sabiji

The matter is much more complex than a blacksmith might think: everything is stupid, from now on we'll make swords like we used to. The Shinshinto marks the beginning of a noticeable social change in the transition from the 18th to the 19th century. Here, too, various factors come into play that cannot be described in a few sentences. But it is remarkable in any case that an emperor, in this case Kokaku, begins to interfere, albeit “gently,” in the politics of the shogunate. Events such as the great Tenmei famine, but also diplomatic incidents with Russian expeditions, reveal the shogunate's inability and inflexibility to respond to such crises in a timely and appropriate manner. However, the prudent and cautious appearance of an emperor in circumstances of public interest at that time inevitably brought with it the idea of placing the emperor at the head of the country as the actual political and social guiding institution. Some philosophers refer back to the time before the introduction of Buddhism in Japan, seeking there the strengths of an original Japanese identity with the emperor as the leading and guiding institution of ALL Japanese people (a role that the Tokugawa shogunate had long since ceased to fulfill) in order to address the problems of the present day. There have been and still are some attempts at reform by the shogunate, but the circumstances mentioned above are forcing an unstoppable spiritual renewal, especially among the simple and middle-class samurai, most of whom are young. The longing for a strong country with strong leadership is leading to a renaissance of the samurai spirit. And in this context, one can also understand the renaissance within the sword-making traditions, which are inevitably affected by this general mood. It may sound crude, but the quest for a strong country, strong leadership, and a strong identity goes hand in hand with the desire for strong blades. In my opinion, this is the essence of Shinshinto. The Meiji Restoration is logically the result of what emerged as a foundation from the Tenmei era onwards. Events such as Perry's arrival only accelerated this development and were milestones in a “more active phase,” even among sword smiths. Shinshinto may have been a short phase, but it was enough to reveal the character of the different generations of swordsmiths. Suishinshi Masahide and Kato Tsunahide were just as much children of their time as Kiyomaro and Munetsugu were later on. But for me, Shinshinto ends with the Haito Edict and the abolition of the samurai caste. In my opinion, this marks the end of a social foundation on which all previous sword traditions existed in the first place. The continuation of craft traditions, or the creation of blades after this point in time, is based on completely different foundations, needs, and goals.

It is said that swordsmiths of the Mokusa tradition settled in Musashi, but also in Kamakura, before the Soshu-Den was established.

Morikuni is certainly a very good swordsmith, but—and please correct me if I'm wrong—I had associated Morikuni with Edo Shinto and his proximity to Yasusada or Kaneshige. But I don't know much about Morikuni. Did he also study in Osaka?

I can only recognize very little in the photos. Based on the outlines of the boshi and the hada, for example, I would not have guessed Osaka Shinto.

With Georg's (Promo) permission, here is a little reminder of Masayuki (Kiyomaro) exhibited at the Berlin Samurai Museum. The sword will be on display in the museum's blade room until next spring and is probably the only work by Masayuki (Kiyomaro) on public display in Europe. (I'm not sure, but currently Kiyomaro is probably only on display at Touken World in Nagoya. However, I'm happy to be corrected). Next to Masayuki, his great rival Koyama Munetsugu stands peacefully side by side, along with other works from the Shin Shinto period, which “round off” the picture of this last phase of the Edo period in terms of sword smithing. So if you happen to be anywhere near Berlin, Germany, you should take the opportunity to visit Masayuki here.

I will be at the museum on Friday for an event. If the blade is on display, I would love to take a photo. No, the horimono is not centered on the ji, it is centered on the shinogi.

The Samurai Museum Berlin has a katana with a 74 cm nagasa, covered in horimono along its entire length. A very large naga-bonji has been added to the monouchi. The blade is by Hizen Iyo no Jo Munetsugu, has TokuHo and a sayagaki by Tanobe-Sensei from 2006. I am not a Hizen expert, but Munetsugu's horimono seem typical of Hizen to me. The horimono are centered on the shinogiji and thus affect the ji and the shinogiji in equal measure. I don't like this type of horimono, but they do exist. And that brings me back to my saying, “there is nothing that does not exist.” However, I find the composition of the horimono on the sword in this thread very strange. Even if it is pure speculation, the figurative horimono are probably much later than the bohi.

Michael, I deliberately used the example of the suriage Kanbun blade without papers. And it was meant to be a dig at what is generally thought about Shinto blades here in the forum. Someone had recommended that I take this particular sword with me because I didn't know any better – and he was right. And even though it was “only” Shinto and even suriage, Micha Hagenbusch didn't tear it apart. Quite the contrary. The workmanship and quality were important to him. I thought that was easy to understand. I still own the sword today. It is a Migi Mutsu Kaneyasu, in the Tegai style with some Kuichigai-ba, Uchinoke, and a pretty Kaen-Boshi. Migi Mutsu, who actually worked until Enpo, is known for his textbook Kanbun Sugata. Little sori, a pronounced taper, and a relatively short tip in relation to the sakihaba. In the original, the blade must have had a motokasane of at least 9 mm, but the Kanbun tapering makes such blades both robust and extremely maneuverable. The koshirae is a toppei koshirae, which leads me to believe that the blade was shortened very late in its history and that the sword was still being carried by an officer in the early Meiji period, well into the 1870s. At some point, I sent it to Japan for a Hozon. But it's simply not worth selling. Interest in the blade, although it's not bad, would be too low for a suriage Shinto. This is also due to the well-intentioned advice given here to the new collector.

Hello Brano, but I'm going to preach now. We just had a discussion on the topic (roughly) “Is the hobby dead?”, which I dispute because I see many good approaches. But there is undeniably a problem with young talent, whether in Japan or elsewhere. It's important to break away from the Japanese ideal that the sensei (or the important collector) is the measure of all things. A good master trains students who will eventually be better than him. Large gaps always arise when there is no one to follow in the footsteps of the good ones. And that is really a problem. And even though I expect a certain amount of enthusiasm from newcomers... if you, as “old hands,” discover someone who has the eye, the talent, and, of course, the virus, then please encourage them. If they then smile (kindly) at your pieces, you've done everything right!

I'll try again, because the last few posts completely missed the point. As a complete beginner, I would think: what's going on here? The problem is that many “old hands” seem to have forgotten their own beginnings. And I can only speak for myself: the problem wasn't the swords I bought when I was starting out. The problem was that I got five different opinions from five “old hands.” Doesn't anyone remember the feeling of going to someone who obviously knew what they were talking about and anxiously awaiting their judgment? And that's because - you were hardly able to assess the quality of your new acquisition yourself, - and you were just as unable to gauge the quality of the judgments. A negative judgment could destroy everything in seconds and effectively render a promising new acquisition worthless to you. Even in my early days at the NBTHK-EB, I observed how members or guests would quietly and secretly take an object to Micha Hagenbusch. Then there were two options: either they would return just as quietly and secretly with a grim expression on their faces and let the piece disappear into their bags. Or they would proudly carry it in front of them and others would then be “allowed” to admire it too. And I experienced the same thing! An old friend warned me during my first participation (I don't know) 25 years ago(?) to take certain blades with me. Instead, he recommended that I take a katana with me that - dated from the Kanbun period, - was suriage but still bore his signature, - had already lost some of its material, - and had no paper. In other words, the worst possible choice imaginable. However, the katana had an en suite koshirae with decorative fittings made of solid silver, typical of the late Edo period. So I tried to focus my questions on the mounting. But Micha Hagenbusch was not interested in the mounting at all. He pulled out the blade, took a quick look at it, removed the tsuka in a matter of seconds, and asked me several times, “...what do you have against the blade, what do you have against the blade??” Very quickly, we were surrounded by curious onlookers, and I was extremely embarrassed! I couldn't come up with a reasonable answer, not with my level of knowledge at the time. But it was a key experience that made me swear to myself that I had to change something! That I had to get to the point where I could form my own useful opinion. The opportunity to see good blades at the meetings was one of the important steps. Incidentally, I already had quite a few books before that. But I often imagined that what I found in the books looked exactly like what I thought I saw on my blades. But it was only when I started studying real blades that I realized there was a world of difference between what I was holding in my hand and what I had at home. That's why books are certainly useful, and they are the best support for the real study of blades in your hand. But they cannot replace practice. And part of practice is having someone experienced to stand by your side. Otherwise, you just stare at the blade like an autistic person. You see a lot and yet nothing. You have to be able to name what you see, but also what you don't see, otherwise you can't be corrected, etc... That was a fundamental insight, and yet many years of learning followed. And it continues to this day. I have no idea what my opinion will be in 10 years. But that's just my story, which I can tell a newcomer here. And a newcomer can draw conclusions from it. But they MUST take the initiative and ask questions. They must also be prepared to “let their guard down.” There's no shame in being completely wrong about a kantei. Micha Hagenbusch always tried to understand why someone gave a certain wrong opinion. And I learned a lot from his corrections. Unfortunately, this type of Kantei was not very popular. Many wanted to know in advance what to expect so they could prepare themselves accordingly. Which is understandable. There are many ways! For me, knowledge is still the most important thing. Acquiring a particular piece is more of a logical side effect. The only problem is that I find it incredibly difficult to acquire anything the longer I continue on my path. That's why owning things is no longer a priority for me. But luckily, not everyone thinks that way, because that would be a real disaster for me! As I said, there are many paths!

I don't want to be unfair, but I can still remember discussions here about what chikei actually are – and somehow we couldn't agree on a common denominator. It's completely normal to be able to communicate well with each other when you have roughly the same level of knowledge. But it's not easy to pass on knowledge to learners. It's a very individual thing, and you have to know your students very well in order to help them progress effectively. I need to know what they see and understand, and they need to be able to name it. Otherwise, I might as well be talking to a doorknob (excuse the exaggeration). Of course, a lot also depends on the personal point of view of the “teacher.” Just as an example: here, the advice was given that (o) suriage and mumei are acceptable for blades up to Nanbokucho. Then blades from Kamakura or Nanbokucho, offered by Japanese dealers, are posted here by newbies asking for advice. “Uuuuhh, hands off! Tired, ground down, etc...” Answer: “But why do these blades have Tokubetsu Hozon if they are obviously junk?” The advanced age of the blade and the fact that it still displays many characteristics typical of its school may be the reason for the NBTHK. But for a beginner, this is very confusing. On the one hand, a perfect blade is recommended, but on the other hand, others are able to overlook obvious flaws and appreciate the brilliance of the work in question. And that's not far-fetched. An outstanding work by a very important master was on display in Berlin in May (and still is). And yet I have experienced a disparaging opinion based on its imperfect preservation, and that from someone who has been collecting for more than 40 years. Today, I can only shrug my shoulders, but how would I have understood something like that 30 years ago? I would like to know that myself... My best advice to newcomers: if you want to understand something, you have to question it. Don't expect to be spoon-fed, but develop a healthy urge to explore. Nothing comes from nothing. And if it's just about the financial aspect: don't forget the wakizashi! Here you can find excellent, signed works by well-known smiths, sometimes at a fraction of the price of an average katana. And by the way: there are a number of sword smiths from the early Edo period who produced almost exclusively wakizashi. Others, on the other hand, produced almost exclusively katana, so a wakizashi from a particular sword smith could be considered relatively rare. A wakizashi is therefore nothing to be ashamed of. But you don't have to follow my advice. It's not that important. All the better, because then you can't snatch them away from me...

And one more thing about the “good old days” and how they romanticize things in our memories. As luck would have it, I recently had the opportunity to see two objects again that I had remembered for perhaps more than 25 years. And I was very surprised by my own reaction. On the one hand, I was really bitterly disappointed by a katana in en suite koshirae, which I myself had praised to the skies in my memory. On the other hand, I was able to see again a blade belonging to an old friend, which I had not appreciated at all at the time. Today, for me, it is the best Ko Mihara I have ever held in my hands. Well, let's wait another 25 years. We change too.

I don't want to start again with the old story of how things were 30 years ago and how they are today. Those who have been around long enough know that. But in my subjective experience, the opportunity to engage in a fruitful exchange of knowledge with other serious enthusiasts has improved significantly. There is a high level of willingness to share one's own knowledge, but also to make the objects in one's own collections available to others for study. I think the last NBTHK-EB meeting in Berlin in May this year is a particularly good example of this. I hope that the willingness and commitment of these enthusiasts will spread to many others in the long term. In this respect, things are changing.

Too bad, I'm afraid I know that blade...

It is always advisable to check the Japanese website to see which exhibition is currently on display. This is because when exhibitions change, the museum is always closed for about a week.