A netsuke (æ ä, [netsÉÌke]) is a miniature sculpture, originating in 17th century Japan. Initially a simply-carved button fastener on the cords of an inrÅ box, netsuke later developed into ornately sculpted objects of craftsmanship.
Carving Netsuke
A netsuke (æ ä, [netsÉÌke]) is a miniature sculpture, originating in 17th century Japan. Initially a simply-carved button fastener on the cords of an inrÅ box, netsuke later developed into ornately sculpted objects of craftsmanship.
Carving Netsuke
Today, the production of netsuke continues, and some modern netsuke can command high prices in the UK, Europe, the USA, Japan and elsewhere. Inexpensive yet faithful reproductions are available in museums and souvenir shops.
The term netsuke is formed from the characters ne (æ , meaning 'root') and tsuke (ä, meaning 'attached'). In American English, the word is usually italicized, while it is usually unitalicized in British English.[2][3]
Like many other art forms, netsuke reflect the nature of the society that produced them. This effect is particularly pronounced in netsuke, owing to long periods of isolation imposed both by geography and internal politics and limited avenues of self-expression for Japanese citizens due to custom and law.[8][9][10] As a result, netsuke display every aspect of Japanese culture, including its rich folklore and religion, crafts, trades, and professions, all types of people and creatures, both real and imagined, and every kind of object. As in other aspects of Japanese culture, the subjects portrayed by netsuke trend, over the long term, away from an initial emphasis on motifs of Chinese derivation toward a focus on objects of more strictly national interest.[11]
Carvers of netsuke are called netsuke-shi..mw-parser-output .vanchor>:target.vanchor-textbackground-color:#b1d2ffSÅken KishÅ (èåŠåèž) is the earliest compilation of netsuke-shi, which lists over 50 netsuke masters. It was published in Osaka in 1781 by Inaba TsÅryÅ.[13] Some works of art are even illustrated in it.[14]
In Kyoto, Japan, there is the Kyoto Seishu Netsuke Art Museum, which is the only netsuke specialized art museum in Japan. This museum is a traditional Japanese samurai residence built in the late Edo period. It has a collection of over 5,000 netsuke and 400 of them are on display and change every 3 months. The collection focuses on modern works, but there are also works from the Edo period.[21][22]
Susan Wraight is an internationally renowned carver of netsuke, a traditional Japanese artform. Her exquisite miniature carvings have won awards and worldwide acclaim with the result that her work is held in numerous collections. This story is republished from Australian Wood Review, issue 20, September, 1998.
It is a flexible and comfortable way to work, but the best aspects for me are the contemplative nature of the procÂess, and the reactions the carvings receive when people see them-especially when it's for the first time. Lord Chesterfield once wrote to his son: 'Have you learned to carve? For it is ridiculous not to carve well. A man who tells you gravely that he cannot carve, may as well tell you that he cannot blow his nose; it is both as necessary and as easy'.
I have now been carving for decades, with almost as much enthusiasm as Lord Chesterfield, and over that time have often been asked to describe the techÂniques I use. Carving on a small scale can produce wonderfully intimate and engaging works, and I hope that this article will encourage more people to try it out for themselves.
Making a model also takes away the terror of picking up a block of wood and not knowing where to start, beÂcause it can be used as a pattern. I decide in which direction the grain will run through the carving, and hold the model up to the selected wood in the appropriate position. I draw around its profile and saw out the excess maÂterial. I repeat this for the front, side and top views of the piece. This leaves me with a rough block that already shows the approximate form of the model.
I use a motor tool to remove excess material. For the first six years of my professional carving life I was a hand tool purist and did everything by hand, but a bout of repetitive strain injury cured me of that. Whether using hand tools such as block cutting gouges, or a motor tool such as a Dremel or my own Electer, the principle is the same: the hard edges left after sawing the block are removed, and comparison with the model allows me to judge
A piece of steel is shaped so that the tip corresponds to the desired profile of the raised texturing. The easiest and most effective is a small hemiÂsphere, similar to the tip of a ballpoint pen. This tool is then pressed firmly and evenly across the area to be texÂtured. Once this has been done, the surface is carefully pared down to the bottom of the many small depressions. The surface is once again smooth, alÂthough bruising may be visible. Warm water is then sluiced over the area, causing the compressed fibres to swell back to their original position-forming small, even bumps across the work. The Japanese carvers who used this technique to great effect in netsuke would also use it to sign their works.
After much experimentation over the years with various wood stains, drawing inks and some natural recipes that would make MacBeth's witches look askance, I have settled on fabric dyes as my faÂvourite medium for colouring my carvings. They offer a marvellous range of colÂours, are reasonably resistant to fading, can be tinted subtly and are easy to use. I paint the dye on to a damp surface and, after drying well, rub back high spots to enhance detailing.
On the advice of several other netsuÂke carvers I have recently been achieving very satisfactory results by applying neutral shoe polish to the surface of carvings and buffing it with a soft brush. Netsuke need to be handledÂthey are seen as much with the fingers as the eyes, and this latter method seems to make the surface more reÂsistant to the adverse effects of handling.
As kimono culture flourished during the Edo period (1603-1868), netsuke, small carvings, were created as toggles to hold pouches and cases containing tobacco and medicine in place on the obi sash worn with the kimono. What began as functional pieces to prevent those little suspended containers from falling to the ground evolved into small but highly creative carvings. Today, classic netsuke have gained international acclaim as remarkably detailed carvings. Contemporary netsuke incorporating new subject matter and approaches have also been attracting attention. This traveling exhibition showcases contemporary netsuke carved of wood by living netsuke carvers in Japan, plus netsuke created by contemporary artists such as Izumi Kato. It also includes wooden netsuke that visitors may touch. Through this exhibition, visitors will appreciate the sophisticated skills and playful minds behind contemporary netsuke as well as its formal beauty and contemporaneity.
In the hands of Japanese netsuke carvers like Ryushi Komada, something quite mundane becomes sublime. From a simple block of wood emerges a delicate and expressive face, the sense of movement in the folds of a dress, the fine strings on an ancient instrument.
Netsuke emerged in the late 17th century during Japan's Edo period, when men wore kimonos every day. Those garments didn't have pockets, so men stashed items such as pens, tobacco or medicines in pouches or pillboxes, called inro, which hung from their kimono sashes, or obi, by cords. The containers were attached to one end of the cord; a netsuke was attached to the other, and served as an anchor, hooking over the obi.
(L) A demonstration of how netsuke, tiny carved pieces, were used in traditional dress. (R) Netsuke were worn as part of an ensemble that included inro, or containers, and ojime, or sliding beads that allow inro to be opened and closed. (L) Maia Stern/NPR and (R) Will Kirk/homewoodphoto.jhu.edu/Evergreen Collection hide caption
Komada is helping to keep the art of netsuke alive. The renowned artist and teacher has been carving netsuke for nearly 60 years. Komada and his daughter and interpreter, Makiko, were in Washington, D.C., recently to demonstrate the craft in conjunction with an exhibit of netsuke that's on display at the Japan Information & Culture Center, until May 15.
"He is always tense when he does carving of the face," Makiko says. "It has to be carved in relation to other parts. He moves the carving knife really slowly. One stroke can make a huge difference. If he's careless, he can ruin it."
What I really enjoyed the most about him was this notion of he's accepted serendipity, that you can go in with a plan, and then things develop as you're carving. The wood tells you something else, or you slip here and there, and you say, well, where will this go? And so it's not a perfect plan.
And to see how that works out in a very tiny scale to me is amazing. I just love the way he talked about, the essential thing in a figural carving is the nose. Once you lay that out, everything falls into place.
The wearer would slip the netsuke under and dangle it over the obi, allowing the sagemono to hang suspended between waist and hip. In order to access the contents of the sagemono, the wearer slipped the netsuke behind the obi sash, liberating the ensemble. By sliding the ojime toward the netsuke, the contents of the container were easily accessible.
Originally worn as part of a male kimono ensemble by men of the warrior class, inrÅ and netsuke developed as a form of conspicuous consumption within a culture that imposed a rigid four-tiered social system with warriors at the top, followed by farmers who tilled the land, artisans who crafted material goods, and merchants at the bottom. The artisans and merchants were collectively referred to as townspeople, or chÅnin. Given that the merchants were economically better off than many members of the socially superior military class, inrÅ and netsuke allowed merchants to display their wealth without breaking any sumptuary laws that regulated the types of houses they could build or fabrics they could wear. InrÅ and netsuke, often made of expensive, rare materials and bearing the signature and seal of the carver, were thus designed not only for their functional ability to carry things, but also as markers of wealth (36.100.249).
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