Among the most treasured pieces in my hashioki collection are a set of five chopstick rests that depict namban, the so-called Southern barbarians, meaning Dutch, Portuguese and Spanish traders and missionaries, that visited the Japanese island of Kyushu in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
For most Japanese these nambam were the their first encounter with Westerners, and they were understandably mesmerized by their clothing, including poufy pantaloons, brocade jackets, wide-brimmed hats and pointy boots; by their guns and swords and pipes; and of course by their big ships with tall masts and broad sails.
These namban images are taken from a byōbu, or folding screen, that is believed to have been created by a famous artist named Kanō Sanraku in the early 17th. century. The screen, which has been designated an Important Cultural Property by the Japanese government, is in the collection of the Suntory Museum of Art. I purchased the hashioki set at the museum during an exhibit showing some of their best items in May 1996.
In addition to their vivid and interesting decoration, the rests in this namban set are a delight because they curl slightly, encouraging chopstick tips to stay on them, and because they each rest on three tiny ceramic feet. But what struck me when I bought them was that this set was my third set with five pieces, and that had to be more than coincidence (please refer to my post The power of five” from November 2017).
This blue and white example is an official namban hashioki because it comes from the gift shop of Dejima, the island fort in Nagasaki in Kyushu where the Dutch namban traders lived from 1641 to 1853. I traveled to Nagasaki to visit the Dejima restoration in 2016, inspired largely by David Mitchell’s wonderful 2010 historical novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet. In addition to showing a Dutch trader wearing his pantaloons the hashioki features one of the ornate lanterns that still light the streets of Nagasaki today.
I don’t have any Halloween hashioki. I’m sure they exist, but I prefer to concentrate on pieces that symbolize Japanese tradition, not Westernization.
So this is as close as I get to costume hashioki: Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse masquerading as Daruma.
Daruma of course is the nickname for the founder of Zen Buddhism, the monk Bodhidharma. He cut off his eyelids to keep himself from dozing while he meditated, and then meditated so long that his arms and legs fell off. These pieces suggest that he also grew oversized ears, but I’m pretty sure that is not part of the original story. And of course one of these Daruma is female. For more discussion on “Daruma” please see my post from August 2016.
I don’t know if anyone could achieve enlightenment at a Disney theme park. But if you were at the Tokyo Disney Resort in 2011 you could have added these hashioki to your collection.
But sometimes I buy things because some unknown mysterious inner force compels me to acquire them. Usually it’s a new lipstick or a candy bar, but in this case it was a kappa hashoki for my collection.
I’m not sure what it was that drew me to this kappa. I might say that his pose is particularly languid, or that the expression on his face especially winsome. I appreciate that someone bothered to make the crown of his hat white, the leaf cape on his back, and his loincloth – so reminiscent of the mawashi that sumo wrestlers wear – brown. I have other kappa hashioki, and I have even posted about them here in January 2016.
But this kappa is ichiban – the best.
I do have to add here that I have a particular affinity for character hashioki: kappa, tanuki, maneki neko, Daruma, Okame, and all the others. Using them on the dining room table is like sitting down with my most delightful Japanese friends.
Shichifukujin, literally meaning “seven lucky people,” are Japan’s version of the seven dwarfs. They are even short in stature, not only in hashioki, but in other formats, too. All Japanese instantly recognize shichifukujin, and everyone knows their names…. well, everyone can probably remember most if not all of their names, just like the seven dwarfs in the Snow White fairy tale. They are the most popular deities in Japan, and so beloved that many consider them to be both Buddhist and Shinto.
It’s hard to find a complete set of shichifukujin hashioki. But Daikokuten (red hat) and Ebisu (blue hat) are pretty easy to find; they’re the most popular, and they often appear as a pair.
I found these wonderful 3D versions of Daikokuten, Ebisu and Benzaiten in a shop in San Francisco’s Japantown. I know they are part of a complete set of seven were originally produced by Toshikane Art Porcelain, and I still hold out hope that I’ll find the four other pieces from that set some day.
I did find a complete 7-piece shichifukujin set on eBay in 2014. It’s not a great set, but it is complete.
From left to right, these hashioki show Daikokuten, with his signature red hat. Daikokuten is one of the ring leaders of the shichifukujin. He is a god of wealth and of the harvest; in this hashioki you can see the big bag of rice slung over his shoulder. Daikokuten often carries an uchide no kozuchi, or lucky mallet, which has the power to make wishes come true.
In the center above is Ebisu, who is Daikokuten’s frequent companion. He is the god associated with laborers and fishermen; he has a fishing pole slung over one shoulder and clutches a large tai or sea bream under his other arm. Ebisu is said to be the happiest of the shichifukujin, and the only one of seven to have a Japanese origin; the others are versions of Indian or Chinese deities. If you’ve traveled to Tokyo, Ebisu’s name probably sounds familiar. A Japan beer company borrowed his name and image for their product, and did so well that they built a train station to facilitate shipping. This station is today the Ebisu stop on the Yamanote commuter rail line that circles Tokyo.
Benzaiten, above on the right, is the only female member of the shichifukujin. She is the goddesss of everything that flows: music, as suggested by the biwa or lute she holds here, and dance, suggested by the ribbon behind her, and poetry and words. She is also the goddess of water, and shrines dedicated to Benzaiten are usually located near ponds or other bodies of water.
Fukurokuju is literally the god for happiness (fuku), wealth (roku) and longevity (ju). Some say he has the ability to revive the dead. He has a very high forehead and a long beard, and usually carries a staff and a copy of the Lotus Sutra, one of the most revered Buddhist scriptures.
Hotei is the god of happiness and contentment. He laughs so hard that he doesn’t care if his huge belly bulges out of his robe. Hotei is bald and has big ear lobes, and often carries an uchiwa or fan which has wish-granting powers.
Bishamonten (spelled here as Bisyamonten), is a warrior god who chases away foreign invaders and safeguards worshippers. He is often shown carrying a spear; sometimes he carries a pogoda which represents the treasures he distributes.
Jurojin (or Jyuroujin), on the left, is probably the god people tend to forget, because he is the least distinctive. He is also the one who isn’t on everyone’s list; sometimes he is replaced in the shichifukujin lineup by Kichijōten, a female god of fertility. Maybe this is because Jurojin is almost identical to Fukurokuju — he has the same high forehead, carries a staff and a scroll, and is considered to be a god of longevity (1)
Japan’s shichifukujin travel together on a takarabune, or treasure ship. The image of the shichifukujin crammed onto the prow of a takarabune, printed on a piece of paper, is what Japanese children slip under their pillow when they go to bed on on the night of December 31 to ensure that the first dream of the new year will be lucky (2). Another example of a takarabune is included in a future posts about Boats (September 2017).
(1) Calli, Joseph and John Dougill. Shinto Shrines: A Guide to the Sacred Sites of Japan’s Ancient Religion. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2013, pp. 16-17.
(2) Kodansha International. Japan: An Illustrated Encyclopedia, Vol. 2. New York: Kodansha International, 1993, p. 1354.
I labeled this hashioki with the title above the moment I saw it on a shelf in a small shop on a back street in Tokyo.
It appears to depict a Western man dressed in nineteenth century clothing. It may represent Commodore Matthew C. Perry, the American admiral whose ships sailed to Japan in 1853 and 1854, and who signed the treaty that opened Japan’s ports and borders to foreigners following more than 200 years of self-imposed isolation. The man is dressed in the colors of the American flag, making it an appropriate post for the week before the Fourth of July. And on July 8, 1853, when Perry entered Edo Bay near present-day Tokyo, he commanded his ships to fire blanks from their cannons, obstensively to celebrate United States’ Independence Day, but more likely as a show of force for the Japanese. So Perry has a definite connection to the Fourth of July.
But I prefer to think that this figure represents someone more like Ernest Fenollosa or William Sturgis Bigelow, Americans who traveled to Japan after Perry and brought Japanese art back to the States to display in American museums. (Curiously enough, both Fenollosa and Bigelow had beards, like this hashioki, but Perry did not.) Many Americans first experienced Japan by looking at a woodblock print or a statue of a buddha in museum. My mind was certainly opened to Japan by the Japanese art I saw as a teenager at the great museums of Philadelphia, New York, and Boston.
In either case, the piece is a bit unusual. It represents either an American who dictated policy to the Japanese government, or an American who removed art treasures from the country to display in a foreign museum. It may be an attractive and unique piece, but I’m not sure that it’s really politically correct.
I’ve already written about Daruma (“Daruma,” August 2016), the character also known as Bodhidharma, who is associated with making wishes or setting personal goals every new year.
I couldn’t resist this Daruma hashioki, because he’s a little bit different from the other Daruma’s in my collection. And because his face has the same expression mine has after I vow to give up pasta and bread, then promise that I’m going to exercise more, every year in early January.
I don’t know whether to label this expression anger or unhappiness or resolve, but this is the expression my face wears until my determination fades in… early Feburary. This is probably a good hashioki to use on your table in January so Daruma can suffer with you through the meal.
Of course maybe that’s not why Daruma wears this expression. Maybe he’s frowning because it took him 19 agonizing days to travel from Los Angeles to my home in Indiana. Apparently the eBay vendor who sold this piece shipped it by Pony Express….
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus — even in hashioki.
Christmas is not an important holiday in Japan, where less than one percent of the population is Christian, but that doesn’t mean the Japanese don’t celebrate it. Many commercial buildings and stores decorate with lights and Christmas ornaments, and shops feature baked goods and other food items festooned with red and green. Christmas Eve is a popular date night in Japan, and December 25 kicks off the last week of Japan’s traditional year-end parties. So it’s not surprising that wreath, tree, jingle bell, and Santa hashioki all exist.
I’m not sure if this Santa is relaxed because he only has to make deliveries to 1% of the children in Japan, or whether he’s exhausted from his global delivery schedule.
By the way, the phrase”Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” comes from a newspaper editorial published in the New York Sun on September 21, 1897 which assured 8-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon that Santa Claus did exist, despite what her skeptical friends told her. The editorial is reported to be the most reprinted editorial in the English language, no doubt especially at this time of year.
Fukusuke is a “lucky man” figure with a short stature and oversized head. He always wears a kataginu, a kind of vest with exaggerated shoulders. While this kind of garment was historically worn by samurai or court officials, some say that Fukusuke was based on a wealthy Kyoto merchant (1). Fukusuke is often seen in business establishments, and is today is treated as a common good luck icon.
If you’re a fan of The Beatles, Fukusuke may look familiar; he, along with Marilyn Monroe and W.C. Fields and a host of others, is one of the celebrities featured on the cover of their Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album (1967). Fukusuke appears in the lower left hand corner, just above the big red B, on the album cover.
(1) Frederic, Louis and Kathe Roth (translator). Japan Encyclopedia. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2002, p. 219.
While these hashioki may seem to suggest that sumo is a sport where pudgy guys wearing aprons or diapers stomp around, this indigenous Japanese sport is actually a sophisticated test of technique and concentration in addition to being a contest of strength.
The Japanese word sumo comes from the pronunciation of the kanji meaning “get together” and the kanji meaning “strike.” It is often translated as “to mutually rush at.” According to the Kojiki, an early 8th. century Japanese collection of myths, the first sumo match was between two Shinto gods to determine which of them would rule Japan. Sumo continues to have many ties to Shinto today.
The garment that a sumo wrestler wears is known as a mawashi. It’s about 30 feet long and two feet wide. The mawashi worn during tournaments are made of silk. Sumo wrestlers usually wear their hair in a oichomage or ceremonial topknot.
The other garment unique to sumo is the kesho-mawashi, or ceremonial apron. Higher ranked sumo wrestlers wear these aprons during the dohyo-ri or ring entering ceremony at the beginning of each match. Many rikishi receive their first ceremonial apron from their home town fan club when they graduate from apprentice to professional wrestler.
I purchased the following four vintage hashioki on eBay. Given the traditional Japanese prejudice against four, and the illustrations on these pieces, I have to believe that this set once had five, or maybe many more pieces.
The first hashioki depicts a particularly hefty sumo wrestler. His white belt or tsuna identifies that he has attained the lifetime rank of yokozuna, meaning Grand Champion, or the highest rank a wrestler can attain. The zig zag paper strips hanging from his belt signify lightening. Yokozuna are only promoted after winning two or more consecutive sumo tournaments, and they have rock-star celebrity status in Japan.
This hashioki shows a sumo match in progress. It gives a good view of a sumo dohyo, or clay and sand wrestling ring, and the tawara or rice straw bales that mark the edges of the 15-foot-diameter ring. Surprisingly, sumo depends more on strategy than bulk. There’s a lot of pushing and shoving, but a wrestler wins his match by forcing his opponent to lose his balance and step outside the ring, or to fall so that some body part touches the ground outside the tawara.
The inscription on this chopstick rest tells us that it depicts a dohyo-iri, or ring-entering ceremony, where all the wrestlers parade before a match begins. The wrestlers parade in rank order, and the leader in this illustration is a yokozuna.
This last hashioki depicts a particular sumo move, which supports the suggestion that this set originally had more pieces. The move is known as utchari, and it’s a dangerous move that can produce spectacular results. When a wrestler is pushed up against the edge of the ring he leans back, tempting his opponent to try to bump him out of the ring with his stomach. However, a skillful sumo wrestler sometimes manages to move to one side before this can happen, meaning that his opponent ends up falling flat on his face outside the ring.
While sumo tournaments are still televised on Japan’s leading television station, the sport has become less popular in recent years. This may be because some of the most successful or popular wrestlers are not Japanese, but come from places like Mongolia and Hawaii. Sumo has also been troubled by a series of scandals. Other sports, including soccer and mixed martial arts, seem to be wooing fans away from sumo, too. But sumo continues to be an iconic Japanese symbol, and to be a popular motif for hashioki.
There’s something about this woman – Okame, or Otafuku as she is known – that calls out to me every time I see her. I already had seven Okame hashioki in my collection, but as soon as I saw this one I knew I would shortly have eight.
I’ve already written about her (“Okame” posted in January 2016) and explained how is Japan she is a symbol of joy, and also a symbol for simple and possibly sensual pleasures.
I suppose I am attracted to Okame because she is a pudgy middle-aged housewife with the soul of a dancing girl inside. I know I have a check mark inside those first three boxes; I’d like to think I have a check mark in the last one, too.
Plus, look at this face: can’t you just tell she’s a hashioki collector?