Lukrez

My heartfelt thanks also go to everyone who has the privileged access to extraordinary works, who capture them in photos and videos, and who make them available to the rest of us. Knowledge always comes at a price, and habituation, can become toxic—it has to do with the way our nervous system functions. In many ways, this is the state we all live in. We are tormented by our ravenous minds; it is both terrible and beautiful at the same time. I believe it is truly a narrow path, and we all try to walk it. That is why we create art. I think each of us knows that a nihonto has power - and the more time we invest, the more meaning they take on for us. For many of us, the photos, videos, and PDFs that some of you have shared this year mean more than you might realize. Most of us will never hold a masterpiece in our hands —perhaps only once a year, during a trip to Japan, when we view it through a glass case in a museum. So we inevitably rely on words and images. But, as good as they are, they remain a poor substitute for direct perception. It’s clear that much will always remain inaccessible to us. We simply have to accept that. Yet the beautiful thing is that this limitation forces us to seek other perspectives; it compels us to look from different angles. This is also how, I believe, some of us experience nihonto: as ancient spirits and deities of beauty, as tools for thinking and seeing, referencing the profound mysteries Japan has to offer.

Interestingly, when I have it right in my mind, it was long considered improper and dishonorable to work for personal profit in Japan, which is why merchants were regarded as possessing the least desirable traits as a class. The samurai had always possessed qualities that were considered desirable and attractive by other classes, both because of their social status and their rank. Through a process of samurai mimicry, merchants sought to elevate their own status by engaging in activities previously confined only to the samurai class. However, the limitations imposed by the hereditary system meant that merchants, no matter how prosperous or affluent, could not attain samurai status, and samurai were legally prohibited from engaging in commercial activities to improve their deteriorating living conditions. @HoshiUnfortunately, the trend continues that speculative value has become the highest value. The marketplaces are the temples, promoting an exchange dominated by profit motives, drawing more and more of their kind into the labyrinths of barren illusions. The ideological influence on the internal perspective only leads to more anxious vanity and habitual "Unter-sich-Seins“. However, this development also brings advantages, in my opinion. It grants us more sensitivity toward other forms of curiosity and intellectual hunger. This reminds me of the work by Ivan Morris, Nobility of Failure: Where I first read about the concept of "Seishinshugi" – a principle that shapes the philosophy of many Japanese heroic figures and offers far richer possibilities than the mere pursuit of desire. The inner work.

Thanks, Tim Evans! What I find intriguing in Paul R. Allmann’s quote might answer your question to some extent, Chris. If we assume that P.A. is a highly competent nihonto expert, the wide range in which he is able to perceive beauty is remarkable. A prerequisite for competence is therefore the ability to view many high-quality blades with a deep, lingering gaze. The Japanese have a natural advantage due to the availability of many great swords. As Tim writes, a master would undoubtedly be of immense value because he would either have had the opportunity to view many fine swords or even own them himself. Without such access, one risks reverting to simplistic, traditional value judgments of art (beautiful/ugly), often focusing instead on monetary or fame-based measures. It’s also fascinating to consider why a sort of standardized taste trajectory emerges in this context, or why a hierarchy forms (e.g., first or only this or that time-period/school, or iron tsuba versus Edo kinko). Is it inevitable that one must limit or constrain their aesthetic view in order to develop "competence"? Allmann’s perspective challenges this tendency by suggesting that one could embrace the unique beauty inherent in each object, as he writes: "In our case, aesthetic seeing means that we do not care who names the fastest or most expensive sword, but that we can truly grasp and enjoy the infinite beauty of each sword. It is often overlooked that great beauty – even the kind that impresses the most experienced collectors – is hidden in many cheap and unremarkable swords. In our hunt for the big names, the oldest sword, the most precious and rare blade, and the most impressive, we often overlook the subtle beauty, grace, and elegance that each sword radiates in its own way."

I briefly skimmed through the current thread, there have been few new contributions. Chris, I apologize for diverting the conversation from your original question into my (personal) exploration of Nihonto aesthetics, but as I mentioned earlier to you, your question came at just the right moment. I’m deeply interested in the specific qualities that define a Meito, and I’d love for everyone to share their thoughts on that! If Albert Yamanaka or Paul Allmann were here, I believe they would both humbly admit that while they can certainly identify a good sword, they would refrain from claiming the ability to judge a true masterpiece ;). What, for you, defines a "good blade"? Thank you, Uwe, for the book recommendation and for the other contributions. I read the German version, and I agree—it's a fantastic book. P.A. freely associates in various directions, offering a range of ideas, with numerous insightful nuggets scattered throughout. If I may, out of pure curiosity, I’d like to conduct a quick survey: How many people here have read Paul R. Allmann’s book so far? If so, could you leave a brief comment, either with a thumbs-up or a short piece of feedback? Also, does anyone know more about Paul Allmann? In the book, we only learn that he was introduced to Nihonto by Reg Bretnor, a Russian-born science fiction author, and later became a student of Albert Yamanaka. One of the most striking insights in the book stands in stark contrast to the common collective mindset, and it touches the core. He writes: "In our case, aesthetic seeing means that we do not care who names the fastest or most expensive sword, but that we can truly grasp and enjoy the infinite beauty of each sword. It is often overlooked that great beauty – even the kind that impresses the most experienced collectors – is hidden in many cheap and unremarkable swords. In our hunt for the big names, the oldest sword, the most precious and rare blade, and the most impressive, we often overlook the subtle beauty, grace, and elegance that each sword radiates in its own way." A wake-up to the limitations of our thinking. Understanding covers only a small part of our experience. Does anyone know if this is Paul’s original concept (perhaps a way for him to reshape his own motivations, making him no longer wish to participate in Kantei — a "blasphemous Western luxury," so to speak)? Or did he adopt this idea directly from his teacher, Albert Yamanaka? I haven’t read Yamanaka’s newsletter, but does he discuss the concept of "reines Sehen / pure seeing" there? Does anyone know the Japanese term for this? Is it an open secret among Nihonto experts in Japan, or is it widely known and practiced there? Ultimately, aesthetics remain a great mystery. But everything labeled as a masterpiece is filtered through an observer's perspective, and the study of the object becomes a study of the subject—the conditions that create the perception of "high art" in the first place. Of Course one can rely on others; top-down thinking is tempting, and the weight of authorities is heavy. In groups, we often lose our individual clarity—we immediately adopt the thoughts of the group. The mind’s capacity for self-deception is endless, and it’s almost impossible not to be tricked by our own perceptions. But ultimately, each of us must find our own way back to reality ;). "Denkkollektive" / Social norms function much like paper walls in Japanese culture: They are considered walls because everyone agrees to perceive them as such.

.."I felt a sense of shock from which I never recovered..." Exactly—this is what I hoped to touch upon earlier. Call it bottom-up processing, a first-order experience, epiphany, shock, ... or use Scotus's definition (props to Mushin—cut to the bone ); it is a visceral experience that happens to you, a unique connection between the object and the observer, the gaze outward becomes a gaze inward ("du gleichst dem Geist den du begreifst"). If this can be learned, it likely comes closest to the concept of "Ishin-denshin", where the teacher acts more as a catalyst for the student, setting their process of self-understanding into motion (or elevating it to a new level). (Perhaps this was the role Darcy played for some forum members; at least, I got the impression that he was a good soul.) Then, it seems to me that there is at least a second, very interesting central path of top-down processing: the study of primary and secondary literature, the field of quote assemblage, hearsay, and the translators and autistic data collectors and data enthusiasts (I have the utmost respect for them). But also, and most importantly, the realm of fiction, self-worth, and the social sphere—in short, chaos. The social sphere, in my view, distinguishes the question of aesthetics (i.e., mastery) from questions about for example the essence of time or love. Aesthetics can, and often does, quickly become a socially constructed product. It can be easily manipulated and stretched. In this regard, the social dimension in the question of what is considered beautiful seems particularly relevant in a collectivist country like Japan. I would also place the following contribution here: ..."Paul relates that Albert Yamanaka held the opinion: Noda Hankei's arrogance was responsible for the blunt gracelessness of his shapes." Objective influences fade into the background, and the value of a work / a blacksmith becomes closely linked to the behavior of the social actors of the time— as well as the market, critics, curators, collectors, dealers, ... The exchange relationships between these actors play a decisive role, as they create an informal socialization around rules, trends, and the language of the market. Such network effects, especially in Japan, play a crucial role in the development of a smith’s reputation and how it is perceived in the market, an aspect I’ve so far given too little attention to, but I hope to engage in more exchange about. Specific signals, like positive evaluations by experts (the Honami family and their repeated crises of trust), protégés, peers, provenance, and familial relationships, imply a higher value. Must a sword be of higher quality just because it was owned by a famous Daimyo? The status of a smith or an artwork is negotiated through such exchange processes. This means that if a blacksmith had a great need for recognition, the ability to stage himself and his skills, and gain the support of wealthy patrons, he would enter the annals of history. But the opportunities for a blacksmith to rise, cannot be seen as entirely equal or chance-driven. In my opinion, it is 100% likely that there were blacksmiths who were nonconformists, obsessed with pioneering spirit, ahead of their time, uncompromisingly realizing their own visions and abilities, but who fell out for example of favor with wealthy contemporaries, faded into obscurity, and whose works did not gain recognition because they lacked the positive influences of provenance or similar factors. The influence of actors within the social system is determined by their status, which is, in turn, affected by their interactions with associated actors. Status, thus, becomes a self-reinforcing process. For many collectors and art buyers, interacting with the social system serves primarily to elevate their own status (how much status matters and self-worth is also frequently observed in our forum when the discussion quickly leaves the subject matter and becomes emotional). Many interesting perspectives have been outlined so far, and I look forward to learning more. I’m eager to understand more about the technical intricacies. What are the key points in Paul R. Allman’s work?

Thank you for the thought-provoking question! I believe this is a question that can be addressed on different levels and at varying depths. When it comes to the finer nuances and discussions of individual characteristics, I must admit that I am not sufficiently familiar with, nor have I seen enough masterpieces to truly understand the delicate subtleties that experienced eyes, honed over centuries, have agreed upon. Through this collective expertise, certain aesthetic values "Eigenwerte" have crystallized. I look forward to learning from the experiences of forum members and gaining deeper insights into the taxonomy and layers of information that distinguish these masterpieces. For now, I will approach this question from a very personal, somewhat rudimentary, and instinctive standpoint, one that has drawn me to nihonto even before I began to understand why certain blade characteristics, under specific historical conditions, might be favored while others are dismissed. If I were to seriously consider your question, Chris, my approach would primarily involve not actively categorizing layers of information, but rather passively experiencing a presence. When I look at a blade, without the weight of learned knowledge — without any understanding of time, smith, school, or historical context — the perception itself deepens, intensifies, gains body and volume. As Hugo von Hofmannsthal beautifully put it: "... die Worte haben sich vor die Dinge gestellt. Das Hörensagen hat die Welt verschluckt“. The view of certain objects, in this case nihonto, that some might regard as masterpieces, can best be described as an intensity of experience that transports me as an observer into a feverish state of mind. It evokes the naïve feeling that something sacred is before me, where the untrained eye might otherwise pass by with indifferent ease. This is a relationship not defined by representation, meaning, or concept, but rather by immediate, unmediated contact and presence. From a different perspective, I would call it "composition of trivialities" that becomes the source of an enigmatic, wordless delight (an epiphanic moment?). When one has not yet acquired sufficient technical or academic knowledge, the encounter with such objects is experienced as "thinking with the heart." Ultimately, the heightened attention to certain things, like specific nihonto pieces, goes hand in hand with a sense of self-forgetfulness and loss. The effect is palpable, dense, yet elusive. One is unable to place it, unable to name it, and the continuum of information is disrupted. Upon leaving the informational plane, it permeates and lands in an indeterminate zone of the self, eluding the cognitive control. I have to admit, sometimes, there is something beautiful in ignorance, in the blind spot. It is a place of imagination, and the object before one transforms into a masterpiece, even though it may be regarded as worthless by the majority. In other words, certain masterpieces impress precisely because they refuse to allow any attribution of defining qualities. They remain a secret. Other nihonto, which are commonly accepted as masterpieces, often represent visual information that does not evoke the same level of "affect" in me. The intensity of the gaze is missing. Only through study does the passion emerge. The underlying perception, however, I would describe as more extensive, additive, and cumulative. The enjoyment is akin to reading a lecture.

Thank you sincerely for your dedication and effort. Your selfless contribution is truly enriching, and we deeply appreciate the value you bring to us. Would it be possible to download all the files together, for instance as a ZIP file ?

Thank you for your private inquiry. However, I’m sharing my response here publicly so that other readers may also benefit from the information in the future. In my view, Supein Nihonto represents a seller type that prioritizes quantity over quality. In a perfect world, one would hope that dealers of antiques — especially in a field as rich and nuanced as Nihontō — are deeply knowledgeable and genuinely passionate about sharing the beauty of this art form with others. Unfortunately, the reality is often different: Many sellers follow a simple business model: buy cheaply in Japan (often the items that no one locally wants) and resell them at a markup to Western buyers who may have little experience and have never even handled a blade in person. That’s not to say you won’t ever find an interesting piece — sometimes you do. But it’s essential to research thoroughly and negotiate a fair price. Ask the seller as many specific questions as possible and try to learn everything you can about the item you’re interested in. Be aware that seller descriptions are frequently inaccurate, vague, or careless. If necessary, don’t hesitate to exercise your right to return the item. Incidentally, that’s part of the reason why many sellers are now shifting their focus to selling Yoroi, as these are often excluded from return policies.

Hi Lewis Thank you for your detailed message and the many helpful pointers — I truly appreciate it! I've also received a few valuable tips via private messages, which I’m grateful for as well. When you mentioned next month, I assume you were referring to the Japan Art Expo in Utrecht, June 13–15? That sounds fantastic, and I’ll make sure to attend! I really enjoy the publications from Pablo Kuntz and his team — the presentation is always top-notch. Unfortunately, the pieces featured are often already sold by the time they’re published. As far as I know, there isn’t a website with up-to-date listings of available items — it seems most offerings are shared through direct personal contact. The gatherings in Manching are much more accessible for me geographically than Solingen, so I’d love to attend one. Do I need to register in advance, or can one simply show up? As for similar events here in Switzerland, I haven’t come across anything comparable yet — if anyone reading this knows of something or would be open to getting in touch, I’d be very happy to hear from fellow collectors.

First of all, I would like to express my sincere appreciation for the many valuable contributions and the open exchange in this forum. It’s truly a privilege to learn from the knowledge and experience of others, and I’ve already benefited greatly from reading through various discussions. One aspect, however, that has been troubling me for quite some time is my own experience with several Nihonto dealers and auction houses, particularly in Europe, Switzerland, and Canada. I’ve also reviewed some of the forum posts from previous years, and it’s striking to see other members have reported similar concerns. Unfortunately, my personal experiences have frequently fallen short of the level of quality and professionalism one might hope for in such a specialized field. Issues I’ve encountered range from false or misleading specifications — incorrect measurements, for instance, Wakizashi being advertised as Katana — and when asked about it, the usual response is something along the lines of: “Sorry, I currently have so many swords that I must have made a copy-paste error.” In addition, I’ve experienced high-pressure tactics, such as claims that a dealer in Japan will only offer a piece at a specific price for a very limited time, with implied consequences for declining the offer. In some cases, translations of NBTHK papers have been questionable or clearly flawed, and attempts to clarify details have been met with silence or evasive responses. What’s more, it’s not uncommon for sellers with many years in the trade to present their offerings with subpar photos or poorly made videos, sometimes recorded casually from a living room — making it difficult to assess a blade properly and undermining the trust one would expect from a professional source. While I fully understand that not every seller has access to high-end equipment or production facilities, I believe that basic standards of clarity, honesty, and professionalism should be the norm — especially in a field that demands such a high level of expertise and historical sensitivity. As a result of these experiences, I’ve come to the conclusion that going forward, I will only purchase blades either during personal trips to Japan, where I can inspect them in person, or within the trusted context of this forum, where quality and integrity seem to be held in much higher regard. On a related note, I would be very grateful to learn whether there are any gatherings, meetings, or informal groups for collectors and students of Nihonto in Switzerland or southern Germany. I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to exchange knowledge and view pieces in person. I speak German, English, and Russian, and would be happy to connect in any of these languages. I’m sharing these observations not as criticism for its own sake, but in the hope of encouraging thoughtful discussion on how we, as collectors and enthusiasts, can identify trustworthy sources. I would be very interested to hear how others in this community approach these challenges and what criteria you rely on when evaluating dealers.

Who is the author? Is it perhaps the lady Ethel Watts Mumford, who wrote a book about Hand Reading???? Why does she have such extensive knowledge about Nihonto and Japan?

Thank you all, really appreciate your candidness. It's always interesting to hear different views from experienced collectors like yourself. You make a valid point about the Ko-Bizen attribution—I can certainly see how the compromised state of the sword would make attribution more challenging. I’ll take your advice to heart as I continue learning and refining my own understanding of the field. Thank you again for sharing your insights, and I look forward to any future discussions. Best regards

Thank you so much Rayhan, I truly appreciate the information you've shared so far —it is incredibly helpful. Best regards

Totally fine. However, I personally prefer a less rigid approach—one that encourages trusting experts less, speaking up, asking questions, and actively engaging in dialogue. As a neuroscientist, I always advise my patients to do the same. Especially in medicine, it’s striking how error-prone the human factor is—particularly among so-called experts. In recent years, “science” has unfortunately done itself a disservice and lost a lot of public trust. It’s more important than ever to encourage open exchange. That said, a deep debate between radical objectivism and radical constructivism doesn’t really belong here. For those interested, I recommend the book The Genesis and Development of a Scientific Fact* by Ludwik Fleck. It’s a great resource for developing critical thinking—especially when it comes to experts. Now, this might earn me some criticism, but nihonto—like any other art form—is more of a subjective or socio-cultural construct than a science. Correct me If I am wrong.

Anyone who is exposed to a growing flood of contradictory information will, sooner or later, have to begin thinking for themselves. In this context, the internet is one of the most important tools for the further development of human intelligence. Of course, randomized controlled trials would be ideal, but as long as they are not available, everyone should be allowed to rely on their natural human common sense. It is clear that a large part of Rivkin's observations are representative of a majority experience—and we can all benefit from that. Please continue sharing all viewpoints.