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Nakamura Umemaru

There is a brief article in the Mainichi today about the ways young men from outside the kabuki hereditary lineages can become adopted into those lineages and become kabuki actors. As Japanese newspapers have an annoying tendency to not keep archives available online, with the protection of journalistic fair use, I’ll reproduce the English version of the article here:

Despite appearances to the contrary, Tokyo’s Kabuki-za, where tickets sell out day after day, is not quite a closed shop, despite its long tradition of acting families. Those wishing to tread the boards in traditional Japanese style might wish to read on, as we look at two ways of breaking into the world of kabuki acting.

The first is the direct method, involving sponsorship by an established performer. One such up-and-comer is Nakamura Umemaru, 13 years old and apprentice to Nakamura Baigyoku, 63, and who is currently performing in “Kyo o Midasu Uwasa no Kagizume” at the National Theater until Oct. 27.

Umemaru’s parents both work in the publishing industry, but it was clear he was destined for other things when he became entranced by the splendor of kabuki at the tender age of three, after a trip to the theater with his mother.

“I realized I wanted to go on stage,” he said.

He first met mentor Baigyoku backstage at a performance at the age of six. “I let him help out backstage. I thought he would get tired of it, but he started to enjoy it more and more,” Baigyoku recalls.

Umemaru first went on stage himself in 2005, and was given his name two years later.

“Acting and rehearsing is more fun than school,” he says, and the problem is balancing the two.

“In Kabuki, I play characters that don’t exist in modern times. It feels like another world.”

Those that take the direct route can also rise to stardom. Matsumoto Kôshirô VII, a renowned performer from the Meiji to the Shôwa periods, was a protege of Ichikawa Danjûrô IX. Modern stars Bandô Tamasaburô V and Kataoka Ainosuke were also groomed for fame from their apprentice days.

The other way is to take specialist training with the Japan Arts Council (JAC). Of the 305 kabuki actors in April 2009, 86 were graduates of the JAC course.

The three-year course is open to boys aged 15-23, and covers the foundations of acting, movement, traditional Japanese dance and other disciplines. Graduates then go on to join the acting division of production company Shôchiku.

Of the 26 to take the entrance exam in the 2007 academic year, which tests recitation, singing and rhythm skills, amongst other areas, just 10 passed. Three have since quit, leaving seven still enrolled.

The trainees are also participating in “Kyo o Midasu Uwasa no Kagizume.” There will be positions available at the institute for the next school year starting in the spring, with applications accepted until Feb. 26.

(Mainichi Japan) November 1, 2009

Thanks to Nagaeyari of the Ancient Japan Blog for the heads up on this article.

I always have a difficult time remembering which prominent American scholar it was that advised the US government to spare Kyoto and Nara from bombing during World War II. And now and then, I am reminded, as I come across the name Langdon Warner again. What a debt is owed to him, the temples, machiya, sacred and artistic treasures, and so much else of these hearts of Japanese traditional culture, protected and preserved due to his efforts (though so much has been lost to modernization in the decades since…).

However, it would seem that he “rescued” a number of wall paintings from Dunhuang in the 1920s, which were later sold to the MFA. I had no idea this had occurred, and certainly don’t believe I had any idea that the MFA owned Dunhuang wall paintings. What incredible objects to own (I wonder what form and condition they’re in – solid blocks of painted stone?), and what a controversy I can imagine this has become. Was it controversial at the time? I wonder.

Strangely, I cannot seem to find the paintings in the MFA online database; perhaps they have since deaccessioned and repatriated them?

Potter and linguist Dennis Krueger explains the origins and meaning of many pottery words, from slip to clay to throwing to glaze, in a page entitled “Why On Earth Do They Call It Throwing?” on Ceramics Today.com.


‘Art of the Samurai’ has just opened at the Metropolitan Museum. In the wake of controversy, protests, and rather scathing (anti-)Orientalist accusations leveled against the San Francisco museum for their Lords of the Samurai exhibition barely a month ago, one might think the Met would have rethought their exhibition schedule. But, of course, these things are planned out way in advance, and one month ahead of time is far too short notice to cancel or change things, except in the most extreme of situations.

In any case, I’m sure it’s an excellent exhibition, and I regret that I won’t be able to be home in New York to see it.

The New York Times’ review can be found at: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/23/arts/design/23samurai.html

It also includes some great photos, providing a glimpse at the kinds of things, including a number of National Treasures, on display: http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/10/22/arts/20091023-SAMU_index.html

From the NYT today: When Ancient Artifacts Become Political Pawns

Zahi Hawass has been demanding the return of a lot of Egyptian artifacts lately, from Berlin, the Louvre, and the British Museum. Many critics have noted the nationalistic and political reasons for this behavior, linking it to a stagnant Egyptian government desperate to show the Egyptian people some kind of progress or victory. When an Egyptian was passed over or turned down for the position of head of UNESCO, it fell to Hawass to recover face for Mubarak’s government.

Getting back Nefertiti would help on that score. So might flexing some archaeological muscle, even with no realistic expectation the bust will be returned. Either way, art becomes a political football.

That’s what restitution often comes down to these days.

Nationalism by other means.

Politics by proxy.

Something I thought of today, several days after writing down the thoughts expressed in my previous post, is a most frustrating thought about the freedom of the artist and the limits on the historian. As a historian, I am limited not only by an obligation to present factual information, but also by the expectations that I have read, am familiar with, and am not overlooking or ignoring, discourse. This applies not only directly relevant writings, such as, in the case of Edo period Japanese provincial histories for example, the writings of Wigen, Toby, Ravina, and Howell, but also everything from Said to Foucault, to Derrida, Saussure, Levi-Strauss, Freud, Kant, Heidegger, and all sorts of other philosophers and theoreticians I’d much rather not deal with. One is expected to be intimately familiar with theory, and also with previous scholarship in one’s specific niche as thoroughly as absolutely possible. One is restricted by the expectations and the standards held by the academic community, and also by trends, and by what niche or place one can find within a discourse.

Artists are of course subject to trends in the market, the standards and expectations of critics, etc. But, by contrast, they are quite free to be inspired by whatever sources they may choose, and while one of course would be chastised and criticized if one is too derivative, completely copying another artist’s style, forms, or ideas, to a large extent one is free to jump between media, themes, and subjects as suits one’s fancy.

Raad mentioned that he was quite inspired by the writings of Jalal Toufic, and in particular a work which addresses theoretical approaches to analysing culture and society, through the lens or conceit of being a book on Vampires in Cinema. If I, as a historian, were to adapt Toufic’s theories to my own historical writing, the academy would look at me like I was crazy, accusing me of having not read Ravina and Toby, of not fitting into the pattern of the issues and analytical approaches raised by Totman and Howell, and of doing all the things so criticized by Derrida, Foucault, Said, or Saussure. But when Raad does it, no one questions who or what his other sources are; he takes refined artistic skills and talents, combined with Toufic and whatever other sources or inspirations he wishes, and creates.

Perhaps I should give up being a (art) historian, and turn to being an artist.

Walid Raad

Walid Raad is a Lebanese-born, NY-based artist who, in certain ways, poses as a historian. Having created the fictional Atlas Group, a non-profit dedicated to investigating and archiving elements of contemporary Lebanese history, he goes on to invent historians, to manufacture historical documents, and to then analyse and discuss these documents as if he were a researcher and archivist who is confused by these documents, and not as their creator.

He deals with very serious and pertinent themes in his work – addressing societal concerns and questions of the present and future of Beirut in the wake of decades of civil war and terrorism. But what truly intrigues and excites me about his work is this element of creating history. Everything he works on reflects, at its core, true factual history – he incorporates newspaper articles and photographs of specific car bombings from certain days in the past, and revisits and reimagines a real, historical, kidnapping of five Americans and one Lebanese. Still, it is addressed through the lens of false historical processes – notebooks written by fictional historians, discussing real horse races with a fictional twist, talking about certain groups of people who bet, not on which horse would win, but on whether the final photograph would be taken just before or just after the horse crossed the finish line, and by how much.

It’s a very playful activity, in that respect, inspiring one to invent one’s own Victorian era archaeologist or paleontologist, shell collector or botanical enthusiast, and to create his or her notebooks, essentially as mixed media artworks.

Some of the documents in the archive might, if they were presented as Raad’s own artistic creations, and as independent stand-alone works, would seem obtuse, opaque, ”avant-garde”, or just meaningless. If I were in one of those featureless white rooms that one sees so often in the Chelsea gallery district in NY, and I saw a video of the sun setting, in real time, taken from a regular camcorder-style camera, I would think, “what is it supposed to mean? What is it?” and I would move on, not even giving it a second thought or engaging in the work at all.

But because these works are presented in the context of found items, of items somehow related to historical research, as objects worthy of being archived and researched, this adds another dimension, one of historical and cultural context, and adds a semblance, a veneer, of importance and significance. Obviously, the historians at the Atlas Group find this important, thus validating it further, not as an artwork but as a document.

The false personalities created by the artist, the fictional figures who are claimed to have created the notebooks, also serve to allow the artist to express different viewpoints, including rather bold or controversial ones, without himself being seen as holding those views.

It is a most intriguing, inspiring and exciting approach for me, and a brilliant way to link, enhance, and legitimize one’s artworks.

All of the documents in the Atlas Group Archives can be found at http://www.theatlasgroup.org/.


Every now and then, in my readings and class lectures, I am introduced to an artist whose work just catches my eye and grabs my attention.

Walter Spies (1895-1942) is one such artist. Born to German parents in Moscow, he made his way to the Dutch East Indies in 1923 and never returned to Europe. In Java, after expressing an interest in gamelan music (something which I must say I enjoy very much as well), he was made Master of the Sultan’s Music and came to live within the grounds of the palace and to direct the sultan’s gamelan. He developed a written notation for the gamelan music – whether he was the first to do so, or the first Westerner to do so, and whether his notation continues to be used today, I have no idea, but I wonder. In any case, he moved to Bali in 1927, where he would remain the rest of his life. After a brief time living in a rajah’s palace, he established his own home.

Spies engaged in a wide variety of artistic activities, including painting, composing, and photography, and gathered around him a large circle of friends and acquaintances, as well as becoming something of a local celebrity. He is described as being appreciated by both the colonial Dutch and local Balinese authorities, and was active in a number of enterprises, including serving as curator of a Bali Museum for a time, and organizing an artists’ collective with as many as 150 members.

Sadly, in the 1930s, there came a wave of crackdowns on homosexual activity, which was illegal in the Dutch colonies as it was in most parts of the (Western?) world at the time. The Balinese argued on his behalf, as did renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead, that homosexuality was traditionally not considered a sin, crime, or abhorrence in their society, and the father of a boy with whom Spies had had relations likewise argued that he saw no problem with it. Still, in the end, Spies was imprisoned for some months. When the Netherlands fell to the Nazis, Dutch authorities in Indonesia rounded up and interned German nationals, including Spies, who was eventually placed on a ship to the Netherlands. (Why would the Dutch send free citizens/residents of the free Dutch East Indies back to Nazi-occupied Holland, I don’t understand. But nevertheless, it happened…) Spies never made it to Europe, however, as the ship was sunk by the Japanese.

….

Spies’ paintings really strike me for their unique style and forms, not to mention the exotic subject matter of the Balinese context. Academic 19th century “mainstream” Orientalist paintings of the Arab world, as typified by the work of Jean-Léon Gérôme are stunningly gorgeous in their own way, but I would argue that they lack a personal touch. They are so carefully detailed and realistically depicted, that they lack to some extent evidence of the artist’s personality or creativity.

“Traumlandschaft” (1927)

Sadly, many of Spies’ paintings survive today only as black-and-white photos of the original works. On the other hand, perhaps one should say “luckily, black-and-white photos of many of Spies’ works which are otherwise lost, have survived.”

I’m not sure if this painting would reflect any particular Balinese myth or story, but the fantastic element is obvious, the incredibly tall, thin, form of a man extending up through the treetops and clouds, providing a sense of the magical which infuses many of Spies’ paintings and might be presumed to be an expression of the magic he experienced and enjoyed in life in Bali.

“Die Landschaft und ihre Kinder” (1939)

“The Travelling Salesman” (Date Unknown)

The dark greens and bright, pale, blues of many of Spies’ paintings creates a sense of the lush, verdant, environment, and a powerful sense of mystery and magic. I particularly like his figures, so extremely thin, with their broad hats, represented so similarly from work to work as to seem characters or caricatures.

In light of having seen numerous paintings of other tropes, such as Gerome’s of the Arab World, Chinese and Japanese paintings of their own respective landscapes, etc., this distinctly different scene of Balinese fashion, figures, and landscapes is all the more intriguing.

“Sumatran Landscape” (1941)

And then, sometimes Spies just does a straight-out stunning, picturesque, landscape largely absent of Orientalist elements.

—-

While Walter Spies was by no means ethnically Balinese himself, and did not paint in a style which can be considered natively or traditionally Balinese, the magical and unique style seen in his work, distinct from any I have ever seen used to represent Chinese, Japanese, Middle Eastern, or European/Western subjects, as well as the actual content of his pieces, namely Balinese people and places, make his works feel distinctly Balinese. They inspire in me not an interest in Western painting, or even so much in Spies as an individual “master”, but in Bali, its people, its culture, and its landscapes, and in the romantic notion of “going bamboo” as Spies and so many others have.

All images courtesy of Geff Green’s wonderful Walter Spies Page. I am sure there is plenty else out there on Spies, particularly on blogs devoted to Balinese art, in catalogs produced for exhibitions of Spies’ work, etc. though I have not myself taken the time to go through them all. If you are interested, I invite you to pursue this… and to perhaps even come back here to share what you have found.


An early 17th century folding screen (byôbû) painting depicting Osaka Castle prior to its destruction in 1615 has been brought to light. The screen is housed in Eggenberg Palace in Austria, has been for a long time incorporated into the wall decorations there, and is in amazingly good condition.

More details can be found here, at the official website of the Johanneum Museum. Be sure to take a look at the PDF file linked to at the bottom of the page (and right here) which provides a fuller detailed description of individual things to be seen in the landscape.

Much thanks to KyushuDan for the heads up!


I guess it’s not so forbidden anymore. After years of restoration and conservation efforts, parts of the Forbidden City will be opened to the public sometime next year.

Meanwhile, an exhibition of recreated interiors from the Imperial Palace will go on tour, starting with an exhibition at the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem MA, entitled “Hidden Treasures from the Forbidden City: Unlocking an Emperor’s Private Paradise.”

The exhibition website includes a link to a video with NBC’s Matt Lauer, and Nancy Berliner, PEM curator of Chinese art, sharing with us some of these exquisite spaces.

The exhibit runs at the Peabody Essex from September 11, 2010 to January 9, 2011. I regret I won’t be able to see it myself, but hopefully there will be more treats on the website in months to come. Perhaps we will be able to learn the touring schedule soon…

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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