A Tale of Two Artist Visits

Left: Hideo TAKEDA, Gempei Series: The Strong Bow of Minamoto Tametomo, silkscreen, 1999, ed. 200, 28.5" x 21"

Right: Katsunori HAMANISHI, Gradation Leaves, mezzotint, 2019, ed. 50, 23.4" x 14.2"

I look forward to traveling to Japan. Having grown up in Tokyo, I always feel a delightful sense of homecoming when the plane lands even though many familiar neighborhoods have changed since my childhood. A highlight of every trip is of course catching up with as many artists as I can, and if I can go visit them in their studios that certainly adds to the experience.

This trip was significant in that I was returning for the interment of my father’s ashes at Zojoji Temple. The ceremony was held on February 19th. According to the Chief Abbot, he knows of no other foreigner interred there to his memory so this is a special honor for our family, and of course my father would welcome this distinction, accorded due to his long relationship with the temple, holding several major art shows there and promoting the wonderful Toko SHINODA murals in the basement by bringing countless people to see them.

Hideo TAKEDA

Gempei Series: Battle of Fujiwara, silkscreen, 1985, ed. 185, 19" x 25"

Gempei Series: Kiso Yoshinaka Enters Kyoto, silkscreen, 2001, ed. 200, 28.5" x 21"

Recently we decided to handle the work of Hideo TAKEDA (b.1948) who lives in Osaka, so Eiji and Kiyo from the Tokyo gallery and I boarded the bullet train bound for the Kansai region. Takeda-san lives in an old house flanked by a couple of small buildings, all packed to the brim with artwork in various states of progress, canvases, sketchbooks-anything he might need to land his hands on at any given time. “ Don’t call me a fine artist”, he stated vehemently as he greeted us at the entranceway. “ I started out as a mangaka, a cartoonist, and that is what I am. I think of something, I get it down on paper as quickly as I can, and then I move on to the next idea.”

We were just about to remove our shoes per the Japanese custom when he dissuaded us, motioning for us to go around the back to one of the small buildings. Racks of boxed up paintings and drawings and rows of flat file cabinets were waiting for us, all not so much arranged as fitted together, much like a jigsaw puzzle. For the next several hours, we tugged racks out of the way to get at the file cabinets, carefully going through Takeda-san's extensive archive. The artist looked on, watching our reaction to more than six decades of artistic output. Once we had looked at a staggering amount of editioned silkscreens, it was time to examine drawing and sketches and doodles: the amount of preparatory work that Takeda-san creates before he decides a work is good enough to show to others is substantial and he has kept...everything. A particular corpus of drawings, referencing Greek mythology caught our attention and we asked the artist if he had studied Greek history. “ Nah, I just make things up to suit myself”, he responded. “I mean, I know the general stories but sometimes I like to adapt things”.

I think of Takeda-san as a completely contemporary artist, although one portion of his practice, his erotic work, follows clearly in the shunga (spring pictures) tradition dating from the Edo period, where humorous, explicit and intimate images celebrated love, beauty and sexual pleasure. Returning to the main house, we adjourned for a delicious sushi lunch before it was time to rush to the train station and return to Tokyo. Takeda-san still had more to show us, but that will have to wait until next time.

KATSUNORI HAMANISHI

Object Rope Number 1, mezzotint, 1980, ed. 30, 18" x 28.3"

Coming of Spring, mezzotint, 2021, ed.50, 29.5" x 21.2"

Katsunori HAMANISHI (b. 1949), the master of mezzotints, who I visited a few days earlier, lives closer to Tokyo but in a semi-rural area. His daily routine consists of waking up very early, usually around three or four in the morning, to work on his labor intensive prints, allowing for time in the afternoon to go for a long, leisurely hike along the mountain paths that begin just outside his front door. He told me that he frequently comes across families of pheasants, and that his neighbors have crossed paths with inoshishi (wild boar) on more than one occasion. Hamanishi-san is extremely well-organized; recently when I asked him about a print from 1980 on behalf of a museum, he located said print in about 2 minutes.

Everything in his studio is categorized, dated and easily locatable. He has created a database of all his work to date which will gladden any curator’s heart: too often, artists forget the exact date of an edition but not Hamanishi-san! He once told me that he has no imagination so he uses what he sees. In the 1980s, he put together sections of rope, or groupings of twigs. Later, he made series about the kimono, and these days he has been studying the movement and flow of water at a pond near his home. Since he spends so much time concentrating on his work when he is in his home atelier, Hamanishi-san loves to chat when he is not working on an edition.

We covered a lot of topics: a brand new edition that he had just finished, his frequent visits to PT for an aching shoulder and a cramped finger which he blames on his grueling printing schedule, reminiscences about my father and other dealers, a local sculptor whose work he admires. Then his wife Tsuyako-san summoned us to lunch. Platefuls of food covered the table even though there were only the three of us. “Eat up, you are in the country and everything tastes better here,” she said. It did, and everything was so fresh: the homemade rice balls each had a little treat tucked inside, a bit of pickled plum, or a sliver of fish, or shiso leaf. The greens in the salad must have just been plucked out of the garden that morning. It was a delicious lunch in excellent company.

As I left, Tsuyako san handed me a small shopping bag with a grin. “ Everyone at your gallery likes these chocolates, so please share them.” The color palate and meticulousness of Hamanishi’s work might not lead one to believe that he is a warm person but, on the train back to the gallery, my mind (and stomach) were full, and I felt so privileged to have spent time with such hospitable and welcoming people.

When my parents started the Tolman Collection in 1972, they worked with artists with whom they had personal relationships and whose work they liked and had collected for themselves. I think that influenced me when I started my own business: I represent artists whose oeuvre speak to me and whose company I enjoy. In this field, it can never just be about selling a product. It was nice to be reminded of this while visiting a new addition to the number of artists who I represent as well as one whom I have known for decades.