being united in one cauldron during a ceremony in front of the Imperial Palace. The next day, it reached the last torch bearer, Sakai Yoshinori. Here is a name that is hard to overlook when it comes to the first Japanese Olympics. The reason is that Sakai was born on 6 th August 1945, on the fateful day when nuclear fire rained upon Hiroshima. Because he survived, standing strong and full of life, he came to represent Japan rising up from destruction, as well as hope for a new era of peace. Even today, this symbol that he came to embody is indissociable from the Games in collective memory. Yet on taking a closer look, the story is more intriguing. The nineteen-year-old Waseda student undertook the trial runs to represent Japan in track and field events, and with decent results, but ultimately was not selected. From this point on, the precise sequence of events leading to his selection as final torchbearer of the relay is unclear. It seems that his performance, while insufficient to make

4 See for example, https://www. japantimes.co.jp/news/2014/01/28/ national/olympics-a-mixed-bag-forokinawans/ 5 Organizing Committee for the Games of the XVIII Olympiad, Official Report, Vol.1, p.245.

it into the national team, did not go unnoticed, and that the Japanese Olympic Committee took an interest in him. According to Sakai himself, journalists who presumably heard of this through rumours in informed places took his picture in front of the National Stadium as he was visiting Tokyo. The day after, the newspapers told the story of the ‘Atomic boy’ (genbakko 原爆子), the young man who survived the Hiroshima bombing. The news made a sensation, and his selection was later officially sanctioned by the Committee. Few sources can clearly establish the truth as to whether the press influenced or merely anticipated the decision. His age was clearly one of the reasons behind his selection. Indeed, the torch bearers were chosen amongst young people between sixteen and twenty years of age. According to the official report, this was decided so that these runners would represent a generation that hadn’t experienced war times. And, as we can safely assume, it implied that they could not bear any sort of responsibility towards the past. 5

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What is intriguing is that the story of the final torch bearer was somewhat stretched. As a matter of fact, Sakai was born in Miyoshi, a town located in the prefecture of Hiroshima, around 70 kilometers (43 miles) to the north-east of Hiroshima city. Such makes his survival of the bombing much less miraculous, but this did not seem to matter much to the press at that point, nor in today’s collective memory for that matter. One could say it would have spoiled the symbol. An example of the legacy that Sakai left is found in the words of famous novelist Ogawa Yōko, who wrote

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an article for The New York Times in June of 2020. As she poetically pens, ‘this young man born of unprecedented, total destruction […] embodied purity, a sense of balance and an overwhelming youthfulness’. She also notes that his selection was political without a doubt, but that ‘there was no questioning the hopeful life force personified by this young man from Hiroshima’. 6 In other words, the pragmatic details of the story mean very little next to the powerful hope that Sakai embodied that day. He became an improbable hero by virtue of his date and place of birth.

6 Ogawa, Yōko, ‘How We Retain the

Throughout the existence of the Olympic Games, many tales have been told through sports gestures that represented a nation, a generation. Let us venture into an analogy with Jesse Owens, another track and field runner. During the ‘disfigured Games’ of Berlin in 1936, he made history by winning four gold medals and breaking a world record. He also made history because he was an African American champion at the Nazi-run games. Very quickly, the story became that of a young man who, through brilliant sporting feats, delivered a slap in the face for fascism. Somewhat similar to Sakai’s embodiment of post-war hope for his nation, Owens was a vector for the voice of America and democracy as a whole. This is what Mike Milford, in line with language theorist Kenneth Burke, calls ‘consubstantiality’: the fact that Owens came to embody a group of people, with ideas and aspirations much larger than himself. In reality, however, the details are less clear-cut. The legend was exaggerated, taken over by the media, and changed several times even by Owens himself. He later said that he experienced less racism in the capital of fascism than he did back home in America, and that Hitler himself saluted his victory, whereas he never received any word of congratulations from Franklin Roosevelt. However, it does seem that the tale becomes more powerful than the facts in the end.

Fig. 4 Jesse Owens after receiving the long jump gold medal with Luz Long and Tajima Naoto

Memory of Japan’s Atomic Bombings’, in The New York Times, August 8, 2020. 7 Igarashi Yoshikuni, Bodies of Memory: Narratives of War in Postwar Japanese Culture, 1945-1970, Princeton, N.J., Princeton University Press, 2000, 155-162.

Going back to 1964, let us consider the ‘witches of the orient’, the Japanese women’s volleyball team at the Olympics. These young women started playing as members of factory teams, during breaks and days-off, and formed a team in 1954. They worked their way to become Japan’s national team, won medals in international competitions, and became world champions in 1962 in Moscow. Their catchy, if rather misogynistic and orientalist, moniker came from Western media, and was then adopted in Japan. They not only made history by winning the gold medal at the 1964 Olympics, but their socio-economical background made them into working class heroines, symbolic of the capital role the textile industry played in the economic recovery of post-war Japan. According to historian Igarashi Yoshikuni, the Spartan-like training regimen of Daimatsu Hirobumi – the ‘demon coach’ as he was fittingly nicknamed– played a role in their popularity. Their bruised and traumatised bodies were a reminder of the hardships and suffering of the war days. But in their case, the pain was sublimated by their ultimate victory, inducing ‘nostalgia for bodies in pain’, as Igarashi puts it: the drama of fighting and enduring became an object of fond memories. 7 Heroism, then, applies here to people who, in one way or another, embodied hope. 107

Fig. 5 The ‘Witches of the Orient’ and their ‘Demon Coach’

Carrying Forth Hope As illustrated throughout this article, the Olympic torch relay is much more than a race vaguely reminiscent of an ancient ritual. It contains symbolic power that blossoms through the meaning collectively instilled within it. In the case of 1964 Japan, it clearly stood for the hope of brighter days after the storm of war. On a deeper level, it is interesting to see how differing hopes could be placed in that one rushing, flickering flame. For the people of Okinawa, it meant national unification with the mainland for which they bled. For Japan more broadly, it meant healing from the devastation of war and nuclear fire, a country rising up from the ashes by Sakai Yoshinori’s hand. Much more could be said on the parallel narratives that this article has tried to establish. Going back briefly to the 108

Berlin Games of 1936, for instance, the symbolic use of fire, as well as the relay serving as a link with ancient Greece, are salient elements of fascist imagery. The ideological use of Olympic decorum in that historical context could be discussed at length. For a more pleasant example, one could turn back to Cathy Freeman, the last torch bearer at the 2000 Games of Sydney. As an Aboriginal woman, she carried with her the hope for broader representation and consideration for her people, at a time where Australia had to come to terms with the way it had treated them in the past. And let us not forget the controversy that surrounded the 2008 relay, when China hosted the Games. For the host, it was a way of presenting itself as a legitimate superpower to be reckoned with, as well as to exorcise the ghosts of Tiananmen.

For a large portion of international observers, those pretentions were causes for outrage, and the disturbances experienced by the runners of the relay – Chinese or otherwise – proved that the relay was not merely a sporting affair. Let us conclude with a few words from Ogawa Yōko. As she writes, the hope that Sakai Yoshinori personified was also that of a nuclear-free world, which, as we know, remains unrealised. The fact that the 2020 torch relay narrative was intended from the start to be linked yet again to nuclear disaster seems ironic and bittersweet. Sakai passed away in 2014, leaving us with a poetic legacy that lives on. The question now is, has the hopeful symbol been carried on through to the end of the 2021 relay?

Suggested Readings Igarashi, Yoshikuni. Bodies of Memory: Narratives of War in Postwar Japanese Culture, 1945-1970. Princeton, N.J, Princeton University Press, 2000. MacAloon, John J. ‘Introduction: the Olympic Flame Relay. Local knowledges of a global ritual form’ in Sport in Society 15, no. 5, 2012, 575-594. Milford, Mike, ‘The Olympics, Jesse Owens, Burke, and the Implications of Media Framing in Symbolic Boasting.’ in Kim Bissell e t Stephen D. Perry (ed.), The Olympics, Media and Society, Routledge, 2015, 5-25. The Organizing Committee for the Games of the XVIIIth Olympiad, The Games of the XVIII Olympiad. Tokyo 1964: The Official Report of the Organizing Committee, Vol. 1 & 2, 1968.

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Fig. 1 ‘Tokyo Monogatari’ 1953, Yasujirō Ozu. The Japanese director cleverly foresaw the problem created by the departure of adults from their birthplaces, leaving their parents without appropriate 110 care.

SOCIOLOGY

ANTHROPOLOGY

BETWEEN FAMILY AND STATE CHANGES IN JAPAN’S AGEING AND ELDERLY CARE SA MI R A H ÜS L ER

Demographic Challenges of Japan Japan is facing a drastic demographic change due to a simultaneously shrinking and ageing population. The number of elderly people aged 65 and over is gradually increasing, having already exceeded 25% of the Japanese population by 2016. This phenomenon does not only concern the health care sector or the everyday life of elderly people, but also raises socioeconomic and gender issues. To provide a good overview of the current situation, this topic is divided into four subchapters. Each of the chapters will deal with a different social issue or change, starting with the need for caregivers, followed by fundamental changes within elderly care, the influence on gender roles and, finally, the rise of alternative ideas in the care sector.

The State as Caregiver Prior to the establishment of a welfare state, family members and local communities provided most of the social support for the elderly population. In the case of Japan, a holistic approach to elderly care hardly existed until the 1960s/70s, when universal public pensions and health insurance were introduced, and hospital costs of the over-70s began being covered by state resources. 1&2 Technically, the very first state-legislated support for elderly and sick people was established in 1874. 3 However, the social systems of the post-war period were not adapted to the living conditions of the elderly, who were becoming increasingly dependent on long-term care. These structural gaps led to the phenomenon of shakaiteki nyūin (social hospitalisation, which

1 Creighton Campbell, and Naoki Ikegami, ‘Long-term Care Insurance Comes to Japan’, Health Affairs 19, no. 3 (2000): 26-39. 2 Fumio Shibata, ‘Nihon no kaigo hōkenseido no shomondai: Hōkenseido no jizoku kanōsei to chiiki hōkatsu kea no shomondai (Kawakita Yasuyuki kyōju teinen o taishoku kinen-gō)’, Sendai hōgaku, 51, no. 3/4 (2018): 261-280. 3 Pushkar Singh Raikohla and Yasuhiro Kuroki. ‘Aging and Elderly Care Practice in Japan: Main Issues, Policy

and

Program

Perspective;

What Lessons Can Be Learned from Japanese

Experiences’,

Dhaulagiri

Journal of Sociology and Anthropology 3 (2010): 41-82.

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describes a hospitalisation necessitated by the patient’s social circumstances rather than their state of health), an increasing and ongoing shortage of caregivers, rising incidents of abuse, overworked caregivers (in both formal and informal sectors), and funding problems. By the end of the 1980s, politicians eventually acknowledged these issues. To further adapt and improve the existing health and nursing care systems, the Gold Plan was introduced in 1989, and was followed by the New Gold Plan in 1994. Among other measures, these plans included, in theory, an increase in care workers and care beds as well as an improvement of services, particularly in ambulatory care. Although both policies addressed some of the social grievances, the measures were insufficient and the kaigo hoken

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(Long-Term Care Insurance, or LTCI) was eventually introduced in 2000. 1 Since its introduction, the patients bear 10% of the costs, in a scheme reminiscent of the German long-term care insurance established in 1995. Even though the LTCI has been steadily improved, problems still remain, such as the shortage of care workers, the lack of a standardised assessment system, cost issues (e.g., for socio-economically weaker sections of the population) and, above all, questions over the sustainability of the system itself. 2 Certainly, the insurance model for elderly care as well as the very nature of the care system has to be improved further. Nevertheless, the existing framework is a good starting point for such improvement, providing both familial and external systems of social security.

1 Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare ( Japan); illustration adopted from Reuters by J. Wang 2016. 2 Behrooz Asgari, Peter Pickar and Victoria Garay, ‘Karoshi and Karou-jisatsu in Japan: Causes, Statistics and Prevention Mechanisms,’ Asia Pacific Business & Economics Perspectives 4, No. 2 (2016): 49-72.

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The Gap between Informal Caregivers and Care Receivers The change within the family institution in Japan did not start with the introduction of the aforementioned welfare state – it should be noted that family structures in Japan were not and are not homogeneous and that the described family model rather refers to an ideal archetype. In fact, urbanisation, increasing individualism, as well as changing working patterns promoted a shift from multi-generational households towards nuclear families and single households. 4 The emancipation of women and changing gender roles also played an important role, which will be addressed in more detail in the next article. Within the structure of a so-called patrilineal and patrilocal society, the ie seido, the responsibility of care used to fall to the firstborn son and, therefore, to his wife - the

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daughter-in-law. This fundamental principle of care was, in theory, based on a notion of reciprocity. Following this ‘traditional’ family structure, the firstborn son inherited the family estate, and in return he was expected to take care of his parents when they grew older. Consequently, once the daughter-in-law married into the household, she was required to submit to her mother-in-law. The mother-in-law helped her settle in and supported her with child-rearing, and the daughter-in-law would take on the duty of elderly care. In literature on the subject, this reciprocity between

Liping

Shi,

‘Continuities

and

Changes in Parent-child Relationships

mother and daughter-in-law is often questioned, described as an asymmetrical master-servant relationship. Hence, one could describe caregiving within the family home as an interplay between patrilineal duties and the tense relationship between mother and daughter-in-law. With the overall social change, however, adults no longer lived in the immediate proximity of their parents or their parents-in-law and, thereby, naturally withdrew from certain traditional conventions of care. Thus, while in 1960 more than 80% of elderly parents still lived with their children, by 2000 this percentage had dropped to under 50% and has remained at this rate ever since. Based on this data, it can therefore be assumed that the willingness of the average citizen to provide full-time care has been continuously decreasing. 5 Nevertheless, the preference for one’s own children as caregivers remains. 6

and

Kinship

Postwar

Japan:

Examining Bilateral Hypotheses by Analyzing the National Family Survey (NFRJ-S01)’, GEMC Journal 2 (2010): 48-67. 5 Reiko Yamato, ‘Changing Attitudes towards

Elderly

Dependence

Postwar Japan’, Sage Journals. 54, no. 2 (2006): 273-291. 6 Kathryn Elliott and Ruth Campbell, ‘Changing Ideas about Family Care for the Elderly in Japan’, Journal of Cross-Cultural Gerontology 8, no.2 (1993): 119–135.

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Regionally, these social transitions took place at different rates. For instance, the hierarchy and social order within rural households stayed faithful to traditional for much longer. As Okada, – late professor of sociology and social anthropology at the former Tokyo University of Education – stated, this is in part due to insufficient social insurance, which left family members dependent on each other. 7 Therefore it cannot be overlooked that, if the financial circumstances allow it, the preference for formal care increases considerably. Thus, the form of care provided is not only linked to social obligation but also to the financial position of the care recipient and their family. Furthermore, the decreased willingness of younger family members to provide care is likely due not only to the emergence of the nuclear family, new working conditions or increased spatial distances between related families, but also to the rising duration and intensity of nursing care brought about by an increasing life expectancy. It is worth noting that the proportion of over-65s did not exceed 5% of the population until after the 1950s. During this period, the number of elderly people in need of care was not only lower, but also the duration of care significantly shorter. Meanwhile, seniors made up around 27% of the population in 2016 and will account for more than a third by 2035. In addition to the already extended duration of care, the number of geriatric diseases (e.g., Alzheimer’s, dementia, Parkinson’s) is also increasing, thereby overburdening formal and informal caregivers. This has led to an increase in ambulatory care and the emergence of combined care models – long-term care that may be customised according to individual preferences and needs. For instance, the burden on family caregivers can be eased by a partial 116

use of day care services for the elderly. The interplay between care recipients and care providers seems to promote a greater innovation landscape and will eventually engender a new social field of care, thereby influencing the perception of care responsibilities.

The Elderly Care: An Ongoing Challenge In summary, it can be said that until after the post-war period, elderly care had been the responsibility of relatives. As a result of urbanisation and foreign influence, household structures later evolved towards nuclear families and responsibility for the elderly was gradually handed over to the state. According to sources involved with elderly care, the preference for care provided by biological children remains, despite the social changes described above, as well as an optimised welfare state and rising geriatric diseases. That being said, it must be taken into account that, given these new social settings, the younger generations are less willing to care full time for their relatives. However, the decisive aspect, quite apart from individual preferences, is still financial in nature. The result has been an evolving integration of both formal and informal care. Whether this will change the perception of care responsibilities in the coming years remains to be seen.

7 Yuzuru Okada, ‘Kinship Organization in Japan’, American Sociological Association 26, no. 1 (1952): 27-31.

Suggested Reading Ueno, Chizuko. Kea no shakaigaku. Tokyo: Oōta Shuppan, 2010. 117

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ILLUSTRATED SHORT STORY

VISITORS AT THE SHRINE A U T H O R : DAWA LAMA I L LU S T R ATO R : ENRICO BACH MANN

ariko is well aware that this will be the last time she walks up these stairs for a while. It’s been a couple of weeks since her company decided to transfer her to another city and tomor-row, she will board the shinkansen that takes her all the way up to Yokohama. Almost all of her friends moved to Tokyo right after graduating from university. Now they are scattered throughout Japan, while she is the only one left in Kyoto. Mariko’s parents have been strug-gling with the idea of her moving ever since she first broke the news to them. The stony stairs are covered with moss and on either side red lanterns give off a sombre light. Cicadas hidden by the thicket are chirping and the wind softly rustles through the leaves of the forest. The local shrine has been in her family’s hands for over three generations. At the top of the stairs, Mariko walks through the vermillion torī, the Shinto gate, and along the trail, straight to-wards the building. An older lady crosses path with her. Kento-san has been a regular visitor here for many years, even when Mariko’s grandfather oversaw tending to the shrine and its grounds. Mariko politely bows and greets her. The old woman nods with a smile. ‘The foxes seem to be in distress, don’t you think?’ she whispers. Without another word, she heads for the stairs, leaving a perplexed Mariko behind. ‘The foxes? What does she mean?’ Suddenly, the wind rises, cold and sharp, whipping against the shrine. She tightens her jacket, pulling it up to cover her mouth. The cicadas have quietened down. The shrine’s doors are wide open, the big bell sparkling above the entrance with its thick white rope hanging down. A stone statue of a fox sits on each side of the shrine, a piece of red cloth wrapped around the neck of each. As a child, Mariko used to love petting them, checking that their cloths had not fallen off. Her father always told her how important it was to show respect to the fox spirits who reside in and around the shrine. It’s one of her fondest 119

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memories. He had always been a strict father. But in those brief moments, sitting on the stairs in front of the shrine with his daughter, teaching her about the fox spirits, called kitsune, and telling their stories, his other-wise stern face would change to a kind one, even hinting a smile. The first time he told his daughter about the fox spirits, she listened closely, her eyes glisten-ing with curiosity. Fox spirits are associated with Inari, the deity of prosperity, food and wellbeing. They serve as protectors of the shrine and locals, warding off malevolent energy and beings. Many stories depict them as shape shifters, usually taking on the form of young, beautiful women. However, they have also been known to appear as old men. Accord-ing to some written accounts, they can turn into other living beings, but prefer that of a human form. In contrast to the mainly benevolent depictions of kitsune, some tales also describe them as tricksters, likely to fool self-serving people. Mariko’s family has been in charge of this smaller inari shrine for a long time now. Thus, it was of great importance to her father that his daughter knew about its history. It is traditional for the head of the family to write reports each day of any occurrences at the shrine. Her mother once told Mariko that the report collection contains kitsune sightings, and that these stories were often linked to prosperity for the family and for locals in the area. One or two reports even state that the deity Inari showed itself in the form of a beautiful woman dressed in white and red, walking through the grounds of the shrine, accompanied by two white foxes.

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She wore her black, silken hair long, her skin pale but lovely. Her movements were subtle but quick; graceful but determined. Mariko sits on the stairs and her gaze wanders the compound, taking in its stunning view. Only a couple of miles down the mountain road, the hassle of urban life gives way to the rich greenery of the forest. The shrine’s colour breaks up the naturally idyllic atmosphere and gives it the feel of something out of a dream. As she sits there, reminiscing about her child-hood, she suddenly remembers something that seemed long forgotten. Warm feelings push aside her troubles, and her mind is taken back to a hot summer day in the year she turned twelve years old, when she had just returned home from school. Mariko was strolling through the forest surrounding the shrine, when suddenly the ringing of the shrine’s bell reached her. She stopped to look around. Something was moving closely through the thicket. She didn’t feel afraid, but crouched down, her eyes attentively searching for the source of the rustling. After a few minutes, a black snout pushed through the leaves. Before Mariko stood a white fox, its emerald eyes focused curiously on her. She extended her hand and without a second thought, it walked up to her, calmly sniffing her palm and then licking it. Its tongue was warm and wet, leaving a tickling sensation. She laughed, quietly, so as not to startle it. For a while longer, they just looked at each other, eyes locked. After another few moments, it turned around and disappeared into the thicket. 122

Mariko never told anyone about that incident. As something for her to hold on to, she kept it a secret. From that day forth, she would see glimpses of white flashing up in the forest from time to time. However, she was never approached so closely again. While thinking about this short encounter, her father appears from within the shrine. Seem-ingly surprised to find his daughter sitting there, he joins her, his eyes filled with relief. They sit there in silence for a minute, when he asks out of the blue, ‘You know that I’m very proud of you, Mariko, right?’ She is stunned. They never talk about these things. She hesitatingly nods. ‘Your mother is too, you know. Of course, we knew you wouldn’t stay with us to take over the shrine. There was just always this small, never wavering hope that maybe you’d change your mind’ he pauses. As the sun sets, the sky turns relentlessly darker. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve ever met one of the fox spirits, but I know that they know you. You are part of our family, and our family has been taking care of these grounds for so long now’ he continues. Mariko just listens. Before his eyes, he sees his daughter as the little girl sitting on the stairs again, just like that time, when he first told her about the kitsune. ‘The atmosphere has changed lately and I don’t feel their presence as strongly anymore. I fear they know that one of us is leaving for good and that worries them’. His face is overcome with the look of sorrow. Mariko reaches out for his hand, pressing it softly, comfortingly. Early the next morning,

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Mariko is the first to get up. Quietly, she pushes the sliding doors open to peek into her parents’ bedroom. They are nestled in their futons, still sleeping sound-ly. ‘Good’, she thinks and puts on the robes her father made for her a couple of years ago. He had eagerly waited for her to wear them all that time, in case she took part in festivals and ceremonies. Mariko steps outside and walks uphill through the garden, mist from last night still lingering in the forest. She begins sweeping the ground, then slides open the shrine’s doors and prepares the daily offerings. It all comes very naturally to her, as Mariko got up every day to do these chores when she was younger. At some point, she felt it was embarrass-ing and more of a hassle to help her parents, when she could be hanging out with her school friends instead, spending time at the local game centre or getting a soda and melon pan from the convenience store. Mariko feels nostalgic, and stops for a while, watching over the grounds before her. The shrine looks as beautiful as always, the colours shining brightly. Chirping birds gradually liven up the forest. She takes a deep breath of the cold morning air, and then notices movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head and looks to the front of the shrine. It’s rather early for visitors, but there is someone standing there, dressed completely in white, apart from little details of red. Mariko steps into the back room of the shrine to put away the cleaning utensils, planning on greeting the early morning visitor. When she returns, however, the person is gone. Mariko walks down the stairs, her eyes searching. She turns around, faces the altar with the offerings and puts her palms together. She whispers prayers, keeping her eyes closed. Thoughts about the upcoming changes in her life and in her parents’ lives cross her mind. With all her heart, she wishes for her parents to stay healthy, be happy and find peace with it all. But even more so, Mariko hopes she will be able to forgive herself for leaving her parents and her home.

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When she opens her eyes, reaching for the rope to ring the bell, she realises the visitor is back, standing right next to her. It’s a woman, her face partly covered by a hood. She looks up, showing her face to Mariko. Her dark eyes are filled with warmth and the long black hair frames a delicate face. She is very beautiful. Something about her puts Mariko completely at ease. The woman’s gaze moves over to the altar, while she mouths inaudible words. Mariko watches her, mesmerised, when she suddenly feels a push on her leg. A small, white fox is pressing its nose softly against her. Surprised, she squats down to look at it. Mariko smiles, overcome by a feeling of pleasant familiarity with the creature before her. It nudges her hand as well, before turning around to follow the woman, who’s headed for the stairs leading away from the shrine. For a moment, she stops to look back at Mariko one last time. Then she walks down the stairs and disappears into the forest. The fox sits at the top of the stairs for a while longer. Their eyes remain locked, until finally it decides to follow its master into the forest and vanishes into the thicket. The young woman is left by herself. As the day grows brighter, the sun rising on the horizon, Mariko finishes her prayers and returns to the family house with a lighter heart.

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What’s in a Name? Utagawa Hiroshige III and the Art of Reinventing Oneself Fig. 1 © Welcome Collection Fig. 2 © National Diet Library Digital Collections Fig. 3 Photograph ©️ Museum of Fine Arts, Boston Fig. 4 © The Art Institute of Chicago Fig. 5-6 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Japanese Castaways and the Development of Early Japan–United States Relations: The Morrison Incident of 1837 Fig. 1-4, 6-10 © 同志社大学今出川図書館蔵 Fig. 5 © 関西大学総合図書館蔵

Carrying Forth Hope: The Narratives of the Tokyo Olympics Torch Relays Fig. 1 © Nippon Design Cente Fig. 2 © The Sankei News Fig. 3, 5 © The Japan Times Fig. 4 © News Museum

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Chief editor Managing editors

Luigi ZENI, Switzerland Aurel BAELE, Belgium Marty BORSOTTI, Japan

Translator Copy editors

Amelia LIPKO, Switzerland Julian BENTHAM, United Kingdom Penelope BENTHAM, United Kingdom Tim BENTHAM, United Kingdom

Graphic designer

Riccardo LOPES, Switzerland

Web developer

Paola CITTERIO, Switzerland

Social media manager Digital marketing manager Illustrator Contributors

Manuel Jose FLORES AGUILAR, Japan Giovanni BALDI, Italy Enrico BACHMANN, Switzerland Aurelia ANTONINI, Switzerland Chit Shing SO, Japan Clément VEUILLOT, France Dawa LAMA, Switzerland Freya TERRYN, Belgium Olivier BAIBLÉ, France Roosje BAELE, Belgium Samira HÜSLER, Switzerland

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