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Japonaiserie & Japonisme in the 16th～18th Centuries
１6～１８世紀におけるジャポニスム
Image: The late 18th century Japanse Zaal (Japanese Room) at the Huis ten Bosch Palace, The Netherlands (from the Paleis Huis ten Bosch official website, www. koninklijkhuis.nl).
First uploaded 2023/8/11
Personages directly related to the topic are in bold. Names are not standardized to an Anglicized form, unless already well-known in English translation.
Japonaiserie as Concurrent with Chinoiserie
During the Age of the Baroque and Rococo
Yasutaka Aoyama
Japanese artistic influence was a subtle yet significant global phenomenon during the 17th and 18th centuries, at times merging with, but often distinct from, chinoiserie. The diffusion and popularity of Arita/Imari porcelain in the Christian and Islamic worlds, urushi (lacquer) in Europe and East/Southeast Asia, the kimono and byobu (painted folding screen) in Europe and the Americas, the ogi (folding fan) and its imitations in all the regions mentioned above---and furthermore, their reach into the artistic imagination---constitutes a 'first age of japonaiserie and japonisme' that needs to be appraised within a broader historical context than it has been until now.
The term 'japonaiserie' has been used above, since it is the custom to refer to the 18th century fashion for China in the West as 'chinoiserie'; the title of this paper is meant to suggest the concurrent popularity of things Japanese alongside those of China at the time. But in fact, with the arrival of urushi lacquerware in the latter 16th century to be displayed in palaces and castles of Europe (not to mention the spread of Japanese merchants and adventurers in Southeast Asia---Vietnam, Siam, and the Philippines---during the late 16th and early 17th centuries), the global diffusion of Japanese arts and crafts starts much earlier.
The term 'japonisme', on the other hand, has usually referred to the widespread introduction of Japanese art into Europe and America in the latter 19th century, with an emphasis on its effect on the evolution of art in the West and elsewhere. And in this latter sense, though less obvious and more focused on royal or princely courts and the artists/craftsmen they patronized, it will be argued that the term may be rightly applied to the 17th and 18th centuries as well.
Porcelain in Europe and the Middle East
Europe
As stated above, while the 18th century is often considered an age of chinoiserie, in contrast to the japonisme of the 19th century, in reality, the objects sought after by European nobility in the 17th and 18th centuries were as often from Japan as they were from China. That was the case not only regarding lacquer, but porcelain as well. It was Imari (Arita) that was first and foremost sought after by Europe's most renown hoarder of oriental ceramics, Augustus (II) the Strong (1670-1733); and it was likewise passionately collected by his friendly rival in the race for exotic treasures, Frederick William I (1688–1740) of Prussia, and by other collectors throughout Europe.
Frederick William, an odd combination of drill martinet and dreamer of a porcelain Orient, is known for his Porcelain Chamber at Charlottenberg Palace in Berlin, the contents of which Arita ware figure prominently. Augustus, whose 'empire of porcelain' might be compared in grandeur to the Roman one of his namesake, has had his collection in recent years displayed in a remodeled Zwinger museum by a designer from New York, whose idea was for "the visitors to have an emotional experience of baroque opulence, rather than attempting a reconstruction of the collection as August the Strong had planned to present it" (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden website at www.skd.museum, visited 2023/8/6). But in the process he has recast Augustus' personal taste to seem as if ceramics from Japan were of secondary importance; an impression one also receives from visiting the official website. All is but forgotten that the palace constructed on the banks of the Elbe River to showcase the collection was imagined by Augustus not as a Chinese, but a 'Japanese Palace', of which his Imari (Arita) porcelains were numerous and his most prized possessions, thus naturally to be given pride of place. In fact, no room was dedicated to the Chinese collection, though a separate Chinese palace was envisioned to be eventually built (See Cordula Bischoff, 'The 'Japanese Palace' in Dresden' Ritsumeikan Bunka Kenkyu, 2019).
One has only to look at the older Meissen pieces to satisfy any curiosity concerning what was held up as the ideal: they are often modeled closely on Imari designs. "The early wares of the Meissen factory were inspired especially by Japanese porcelain decorated in the Kakiemon style" as George Savage, one of the best known authorities on porcelain antiques, writes in his popular Dictionary of Antiques (1970, p. 330). One might counter that many of the early enamel and gold decorated works of J.G. Horodolt in the 1720's are clearly in a chinoiserie style. True, they are a mixture of contemporary Qing porcelain coloring, with figures wearing robes and hats that are distortions of Chinese, and sometimes Japanese, and at other times Middle Eastern outfits. Faces are often more European than Asian, but with slanted eyes. Overall, they are something neither Chinese nor Japanese. But on Augustus' command in 1725 to create Kakiemon style pieces, more faithful imitations of Kakiemon and other Arita styles were being produced by 1728, and by 1740, a full range of Imari styles including accurate reproductions of Kinrande were available (see e.g. Sato Kazunobu, Introduction, Glittering Meissen: The Birth of European Porcelain, 2010). One of the Meissen artists from this time is Adam Friedrich von Löwenfinck (1714–1754), who made those "much sought 'chinoiseries' in a slightly humorous vein which owe their inspiration to the painting of the Japanese, Kakiemon, rather than to Chinese sources." (Savage, p. 250)
This primacy of Japanese porcelain models, by the way, was not limited to Germany. Regarding early English porcelain, of which Chelsea Porcelain is the first, Savage writes: "Among the Oriental wares the finest and most sought at the time were probably those based on porcelain decorated in the manner of Kakiemon, and these were copied very deceptively at Chelsea, but perhaps in some cases from Meissen derivations. The Chelsea palette is, however, a much closer approximation to the Japanese ware than that of Meissen." And he notes elsewhere that while at Worcester there was a greater reliance on Chinese models, Kakiemon was also followed "to some extent" though "not deceptively close." (Savage, pp. 326, 218) Overall, the Imari porcelain style of decoration was "an important influence on English porcelain" as noted by John P. Cushion, then Senior Research Assistant in the Department of Ceramics of the Victoria and Albert Museum (The Collector's Encyclopedia of Antiques, 1978, p. 193).
Likewise in France, "both Saint-Cloud and Chantilly relied heavily on Oriental sources of inspiration"; the former on Chinese models, and regarding the latter Savage comments: "From Chantilly came extremely accurate copies of Kaiemon wares." Regarding Chantilly, established in 1725, under the patronage of Louis Henri de Bourbon, Prince de Condé (1692-1740), Cushion writes: "The majority of porcelain made there up the middle of the 18th century was decorated in the Kakiemon style" where soft paste porcelain was dressed up white and opaque to look more like the hard paste of Japan (1978, p. 182-3). Sèvres, which came some years afterwards, employed workmen from Chantilly, producing commercially viable products from about 1745 onward, with a focus on artificial flowers as well as "copies of Meissen painted decoration, and some Japanese designs based on those of Sakaida Kaiemon, which were already extremely popular at Chantilly." (Savage, pp. 329, 377)
Thus, in the earliest stages of porcelain manufacture across Europe, Japanese porcelain was often imitated, either along with or sometimes even before Chinese porcelains, after which designs became more mixed, localized, and European in style. Furthermore, often what were actually Japanese influenced designs were called by different names, such as the so-called 'Indianische blumen' or India flowers, which were stylized floral decoration "usually derived from the porcelain-painting of the Japanese, Kakiemon, and used at Meissen in the early years of the factory's life, particularly between 1720 and 1740" (Savage, p.212). Some explanations place the origins of the Indianische blumen to the 'Deutsche blumen' dating to c. 1740 or earlier, which is simply an indirect way of saying much the same, since these flowers were those imitating the Kakiemon style at the height of its popularity at Meissen.
Below: Two book covers and a porcelain example which aptly show similarity and change in early Meissen with that of Imari/Kakiemon porcelain designs. 1) To the left, on the cover of Early Meissen Porcelain (2011) by Ulrich Pietsch is a dish which has replicated Kakiemon ware as faithfully as possible, though the depiction of branches and leaves are not as life-like as Kakiemon. 2) Center: Meissen Kakiemon toilet box and cover on stand (c. 1730 according to Sotheby's; an extremely similar one exists in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, also c. 1730). A Genji Monogatari scene on the lid, based on a lacquer prototype, and thus the coloring is of the artisan's choice, as well as the faces, visibly drawn by a European artist. (sothebys.com visited 2023/8/12). 3) To the right, another cover from a book on early Meissen, Eighteenth Century Meissen Porcelain (1989) by Armin B. Allen, which shows plate shapes and designs which follow those of Imari and Kakiemon, (upper left and below), while the plate to the upper right is more along the lines of a traditional European plate in shape, and whose color tone, color combination, and color distribution is different from Imari wares.
Below: Examples of early Meissen with classic Kakiemon and other Imari designs and motifs, such as bundled straws, ikegaki fences, kinrande patterns, etc. Certainly to call all this 'chinoiserie' is mistaken; this is clearly 'japonaiserie'.
Photos from Glittering Meissen: The Birth of European Porcelain. Celebrating 300 years of Meissen Ware. Machida City Museum in collaboration with various museums, 2010.
Returning to the Germany of Augustus and Frederick William, our attention turns now to the elector and archbishop of Mainz, Habsburg Imperial Chancellor Lothar Franz von Schonborn (1655-1729), who was also amassing a collection of both Chinese and Japanese porcelain, building a room in his summer residence at Gaibach for them during the years 1711-1718. There, as he wrote in a letter to his nephew, his most cherished pieces, which included a large quantity of Imari, were placed in mirrored cabinets and on the mantlepiece in "the most beautiful" and "incomparable" manner. And soon after, in around 1719, he had a porcelain room built at his baroque Pommersfelden castle. It was centered around his Japanese and Chinese Imari, and Chinese blue and white Kang Hsi, the total effect of which Meredith Chilton describes as eye ravishing ('Rooms of Porcelain', The International Ceramics Fair & Seminar 1992).
Von Schonborn wished to out do Prince Eugene of Savoy (1672-1736), the Field Marshal of the Habsburgs armies and hero of Zenta (that figure who appears in modern history textbooks around the world)---for this man too was an avid collector of Chinese and Japanese porcelains, and a pioneer in exhibiting them at Vienna. Building the first porcelain 'Indian Rooms' in the Lower Belvedere by 1713, Prince Eugene expanded those displays to the Upper Belvedere between 1719 and 1723 as governor of the Austrian Netherlands, ruling in absentia. His influence over the Ostend (in Belgium) East India Company allowed him access to tea, textiles, and porcelain from India, China, and Japan (e.g., Christina Chakalova, 'Artistic Mobility and Cultural Transfer: Prince Eugene of Savoy’s Belvedere Palace in Imperial Vienna', PhD dissertation abstract, State University of New Jersey, 2021). He was at the same time a collector of Japanese lacquer it seems; in a 2018 photo taken by Chakalova of the Gold Cabinet (room) at the Lower Belvedere, two fine classic Japanese export tansu, on ornate European made stands, adorn both sides of the mantelpiece.
Below: Imari porcelains from the Maria Theresa Collection at Schonbrunn Palace, Vienna (discussed in the following subsection, together with her lacquer collection). While the examples shown here are 'iro-e' Imari, that is 'color picture' pieces, many blue and white Arita wares were produced depicting scenes of China. These are often displayed in 'Chinese rooms', as Chinese lacquer is displayed in 'Japanese rooms'. (Photos from Imari Porcelain from the personal Collection of Empress Maria Theresia, 1997)
Among the next generation of collectors, Margravine Friedrike Wilhelmine (1709-1758) of Bayreuth, the older sister of Frederick the Great (1712–1786), was known for building a 'Japanese Cabinet' in the Hermitage (1738—40), a colorful room with walls covered with chinoiserie scenes. While generally considered to be Japanese in name only, there are aspects of the following: ceiling decor; the door panels with Japanese type imagery and wide patterned boundaries without doorknobs; clear rectangular partitioning with black outlines; and byobu painting style wall panels, with their large cloud-like areas of gold; for example, that remind one of Japanese decor, though the combined effect is quite flamboyant, to say the least. The eclectic melange might be described as somewhat like a shogunal masoleum mixed with kabuki and courtesan uchikake kimonos, and also is reminiscent of Alexandre Marcel's ornate Japanese 'La Pagode' in Paris, of a century and a half later. That is to say, it is certainly not strictly Japanese as architecture, but also not simply the sum of China and Europe in feeling. It is as if Wilhelmine was attempting to use European artists and Chinese panels to create what she imagined to be a Japanese effect, perhaps inspired by an extravagant kimono or Imari / Arita porcelain design she had seen. If we think of the room as an enormous Imari kinrande box, then it can rightly be called Japanese.
Below: The Japanese Cabinet and Imari (Arita) ware from the early and mid-18th century for comparison. The examples provided are from the National Gallery in Prague, but are typical of the kind of porcelains popular in Germany as well. (Photos: A Visit from Prague: Japanese Art from Czech Museums, Kyoto National Museum exhibition catalogue, 2002; and the Bayreuth Hermitage official website.)
In the mid 1750's, Maria Eleonora von Eggenberg (1694-1774, not to be confused with Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg), somewhat late in life, decorated her small, special room---her Japanese Cabinet---with precious screen panels from the Osaka-zu Byobu (c. 1600) at the Eggenberg Castle in Styria, Austria. This was possibly a gift her ancestor Duke Hans Ulrich von Eggenberg (1588-1634), received from King Philip III of Spain (1578-1621), which may have been presented to the Spanish king by the Keisho Embassy (1613-1620), led by Hasekura Tsunenaga (1571-1621. See Genevieve Lacambre 'Architecture as Depicted on Lacquer from the Edo Period' in Cluzel, 2018). Tsunenaga's enormous portrait by Archita Ricci (1560-1635), commissioned by the pope’s nephew Scipione Borghese (1577-1633), is well-known in Japan. The Osaka-zu Byobu panels were set on either side of chinoiserie paintings by Carl Laubmann (1733-1778), and the room furnished perhaps with the red urushi chests and Imari porcelains displayed there today. The effect is somewhat like Fredrike Wilhelmine's Japanese cabinet, though much more comfortable. In another nearby room, the walls are covered purely with Imari porcelain plates on a green backdrop. These two rooms however, along with a third with quiet scenes of China, are known as the 'Indian Rooms' as elsewhere in Europe---despite Maria Eleonora's original appellation and their content----yes, the Indies referred to the entire East then---but today they are misnomers clouding our comprehension of the true state of affairs. So often Japanese art in English country houses or Continental palaces were (and sometimes still are) inventoried as 'Chinese' or 'Indian', as the Kakiemon porcelains at the grandest of country houses, Burghley House; one now at the British Museum of a figurine of a young man (1688-1690, Ref. F1214+) had the inventory description "Indian Queen" ( Smith, L. et al., L' Art Japonais: chefs-d'oeuvres du British Museum. Parkstone, 1994).
The above are just a few examples of women collecting porcelains from Japan along with those from China; women of nobility had been collecting oriental porcelains from almost a century earlier, the most well-known of the early collectors who amassed a substantial collection of Chinese and Japanese porcelains being the Princess of Orange Amalia van Solms (1602-1675), who also collected Chinese and Japanese lacquerware, and with her husband the Prince of Orange, Frederik Henrik (1584–1647), even Japanese armor (see Virginia Treanor, “Une abondance extra ordinaire” The Porcelain Collection of Amalia van Solms', Early Modern Women, Vol. 9, No. 1, fall 2014; and Jan van Campen and Titus Eliëens eds., Chinese and Japanese porcelain for the Dutch Golden Age, 2014). Naturally the Dutch were in a position to readily build such collections, and by the late 18th century, the Huis ten Bosch Palace had both a Chinese Room and a Japanese Room. Due to the continuous contact Holland maintained with both countries, differences in the design of the two rooms better reflect the differences in artistic sensibility of the two cultures compared to some of the German porcelain rooms, or at least they reflect the more differentiated aesthetic conceptions of those two cultures held by the cosmopolitan Dutch monarchs.
It was ultimately thanks to Amalia, that royal interest in Chinese and Japanese porcelains would spread to England as well. When Mary Stuart, daughter of James II (King of England), married William III Prince of Orange, Stadtholder of Holland in 1677, she also came to know, and became enamored of, the porcelain collections that Amalia had left behind. After her husband William became King William III (1650-1702) and she Queen Mary II (1662-1694), ruling Britain jointly from 1689, she brought over the porcelains, adding to them, in particular Japanese wares, and displayed them in her apartments at Kensington Palace and Hampton Court throughout her reign which lasted until 1694. The Japanese wares, primarily Imari, included Kakiemon style over glazed vessels which came to be known as ‘Hampton Court vases’ due to their abundance there where Mary II kept them. Most importantly, it is generally recognized that Mary, who was a very popular monarch, had a significant influence on the trends of English pottery, interior and landscape design, which no doubt were influenced by her oriental tastes. Her husband, King William III, by the way, is known for ordering several ‘Jappan gownes’ when he was in the Netherlands, continuing to do so after becoming king of England (Housecoat, anonymous, c.1675-c.1702, www.rijksmuseum.nl), thus, he too, continuing to display a certain predilection for Japanese goods, after his arrival in Britain.
In France we have already mentioned the popularity of Japanese porcelains and their influence upon French ceramics in the early 18th century. Originals were treasured possessions, often taking pride of place in French aristocratic residences, both in the capital and provinces. Only one example will be provided below, that of the Grand Salon/Salon Doré of Chateau Borély in Marseille (circa 1780), where once fine Imari pieces decorated the room at both ends; but here too, as mentioned elsewhere, Japanese porcelains have been replaced by others during recent renovations (left photo from Lewis Hinckley's A Directory of Antique French Furniture, 1967; right Wikimedia Commons, 2013). In the photo from the mid-1960's to the left, an Imari stands alone with candelabra on both sides; to the right is a photo of the exact same table in the same place with the same two candelabra, only the Imari has been replaced by two Qing Chinese vases when the chateau-museum (Musée des Arts décoratifs, de la Faïence et de la Mode), reopened in 2013. It is a rather 21st century sort of thing to do, to place two candelabra in the center, in front of a mantlepiece-like mirror; hardly conceivable for anyone with a modicum of what they would have called good taste in the 18th century. An unnatural and unnecessary change---the Imari should be restored to where it belongs.
It is no exaggeration to say that the popularity of Japanese porcelain (along with lacquerware) was something significant on its own as a cultural phenomenon in Europe. The demand for Japanese porcelains in Europe was so extraordinary, that the number shipped from the years 1659-1682 reached 190,000 pieces of Imari; and nevertheless it was still considered a rarity, meaning that those belonging to both Augustus and Frederick William, and the others mentioned above, comprised only a fraction of the porcelains that came to grace numerous palaces, castles, and homes across Europe, including Bohemia for instance, all of which cannot be covered here.
Behind many of the great historical figures of continental European politics in the 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries, is a relatively unknown but shared passion for oriental porcelains and lacquerware. As Filip Suchomel, Director and Chief Curator of the Collection of Asian Art at the National Gallery in Prague writes:
"The first more or less comprehensive Central European collection was that of Emperor Rudolf II [1552-1612], who chose Prague as his permanent residence. Rudolf took a keen interest in collecting, and during his reign at Prague Castle, he assembled a unique collection that included Asian artifacts, mostly of Japanese and Chinese origin according to period documents. ... Close relations between the Habsburg courts in Austria and Spain suggests that Rudolf mostly acquired his 'exotic' artifacts through these channels."
Naturally that implies that a good collection of both Chinese and Japanese artifacts existed in Spain, though unfortunately virtually nothing of it remains (see book and papers by Cinta Krahe; though the Museo de Narvarra has some fine namban lacquer pieces). An "Orientmania" of both Chinese and Japanese porcelains occurred among the Bohemian and Moravian aristocracy in the late 17th century, according to Suchomel, of which "the common Arita ware decorated with various forms and in various patterns in the old Imari style prevail." (Suchomel in A Visit from Prague: Japanese Art from Czech Museums, Kyoto National Museum, 2002)
Japanese, as well as Chinese porcelains, were specially ordered to be mounted as candelabra, chandeliers, furniture, intricate decorative trays or lavabos, which continued into the early 19th century. Suchomel lists collections of leading families within the Austro-Hungarian Empire such as the Schwarzenberg and Wallenstein families who did so, including the
"world renown collection of Prince Lothar Klement von Metternich"
---none other than the architect of the post-Napoleonic continental European order, and principal figure at the Congress of Vienna---one of his personal pleasures was the collecting of Japanese and Chinese porcelains (A Visit from Prague, 2002). Elsewhere within the Habsburg empire, as in Hungary, Indian or Chinese rooms were often decorated with Japanese porcelains, and even wallcoverings, while appearing in the chinoiserie style, were not uncommonly based upon copies of plates from Arnoldus Montanus (1625?-1683)'s illustrated book on Japan, Atlas Japannensis (1670), as in the case of the Prince's Fireplace Salon at Esterhazy Palace, carefully documented by Györgyi Fajcsák ('“Asian Life” in Europe', 2015).
Below: examples of blue-and-white Arita ware from Bohemian collections. Often depicting scenes from China, they are commonly mistaken for Chinese porcelain. Blue-and-white Aritas come in a variety of styles and gradations/combinations of blue. Perhaps closer in sensibility to Yuan (Mongol) Dynasty porcelains in their often free and lively depictions compared to the more controlled and fine Ming blue-and-whites (very broadly speaking), individually, they come in a wide range of shapes and graphical styles/motifs. Those range from imitations of Chinese blue-and-white styles, to more intentionally child-like and 'soboku' (i.e., 'down to earth') creations depicting daily life in China, as the 'Water Jar with Chinese Figures' to the right. In the center is a large octagonal vase with that particularly favorite design among Japanese porcelain draughtsmen, much more popular than the dragon---a phoenix with its many tails spread wide in the sky. (Photos: A Visit from Prague, 2002.)
The Islamic World from India to Africa
One important point that is often overlooked is the existence of Middle Eastern and Indian collections of porcelains, which rivaled the European in quantity, and often out did them in quality, such as those of the Persian and Ottoman courts. Though it is the Chinese porcelains that dominate most collections, Japanese porcelains, once they became available, were held in high regard, particularly in Morocco, as will be discussed shortly.
The Ottoman Topkapi Palace Collection, in Istanbul, for instance, contains approximately 10,700 pieces, many much older than those in the collections of the European courts. While the majority of Chinese porcelains in Europe were contemporary or at best from the Ming period (those from the reign of the Wan-li emperor 万歴帝, 1572-1620, being particularly popular), the Ottoman collection has late Song (Sung) and Yuan dynasty porcelains as well, invaluable pieces from the 13th century. The Ottoman collection has many fine Ming pieces, of course, including green celadons, and naturally Qing porcelains, and some 721 Japanese pieces, namely Imari, according to the inventory of 1936. The collection contains Chinese Imari as well, that is Chinese made imitations of Imari porcelain. There are pieces from Annam (Vietnam), one dated to 1450. The collection includes 'Mertebani' celadons from Zhejiang (Chekiang), as they were known in the Middle East (the term used differently in Europe). The name Mertebani is said to come from the port of Martaban in Burma, from where ceramics originating in China and Siam were exported to India, the Middle East, and even to Africa. Cairo became the main distribution point for the Middle and Near East, as Amsterdam was for Europe.
The fitting of these porcelains with silver or other metals or gems, also preceded Europe, and was done in a more delicate and harmonious fashion (examples below). The collection of Chinese ceramics, known as 'fagfur' (or fagfuri), started early on from the 15th century, and were used, for instance, in Edirne in 1457, as vessels to hold sherbet during the celebrations of the circumcision of the crown princes Bayezit and Mustafa, sons of Mehemet II (1432-1481), according to Tursun Bey (1420-1499), though in time they would be used as regular dining ware by the Ottoman court (the use of Chinese porcelains in circumcision celebrations, by the way, was not unusual; as early as the 14th century, in Yemen, sultan al-Malik al-Ashraf (r. 1377-1401) is recorded as having displayed such porcelains on the occasion). Of the Ottoman sultans, it is Selim I (1470-1520) who is especially well-known for his passion for Chinese porcelain, and perhaps besides his usual sobriquet 'The Grim', deserves also to be called 'Father of Chinoiserie West of the Bosphorus'. Selim is known for adding Chinese porcelain to his collection during the war with Persia (Iran), taking those of Shah Ismail (1487-1524) in Tabriz, and also in the 1516-17 campaign in Egypt (Ilhan Aksit, Director of National Palaces, Topkapi Palace, Istanbul, 1994).
Thus obviously the Persian Safavids too, had been collecting Chinese ceramics, the collection that was in the Ardebil Shrine being perhaps most renown (John Alexander Pope, Chinese Porcelains from the Ardebil Shrine, 1956) and as mentioned above, part of the Persian Chinese porcelains are now at Topkapi. Indeed, the Persians were collectors from earlier than the Ottomans, and had given them Chinese porcelains as gifts which may have been one of the factors whetting the Sultan's appetite for them. Chinese porcelain was the subject of poetry, such as that of Zayn al-din Mahmud Vasifi (1485-c.1551-1566), the Persian historian and poet who writes of his cat over-turning a precious Chinese vase in his chini-khana, or chinaware room (or house of china). That term, deriving from the Timurid rulers of Samarkand---Ulugh Beg (1394-1449), the famous astronomer-king, is known to have created the first chini khana.
This was a tradition which the Mughal emperors of India saw themselves as inheriting. Jahangir (1569-1627) was known to have had a particularly splendid marble chini-khana set up in Agra Fort, containing Ming porcelains. But the building of such rooms was already an established Mughal tradition long before; the founder of the Mughal dynasty Babur (1483-1530), alludes to one (Mehreen Chida-Razvi, 'From Function to Form: Chini-khana in Safavid and Mughal Architecture', South Asian Studies, Vol. 35, Issue 1, 2019). These rooms were different from European porcelain rooms, in that each porcelain vase was given an ornately shaped niche of its own, rather than just a shelf or cabinet, as was often the case in Europe. But as in Europe, they filled the walls of the room, reaching high up sometimes into domed vaults overhead, creating truly spectacular interior spaces. It was these Chinese porcelain rooms in Persia and India, created much earlier than those in Europe, that were perhaps a source of inspiration for European visitors to those lands in the 17th century. And we must never forget that painting with blue cobalt under the glaze was employed in Iran from the 12th century. The Persians were thus both manufacturers and collectors of fine ceramics from early on.
Almost every Islamic polity, from India to Morocco, had collections of Chinese or Japanese porcelains. Regarding Morocco, Nadia Erzini and Stephan Vernoit ('Imari Porcelain in Morocco', Muquarnas, Vol. 26, 2009, pp.161-179) note that while much has been said about Ottoman and Safavid Japanese and Chinese porcelain collections, as well as those in Europe,
"Virtually nothing, however, has been published about the existence of Japanese and Chinese porcelain in Morocco. In particular, Imari ware was---and continues to be---highly prized, both as decoration in the furnishing of houses and palaces, and for the presentation of food, including rituals involving food and drink."
The Moroccan case is clearly one of japonaiserie, rather than chinoiserie, occurring much later compared to Iran or Turkey. Its beginnings were the late 17th century and from there on continued in the 18th century, eventually to merge with the general japonisme movement of the 19th (when Japanese Kutani ware seems also to have reached Morocco). The Moroccan fondness for Imari was not restricted to the ruling class; it gradually spread to a fairly wide segment of the monied population, such that not only Chinese imitation Imari, but Moroccan imitation Imari was produced, making the Imari style the accepted symbol of high quality porcelain in that country.
Photos from the Topkapi Palace Collection in Ilhan Aksit (Director of National Palaces), Topkapi Palace. Istanbul, 1994.
Lacquer-ware in Europe, East/Southeast Asia, and the New World
Europe
Regarding lacquer, already from the 16th century, a small number of Japanese urushi objects, the earliest from the Ryukyu islands (Okinawa), reached Europe through the Portuguese, and were valued as exceptional rarities. They entered key royal and imperial collections, such as the 'namban' lacquer cabinet in the possession of the Habsburg Archduke Ferdinand II (1525-1595) of Tyrol. Being considered among the choicest of gifts, the Dutch Republic in 1616 gave King Gustavus Adolphus II (1594-1632) of Sweden a lacquer makie (mother-of-pearl) trunk, which was made possible by the early 17th century, thanks to the Dutch East India Company having commenced trade with Japan, purchasing quality urushi goods from Kyoto. High quality Japanese lacquer came to be order made in Kyoto, transported to Nagasaki harbor for shipment abroad by Chinese or Dutch merchants, and once arriving in European ports, mainly Amsterdam and London, sold to direct agents of princely collectors or dealers of luxury objects to members of the upper class.
In Holland, as mentioned earlier, Mary II, before ruling England jointly with her husband William of Orange, treasuring the oriental porcelains she had come to know from the collections of Amalia, and created rooms made of lacquer panels cut from Chinese made Coromandel screens. On returning to Britain and becoming queen, she displayed her porcelains at Hampton Court and Kensington Palace, once again employing lacquered paneling (Danielle Kisluk-Grosheide 'The (Ab)Use of Export Lacquer in Europe' in Kuhlenthal, 1999; Meredith Chilton, 1992). Thus it might seem that it was due to this Dutch connection, that the English nobility came to acquire a taste for oriental lacquer, especially the more expensive Japanese lacquer, and might account for why so many of the best pieces of urushi cabinetry are to be found in British museums and country houses. But as John Irwin stated many years ago, the "Jacobean vogue" for oriental lacquer started much earlier: "In fact it can be shown that there was a much earlier vogue, which coincided almost exactly with the [English] East India Company's ten years of direct trade with Japan between 1613 and 1623."
It is worthwhile to pursue this point in some detail, without which it may be difficult to understand the role of Japan in what is called chinoiserie and what has been simply lumped together as oriental influence in 17th and 18th century England. As Irwin relates regarding imported lacquer, which was almost strictly Japanese at the beginning of the 17th century, though not imported on the scale of the latter half of the 17th century, "its influence upon contemporary English taste was greater than is generally acknowledged. Most fashionable households of the period could boast at least one piece and sometimes many pieces." Whether most or some notable households of the period had Japanese urushi-ware, the fact that there were any at this time in England is something of interest. "A further indication of oriental influence is the fact that by 1619 the imitation of lacquer-ware decoration in gilt was already an established trade in London, as proved by the dated Ballot Box owned by the Saddlers' Company and several other pieces painted by the same hand, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum." Meaning that imported Japanese lacquer cabinets must have been enough of a sensation to stimulate the growth of imitation products and designs in England.
And while some oriental lacquer-wares were probably obtained in the 16th century "among the spoils from captured Portuguese carracks, and perhaps also by legitimate trade" the true origins of the vogue for oriental lacquer, according to Irwin, date from 1614, when John Saris (c.1580-1643) arrived back in England on the English East India Company's ship, the Clove, with the first cargo of Japanese goods: "According to Saris, the company's chief agent on board, its cargo included '...Japanese wares, as ritch Scritores [desks/drawers], Trunckes [trunks], Beoubes [byobus], Cupps and Dishes of all sorts, and of a most excellent varnish'." Though the exact number of items is unclear, they were of a substantial quantity such that after keeping a good number of choice items for themselves (and for presents, bribes, and the like) and "two or three of the best screens for the King", they auctioned off the rest gradually over a a period of several months so as not to overwhelm the market. It seems quite clear that it was Japanese urushi-ware that was the beginning of the vogue for 'oriental' lacquer in 17th century England. These objects were not simply exotic; the high level of craftsmanship would hardly fail to make a deep impression upon the intelligent mind, whether lord or tradesman serving him.
Furthermore, it is interesting that a number of "beoube" or otherwise spelled "biobee", i.e. byobu screens, were also part of the cargo, and that even after the presents to the king, months later: "In the minutes dated 17th March 1615 we read: 'There was put to sale a Biobee or Skreen guilded and paynted with some resemblances of warfare...'; another 'portrayde full of horses'; two 'with fowles'; and three of huntinge." (John Irwin, 'A Jacobean Vogue for Oriental Lacquer-Ware'. The Burlington Magazine, Vol. 95, No. 603, June 1953)---Thus showing that a certain amount of exposure to a range of Japanese pictoral art, not just that on lacquer furnishings, but imagery on a more significant scale, in color, in greater detail, and in subject matter ranging from battle or hunting scenes to depictions of wildlife in nature (kacho-ga 花鳥画), was also occurring at this time. And if all this had some effect on upper class English tastes and furniture-making as Irwin relates, it might rightly be called an early forgotten phase of 'Jacobean japonisme'.
Across the Channel in France, the chief minister of state Cardinal Mazarin (1602-1661), was a forerunner in the French pursuit of Japanese lacquer, acquiring a number of magnificent urushi items at stupendous cost. Mazarin, de facto the most powerful man in the kingdom, seems to have had a fondness for Japanese lacquer of the highest quality; and among the pieces in his urushi collection, it is the two chests with his namesake that are among the most magnificent and well-known examples of remaining early 17th century Japanese export lacquer, depicting scenes from The Tale of Genji, or The Tale of the Soga Brothers, or 'Eight Views of Omi'. In 1658 Mazarin moved to acquire probably two out of four extremely expensive (144 taels for one) Japanese chests, made in Kyoto, possibly by Koami Nagashige (1599-1651) that were for sale in Amsterdam. He was successful, and it has been suggested that the French ambassador to the Netherlands main mission wasn’t diplomacy at that time but rather to acquire the chests for Mazarin’s collection. (see 'Chest, attributed to Koami, c.1635-c.1645' https://Rijksmuseum.nl; and V&A Museum, https:// collections.vam.ac.uk.) A generation later, even the 'Sun King' Louis XIV (1638-1715) himself, is said to have collected Japanese lacquer by way of Macao (Young, 1929, pp. 3-28). Though we should add here that Sadakichi Hartmann (1867-1944), was aware of this much earlier, writing in his Japanese Art (Boston: L.C. Page, 1904) regarding 'The Influence of Japanese Art on Western Civilization' that "The first appreciator of Japanese art was probably Louis XIV." (Chapter V, p. 154)
Below, left, is the Victoria & Albert Museum Mazarin Chest; center, the Rijksmuseum (Mazarin) Chest; right, the Beckford Chest. Regarding Mazarin's chest at the Rijksmuseum, its whereabouts were unknown since WWII, and was rediscovered and acquired by the Rijksmuseum in 2013 after heated bidding for a price considered to be the second highest sum ever paid for Japanese art. As for the 'Beckford Chest' (Sansui Kacho Jinbutsu Makie Casket, once part of Mazarin's collection), is now at Chiddingstone Castle, UK. The chest is not just furniture art, it is an ingenious piece of woodwork engineering in the opening and the fiting of its multitudinous components. This, along with the two Mazarin Chests, are some of the finest existant pieces of export urushi tansu that remain, a sign of the perspicacity of its original owner, Cardinal Mazarin, who went out of his way to acquire them.
That urushi lacquer would not only be prized itself, but eventually have an effect on French-made furniture design and tastes, can be seen clearly in the elegant works of Jacques Dubois (c. 1693-1763), Bernard II van Risenburgh (c. 1700-1765), and Jean-François Oeben (1721-1763) during the long reign of Louis XV (1710-1774). They were followed by René Dubois (1737-1799), Adam Weisweiler (c.1750-c. 1810), Jean-Henri Riesener (1734-1806), Pierre Garnier (c. 1720-1800), and of course Martin Carlin (c.1730-1785), the French court's 'Master Ébéniste' during the reign Louis XVI (1754-1793), all who not only incorporated Japanese lacquer makie pieces into their cabinets for Marie Antoinette and other leading members of the court, but also assimilated something of Japanese design sensibility, in terms of form, color, and spacing when using European motifs or incorporating French Sèvres porcelain (which too was influenced by Japanese porcelain design) into their furnishings (see examples in Francois de Salverte's Les ébénistes du XVIIIe siècle, leurs oeuvres et leurs marques, 1927; Hidaka Kaori 'Umi wo watatta nihon shikki II', Nihon no Bijutsu 12, No. 427, 2001.12.15; or at the Victoria and Albert Museum website).
In fact, the impact of Japanese lacquer furniture seems to already have been felt by French cabinet makers during the latter part of Louis XIV's reign. In André-Charles Boulle (1642-1732)'s time, the influence of imported Namban style lacquer and marquetry, as well as 'non-ordered for export' Japanese lacquer pieces (which also were acquired by the Portuguese and later the VOC, and did reach France) can be observed. The piece above to the left, possibly by Boulle, or a contemporary of his, is done in what is known as the 'Transition Style', not only in the sense it is moving away from the baroque, but because it is a piece which tries to more harmoniously integrate the Japanese Namban coffer with European gilt work, compared to previous typical Japanese cabinet mounts where often there was a evident clash of aesthetic sensibility (urushi cabinets were simply placed on top of baroque stands). To the right is a mechanical table, made some decades later, by Jean-François Oeben with an inset Japanese style lacquer panel, this too considered a transition style piece, but which shows the shift from furniture as fittings for Japanese cabinetry to French cabinetry with Japanese or Japanese imitation panels fitted into it. Nevertheless, there is lingering desire to keep at least one key aspect Japanese. Stated differently, French tastes had moved in a direction towards, or become more compatible with, Japanese design sensibilites.
Below to the far right is a box (c. 1675-80) attributed to Boulle (and if not by him still of French ebeniste work at the time), with some Namban chests and one for domestic Japanese consumption next to it. The effect of black urushi has been imitated by Boulle or his contemporary with stained woods. The white outlines follow the manner of mother of pearl raden (螺鈿) border inlays done in Namban chests (see center Namban casket). The Mazarin chests above were unique items, with the majority of Namban chests being smaller pieces often with curved lids and clearly outlined lacquer panels, as that by Boulle. Note also the similarity of floral design with the Japanese reading stand directly below it (when viewed in PC or tablet).
The following pieces are all fit with Japanese lacquer panels, and the shape of these pieces are also composites of the light, clean-lined, delicate, and slender legged Japanese cabinetry forms with European modifications. Martin Carlin's reading stand for instance, is much like a urushi kendai (見台) reading stand but fitted with a three legged supporting pole underneath, which in fact looks quite like an ancient urushi kyodai (鑑台) mirror stand. Adam Weisweiler's 'Louis XVI Ormolu and Brass-Mounted Ebony and Japanese Lacquer Commode' (1790) is a Japanese cabinet of 10 drawers of varying size typical of Japan that has been framed, topped with marble, and fitted with legs. These sorts of drawer arrangements also influenced European cabinet design.
Below, the urushi panel of horses by a stream on the secretary desk by Jacques Dubois is especially marvelous. Lower, one can see how Adam Weisweiler's stand not only incorporates fine pieces of Japanese lacquer paneling into the sides, but also how the shape of the table echoes the form of Japanese daisu (台子) stands. The daisu shown to the right is from the 16th century. The 'Secrétaire en armoire' by Jean-Henri Reisener (along with another shown in the following paper), was custom made for Marie Antoinette, designed with her Japanese lacquerware in mind: "So that their surface decoration would harmonize with that of the [urushi] boxes, choice fragments of seventeenth-century Japanese lacquer were reused as veneer for these pieces of royal furniture" (MET description). All these are examples not of chinoiserie, nor even of japonaiserie, but clearly of japonisme as defined here, occurring in the 18th century.
Above left: Riesener drop-front secretary-armoire (secrétaire en armoire) made of oak veneered with ebony, black and gold Japanese lacquer, tulipwood, holly and black stained holly, amaranth, gilt-bronze mounts, and topped with white marble (MET). Right: J. Dubois piece known as the 'Bureau de pente d'epoque Louis XV'; it carries the stamp of Jacques Dubois, and is veneered with Japanese lacquer decorated in hiramaki-e and togidashi (Christie's).
Left: Louis XVI Ormolu-mounted Japanese Lacquer and Ebony Occasional Table, attributed A. Weisweiler (Christie's). Right: Anonymous, chrysanthemums, bellflowers, bush clover, etc. in hiramaki-e and e-nashiji. (秋草文蒔絵台子 Mary and Jackson Burke Foundation).
That Japanese lacquer designs were to blend well with the neo-classical look that followed the Rococo, as seen in Adam Weisweiler's late works, but also in those of Matthijs Horrix (c.1735-1809) of The Netherlands, of which his clock case of 1791 is exemplary, and is shown below with a few other clocks to indicate the evolving tastes of the time. 1) Bernard II van Risenburgh, Cartonnier with bout de bureau and clock, 1740-1746, at the Getty Museum. From the museum caption: "The exterior surfaces of all three sections are painted with black European lacquer that seeks to imitate the look of lacquer from East Asia, particularly that from Japan. Motifs such as the pair of cranes, small bird, and large dragonfly on the front of the bout de bureau, were inspired by decoration found in Asian art, but arranged in dense, symmetrical compositions characteristic of European taste." 2) Another clock case by Horrix, but from a decade earlier than his 1791 piece, not neo-classical but perhaps not old fashioned Rococo either, at the Rijksmuseum. From the Rijksmuseum caption: "Princess Wilhelmina of Prussia had this case made for an unusual clock given to her by her uncle, King Frederick the Great of Prussia. Horrix’s case is shaped like a Chinese pagoda and is veneered with Japanese lacquer that probably came from the stadtholder’s collection." However, there is no reason to say it is any more a Chinese pagoda than a Japanese one; in fact the design is reminiscent of Japanese made crafts which depict pagoda roofs and is extended in the Japanese manner. 3) Horrix's 1791 clock case at the Huis ten Bosch palace. Horrix was the designer of the Japanese Room at the Huis ten Bosch palace show at the beginning of this webpage.
Other Exemplary 17th Century Urushi Furnishings in Britain, Germany, and Denmark
Below are some other outstanding pieces of Japanese 17th century cabinetry in Britain, Germany, and Denmark.
1) Cabinet with flowers and landscapes (Roukaku Sansui Makie Tansu), Ashmolean Museum, UK. What must have been a haunting landscape for the discriminating eye in its pristine state. Look carefully, and tiny figures on the left panel can barely be made out, picnicking while they enjoy a landscape of both the rustic and man-made, nestled in a varied landscape of trees, rocky formations, bridges and running water, with mountains further in the distance---premonitions of the picturesque ideal that was to develop in England. 2) Japanese cabinet (Fuji Makie Tansu) Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde München, Germany. From the Munich Residence Palace, this is one of a pair of especially elaborate design, leaning towards the fantastic, a stimulus to the imagination in a different sense from the Ashmolean cabinet. 3) Rosenborg Castle, Japanese cabinet (Sansui Makie Tansu), Denmark Royal Collection, Denmark. Originally placed between the portraits of King Christian V and Queen Charlotte Amalie as in the photo (from the cover of Nihon no Bijutsu 11, No. 426, 2001/11/15). Contained the Queen's treasured shell collection. This cabinet has been moved off to a corner and replaced by a more 'European-looking' cabinet.
Even in Sweden, from early on, the queen dowager Hedvig Eleonora (1636−1715), the builder of Drottningholm Palace, was already gathering objects from China and Japan in the late 17th century, adding to the royal collection that had its beginnings with the Dutch Republic's makie lacquer gift to King Gustavus Adolphus, mentioned earlier. But it was the strong-willed younger sister of Frederick the Great, princess Lovisa Ulrika (1720-1782), to whom Hedvig Eleonora was godmother, and who eventually would became queen of Sweden, that would come to be known for her fondness of things oriental and her Chinese Pavilion at Drottningholm. Built in 1753 as a birthday present from her husband King Adolf Frederik (1710-1771), he was perhaps the most caught up in the chinoiserie fad, dressing up their son in a Chinese outfit for her birthday. Thus William Frederick's descendents, the older and younger sisters of Ferderick the Great, carried on the family tradition of oriental porcelain collecting.
And as elsewhere in palaces across Europe, in the Chinese Pavilion and in the Drottningholm Palace were fine Japanese ceramic and urushi works (examples below). Furthermore, in Swedish made Roccoco furniture, urushi found only in Ryukyu (Okinawa) has been discovered in the panel pieces cut from imported lacquer-ware, meaning that the panels were from Japan, or that China was obtaining Japanese urushi to make panels (Maria Brunskog and Miyakoshi Tetsuo, 'A White Gem from Kyoto', Studies in Conservation, Vol. 66, 2021, Issue 4; or by the same authors, 'A Colourful Past: A Re-examination of a Swedish Rococo Set of Furniture with a Focus on the Urushi Components', ibid., Vol. 66, 2021, Issue 8; for an overview, Hidaka Kaori, Nihon no Bijutsu 12, No. 427 'Umi wo wattata nihon shikki II, 18-19 seiki').
Below: The Chinese Pavilion at Drottningholm, Sweden.
The tansu cabinet (shown upper right) is a good example of how Japanese crafts were part of the chinoiserie phenomenon. While the lacquer cabinet is from Japan, the lacquer wall paneling higher above it (only partially visible) is from China; the two chubby figures on top of the tansu cabinet are most likely Chinese, but on the shelves inside, several of the pieces appear to be European creations probably modeled on images from Chinese silk wallpaper, lacquer panels, or porcelain.
Viewed through photos (below, left), it does seem like that there are also Imari or Chinese made Imari figurines in the Yellow Room on the fireplace mantel (referring to the taller kimono clad figures on the mantelpiece), and elsewhere a silk panel (below, center on pink walls), where the foreground images of birds and rocks are unlikely to be by the hand of a Japanese artist, but seems to have been influenced by Yamato-e style painting, including the background. A byobu screen painting by, or in the style of, Kano Mitsunobu (狩野光信 1565-1608) has been placed next to it for comparison regarding the foreground composition, of a pair of birds, one perched above on a rock, with flowers issuing forth from the base of the rock. To the right, within the same photo of the pink walled room, is another minature gosho-guruma wagon (similar to the one in the black and white photo also at Drottningholm) placed close to the window sill exposed to the sun---a terrible place to put urushi ware.
But perhaps the most dedicated female collector of Japanese lacquer-ware of that generation was Empress Maria Theresa (1717-1780), known for later bequeathing her cherished collection to her youngest daughter Marie Antoinette (1755-1793) which will be covered in the following section. We should not forget, however, that the Empress' interest in Japan was not limited to its lacquer; she favored Imari porcelain as well, and used it extensively not only for dinning ware by fitting the porcelain pieces with silver legs and knobs/handles, but also as candle holders, salt and pepper shakers, water dispensers, teapots, flower vases, small chests for valuables, and as decorations on shelves and stands, in various places in the Schonbrunn Palace. That was perhaps in part because her husband, the Holy Roman Emperor Francis I (1708-1765), shared her liking for Japanese porcelain along with things Chinese, fitting Imari cups for his tea/coffee drinking set (at the Vienna National Museum). He is though, mostly known for his chinoiserie: 'The Vieux Laque Room', its walls covered with Chinese lacquer panels depicting exotic scenes of China on a backdrop of wood paneling. This served as his retirade or study, where only those he was intimate with, or those who were to receive the warmest hospitality, were invited.
Also there were two rooms, now called the 'Oval Chinese Room (or Cabinet)' in contrast to another lacquered room, with Chinese lacquer panels on a light cream colored backdrop, where large Imari porcelains on a floor of particularly marvelous parquetry are prominently displayed, now called the 'Round Chinese Room (or Cabinet)'---but these are probably not the appellations that were used in the 18th century, as they sound unwieldy, inelegant, and anachronistic.* These were Maria Theresa's rooms for meetings with counselors, family dinners, and card games. Whatever their original nomenclature, it is clear that in the case of the Empress, the term chinoiserie is misleading for describing her keen interest in things particularly from Japan. The palace collection of Arita (Imari) was much larger than it is today; unfortunately, in 1781 the records show much of it was sold along with paintings and clocks to pay off debts (Peter Pantzer of Bonn University, in Imari Porcelain from the personal Collection of Empress Maria Theresia, 1997).
From the examples above, it is clear that the easy division of China in the case of porcelain, and Japan in the case of lacquer really does not hold, and furthermore it seems that from almost the very beginning, a difference between the cultures was perceived by the more cultivated minds of the time. As early as 1584, the Tensho Embassy from Japan, the 'talk of the town' during its visit of Catholic Europe, lead by Ito Mansho (1569/70-1612), was received by King Philip II (1527-1598) of Spain, who, given a lacquer makie mizusashi (a water container used in tea ceremonies) as a gift, remarked that it was quite different from all the Chinese lacquerware he had seen before (Hidaka Kaori, Nihon no Bijutsu 12, No. 427, 'Umi wo wattata nihon shikki II, 18-19 seiki', Tokyo, Kyoto, Nara National Museum, et. al. supervised, 2001/12/15). In general, Japanese lacquer came to be held with special regard (Danielle Kisluk-Grosheide, presently curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in Kuhlenthal, 1999). Is that not why Alexander Pope (1688-1744) in his poetic masterpiece, Rape of the Lock (1712, Canto III), speaks of coffee drinking, something all the rage in London, with the following words?
"On the shining Altars of Japan they raise,
The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze.
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
While China's earth receives the smoking tide."
The "shining Altars of Japan" no doubt refers to gleaming urushi cabinets, while "China's earth" to porcelain china---once again, without question, Japan is the standard for lacquerware, just as China is for porcelain, though the reality of their co-existence was a complex affair.
Japanese Lacquer in China and Southeast Asia
Indeed, what we might call the japonisme of urushi was not confined to Europe, but as Kristina Kluetghen has pointed out, "In Qing dynasty (1644-1911) China, the Yongzheng (雍正 r. 1723-1735) and Qianlong (乾隆 r. 1736-1795) emperors also collected imported caskets and commissioned imitation Japanese-style lacquers from their palace workshops..." (Imports and Imitations: 'The Taste for Japanese Lacquer in Eighteenth Century China and France', Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies, Vol. 17, No. 2, Spring 2017). Japan of course, throughout its history admired and imitated Chinese models---this most know---but likewise did China imitate Japan, from the Qing dynasty onward---which many do not. China, along with France, was one of the most aesthetically inclined of royal/imperial courts of the day (not to mention the Hapsburg court and that of the Prince of Orange among many crowned heads of Europe so inclined), recognized Japanese lacquer as the finest and more costly; in Europe Chinese lacquer was often used for covering wall surfaces, Japanese lacquer for prized furniture and smaller objects, though of course there were Chinese lacquered furnishings as well.
The case is the same for Southeast Asia; the Siamese monarchy must have thought urushi-ware as an exceptional item, and thus it figured prominently in the Siamese ambassadors' gifts to Louis XIV and his court during their visits of 1684 and 1686. This included a lacquer cabinet to the dauphine (G. Lacambre in Cluzel, 2018). The embassy must have been an extremely expensive undertaking, no doubt, considered vital to Siam's national interest, and requiring the finest gifts imaginable. In other words, a particular admiration for Japanese lacquer was not a uniquely European sentiment, but rather a shared Eurasian consensus.
17th Century Japanese Lacquer ware in Portugal, Spain, and New Spain
In the center is the cover of Encomedas Namban (Namban Comissions, Fundacio Oriente Museu, Lisboa, 2010) showing small cabinet doors decorated with birds in thick foliage. To the left from the same book is a photo of what they call a small 'paralleliped' chest with a design of rabbits under a willow tree on the inside side of the lid. Animal and vegetal designs of a more native Japanese style were often incorporated in these early namban lacquer pieces, made for Portugal and Spain. To the right is the magnificent Museo de Navarra Namban chest, also an early namban piece (i.e. late 16th or early 17th century) shown with animal designs of a pair of felines on one panel and a rooster and hen on the other.
After the Portuguese were expelled, the VOC (Dutch East Indies Company) continued to export such items. Probably of a slightly later date is the Japanese "transition style coffer" with a domed cover and fire gilt copper fittings shown below. The Dutch appraiser's description of the lacquerware decoration reads: "takimaki-e (high relief), tsuke-gaki (drawing with narrow lacquer lines and over sprinkling with gold and silver fillings), usuniku-takamai-e (demi relief), kimekomi (pushed inside) and accents of kirigane (small geometrical cut metal mosaic). Very rare to see is that the cartouches on the coffer are on a wood grain ground called ‘Mokumé’ which is a pattern applied with gold-dust to suggest the presence of woodgrain. The cartouches are decorated with butterflies (mukai cho), within the cartouches a landscape of rocks, trees, flowers, birds and Japanese pavilions and pagodas and fences with architectural details. The inside of the cover with wisteria vines and a phoenix. All-over decorated with symbols referring to Japanese family crests. Bronzes re-gilt and restorations to the lacquerwork." (Pieter Hoogendijk Antiquair, Hilversum, www.phoogendijk.com). While this item was in the Cecil family's possession, and the exterior design is of the VOC period, the domed lid's interior lacquer work is a good example of the type of Japanese imagery that is often found on earlier pieces made for the Portuguese and Spanish.
As an aside, when we look at the above design of flowers on a rich, black backdrop, we are also reminded of how the art and extremely popular hobby of 'decoupage' in the 18th century (the old and witty Englishwoman Mary Delany 1700-1788 first comes to mind---see samples of her work at the British Museum), a form of Ladies Amusement, really was part of The Whole Art of Japanning Made Easy, as the publisher Robert Sayer (1725-1794) entitled his 1760 book on decoupage, filled with chinoiserie illustrations by Jean Pillement (1728–1808).
Below is a bedroom of the Casa de Alfenique Regional Museum in Puebla, Mexico, displaying 17th century urushi lacquer cabinets mixed with 18th-19th century chinoiserie pieces, an example of how the passion for Japanese lacquer was a cross-Atlantic phenomenon, existing side by side with the chinoiserie movement in the New World, as it did in Europe. Though unfortunately, many of these pieces are not in good condition and require restoration.
A Complex Web of Commercial and Artistic Linkages, From Japan to Macao to Mexico
What is known as a 'biombo' of 'Noah's Ark' at the Museo Soumaya in Mexico City is in fact a byobu screen, the 'Byobu of the Great Flood' (大洪水図屏風) likely made by expatriate Japanese or their descendants living in Macao, sometime in the 17th century, who had fled Japan due to Toyotomi Hideyoshi's disfavor towards Christians. It's existence in Mexico for centuries is a testament to, and the tip of the iceberg of, the complex cultural linkages that existed within the Spanish Empire's far-flung colonial and commercial empire. Depicting an Old Testament scene, comissioned to be sent to Spain or New Spain, the painting is done in a manner completely different from those based on European conceptions of the flood and ark. Included in this opulent image of flux, turbulence, and a flurry of human activity, are also mythical creatures such as phoenixes (鳳凰), griffins (麒麟), and Chinese lions (唐獅子). From pieces like these (and as indicated by the etymology of the Spanish word for folding screen 'biombo' itself), the transmission of Japanese byobu screen making techniques, in terms of painting and construction, can be gleaned.
Anonymous, Noah's Ark (大洪水屏風) c. 17th century, Museo Soumaya, Mexico City
Spanish Imperial Trade Routes from Asia to Spain via their Colonies in the Philippines and Mexico
In the 16th to the early 17th centuries (and indirectly later), Japan was an integral part of the trade in porcelain, lacquer, and other goods crossing eastward via Manila in the Philippines over the Pacific to Acapulco, Mexico, then crossing over land to Veracruz, and from there shipped by sea across the Atlantic to Cadiz, Spain. Part of a display at the Templo Mayor Site Museum, Mexico City.
'The Dark Manner' of Urushi Art
The full range of possible influences of the urushi arts upon Europe and their colonies (for New Spain see articles by Kawamura Yayoi) cannot possibly be covered here, such as the effect that Japanese lacquer cabinets might have had on the development of 'the dark manner' of painting, otherwise known as 'tenebrism', from the Italian meaning dark and mysterious, characterized by an affected chiaroscuro, extreme in contrasts of light and dark. Darkness becomes the dominating quality of the picture, the background taking on a rich consistent blackness that often has no depth (e.g. Domenico Fetti's 'David' c. 1620 at the Accademia Galleries of Venice, to give one out of countless possible examples).
Domenico Fetti's 'David' c. 1620 at the Accademia Galleries of Venice
This is precisely the effect of lacquer imagery, the feeling Japanese lacquer images convey---the subjects being in luminous gold or silver, surrounded in deep, lustrous black lacquer. The rise of the dark manner in Caravaggio, and particular those after him coincides, or rather postdates the arrival of Japanese lacquerware into Europe of which the first larger pieces of Nanban lacquer were being brought to Japan in the 1580's (recall Archduke Ferdinand's Japanese Nanban cabinet and the Japanese missions which brought lacquerware as gifts), and smaller pieces even earlier by the Portuguese. As the number of Japanese lacquer pieces in European palaces grew in prominence in the 17th century, it is not hard to imagine how painting, especially by court painters whose paintings would grace palace halls, would also converge chromatically with the changing aesthetic environment they were to be placed in, especially in relation to showcase items. The popularity of gold and black armor, from gold and blue, or the effort to make blue metal darker at the time, might also be a reflection of this, especially in Spain and among the Hapsburgs. It should be stressed that this is not to say tenebrism only came from Japanese lacquer; rather, the reason why a certain trend accelerates or blossoms to the extent it does is often due to multiple validating precedents and reinforcing signals, of which the clear indication that Japanese lacquerware gave surely deserves mention.
Thus the effect of Japanese art may have worked both ways: lacquerware affecting the trend toward tenebrism, pushing painting towards extreme dark and light, with the darker areas dominating the light; and on the other hand simultaneously, as in the discussion to follow, the kimono and the byobu screen influencing the lightening and brightening of color, and the reduction of shadow. At times these two forces may have been at work in one artist; the case of Georges de la Tour (1593-1662) is, for one who knows even a little of Japanese art, something that causes a sense of definite recognition and surprise, only to be waived away an instant later as an impossibility. But when we look at his 'Penitent Magdalen' (c.1640) as an example of the darker, or 'The Fortune Teller' (c.1630-1639) as an example of the lighter, among other works, not simply in terms of light and dark and color, but in his handling of fabrics, in the flatness of backgrounds, sometimes even in facial features---but most of all in his peculiar aesthetic sensibility---that nagging feeling is hard to dismiss.
Georges de la Tour, 'Penitent Magdalen', c.1640
The Kimono in Europe and the New World
The Japonse Rok / Japonsche Rock (modified kimono or Coromandel imitations) in Dutch Society
As for fashion, it was kimonos that became a fad among European elites to wear, especially in Holland. The japonse (or japonsche) rok (or rock, rocken), a kimono tailored into a house robe or morning gown, was first introduced in the Netherlands after the trade relations with Japan had been established, and came to be worn not only by aristocrats and scholars but also by wealthy burgers as distinguished and chic attire.
The Dutch East India Company directors received kimonos as gifts from the shogun, as for instance, Engelbert Kaempfer (1651-1716), physician to the company's director relates, from shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (1646-1709). The director received a “shogun's gown” with padding made of silk wadding, and the director's associates also received kimonos made of sumptous materials. Those still preserved in museums are what are known as 'yogi'---thickly padded robes used as bedding during the Edo period, with their characteristic patterns and cut (Akiko Fukai, Chief Curator Kyoto Costume Institute, Japonism in Fashion, Kyoto Costume Institute, 1996), similar to the robes in the portrait pictures below.
Due to the costliness of kimonos made in Japan, imitations were manufactured by the East India Company in the Coromandel region of India at a fraction of the price, and thereafter the wearing of the kimono inspired japonsche rok spread widely, to the wider middle class and especially among students. So much so that in 1725 in Leiden, Holland, an official notice was posted, to the effect (even if permittable at other ceremonies) at least when attending mass celebrating a Leiden University anniversary, not to come in 'habitu asiatico' ---i.e., not wear kimonos or japonse rok, but western clothing, as for instance, Josef Kreiner, professor emeritus of Bonn University, relates in 'The Culture of Japan within Germany' ('Doitsu no Naka no Nihonbunka', Umi wo Watatta Bunkazai, Committee for the 13th Public Symposium on Universities and Science, Tokyo, 1999; also in Stephan Van Raay ed. Imitation and Inspiration: The Japanese Influence on Dutch Art, 1989).
Elsewhere in Europe, such as In England the japonse rok/rocken came to be called `banyan' and in France 'indienne'. But we should emphasize here that the vogue for Japanese kimonos, or adaptations of them, was not limited to the Old World; it spread to the colonies, to their administrators and well-to-do, and thus was a phenomenon global in scale. This was the case in Dutch colonies such as New York, but even more so in the Spanish colonies, where not only kimonos and lacquerware, but also byobu screens influenced fashion and interior furnishings in Mexico and other parts of New Spain, as hinted at earlier, which various researchers have investigated (e.g., Andreia Martins Torres, 'The kimono in New Spain: a local manifestation of a global fashion in the 17th and 18th centuries' Conservar Património, Vol. 31, 2019; V. Mínguez; I. Rodríguez, 'Japan in the Spanish Empire: Circulation of works of art and imaginings of Cipango in Metropolitan Spain and the American viceroyalties', Bulletin of Portuguese-Japanese Studies 19, 2009; A. Baena Zapatero, 'Chinese and Japanese influence on colonial Mexican furniture: the achinado folding screens', Bulletin of Portuguese-Japanese Studies 20, 2010). Thus, after weighing the influence of lacquer, porcelain, and dress in various places during this time, one might argue that the japonisme of the 17th and early 18th centuries may have been nearly as far-reaching and influential, as that of the 19th century.
Before moving on to the impact the kimono had on artists, we should consider how the striking colors and novel designs of Japanese textiles might have stirred the imaginations of people other than artists who viewed and wore them, just as paintings or books can do. Take as an example, the Dutch state secretary and poet Constantijn Huygens (1596–1687), a key political figure in the Dutch Republic, and instrumental in the development of the concept of the picturesque. The kimono for Huygens was astonishing and perplexing, a catalyst to new ways of thinking and perceiving the world, as Wybe Kuitert of Seoul University has insightfully pointed out ('Japanese Robes, "Sharawadgi", and the Landscape Discourse of Sir William Temple and Constantijn Huygens'. Garden History 41, No. 2, Winter 2013. See also on this website Yasutaka Aoyama, 'Constantijn Huygens and William Temple: The 17th Century Japanese Origins of the Picturesque In Garden Landscapes and Portrayals of Landscapes', University Lectures page). It may be postulated that the kimono/ japonse rok/japonsche rock (along with lacquer panel imagery) was for the 17th century what the ukiyo-e print was for the 19th.
Cornelis de Man (1621-1706) and Other Dutch Artists: Spreading a New Light in Painting through the Japonse Rok
Cornelis De Man of Delft produced many 'conversation pieces' depicting bougeois life, following Necker, Vermeer and especially de Hooch. But more frequently than them, he included kimono or japonse rok/japonsche rock clad figures as the central subject of his paintings. The kimono or kimono-like roks are not only motifs adding interest to the pictures, they are critical in serving to transform the paintings into something lighter, brighter, and softer in feeling. In that respect, they may have been a catalyst in the gradual evolution of a different conception of painting, the first step towards a more modern, freer attitude towards color. The kimono/japonse rok, often worn loosely, and with a smooth surface, has a volume and breadth that encompasses and spreads out on the canvas so as to dominate the balance of light and color, especially when the subject is male, than tight-fitting traditional European dress. This is the same in yamato-e paintings of Heian women at court, or early ukiyo-e prints where kimonos fill up the majority of the picture space, and take on a life of their own, rivaling or superceding the personage as the main subject of the picture.
Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675) painted the japonse rok, but even more so did Caspar Netcher (1639-1684), Jan Steen (1626-1679) and a host of lesser known Dutch artists including Jan Verkolje, Jacob Toorenvliet, Aert Schouman, Ary de Vois, Gerard Hoet, and Jan Lievens (1607-1674) who all used the japonsche rock to brighten or soften their pictures. The last mentioned is of particular interest in his use of the kimono/rok even in biblical or related scenes, such as his 'Abraham and Isaac' (c.1637) and 'A Magus at a Table' (c. 1631). His 'Young Man in Yellow Robes' (c. 1631) is also noteworthy in capturing the sheen and luster of a kimono in candlelight.
We should add that away in France, this trend probably had an impact on Jean-Etienne Liotard (1702-1789) as well, whose portrait (c.1745) of Wilhelmine of Bayreuth, discussed earlier, is a good example. It shows her in a silver grey oriental robe with monochrome (reminiscent of jimon 地紋 type) designs, and a background which is not so far from that of Manet more than a hundred years later, that would be recognized as following the Japanese practice of abstract backdrops in ukiyo-e prints, or in this case, perhaps a distant and unrecognized influence of byobu screens. Though known as 'The Turk' for his own and his subjects' often Turkish attire, one of Liotard's self-portraits as a thin bearded man in a red cap and vest is also reminiscent of the manner of depicting Chinese figures on Chinese or Imari porcelain as found in his own various still-life paintings of porcelains, e.g., 'Still Life: Tea Set' (1781-1783).
In Cornelis de Man's 'Chess Players' and 'Notary in his Office' paintings shown below, not only does the kimono/rok function to add brightness and lightness, the surrounding, coordinated elements show a decorative, chromatic and textural sensibility that reminds one of fine kimonos textiles; no doubt placed there to match the rok, thus further brightening and softening the picture. Besides the four works below, there are other group scenes where the rok figures prominently, as well as paintings of solitary figures, usually children, who intrude upon what are fundamentally still-life paintings with oriental textiles and vases, or Delft blue vases inspired by them.
1) Cornelis de Man, 'The Reading Lesson', c. 1680. A painting which is considered thematically similar to a Caspar Netcher painting in its motif of a mother teaching her child to read and the use of multiple full-length figures, but is different in its use of color which is its most striking quality, somewhat reminiscent of Georges de la Tour. The full length figures in brightly colored japonsche rok create an effect not totally unlike that of a yamato-e byobu screen with kimono figures. The picture is also noteworthy in that a female is wearing a kimono (or kimono based rok), for in most other paintings of the time, whether it be those of Netcher, Vermeer, or lesser known artists who painted their subjects in rok attire, it is primarily men who are wearing it, although this may be also due to the fact that kimono textiles were likely to have been cut up into western style dress for women, for whom a flapping open robe in the presence of company might be considered less than appropriate.
2) Cornelis de Man, 'Chess Players', c. 1670. A man in a japonse rok playing chess with a woman in more traditional house attire. The whole effect is modern in its photographic quality, of seeming to capture the instant of the woman turning back and looking towards the 'photographer' (painter). The curtains and the other surfaces share a lustrousness with that of silk kimono textiles, adding to the feeling of light. The flat vertically long shimmery suface of the wall on the left reminds one of a rolled out obi (a sash wrapped around a kimono). The combination of that bluish silver wall surface and the man's subdued azuki-like purplish rok is what might be called quintessentlal kimono taste. One is intrigued to ask, did de Man, whether consciously or unconsciously, incorporate the aesthetics of kimono textiles into his paintings? And perhaps it was no coincidence that the rediscovery of the Dutch Masters was by the Impressionists (who felt a strong affinity to them); in that they shared the same inspirational source for light and color and the diversification of subject matter---Japanese art.
3) Cornelis de Man, 'An Interior with a Seller of Curiosities', 1675-1680. A seller of curiosities in a modified kimono, and his servant with a basket full of exotic shells.
4) Cornelis de Man, 'A Notary in His Office', 1672. A japonse rok in rich gold worn by a 'nouveau riche' notary, flaunting his success amid the rising prosperity of the burger class in Holland at the time. Note the green with gold dust classic byobu color combination of the wall in the background, that goes well with the notary's golden rok.
While de Man is often seen as taking from other established Dutch artists in terms of composition, his openess to color, it might be argued, was not lacking in comparison to the greater names of Dutch painting, especially in his paintings which include the japonse rok. His paintings without a rok are often appreciably darker.
Examples from Johannes Vermeer, Caspar Netcher, and Jan Lievens
The Japonse Rok: Inducing a Heightened Awareness of Personal Comfort and Ease
The painter Jan Verkolje (1650-1693), in his portrait of Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, skillfully captures the sense of complete ease with himself in his japonse rok which the renown scientist holds ever so tenderly. It is hard to conceive of conveying such an impression were he dressed up in European attire of a century earlier, with its buttons, leggings, belts, and tight fitting collars. The kimono (and its imitations)---what a transformation it wrought upon Europe in conceptions of bodily comfort and private relaxation!
Jan Verkolje, Portrait of Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, c. 1680, Museum Boerhaave
Portraits of Women in Kimono or Japonse Rok
The Japonse Rok in the Paintings of John Michael Wright (1617-1694) and James Thornhill (c. 1676-1734)
The British 'Banyan' was but another, later name for the japonse rok, and like in continental Europe, was as eagerly sought and worn by the English aristocratic and intellectual elite, including Isaac Newton.
KImono Patterns in Men's Fashion
While the kimono is often associated with women, and would influence women's fashions especially in the latter 19th and 20th centuries, the kimono--its form, fabric and motifs permeated into fashionable men's clothing in the 17th and 18th centuries. Below are some examples of western fabric designs in modified shapes from the 18th century compared with older, traditional designs from Japan.
Kimono Designs in Women's Clothing
(Photo captions to be supplemented)
Below: The first two are some examples of Japanese kimono designs from the 17th and early 18th centuries, using extremely bold, bright stripes; patterns of scattered crossing sticks/fence structures; and patterned interior linings all typical of Japanese kimono design. In the third, bottom row are similar design ideas that appeared in France as 'fashionable' in the later 18th century.
Small fences, hedges, plant supports, or implement like motifs were something that figured prominently in Japanese kimono design, and appeared in 18th century dresses as seen below. At times it seems they were copied without an understanding of what they were supposed to represent. Horizontal striped vestments can be found depicted in late medieval texts in Europe, but the bold vertical or horizontal stripe as a fashionable design was likely an influence of Japanese kimonos. Decorative interior linings were also a relatively late development, which again probably owed to the kimono. More will be discussed regarding the influence of the kimono in conjunction with the folding fan later.
The Painted Byobu Screen and Japanese Visual Arts in Relation to 17th Century Dutch Painting
The above examples have focused on the presence of the kimono and japonse rok in Dutch, French, and English society, and its effect upon painting and fashion. But there are indications of less obvious connections with other forms of Japanese art, namely the byobu, or Japanese folding screen. Take for instance, the Dutch painter Samuel van Hoogstraten (1627-1678)'s 'Trompe l'Oeil Still Life' series, especially the one shown below of c.1655 and its parallels to 'harimaze' ('mixed pasting') byobu screens, a technique dating back to the medieval period in Japan. Harimaze is characterized by a) seemingly random scattering of poetry papers, or pictures of sensu fans, books, or paintings on b) a flat, plain, vertical surface, often with c) bold lines cutting across the picture, either horizontally, diagonally, or at a minimum vertically, due to the screen being divided into multiple panels. Further below are examples of typical byobu predating or contemporary with van Hoogstraten's work: the 'Ise Monogatari Shikishi Harimaze Byobu' (16th century, Suntory Museum) and the 'Senmen Shikishi Harimaze Byobu' (17th century, private collection).
'His 'View Through a House' (1662) also shares qualities with byobu art, but of a different kind in its views of multiple, divided living spaces and planes, with an emphasis on the juxtaposition of varied geometric patterns. This corresponds to the 'fukinuki yatai' depiction technique that goes back to Heian times, yet similar to modern axionometric projections. Viewed from any number of possible points higher above normal eye level, the buildings are drawn roofless, and room after room is visible, where exterior walls, fences, interior dividing partitions, and windows exhibit a variety of geometric patterns, including the floors, divided into clearly delineated interlocking mats (see the page on this website, University Lectures 'The Japanese Origins of Axonometric Projection in the Fukinuki-yatai Depiction Technique'). It is as if Hoogstraten has brought the technique down to earth, and close-up, so as to speak.
This is something that is shared with Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684), in works such as his 'Woman and her Maid in a Courtyard' (1658); and there are architectural details in some of his paintings that cannot help but remind one of Japan. The low placed windows in his 'Woman and Child in a Pantry' (1658) or built in wooden closet spaces for bedding or sleeping with a rolled screen over it, as in his 'A Woman Delousing her Child's Hair' (c. 1660-1661), and the proliferation of large, fine gridded windows placed more freely and asymmetrically in general, are some features paralleling well-established traditional architectural features of Japan, that were innovations in Europe. These sorts of architectural features must have existed in the Dutch factory at Hirado from 1609, and later at their residences at Dejima Island from 1641, and may have been conveyed not only through images in Japanese art brought home, but also could have been easily described by word of mouth and sketches by any of the Dutch, German, or other nationalities who stayed there at the service of The Netherlands.
That images and objects from East Asia were coming to the attention of, and being incorporated into the paintings of the Low Countries, even earlier by the latter 16th century, is testified to by the work of Peter Bruegel the Elder (c. 1525-1569). An extremely accurate and detailed depiction of a hat from Asia figures prominently in the 'The Sermon of John the Baptist' (1566). The figure in the front, center, wears a typical rain and sun resistant 'takenoko gasa' (gasa is an inflection of kasa), made from the sheath of a bamboo shoot of typical design; and further in the crowd, left center of John the Baptist are two, and one just above the takenoko gasa, are at least three (perhaps four, but one looks slightly different) 'ichime' gasas, made of 'suge' a type of sedge, or if they are not, they must be extremely similar hats made in Southeast Asia or China.
These could not have been solely products of his imagination, but had to be drawn by actual examples, or extremely detailed images. The important point is that whatever part of East or Southeast Asia they were made in, they are incontrovertible evidence of an openness and willingness on the part of Peter Bruegel the Elder to incorporate Asian elements into his paintings. Elsewhere, here and there, he has planted figures in his paintings (perhaps intentional clues for posterity) which look East Asian as in 'The Fight Between Carnival and Lent' (1559). If one has a chance to observe the painting at the Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, one would notice a figure to the far right, wearing not only a typical rice paddy sowing type hat with a protruding knob at the top (found in various parts of Southeast and East Asia, such as among the Chin tribes in Rakhine, Burma, to give but one example), and oriental-looking gowns, but also depicted in a typical Chinese pose hiding his hands in his sleeves which are held together relatively high in front. His idea of depicting 'Two Monkeys' (1562) as well as monkeys with other animals or in groups, may have taken a hint from the Chinese tradition, carried on in Japan, of depicting long armed and tailed monkeys as a pair or troop, or as in Yi Yuanji (易元吉 11th century)'s 'Monkey and Cats' (猿猫図) with other animals (Yi Yuanji's monkey, like those of in Bruegel's, is tied to a central post/pin). And much could be said about Bruegel's mountain landscapes, which often reflect various elements of the Chinese, Korean, and Japanese 'sansui' (literally 'mountain and water') genre of suiboku-ga (ink wash painting); including his etchings and engravings, such as 'Magdalena Poenitens' (The Penitent Magdalene 1555-6). Similar observations can be made about his son, Peter Bruegel the Younger (1564-1638)'s 'The Visit to the Farm' (c. 1622, private collection, auctioned at Sotheby's) with the same sort of hats depicted as those mentioned above, though interestingly, Bruegel the Younger depicts that sort of thing with much less frequency than his father, and his pictures in general can be said to show less 'oriental' qualities compared to Bruegel the Elder, as if he were reverting back to a more pre-established European painting style.
Below, a Korean example of the sansui ('mountain and water') genre of suiboku-ga, preserved from the 14th century at Sokokuji Temple in Kyoto, which takes from the Northern Song style of landscape painting. While a Chinese or Japanese painting could have been choosen as an example, we should emphasize that such ink wash painting styles which are mirrored in Flemish and Dutch compositions were a pan-East Asian phenomenon. Though the resolution of the photo is not high enough to make out all the details, one can see the waterfalls, bridges, zig-zaging rivers, curving mountain paths, jagged or tilting rock surfaces, small peripheral figures, the massing of volumes to one side, and other features which are also often found as a compositional set in Flemish/Dutch painting in the latter 16th and 17th centuries.
'Sansui Picture of Traveling through the Cold Mountains' 寒山行旅山水図 Sokokuji Temple, Kyoto 相国寺蔵, 14th century, Important Cultural Property of Japan 重要文化財
While it is easy to paper over unanswered questions to his (and Dutch artists that would follow him) new-found landscape imagery by resorting to vague, abstract forces such as an 'impulse' towards 'realism', or to newly established independence, national consciousness and prosperity, or otherwise an "anti-Latin mind", along with "a worship without images and parsimonious habits" as well as "practicality, self-reliance, and materialism" (Fromentin 1963, in Peter Sutton, Masters of 17th Century Dutch Painting, 1987, p.2) such words really do not explain the concrete and specific characteristics that appear in his work and other Dutch artists who followed him, especially after what coincides with the Dutch East Indies Company commencing trade with Southeast Asia and Japan in the early 17th century. If general sentiment and societal trends alone were the necessary and sufficient conditions for a revolution in painting, why didn't the same happen in Britain in the 17th century after the Glorious Revolution? Why not Switzerland in the 17th century after the Peace of Westphalia?
Portugal had already established contact with Japan by 1543, and Francisco Xavier arrived there as head of the Jesuit mission in 1549; though Xavier had already met Japanese living abroad in Malacca by 1547, of whom 'Anjiro' is the best known (Sophia University website ルーツ～ザビエルの夢と志とともに at sophia.ac.jp). More Portuguese trading ships arrived in Hirado from 1550 onward. For the next half century all eyes were on Asia for spice and souls. Dutchmen like the merchant Jan Huyghen van Linschoten traveled to the Indies (residing in India 1583-89), and back in Holland wrote of their experiences; Dirck Gerritszoon Pomp (1544–c. 1608) who also resided in Goa visited Japan twice by 1585 before coming home and relating his experiences such that he was called 'Dirck China' (Jan W. IJzerman, Dirck Gerritsz Pomp alias Dirck Gerritsz China: De Eerste Nederlander die China en Japan Bezocht, Martinus Nijhoff, 1915); the Dutch fleet under Cornelis and Frederik de Houtman reached Indonesia in 1595; the first Dutch ship to reach Japan was the de Liefde (with Jacob Janszoon Quaeckernaeck c. 1543-1606, Melchior van Santvoort c. 1570–1641, and Will Adams aboard) in 1600; the East Indies Company (VOC) was established in 1602; Jan Joosten van Lodensteijn (1556–1623) from Delft who also came on the de Liefde, known in Japan as Yayosu (耶楊子), opened the first Hirado factory in July, 1609, before the English factory, continuing in operation until it was transferred to Dejima in 1641 (Iwao Seiichi, 'An Early Dutchman in Japan', Japan Quarterly Vol. 6, No. 3, Jul 1, 1959); yet why do commentaries on Dutch art avoid any discussion of Holland's rapidly growing overseas trade with the East, exactly at this time?
Simon Schama, now at Columbia University, once called the transformation in Dutch art, in particular that which occurred in the late 1620's and 1630's, a "radical discontinuity" that has not been fully explained ('Dutch Landscapes: Culture as Foreground', in Sutton 1987, p.64); and (in this author's opinion) if there is any steadfast rule about dramatic advances in the visual arts, it is that it requires artistic precedent, artistic models, and artistic stimuli that share a kindred (though not identical) nature to that which it matures toward. It does not arise simply because of a change of attitudes, increased wealth, or national consciousness; rather art requires art for nourishment, despite what art theorists might say.
Bruegel's 'Gloomy Day' (1565), for instance, commissioned by the Antwerp merchant Nicolaes Jonghelinck, is not realistic at all; it flies in the face of reality with its sprout-like peaks hardly typical of European alpine slopes and closer to the type of karst formations found in Asia, such as southern China's Guilin (桂林) mountains and those in Jiangxi (江西省) to the east, or Japan's Onodake (小野岳) with its Toh no hetsuri (塔のへつり). These sorts of rock formations are the subject of countless paintings in China, and due to that, plentiful in Japan as well. So too his broad winding rivers near such rock formations: the extreme turbulence with ships being tossed about (while elsewhere all is quiet) is geographically implausible, wherever it might be situated. Stormy maritime scenes are found, however, in numerous Japanese emaki picture scrolls of priests and embassies who voyaged to and fro between Japan and China, with their ships tossing about in high waves; in fact emaki (絵巻) picture scrolls along with byobu screen paintings (屏風絵) contain a colorful panorama of exotic landscapes as well as scenes of daily life and work similar to figures in Bruegel's Gloomy Day. The dilapidated thatched roofs, the leafless winter branches of his Flemish village---the idea of depicting winter and the aesthetic awakening to and emphasis on the seasons in oil painting---these are quintessential to water based Chinese ink wash and Yamato-e painting in Japan. Bruegel's pictures, though characterized as being imbued with realism, are closer to what Hume would call complex ideas; somewhat like a dragon that is part serpent, bird, bat, and beast, so too the various elements in his works seem almost like a collage of images, of which some may have their origins far from Europe.
Below to the left are two panels from Kano Motonobu (1476-1559)'s 'Landscapes, flowers, and trees of the four seasons' (before 1559, Smithsonian, National Museum of Asian Art, DC); to the right is Bruegel's Gloomy Day (1565, Kunst Historisches Museum, Wien). Note in both pictures the following parallels: in the mid-background is the sprouting formation of rocks with architecture in front; further beyond in the far distance are a set of more gently sloping hills facing an open body of water extending their parallel 'tails' into that sea; in the mid-ground is a curving river with one bank jutting conspicuously from the central area of the picture towards the other side; boats are depicted far in the background in open waters and closer within the river (though the waters are calm vs. turbulent); the side of the river with the mountains being more craggy and taller than the other; in the mid-foreground are thatched houses; while in front of that cluster of houses, higher up, are persons overlooking the entire scene, in Motonobu to the lower left, in Bruegel to the lower right. By coincidence Bruegel's trees even serve to function as does the vertical divider in Motonobu's panels. It should be emphasized that Bruegel did not need to see this particular painting by Motonobu; rather the painting shows the style of landscapes produced in Japan precisely in the years preceding Bruegel's work. Also, due to habits of mind, both religious and humanistic, human figures loom larger in Western paintings compared to their Eastern 'prototypes'.
It may be safely said that the innovations that characterize Dutch art of the late 16th and first three quarters of the 17th century---whether it be in landscapes or cityscapes, vegetation or rock, or the wide gamut of human work and play---are precisely the precepts well-established in the older visual art of the Far East. As for the particularly conspicuous transformation that occurred after Bruegel, centered in the second quarter of the 17th century, Schama's proposed "missing links" such as Hendrick Goltzius, Claes Jansz Visscher, and Jan van de Velde II (1593-1641), or the copper prints of the German Adam Elsheimer (1578-1610), supply only a very weak and limited in scope repertoire of images to explain the revolution in Dutch painting, hardly more than Bruegel already does. Furthermore, the work of the relatively more convincing candidates out of the above, Jan van de Velde and Adam Elsheimer, occurs in the 17th century and are few in number, exhibiting by the way, strong parallels with East Asian landscape images.
Indeed, whether it be the haunting 'full-moonscapes' of Aert van der Neer (1603/4-1677); the cascading waterfalls of Allart van Everdingen (1621-1675) and Jacob van Ruisdael (c.1628/29-1682) who may have been influenced by him; the preoccupation with isolated, thatched farmhouses of Jan van Goyen (1596-1656) and Abraham Bloemaert (1564-1651); or that of Aelbert Cuyp (1620-1691) and Paulus Potter (1625-1654) for bovines (a genre in Japan called 'ox/horse pictures' 牛馬図 such as the Shungyu-zu 駿牛図, 13th century); the angled rocks of Gillis de Hondecoutre (1575-80-1638) or Claes Berchem (1620-1683) and Gerbrand van den Eeckhout (1621-1674)'s towering flat walls of rock as a backdrop of idyllic activity; the monochrome, knobby, leafless, gnarly roots and trunks of Jan van Goyen, but especially Roelandt Savery (1576/78-1639), as well as Savery's brilliantly colored fowls in forests; the low, winter-time bridges of Jan Asselijin (c. 1615-1652) with branches at the painting's edge (e.g. 'Winter Landscape with Huntsmen on a Bridge') and precarious wooden mountain bridges in the prints of Aegidius Sadeler II (c. 1570-75-1629); the ferry boat scenes of well known artists as Esaias van de Velde (1587-1630) and lesser known artists as Eise Aetes Ruytenbach (1656-1692); the ultra-vast panoramic riverscapes of Frans de Momper (1603-1660) and Herman Saftleven (1609-1685); and yes, even the rustic fences of Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669 e.g. 'A Cottage Behind a White Paling' drawing and etching);---all this and much more, including the most popular subject matter (even psychological qualities about them such as the out-door free-mixing and disregard of class distinctions), object forms, subdued monochromatic 'tonalities', vantage points, and compositional relationships in Dutch painting, coincide---and a snug fit at that---with the most commonplace subject matter, their forms, tonalities, vantage points, and compositional relationships in the painting of East Asia.
That includes Chinese and Japanese ink wash 'sansui-ga' (landscape 山水画)', 'kachoga' (wildlife 花鳥画), and 'jinbutsuga' (people 人物画) painting, as well as, if not more so, full-color yamato-e depictions of society known as 'fuzokuga' (風俗画) including vast city panoramas called 'rakuchurakugai-zu' (洛中洛外図) and a variety of cherry blossom viewing hanami-zu (花見図), dancing scenes (群舞図), and other festive scenes (reminiscent of Bruegel's 'swarming' or wedding dance pictures and those of Henrick Avercamp 1585-1635), craftsmen pictures, known as 'shokunin zukushi-e' (職人尽絵), and agricultural pictures, 'koshoku-zu' (耕織図 these will be discussed in the following 'volume' of this website). Nor must we forget other pictures found almost exclusively in emaki (絵巻) picture scrolls form---within which one discovers worlds of 'realism' as well as fantasy. Even emaki biographies of Buddhist saints, 'kosoden-e' (高層伝絵) and the emaki histories of temples and shrines in Japan, 'engi-emaki' (縁起絵巻), depict not so much strictly religious matters, as changing landscapes filled with scenes from every walk of life. Whether it be a case of direct or indirect transmission (i.e., direct observation of oriental artworks or imitation of local artists that did), the Eastern source is the logical candidate for the 'missing link'; it best explains why Dutch "landscape painting was of a type in subject matter as well as form, that had never before been essayed by any other European culture.” (Schama, in Sutton 1987, p. 64, italics original)
To the left is Kenko Shokei (賢江祥啓, second quarter to last quarter of the 15th century)'s 'Picture of Mountains and Water' (山水図 mid to latter 15th century) at the Museum für Ostasiatische Kunst Köln (Cologne Museum for East Asian Art); to the right is Jan Asselijn's 'Winter Landscape with Huntsmen on a Bridge' (c. 1647) at the Institut Néerlandais, Frits Lugt Collection, Paris. The parallels are self-evident, but of particular interest is the protruding rocky formations on the far side of the bank on the right side of the figures; the steep hill facing them on the far side; the tree placed high on it with angular branches reaching out over the bridge, and the cross-over of those branches creating a highly delineated 'hole'; the vague shapes in the distance faintly visible through the mist, and the manner of depicting the mist itself. Note also the unusually vertical format of Asselijn's composition; hinting that he may have seen a kakejiku (掛軸) scroll painting (also the likely original framing of Shokei's picture).
Below is a comparison of tree shapes in Japanese art from the 13th to the 17th century, with those in Dutch painting of the 17th century, with a focus on Roelandt Savery, who in so many of his paintings, sketches, and etchings mirrors various different genres of Japanese art (not only his trees but his rocks, birds, mountain bridges, and other subject matter). The appearance of these tree forms in Dutch painting is part of that sudden and explosive change in the 17th century, whereas in Japan a very steady evolution and diversification of tree forms to their shapes in the 17th century can be traced. This process occurred over centuries, starting with Heian period emaki scrolls, there already being a tendency to emphasize the trunk and branches of trees, and their angled, contorted and extending forms, the pine and plum being two favorites. These tree shapes were not only drawn on a variety of painting mediums including emaki and fusuma sliding doors (which thus surrounded the viewer within the room), they were actively cultivated in gardens where the maintenance of convoluted and sideways extending branches was an art form in itself. These can be seen in the oldest existing gardens in Japan, in garden treatises, in celebrated pine trees, some more than 700 years old, and of course as bonsai---which was known as hachi-no-ki (鉢木), i.e., 'potted trees', the name also of a famous Noh play, most likely written either by Kan'ami Kiyotsugu (観阿弥清次 1333-1384) or at the latest by his son, that greatest of terse playrights, Zeami Motokiyo (世阿弥元清 1363-1443) or, though hard to conceive, given it is clearly in their Kanzeryu (観世流) style, by someone of equal talent from the same generation. In the case of Holland, these tree forms exist as art in a very concentrated time frame and media. It is plain to see that those images in oil painting and etchings align themselves well with stylistic developments in Japan at the time.
Note the similarity of how the contorted branches engulf both meditating religious figures, the Buddhist saint Myoe above left and John the Baptist by Jan van Londerseel (1578-c. 1625) to the right, who sit atop a small protruding, ridge-like mound. Observe how the trees are drawn to reveal the twisting branches, which show many offshoots but with the leaves sparsely clustered in a horizontal orientation, leaving uneven spacings between twigs, yet convey a sense of the two meditators utter entanglement within the untamed state of Nature.
The classic sideways extending trunk in Japanese art above left and its appearance in Dutch art in the 17th century, right. Below, the preoccupation with the root and base of the tree; its mass and density contrasted with the chaotic directional growth of its branches (compare left and center) and exaggerated contortedness, sometimes split and divided at the base (compare center and right).
Observe in the pictures above and below the combination of severly bent tree trunk and rock formations, and how the tops of the trees are either broken off or stunted or intentionally not visible.
Hasegawa Tohaku, Fusuma Picture of the Zen Founder (禅宗祖師図襖), 1602, Nanzenji, Kyoto
Note the long branches, extending over the waterfront in Hasegawa Tohaku (長谷川等伯1539-1610)'s painting above and that of Adam Pijnacker (c.1620-1673) below to the left, where a low, small boat with some cargo and figures stand, the emphasis on protruding roots and the general accentuation on bent forms of the tree in both paintings. The silhouetted branch in the Pijnacker's painting to the right reminds one of paintings by the likes of Kano Sanraku and his disciple and son-in-law Sansetsu shown further below.
Kano Sanraku, Sansetsu (1590-1651), Umeyanagi ni Yukin-zu Fusuma (梅柳に遊禽図襖), first half of the 17th century, before 1650, Tenkyuin, Myoshinji, Kyoto
Much of the landscape imagery in Dutch art from the late 16th century onward is also analogous to that on urushi lacquerware cabinets of the kind discussed earlier (e.g. the Ashmolean Rokaku cabinet and the Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde cabinet in Munich), not only in terms of rock shapes, trees, and general landscape composition, but also in terms of the interest in depicting peculiar building types such as thatched and raised structures such as Pieter Stevens (c. 1567-1624), e.g., 'A wooded river landscape with fishermen by cottages, a wooden bridge beyond' (c. 1598, private collection) and Abraham Bloemaert's 'Landscape with Tobias and the Angel', private collection).
Regarding how and where Dutch painters may have had access to painted images of Far Eastern art before 1600 is an intriguing question that requires investigation, but perhaps owes to some source that had changed hands more than once, either existing from the Medieval or Renaissance periods (e.g., diplomatic exchanges having occurred between the Papacy and the Mongol Empire, see e.g., Lauren Charles Arnold, Princely Gifts & Papal Treasures: The Franciscan Mission to China & Its Influence on the Art of the West, 1250-1350, Desiderata Press, 1999), or obtained later via individual Dutch merchants or the Spanish and Portuguese who had been to Japan and Southeast Asia including of course the Philippines where, quite contrary to modern perceptions, not only Chinese, but Japanese had established communities, and were active in trade and local politics. The early indications of East Asian influence in the work of Netherlandish artists as Bruegel and Savery may have been due to the Low Countries being interconnected with the far-flung Spanish Habsburg Empire.
In any case, it is certain that material from Asia was being accessed by European artists even in the late middle ages, though without fanfare, quite discreetly, as seems the case with the appearance of the Mongol Phags-pa script in early 14th century European painting, a discovery that had to await Tanaka Hidemichi (田中英道 of Tohoku University)'s observations and definitive identification in the 1980's ('The Mongolian Script in Giotto Paintings at the Scrovegni Chapel at Padova'. Akten des XXV. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte, 1986, Pt. 6, p. 167-174).
See also Gustave Soulier's Les Influences Orientales dans la peinture toscane (Paris: Henri Laurens, 1925); I.V. Pouzyna's La Chine, I'ltalie et les débuts de la renaissance XIIIe-XIVe siècles (Paris: Les Éditions d'art et d'histoire, 1935); Rosamond E. Mack's Bazaar to Piazza: Islamic Trade and Italian Art, 1300-1600 ( Berkeley: Univ. of California, 2001); and the Lithuanian scholar Jurgis Baltrusaitis' Le Moyen Age Fantastique: antiquités et exotismes dans l'art gothique (Paris: Armand Colin, 1955, translated into many languages, and depending on the language version the number of illustrations differ). Baltrusaitis finds intriguing parallels in the work of Hieronymus Bosch (c.1450-c.1516), such as his 'The Temptation of Saint Antony' at the Prado with that of early paintings of Yorimitsu assailed by monsters attributed to Tosa Mitsuaki (土佐光顕1345-1375); as well as 'The Last Judgement' of Hieronymus/Jerome Cock (c.1517/18-1570) and that of Alart du Hameel (c.1449-c.1506) compared to the Tosa Mitsunobu (土佐光信 1434-1525) version of the Hyakki Yagyo or 'Night Parade of the Hundred Demons' (百鬼夜行, late 15th or early 16th century).
But perhaps even closer to the Hundred Demons type depictions is Matthias Grünewald (1480-1528, born in Würzburg, Germany)'s 'The Temptation of Saint Antony', part of the Isenheim Altarpiece (1515, Unterlinden Museum, Colmar), where not only the peculiar facial compositions, but even the hair-pulling, expressions, and chromatics are reminiscent of Japanese hell and monster images from the 12th century onward. That is to say, the appearance of distinctly East Asian, and in particular Japanese images and art formats is not limited to Flemish-Netherlandish artists in the 16th century. In the German speaking world, one might consider the Swiss-German Jost Amman (1539-1591)'s senmen (扇面 i.e. folding fan)-like shaped engraving series 'The Months with Signs of the Zodiac (1555-1600), or Franz Isaac Brun (c.1535-c.1610/20)'s emaki scroll picture-like engravings versions of the 'The Twelve Months with signs of the Zodiac' (1559) as examples of the sudden appearance of new layouts that mirror well-established formats in East Asia. Also of interest are Brun's 1559 prints of pairs of soldiers in combat practice, of which two are in poses identical to that of Japanese combat poses in medieval emaki, not observed elsewhere in earlier European depictions of combat or warfare, to this author's knowledge.
Illustrations from Baltrusaitis are shown below. Correspondences labeled in red A and A', B and B' have been added for ease of comparison. However, more than these specific analogies, it is the unique conception of monstrousness that Japanese scroll paintings convey (both in emaki and kakejiku form, as the rokudo-e 六道絵 of Shojuraikoji Temple 聖衆来迎寺 in Shiga, more so than Tibetan versions), which is the most compelling in suspecting some kind of transmission, whether direct or indirect.
This need not mean that European painters saw those particular artworks in Japan or works by those artists; rather painting in Japan was often a family 'trade' almost always based on gradual modifications of venerated traditional prototypes, of which any might have passed over crossing hands as hinted at above via established trade routes as those with China and from there Arab merchants, not to mention the vast maritime network of the Ryukyu Kingdom of Okinawa (Sakamaki Shunzo's papers are recommended) and plentiful Japanese wako (倭寇) privateers, who engaged not only in pirating but also extensive trade precisely at this time in the 15th and 16th centuries. This was also the age of the Ming Yongle Emperor (永楽帝 1360-1424) and his Muslim eunuch admiral Zheng He (鄭和 1371-1433)'s stupendous Armada of Treasures, which made seven voyages between 1403-1433 (sometimes with more than three hundred ships) that reached at the very least the east coast of Africa in the early 15th century, dispensing valuable gifts all along the way. It is a gross misconception to see East Asia at this time as a group of isolated kingdoms. And we should re-emphasize that vivid and fantastic pictures of hell, demons/ogres, and other non-human beings (4 out of the 6 categories of rokudo-e 六道絵) were already established genres in Japanese painting by the 12th century, of which the national treasure status 'Jigoku-zoshi' (地獄草子) at the Tokyo and Nara National Museums is an eye-riveting example. Scroll paintings, whether in emaki handscroll or kakejiku form, unlike oil paintings, are extremely light, compact, and less easily damaged by stacking, rough handling, or reverberations in overland and sea transport.
If we find it easy to accept that Hellenistic influence reached Gandhara and from there traveled all the way to Japan by the 7th century, deduced from the observation of stylistic traits, certainly we should be able to entertain the idea that Japanese artistic influence reached Holland in the 17th century or somewhat earlier, also by the observation of stylistic traits;---unless of course we concur with the commonplace double standard---i.e., being ‘diffusionists’ when it comes to Western influence reaching East, but turning into ‘isolationists’ when it comes to Eastern influence reaching West.
Further Examples of Subtle Japonaiserie in 17th and 18th Century Painting in Holland, England, and France
1) Jacob van Campen (1595-1657)'s 'Goods from the East and West Indies' c.1648-1649, in the Oranjezaal at Huis ten Bosch, The Hague, Netherlands. In this tall and narrow painting (inspired by the format of scroll paintings of the East?), of which only the upper section is shown here, a suit of Japanese armor crowns the scene, one owned by Amalia van Solms and her husband Prince of Orange Frederik Henrik, mentioned earlier. Since the painting was more than 2 meters high, the minute details of the upper portion, still even higher in situ, would not be so easily discerned, but look carefully and you will discover someone lurking up there in the shadows---a surreal pair of eyes staring out from within. Whether one can claim anything more than the use of a motif in van Campen, his name has been highlighted due to another painting of his, 'Woman Making her Toilet' which is strangely reminiscent of Japanese styles of depicting daily life in byobu screens of the time, though a connection is not meant to be definitively asserted.
2) Depictions of Japanese armor can be found elsewhere in 17th century European painting. Take John Michael Wright (discussed earlier regarding his depiction of the kimono 'banyan')'s 1680 portrait of Sir Neil O'Neill (c.1658-1690), 2nd Baronet of Killeleagh, at the suberb Tate Gallery, in which the subject stands proudly with a Japanese suit of armor. According to the Tate commentary, "Its presence is a puzzle, for although Japan had been closed to Westerners since the 1620s, John Michael Wright clearly must have had access to such armour." (Tate Gallery, www.tate.org.uk, visited 2023/8/8.) However, Japan was not closed to Westerners (here again, we encounter an astonishing lack of familiarity with Japanese history among specialists of European art); the Dutch were importing Japanese products throughout the 17th century, and Japanese suits of armor were earlier being brought home to England by men such as John Saris (mentioned earlier) of the English Factory at Hirado, to present them to none other than King James I (1566–1625. See 'Literary Japonisme' on this website).
Furthermore, the Tate Gallery website says that "the armour may have been included in order to represent O'Neill as a defender of his faith, treading on the deflated armour of its enemies." However this too flies in the face of reality, regarding such types of portraiture painting in this age, which unvaryingly depict their subjects with their favorite or prize possessions (just as today there are few people who take their selfies or formal portrait photos with what they despise). He is not standing on it, nor is the armor 'deflated'. Rather, it stands almost upright, close to him, depicted in shiny, meticulous detail, with a folded clothe placed gently over it. Wright depicts it with the same care he does with his images of the kimono/banyan, if not more. To his left must be his trusty dog, slightly to the back. Here are his favorite things; and the Japanese armor has the place of honor.
3) This is evident in the 1741 picture of Joan Jacob Mauricius (1692-1768), governor general of Suriname by Cornelis Troost (1696-1750) at the excellent Rijksmuseum. The museum summary description on their website (www.rijksmuseum.nl, visited 2023/8/9) is as follows: "In this portrait of his friend Mauricius, Troost under-scored their mutual love of the theatre. Mauricius sits in an imaginary interior, with shelves filled with plays behind him. On the wall is Troost’s painting with a scene from the play Jan Claesz of de gewaande Dienstmaagt (Jan Claesz or the Supposed Servant Girl). A drawn self-portrait of Troost hangs over the edge of the table."
While touching upon what is behind the subject, strangely absent is any discussion of the group of objects closest to him, on the table he leans on to the right (though the scrap drawing hanging under those objects is pointed out) which are surely worth mentioning. It is unclear from the picture alone if the doll-like figures which surely represent 'Chinamen' are from China or were made in Europe, but the manner of depicting the faces, hair, and dress do not look like that of East Asian making, though this might be due to artist choice or drawing habit. The lacquered box on which the figurines stand is definitely a Japanese urushi piece, though here too the drawing of the flower petals subtly shows how the artist has ended up drawing them in a way he is more accustomed to. As Hidaka Kaori relates, this type of 'irezumi gata daitsuki kobako' lacquered legged box can be found for instance, at the Friedenstein Castle at Gotha, Germany (Nihon no Bijutsu 12, No. 427, Dec. 2001, figs. 12 and 13). It is unclear whether the porcelain rooster is Chinese or Japanese, but it is likely to be one or the other, or a rather faithful Meissen imitation. Otherwise, as an artist, Troost shows no significant oriental influence, and so his name is not highlighted here.
4) Madame Pompadour (1721-1764) painted by François-Hubert Drouais (1727-1775) in 1763-1764. She is resting her arm on an urushi tambour (embroidery) frame, with a likewise japanned bookcase behind her. Madame Pompadour was, like Madame Victoire (1733-1799), and of course Queen Marie Antoinette (1755-1793), fond of things Japanese including urushi-ware and Imari porcelain. All these women custom ordered japanned furnishings, or furnishings with Japanese lacquer panels incorporated into them, such as the dresser (1768) by Antoine Foullet (1710-1775) for Madame Victoire. Victoire also seems to have been taken by the idea of Japanese style folding byobu screens, having a few created for her, though recast with French motifs. Drouais' name has been highlighted because there is an emphasis on fabrics that seems not wholly unrelated to the quality of silk kimonos, and is a possible topic for investigation. Even Madame Pompadour's maid and confidante of noble birth, Madame du Hausset (1713–1801), starts her Memoirs with a 'Japanese Tale' of some length, seemingly written in the days she served Pompadour, most likely reflecting the popularity of Japan at the court as a sort of fairy-tale land to daydream of; and, by the way, we should point out there are no tales of other countries in the book (The Private Memoirs of Madame du Hausset, Lady's Maid to Madame Pompadour. London: Printed for Effingham Wilson, 1825. Translated from the French and published posthumously).
Japonaiserie as a Disguised Element in the Rococo of 18th Century France
The influence of Japanese textiles and imagery from porcelain, lacquer-ware, byobu painting, or early ukiyo-e prints might be discussed also in relation to the broader evolution of color and themes in Western painting, including the Rococo, in the 18th century. François Boucher (1703-1770)'s chinoiserie pictures, such as his 'La Vue d’un jardin chinois' (1742), or his 'La Foire chinoise' also done in the same year (both at the Musée des Beaux-Arts, Besançon), or Antoine Watteau (1684-1721)'s 'Kouei Tcheou' or 'Chinese Woman' (c. 1710, private collection, New York), are a mixture of Chinese motifs and Japanese kimono with obi clad figures.
In the section shown below of Boucher's 'La Vue d’un jardin chinois', the dress of the attendant standing to the right behind the two seated women in particular, is so kimono-like that one thinks Boucher may have seen a Japanese painting or print and transformed it into a Chinese scene. The attendant on the left, on the other hand, wears what looks like a kimono worn in a Western fashion.
Though not shown here, in his 'La Foire chinoise', the male figures higher above in the picture above the central figure wear what resembles the dress of Japanese men with their clothes tucked up, one of them wearing 'matahiki'-style trousers (as found in 'rakuchu-rakugai-zu' byobu screens, or early ukiyo-e prints) rather than Chinese dress, suggesting that whatever Boucher took for inspiration, even if just from memory, it was as likely to have been as much Japanese as Chinese. Nor must we forget, when considering the folding screen in his 'La Toilette' (1742, Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection, Madrid), whether it be made in Qing China, that it was nevertheless part of a conscious imitation of the Japanese byobu, obliging the demand for such products, much in the manner of Chinese made Imari.
But perhaps the most literal example of images Japanese disguised or offered as Chinese is Jean-Antoine Fraisse (1680-1739)'s Livre de desseins chinois, tirés d'après des originaux de Perse, des Indes, de la Chine et du Japon, published in 1735 (Paris: P. N. Lottin). Here, right in the title, it explicitly states that it is a book of Chinese designs taken after originals from Persia, India, China, and Japan. Though Japan is mentioned at the end, the illustrations included show that Japanese prints are probably one of the primary models for his chinoiseries. In any case, it shows how chinoiserie was not necessarily based on things Chinese, but very often relied on other sources from Asia, of which it seems, artwork from Japan was often utilized. This may be the case in the literature of the time as well, such as Oliver Goldsmith's writings posed as a Chinese; he writes of Chinese customs which sound Japanese, such as the blackening of the teeth, which was the Japanese custom (お歯黒), for married women, and though existing inland in isolated areas of southwestern China, was unknown yet to Europeans. Goldsmith may have taken some of his ideas from the writings of George Psalmanazar (1679?-1763), who passed himself off as a Japanese native for years (though recent accounts often focus only on his later Formosan phase), writings which seem to be based in part on accounts of Japan, he himself eating meat raw and worshiping the sun in the morning and evening as part of his theatrical disguise (Sidney Lee, Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900, Vol. 46).
Below are a few illustrations from Fraisse's book of 'Chinese' designs. On the left is what are clearly Japanese porters wearing kyahan (脚絆) leggings with distinctive hasami-bako (挟箱) baggage boxes with shoulder sticks near them, though the overall picture is result of a collage, the couple to the far right wearing kimonos of commoners being from a different picture from the porters, the tree in the background again another, and of course the moustaches of the porters pasted on for extra effect, or to make the picture conform to a pre-conceived notion of Chinese-ness. To the right is a close up of a different illustration. The men to the lower left are wearing the distinctive samurai kataginu (肩衣), the sideways pointing shoulder garment; a woman standing close to the horse is wearing a typical white loosely worn hokkamuri (頬被) over her head; in the background a man is in a formal sitting pose, 'seiza' (正座), near a Japanese style ikegaki (生垣) fence; and in the foreground to the extreme right is what looks like a Westerner smoking a pipe. This imagery was perhaps taken from a Namban-e (南蛮絵), literally 'picture of southern barbarians' perhaps from a byobu screen painting (南蛮屏風), while elements of other imagery, from Moghul minatures to actual Chinese pictures, were mixed in, or vice versa.
The Folding Fan (Ogi / Sensu) as Soul of the Rococo: Bright, Playful, and Comfortable
Regarding the Rococo, nothing better exemplifies the spirit of that age than the folding fan; and nothing is more clearly Japanese in its origins. The folding fan, as a symbol of leisure and fashionableness in high society, as well as a decorative motif and an accessory in dance--all these too were first developed in Japan.
Dancing with Folding Fans or 'Ogi Mai'---Playful, Graceful, Colorful and Light
Buyo-zu (舞踊図), 17th century, Suntory Museum
The Japanese origins of the folding fan are indisputable as far as anything can be reasonably established in history---the earliest mention of folding fans clearly indicate they are Japanese, whether in Japanese, Chinese, and Korean premodern histories; the earliest existing examples of folding fans are also Japanese, and the earliest depictions of folding fans in other media such as painting, pottery, textiles are also found in Japan, and in great abundance.
Section of the Choju-Jinbutsu-Giga picture scroll, detail of rabbits and foxes holding folding fans (center), 12th or early 13th century
Despite this, a disconcerting obfuscation (not only in the case of the folding fan, but regarding the Japanese origins of byobu folding screens, the folding umbrella, the folding chochin lantern, the folding candle holder, the table with folding legs, even origami folding paper art, among various other inventions that utilize mechanisms of folding and compactibility, a hallmark of Japanese-style ingenuity) exists to this day in the more widely circulating books on Japanese fans and books on fans in general, including encyclopedia entries and websites.
Such sources often suggest vague, unsubstantiated attributions of the folding fan to China, Korea, or other parts of the world by way of association to hand-held fans of the fixed type or other logical sleights of hand. Here is an example: "Whereas folding fans were widely used in Japan from the 12th century onwards, it was not until the 15th century that the same was true of China. Although this does not rule out the fact that the folding fan originated in China rather than Japan this, together with other evidence such as mentioned above, would suggest that its origin lies in Japan." (J. Hutt and H. Alexander, Ogi: A History of the Japanese Fan. London: Dauphin Publishing, 1992, p. 14. Italics added). But in fact there is no positive or material evidence of any kind to indicate the folding fan was invented in China or elsewhere; and it is furthermore odd that the academic background of these two authors, though writing a book on Japanese art, is rather in Chinese art, with doubtful command of the Japanese language and art history.
Indeed, this is an issue that needs to be addressed for almost every aspect of japonisme and other Japanese contributions whether in the arts and sciences---the treatment of clearly established, verifiable origination as something open to question and of indeterminate historicity---a problem of extensive proportions for which we must reserve a full discussion elsewhere. Because of this "Japan imitates but never invents" pervasive stereotype, and the equally deeply rooted inverse idea regarding the West and China, we must expend time to re-state here what should be common knowledge, before delving into the aesthetic impact of the folding fan.
The Japanese origin of the folding fan has been verified by serious scholarship, East and West. Perhaps most significantly, the folding fan as a Japanese invention is so understood by Chinese scholars working in primary Chinese sources, such as Wang Yong (王勇) 'The origin of Japanese folding fans and their reproduction in China' (日本摺扇的起源及在中國的仿製 in 中日文化交流史大系·藝術卷. Zhejiang Renmin Chubanshe, 1996); Shi Shouqian (石守謙) 'Carry-on landscape: The transmission of Japanese folding fans to China in the tenth century and the circulation of landscape fan painting in fifteenth through seventeenth-century China' (山水隨身:十世 紀日本摺扇的傳入中國與山水畫扇在十五至十七世紀的流行. Guoli Taiwan daxue meishushi yanjiu jikan, 2010, 29); and Lü Jingmiao (呂晶淼) 'The circulation and spread of fans in East Asia between the tenth and sixteenth centuries' (十∼十 六世紀の東アジアにおける扇の流通と伝播 in Ninpo to Hakata, ed. by Nakajima Gakusho 中島楽章 and Ito Koji 伊藤幸司, Kyuko Shoin, 2013), to give a few examples. Among Western scholars, Charlotte von Verschuer, in Across the Perilous Sea: Japanese Trade with China and Korea from the Seventh to the Sixteenth Centuries (Cornell Univ., 2006, p. 72) writes:
"Another Japanese creation enjoyed great success among foreigners: the folding fans. It was invented in Japan in the eighth or ninth century, when［until that point in time］only round and fixed (uchiwa) fans made of palm leaves were known. ... Two types of folding fans developed: one was made of cypress-wood blades bound by a thread (hiogi); the other had a frame with fewer blades which was covered in Japanese paper and folded in a zigzag patterns (kawahori-ogi). "The paper fan was described by a thirteenth-century Chinese author, but well before that date Chonen had offered twenty wooden-bladed fans and two paper fans to the emperor of China." This Kyoto monk, Chonen (奝然 938–1016), a follower of the Sanron (三論宗) or 'Three Treatise School' (originally from the Indian Madhyamaka Buddhist system of thought emphasizing 'sunyata' or emptiness as transmitted by Kumarajiva to China), studied at Todaiji of Nara, crossed the sea to China in 983, visited sacred buddhist sites, and met with the emperor Taizong (太宗 939–97), as recorded in the Japan chapter of the official History of Song (Song-shi 宋史, 1345). Chonen's disciple Ka'in (嘉因) brought gifts to be presented to Emperor Taizong to express Chonen's gratitude for the emperor's warm reception during his visit in 986, and among these gifts presented in 988 was "a gold-and-silver-lacquered fan box, containing twenty cypress fans and two paper folding fans" (Tuotuo, Song-shi, 491.14138).
The 20 cypress wood bladed folding fans, are 'hiogi' (檜扇, which much later came to be called brisé fans in the West), and the 2 paper folding fans are 'kawahori-ogi'(蝙蝠扇) in Japanese. As Yiwen Li notes in 'Useless Tribute, Desirable Exotics:Japanese Folding Fans in China, 1000–1500' (Sungkyun Journal of East Asian Studies Volume 21, Number 1, May 2021, Duke Univ. Press): "Cypress fans (hiōgi 檜扇) and paper folding fans (kawahori-ōgi 蝙蝠扇) were two types of folding fans invented in Japan. A cypress fan was made of twenty to thirty-five cypress-wood blades bound by a thread at one end, while paper folding fans "had a frame with fewer blades which was covered in Japanese paper and folded in a zigzag pattern."
Kawahori-ogi (or kawahori-sen), means 'bat fan'; according to legend, the idea came from the spreading wings of a bat. They were papered on one side, often made with thin cypress (hinoki) wood blades with colored thread binding called iroito (彩糸) and painted with pictures. The number of blades over time and were decorated with an increasing variety of picture subjects such as landscape (sansui 山水) and propitious birds (zuicho 瑞鳥) with gold and silver mixed with a gelatin (kin-gin-deie 金銀泥絵), attached with colored threads which where allowed to extend and hang from it woven into flower shapes or tassles for decorative effect (糸花).
While the folding fan, generically known as the ogi (扇) or sensu (扇子) in Japanese, is often considered to have originated in Kyoto, there is good reason to believe that folding fans may have derived from the bundling with thread of thin wood strips used for writing known as mokkan (木簡) when the capital was at Nara, as findings at Nara archaeological sites indicate (and as suggested by scholars as Nakamura Kiyoe (中村清兄) known for his writings on the Japanese fan, e.g. Nihon no ogi. Kyoto: Kawahara Shoten, 1942). They are clearly cut and rounded at the top, binded at the bottom to use as fans. These may have evolved into the cypress folding fans called hiogi, primarily for men, and then into fans used by court women known as 'akome-ogi' (衵扇 or 阿古女扇) named after courtly women's dresses known as akome. In any case, it is clear that by the early Heian period in Kyoto, folding fans with decorative pictures spread among women of the imperial palace, and that these court women were probably a driving force in the artistic evolution of folding fans.
Above: 1) Nara National Institute for Cultural Properties (奈良文化材研究所) reconstruction of wooden folding fan excavated at Heijokyo, Nara (棕櫚の葉型檜扇, 平安京出土檜扇復元図). 2) Reconstruction of collapsible round folding fan excavated at Heijokyo, Nara (円形の檜扇, 平城京出土檜扇復元図). 3) Toji Temple folding fan, one of a pair. Note the writing and small vegetal designs still visible in places. Photos adapted from Nihon no Bijutsu 12, No. 319, Senmenga (kodai), Egami Yasushi, ed. (江上綏), reviewed by the Agency for Cultural Affairs, Tokyo National Museum, Kyoto National Museum, Nara National Museum, 1992.
Ishizumi Kanji (石角完爾) in 'Tracing the Origins of the Folding Fan' (Japan Society Proceedings, Lecture of 13 October 2009, www.fan.vg), as pointed out by others as well, mentions that the oldest existing folding fan is a wooden fan of the Nara Period 747 AD (reconstruction shown above), and the second oldest remaining fan being from first year of Gangyo (元慶), that is 877 AD, discovered inside a senju kannon ('Avalokiteśvara with a thousand arms') at Toji Temple in Kyoto. Comprised of 20 wooden leaves, the Toji temple fan is adorned with pictures and writing about the carvers and the carving technique of the statue within which it was found. Ishizumi also notes the first literary reference regarding folding fans is from a Japanese dictionary circa 930, where a distinction is made between ogi as a folding fan and uchiwa as a fixed fan.
Folding fans appear a century later in literary classics such as The Pillow Book and The Tale of Genji. Various legends too, point to the presence of fans in the early Heian period, such as the legend of the princess Tamaori-hime (玉織姫), in the Tencho era (天長, 824～833), when the Mieido (御影堂) in Kyoto was built, where according to the legend, the Heike princess made an akome-ogi. Elsewhere in Kyoto, drawings of folding fans are found on an early 10th century wooden box for sutras at Toji Temple, which depicts figures holding closed folding fans; and later in picture scrolls, such as the Genji Monogatari Emaki (1110-30), the Nenju Gyoji Emaki (c. 1170), the Ban Dainago Ekotoba (of a similar date) and the slightly later the Choju Giga (shown further below) which depict a variety of paper folding fans being carried and used much like they would centuries later. In the latter Heian period, wood openwork/fretwork sukashibori (透彫り) style blades with delicate filigree-like designs known as minaeribone (皆彫骨) became popular, and these sukashi-ogi (透扇) or kirisukashi-ogi (切透扇) were part of the varied constructions and designs of Japanese folding fans whose influence would spread to China and eventually Europe.
Thus by the time the folding fan reached China, it was already a common item among both aristocratic men and women of Japan. So popular in fact, that a decade or so later after the first folding fans had reached China, during what is the Choho era (長保 999-1004) in Japan, sumptuary laws were promulgated restricting excessively extravagant hiogi and kawahori-ogi decorations. These folding fans (in Chinese: zheshan 折扇), introduced into China during the Northern Song Dynasty, became eagerly sought after by Chinese elites by the time of the Southern Song Dynasty as rare and expensive luxuries, and were referred to as "Japanese fans" in China (as Gonglin Qian notes in Chinese fans: artistry and aesthetics. San Francisco: Long River Press, 2004). Yiwen Li (2021), in the aforementioned paper on Japanese folding fans, describes a Chinese literati's vivid impressions of a certain Japanese fan:
"In the 1070s, a Chinese scholar-official saw a delicate Japanese-made folding fan at a temple market in the Northern Song capital of Kaifeng. He admired the beauty of this folding fan: it had a lacquer-coated handle, and when it was opened a landscape painting appeared, with mountains and rivers in the distant background, a fisherman on a boat closer to the viewer, and flying birds and clouds in the sky. The autumnal scene was painted in light colors on dark blue paper. The scholar-official described this painting on the folding fan as "very fine drawing with profound meanings; even the skilled painters in China probably cannot achieve this level." But the seller asked a high price that the scholar-official could not afford. He always regretted missing the chance to purchase the fan, but when he visited markets in the capital later, he never saw similar fans again” (Jiang Shaoyu, Xindiao Huangchao leiyuan, 60.11a–b in von Verschuer 2006, p. 73).
Yiwen Li explains that "scholar-officials, who generally admired the delicate Japanese-made folding fans, chose to emphasize different values of the fans in different contexts. The Japanese folding fans were 'useless tribute' in the scholar-officials' public writings, but imported Japanese fans were actively sought by Chinese literati for centuries", and even after folding fans came to be manufactured in China, the 'Japan' brand obtained a higher commercial value in the market (Wang Fu, Wang Sheren shiji, 2.5a). As the great Chinese poet Su Shi (蘇軾 1036-1101), commonly known by his art name Dongpo (東坡) wrote, "It was a surprise to know that the barbarian Japanese produced such a complicated folding fan" (in Ishizumi, p.80).
Japanese folding fans were considered exquisite and expensive items during the Song dynasties, and even after the Ming court reestablished diplomatic relationships with the Ashikaga shogunate in the early fifteenth century, and Japanese fans entered China in good quantity, they continued to be considered highly prized commodities and are frequently mentioned in the writings of the Chinese literati. As Li notes, literati obtained folding fans by either by having them bestowed upon them by emperors, or from an exchange of gifts with diplomat friends, or otherwise paying extremely high prices in public markets. To the Chinese literati, the Japanese folding fans had great commercial value, which derived from their rarity and superb craftsmanship, but they were also nuanced with intriguing political and cultural meaning. For one, the fans were used to present Japan "as a place bonded to China by tributary ties and usually considered culturally inferior"; yet also creating objects worthy of admiration and aesthetic appreciation. That is to say, the Chinese literati used the Japanese folding fan as a literary vehicle to express their opinions regarding the Sino-Japanese relationship, especially the supremacy of the Middle Kingdom; yet at the same time, they were captivated by the "Japan brand" and paid handsomely for it.
A somewhat similar situation seems to have existed in Korea. Regarding folding fans from Korea sent to China as tributary gifts, the Chinese Guo Ruoxu (郭若虛) an authority on aesthetic matters writing in the early 1070's, observed that, "Every time the Koryŏ court sends emissaries to the Middle Kingdom [China], some of them would bring folding fans as commodities for private trade" (Tuhua jianwen zhi, 6.254). These fans were made in Japan, as Guo wrote, "These [folding fans] were called Japanese, 'wo fans' [by the Koryŏ people] because they originated in the Wo country [Japan]." (Tuhua jianwen zhi 6.254–55).
Some decades later, concerning folding fans observed within Korea, when the Song emperor Huizong (徽宗 r. 1100–1126) sent an embassy to Koryŏ in 1123, Xu Jing (徐兢 1091–1153), the assistant general secretary of the embassy, recorded in his Illustrated Account of the Xuanhe Embassy to Koryŏ (宣和奉使高麗圖經) of 1124, several types of fans he saw there. The paper folding fans he described were much like those as Guo Ruoxu had described: "Painted folding fans are decorated with gold and silver foil. Furthermore, local scenery, people and horses, and women are painted on them. But the Koryŏ people cannot [make them]. It is said that they are made in Japan, and looking at the clothing and other gifts the Koryŏ people gave me, I believe this is the case" ---meaning most likely that the manner of construction and depictions on the folding fans were so different from the Koryo goods he had encountered there that it was difficult to believe they could be from the same artisanal culture. (Xuanhe fengshi Gaoli tujing, 29.103 in Sem Vermeersch, A Chinese Traveler in Medieval Korea: Xu Jing's Illustrated Account of the Xuanhe Embassy to Koryo. Univ. of Hawaii Press, 2016).
As for Europe, Japanese missions to Europe in the late 16th century and early seventeenth century allowed monarchs and popes, along with their entourages, to observe Japanese dress, including folding fans, first hand; while trade between the Japanese and Portuguese also stimulated a market for these fans in Europe. Jesuits in late 16th century Japan, who wrote extensively on Japan, such as the Portuguese João Rodrigues (serving as intrepreter for Hideyoshi and Ieyasu), were surprised at the prevalence of hand held fans in Japan, observing: "Every class of person, noble or humble, uses a fan throughout the whole kingdom" (in They Came to Japan: An Anthology of European Reports on Japan, 1543-1640. ed. M. Cooper. Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1965). While folding fans had spread across East Asia by that time, they never became quite as indispensible a commodity for the rest of Asia, as they were in their country of origin.
The Ogi (folding fan) as an Omnipresent Motif Appearing in a Multiplicity of Japanese Artistic Mediums: Above in painting, not only in depictions of aristocratic elegance, but its appearance in day life, even the manufacturer and sale of folding fans. And below, fans in textile design, pottery, lacquerware (Marie Antoinette Collection), even fans as a motif in fans, and finally a limited sampling of family crests (kamon 家紋) with folding fan designs. From folding fan shaped chopstick rests (箸置き) and hardened rice powder (米粉) sweets (おしもん) to folding fan shaped iron weapons (鉄扇) and secret knife cases (仕込刀), from games with folding fans such as tosenkyo (投扇興) to 'lightening speed' tezuma hand magic (手妻) and an untold variety of performers using folding fans, is there anything in Europe or China that compares to the artistry and diversity of applications for the ogi/sensu in premodern Japan?
Nevertheless, as we have seen in the case of the kimono, folding fans from other parts of Asia, in particular China, also flowed westward into Europe. Folding fans would become among the most popular import items from the Far East, to be depicted in a multitude of European chinoiserie works as symbols of the most distant Orient. They were soon adopted as a mainstay of aristocratic apparel and the feminine aristocratic mien, and were in such high demand that they came to be imitated and manufactured across all of Europe.
Thus, as was the case in Japan much earlier, folding fans in Europe evolved into a symbol of leisure and refinement, spreading to the middle classes as well, and over time no longer necessarily associated with the Orient. They came to be also utilized as an instrument of dance, as in the case of the Spainish Flamenco;---and this too, the idea of using fans as an accentuator of dance movement, was something of Japanese origin---the mai-ogi (舞扇) dance fan, where dancing with fans, ogi-mai (扇舞), was extremely commonplace in Japan by the 15th century. It was an essential part of the repertoire in Noh theater, as well as dances of professional and amateur entertainers, and in folk dance, which Jesuit missionaries from Spain could hardly have failed to observe during their long stays in Nippon in the 16th and 17th centuries. And by the second half of the 18th century, it may be said that the folding fan had come to epitomize the spirit of the Rococo Age in Europe, in all its playfulness, light, and color---just as it did for the Heian period in the land of its origin (though also possessing a profounder significance) more than eight centuries earlier.
Aspects of Japanese Folding Fan Design Passed on to the West
Various characteristics of Japanese ogi fan designs: brisé vs. paper leaf with rib construction; washes or mist-like bands/splotches of color; the inclusion of writing; the manner of depicting motifs such as flowers, branches, landscapes, architecture, and romance; pronounced asymmetry; diagonal cutting of picture into differently colored divisions; other aspects of composition and design conception that would be imitated in Europe and Asia are shown below.
In the byobu screen below, a variety of traditional Japanese fan characteristics and designs can be discerned, such as the sideways extending flower branch ( upper left hand corner and dead center) or lacquered black or red sticks (right center), for example, which would appear on European fans as well.
School of Tawaraya Sotatsu, 'Fans on a Stream in a Landscape' (Ogi nagashi byōbu), 18th century, Harvard Museum of Art
'Japanese Chinoiserie'
Among the fans pasted on the byobu screen below, are several examples of what might be called 'Japanese-style chinoiserie'. Chinoiserie, in a substantive sense, is not something that started in Europe. Long before the 18th century, a taste for things Chinese, karamono (唐物) as something fashionable and as a decorative theme for privileged classes, existed in Japan. It may be argued that thanks to this Japanese version of chinoiserie, the predeliction towards things Chinese was accentuated in Europe. Japanese folding fans often depicted sages, landscapes or daily life in China like those showh here, images that would be transmitted to Europe on lacquerware and porcelain as well.
Fans of the 16th and 17th centuries by the Kano School and others, 'Senmen Harimaze Byobu' Nanzenji, Kyoto (扇面貼交屛風 狩野派ほか 京都 南禅寺)
Examples of 18th Century Ogi-style Folding Fans Exported to or Made in Europe Incorporating Japanese Design Elements
The pronounced sideways extending branch; golden or silver backdrops; washes of color reminiscent of sumi-ink style painting; a fan drawn within a fan; extensive calligraphy and writing as a central element of fan decor, for instance, are among the Japanese fan design concepts transmitted to Europe.
Japanese Cloud-style Picture Framing Techniques
Pronounced asymmetry, free form framing techniques, intentional spatial voids, and a general liberation of design conceptualizations in fan design from Japanese prototypes may be said to be an earlier source and incorporation of aesthetic principles usually considered to characterize much later japonisme influence.
Compare the asymetrical and whimsical picture outlines in some of the European fans above with the Japanese 'cloud-framed' picture designs below:
Genji Monogatari Senmen Byobu, first half of the 16th century. ( 源氏物語絵扇面散屛風 六曲一双のうち左隻 16世紀前半 広島 浄土寺 撮影：村上宏治)
Sensu-type Construction in Western Fans
(Photo captions to be revised)
Folding fans in Europe and the Americas at times were quite faithful imitations of Japanese sensu fans in terms of basic construction, as the examples below show, though they rarely achieved the wonderful firmness and flexibility, fluidity with verve, when spread or folded, and that characteristic controllable 'flick' or 'click' at the first opening or when shut (making an 'authoritative' sound 鳴り) of Japanese made fans, all which relied not only on semi-esoteric skilled craftsmenship (the '88 procedures' for fan making), but also depended on high quality Japanese paper and bamboo.
The Combined Effect of Kimono Inspired Dress Patterns/Designs and the Ogi/Sensu (folding fan)
Below, French dresses in combination with folding fans in the center are juxtaposed on each side with analogous earlier or contemporary existant Japanese kimonos, whose designs can be traced to 17th and early 18th century kimono 'hinagata' pattern books (e.g. 『御ひいなかた』1667; 『新選当流相生雛かた』1710, etc.), appearing also in paintings and prints. The Japanese design influence upon French aristocratic aesthetic sensibilites was something multifaceted, coming simultaneous from varied sources, influencing ideals of interior decor, fashion, landscape, and leisure. This was not simply a chinoiserie of things intended to be seen as oriental, that is to say it was not simply a taste for the oriental; it was an incorporation of Japanese aesthetic principles and motifs into their conceptions of taste itself.
The above boldly winding branch with floral patterns---a very popular Japanese textile design can be seen reflected in latter 18th century French design, including the idea of susomoyo (裾模様), a concentration of detail at the bottom. The flowers are depicted more thickly in the lower part, contrasting with open spaces above. The asymmetry in the Japanese kimonos is followed to a certain extent in the French design, but whose designer still could not resist filling the voids with small, faint designs. Many other Japanese examples could be provided, often with two curving branches to each side on the front as in the French dress (e.g. Kosode shiroheikenji-tachibana-tachiki-moji-moyo 小袖 白平絹地橘立木文字模様, 18th century).
Below, light, delicate, colorful flowers on thin twigs on creams are followed by more dense floral clusters with white emphasized on red. Again the French dresses are in the center with the Japanese kimonos on each side. The wearing of light cream colored clothing with fine, asymmetric and unevenly distributed free floating floral and other patterns was, however common it may seem today, something refreshing novel for 18th century Europe.
At the 'opposite' end of chromatic effects is the bright red backdrop of kimonos with a mixing of bolder, more intricate and thickly applied designs with often white and black as the main contrasting colors to red, also followed in French fashions of the 18th century.
Note below the large, round flower blossoms with clearly delineated leaves and stems, connecting the floral depictions in the kimono to the left and the French dress, center. To the right is a more abstract motif that nevertheless is reminiscent of the aesthetic approach of the two other designs.
Conclusion
The First Age of Japonaiserie & Japonisme from the 16th to the 18th Centuries
17th and 18th century kimonos: an endless variety of bold imagery influencing global design to this day
The global influence of Japanese lacquerware, porcelain, textiles, painting, and other arts clearly stretches back centuries before the 19th century, whose latter half is often assumed to be where the japonisme movement begins. Even before and during the heyday of what is considered to be an age of Chinese influence in Europe in the 18th century, Japanese art and culture exerted its continuous influence, if at times covertly, upon European aesthetic sensibilities.
What is called the chinoiserie movement therefore, should actually be divided into its two different sources, the two currents distinguished and named differently, as their influence was of different import. Chinese influence in the 18th century was also philosophical and scientific (e.g., Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz; François Quesnay and his school); thus the lightness of the term 'chinoiserie' is somewhat misleading. Indeed, the parallels between Rationalism and the prevalent ideas of Confucian reason, 'Ri' (理), across East Asia at the time, in contrast to Rousseau's emphasis on Nature and 'General Will' with that of popular Daoist belief in leaving things to nature's force, or 'Ki' (気); as well as Hegel's diatectical synthesis in light of the dynamic nature of the Yin Yang (陰陽) unity of opposites, and much more, is not easily dismissed; a century latter even Niels Bohr of atomic structure and quantum theory fame, was to incorporate the Yin Yang symbol into his personal coat of arms (Niels Bohr archive at nbarchive.ku.dk).
The influence of Japan leaned toward the artistic, but also because of the deep ties the Jesuits had with Japan until their expulsion, Japan influenced not only aesthetic ideals, but even aspects of religious feeling through its influence on Baroque drama (e.g. Oba Haruka, Watanabe Akihiko, Schaffenrath, Florian (eds.) Japan on the Jesuit Stage: Transmissions, Receptions, and Regional Contexts, 2021). Thomas Immoos provides a list of European performances of plays with Japanese themes, from 1607 to 1836 that is eight pages long in fine print with no gaps of more than three to four years (except between 1607-1614), with some repetitions but mostly different plays, showing just how popular Japanese themes were back then ('Japanische Helden des europaischen Barocktheaters', 1981). Once we are aware of the full gamut of Japanese influence around this time, we are led to conclude that the two centuries or more, approximately between 1565 and 1790, was a time of significant Japanese influence, the first great age of japonaiserie and japonisme; followed by the parallel development of chinoiserie, significantly from the late 17th century, blossoming in the mid-18th century (putting aside in this discussion the influence of China in Marco Polo's day).
This discussion has been limited to a few topics such as porcelain, lacquer, painting, and fashion, but there are many aspects of 16th, 17th, and 18th century Euro-Japanese cultural interaction that could be investigated, some already documented, others topics for future research, from the import of Japanese folding chairs (e.g. Takeuchi Namiko, 'Two Examples of Japanese Export Chairs' in Kuhlenthal, 1999) to the revival of the carpentry plane in 17th century Europe as influenced by the observation of the 'kanna' in Japan (the Roman plane having gone into disuse for more than eight centuries); or the exaggerated heightening and widening ('puffing up') of upper class European women's hairstyles in the 18th century as a possible reflection of imported images of elaborate women's kamigata (crafted hairstyles); likewise origami as a possible source for certain European paper folding practices; on to the introduction of Japanese books into Europe (e.g. 'Japanese Books in 17th Century England with Professor Peter Kornicki', Cambridge University, online lecture 3 February 2022. Kornicki concludes the books had little influence because they could not be read; but the visual impact of writing forms, designs, format and material is not to be underestimated). It is intriguing that Fabian Fucan (1565- 1621), the Japanese convert and later apostate's Feiqe monogatari (Heike Monogatari), phonetic Japanese written in the Latin alphabet, published in 1592 by the Jesuits, was the first book in the British Museum / British Library’s Japanese collections. The volume has various shelfmarks and annotations that show the book was acquired by Sir Hans Sloane (1662-1753) in early in the 18th century, indicating that, whether understood or not, these things were of interest to inquiring British minds (British Library, Asian and African studies blog, 3 May 2019). Paulo Yohoken (養方軒パウロ ?-1596) and his son Vincente Toin (洞院ヴィセンテ 1540-1609), also Catholic converts, highly literate and knowledgeable in Buddhism, and upon whom the Jesuit mission leader Alessandro Valignano (1539-1606) relied upon for understanding Japanese religion (Mühlberger, 1994), translated a good number of Japanese religious and scholarly texts into Latin or Spanish as recorded in the Jesuit Catalogue of 1593. They having "translated the greater part of the spiritual and learned books which have thus far been written in Japanese" (in Laures, 1956, p. 40). In any case, there is no doubt that aspects of Japanese literature and ideas (as well as religious practices such as dress and rites, e.g. the wearing of black 黒衣 for common priests, the forms of rosaries 数珠, and the emphasis on and greater elaboration of last rites 臨終 as expostulated by Genshin in his 往生要集 and later in Kakuban's 孝養集) must have been transmitted with lesser or greater fidelity to the Jesuits.
These examples might convey a sense that it was only small, portable things that might have stimulated the European imagination. But the fruits of experience should also be considered; such as Portuguese, British, and Dutch observations of large scale public works in Japan, including the engineering of canals and man-made land extensions out into the sea, for instance. This has been misleadingly claimed in Wikipedia (in the Japanese, but not the English version) as the result of Dutch know-how; however it seems there were no such artificial islands in Holland at the time, nor was Deshima built for the Dutch, but rather for their arch-rival at the time, the Portuguese. It was in 1634, before the Dutch (and for that matter the Bakufu) had any idea that they would be replacing the Iberians, that a group of local Japanese merchants initiated the project and completed it in 1636 for the Portuguese, and it was only years later, after the Portuguese were expelled from Deshima and Japan in 1639, that in 1641, the Dutch moved in, all before the age of 'Rangaku' (Dutch learning in Japan). Furthermore, much earlier, before the building of Deshima, castles with substantial man-made flatland extensions out into the water had already been built, especially in the Seto Inland Sea, as was Imabari Castle (Ehime Prefecture), or with extensive canals as in the case of Takamatsu Castle (Kagawa Prefecture) or for that matter Osaka City; large scale hydraulic engineering was quite advanced in 16th century Japan, as testified to by Toyotomi Hideyoshi's rechanneling of rivers and artificially creating enormous bodies of water as part of his seigecraft. In fact, already in the late Heian period, the Taira were building man-made islands called 'tsukishima' (築島; not to be confused with specific islands in Japan with the same name), which were part and parcel of the sea-trade oriented rise of the Taira clan, and the power of Taira no Kiyomori. For more on this subject, see the reference work Meiji Mae Nihon Doboku-shi (明治前日本土木史 'the history of pre-Meiji civil engineering in Japan') edited by Nihon Gakushi-in (日本学士院'Academy of Japanese Scholars'), 1956.
Indeed, much needs to be investigated. The Japanese influence may not have been just in the field of tangibles, but (as hinted above), in the realm of values and customs, especially in the case of Holland. Concomitant with the progress of relations with Japan, Dutch society came to reflect certain Japanese cultural norms. The immaculate and tidy nature of Dutch scenes in painting, and in real life, as the 17th century progressed, especially the cleanliness of floors, even the ground outdoors, is conspicuous, in contrast to the paintings of Bruegel the Elder a century earlier, for instance. Cleanliness, especially of the home, was the hallmark of Japan to the 16th century Jesuits and to 19th century visitors, and amply illustrated in picture scrolls from the Heian period and byobu from the Muromachi. Whereas in 19th century Britain cleanliness came to be seen as next to godliness, in Japan due to the Shinto religion, 'cleanliness was godliness' from the earliest recorded history. The Dutch word for 'beautiful' (schoon) came to mean 'clean' much like how the word is used in Japan, where 'kirei' means clean or beautiful, or both, and the two are subconsciously equated. Not only virtues, but vices may have been adopted. The development of the peculiar red light district of Amsterdam, where prostitutes are visible from the street in glass fronted 'display rooms', is in concept basically the same as that which existed in Japan; though without the glass, and instead with relatively wide spaced wooden grids or grilles---Yoshiwara in Edo being one of the most famous examples of this idea.
Furthermore, taking one step back for the broader historical perspective, the rise and fall of the Dutch economy follows fairly closely the rise and fall of Japanese economic prosperity, and the changes in trade agreements with that country. Japan in the late 16th century and throughout the 17th century was at the height of its prosperity, relatively speaking, in contrast to what H. Trevor-Roper once called Europe's 'Age of Crisis' (that is for all but Holland). This properity continued until the Genroku period (1688-1704), but gradually the Bakufu government was beset by increasing agrarian revolts and financial problems (despite the overall economy growing according to modern calculations) as the 18th century progressed. Only two Dutch ships were allowed in each year from 1715, precisely the time after which Dutch fortunes clearly commenced their decline. The Dutch trade was profitable not just because of direct Dutch-Japan transactions, but rather because the VOC was an intermediary selling goods from various parts of its maritime empire and elsewhere into Japan, and the sales volume was no doubt influenced by the degree of surplus wealth available and luxury expenditures allowed by the bakufu (Tokugawa government). Japan was also a source of cheap gold, where exchange rates with silver made arbitrage always tempting, but only possible with discretion. This is not to assert these considerations were the primary factors in determining the fate of The Netherlands; the question is simply: Was Japan one of the contributing factors to Dutch prosperity, and its subsequent decline, that at least deserves mention?
Much energy has been expended by Japanese academics over Dutch cultural influence and 'Dutch learning' (Rangaku), that is the Dutch → Japan flow of ideas. But from common sense it should be easy to see, when weighing the benefits of cultural interaction, that it is the visitor (e.g., the Dutch) whose eyes are opened up to a whole new world, and experiences a wider gamut of novelties, when compared to the visited (e.g. the Japanese), whose experience with the visitor's culture is limited to those individuals and the things they bring with them. That is to say, too little has been done in researching the Japan → Holland directional flow of ideas and influences, despite three centuries of Dutch trade with, and observation of, Japan---its art, craftsmanship, architecture, technology, social/commercial practices, and legal/administrative systems in action. And only by understanding the push and pull between influences in art, technology, and economics beyond the domestic theater, can we come to a better understanding of the nature of the historical process itself, which has eluded us by and large, and impeded public policy making to this day---by our turning a blind eye to historical realities such as those recounted here.
Appendix
'World map of Dutch trade routes and voyages of discovery'
From The Dutch Republic and the civilisation of the seventeenth century (McGraw-Hill, 1968, 1977) by Charles Henry Wilson, Professor of Modern History, Cambridge University, "eminent as an economic historian and doyen of British historians of business"---'Charles Henry Wilson, 1914-1991' Peter Mathias, The British Academy, 2000.
Note the complete lack of any indication of relations with Japan and East Asia. The Dutch Republic was commonly provided in history classes at leading universities in English speaking countries. The book is part of the World University Library series, "each of which has been specially commissioned. The authors are leading scientists and scholars from all over the world who, in an age of increasing specialisation, see the need for a broad, up-to-date presentation of their subject. The aim is to provide authoritative introductory books for university students which will be of interest also to the general reader."
In the text of the book, there is no mention of the established trade or the trading post in Japan, nor mention of porcelains, lacquer, East Asian textiles or any product sold to or received from that part of the world. On the map an arrow points to silk in a rather ambiguous region of northeast Iran, but nowhere in East Asia. The Index has no entry for Japan, nor China for that matter. On the west side of the Cape of Good Hope, an arrow points "Silver to the East"---little could we know by this that a substantial part of that silver was heading for the Far East. The excuse is the date of the map: the establishment of the East India Company in 1602, at which point the Dutch were yet to replace the Portuguese as the sole trading nation with Japan. But in a history of the 17th century, does it make sense to provide only one map which outlines the situation that existed primarily before the century under discussion? Odd too, that the author should not choose, at the very least, the date of the founding of the West India Company instead, two decades later, at which point, though the Dutch had not replaced the Portuguese, had already established their Hirado factory in Japan?
The omission of East Asian trade from a history of 17th century Holland, coming from an expert on international economic and business history, is hard to explain or excuse. And even more strange, it comes under no criticism from his reviewers, his peers, and the vast number of university professors who have delivered this book, and those like it that have followed, into the hands of their students. It touches upon a deeper problem that exists and goes unaddressed to this day, without any affliction it seems, to the academic conscience. I leave it to the reader to judge this astonishing disappearing act; and to ask himself if he has not been until now the product of this academic wizardry.
Footnotes
* Try pronouncing 'Round Chinese Room (or Cabinet)' versus 'Oval Chinese Room' in German or English whenever referring to two well-used rooms in your house and you will surely give up in less than a month. It would be much more natural in those days to call one room the Chinese Room, and the other the Japanese Room, as was often the case in other palaces. The author is in the process of trying to find primary sources as to how the Empress referred to these rooms; if he is wrong, this hypothesis will naturally be retracted with apologies.
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(under construction, including references not mentioned in the text, or the monograph titles the articles are from. Places of publication are transcribed as in the reference; e.g., Wien or Vienna as is.)
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The above images have been adapted from Edo period paintings at the Ueno no Mori Museum and the Honolulu Museum of Art and have been sized and framed to match as a decorative ending to this article.
__________________________
The Japonisme Museum, Aoyama Archives
Shogoin Sannocho 16-18, Sakyoku Kyoto 606-8392
ジャポニスム ミュージアム 青山資料館
〒606-8392 京都市左京区聖護院山王町16－18
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