The 37th International Symposium on the Conservation and Restoration of Cultural Property
Session 1 Forms as Groups
Résumé

13:00-13:10　Session 1 Introduction

　The same type of motif or shape “forms” appear in multiple things. When we focus on those shared characteristics, there appear some cases where a specific form maintains the same meaning or function as it is transmitted, disseminated and inherited. Conversely, there are some cases where meaning or function changes to something completely different. Or indeed, then there are the cases where there is absolutely no mutual connection. Individual separate forms can also be grouped for consideration, whether in terms of personal style, period style or regional style.

　This focus on forms’ shared aspect is an absolutely standard study approach. And yet, because of that pervasive factor, it is necessary to not only refine the involved methodologies within each discipline, it is also crucial to open cross-discipline discussion. This session will bring together the methodologies used to consider form in different disciplines, and reconsider the true nature of those standard methodologies.

13:10-13:40 Paper 1

　Dogu, or ceramic figures derived from human and animal forms, and Flame pots (kaen doki) are two of the best known forms of artefact from the prehistoric Japanese Jomon period. These objects suggest that the Jomon should be compared with episodes of exceptional creativity in other parts of the prehistoric world, including those which resulted in the Palaeolithic cave paintings of southwestern Europe. I have been involved with exhibiting both dogu and Flame pots for international audiences in recent years, and also in interdisciplinary research projects which attempt to understand and interpret these distinctive forms of ancient material culture for contemporary audiences. These projects have been undertaken against a background of renewed interest in objects in the discipline of archaeology, in particular the materiality and agency of objects.

　Much recent work on ‘representational’ material culture recovered from archaeological contexts has drawn on ideas developed in anthropological approaches to visual art. Alfred Gell in his ‘Art and Agency’ (1998) argues for visual art as a ‘form of effectiveness of the virtuosity of the artist’, and as a ‘form of instrumental action’. He develops the concept of abduction, what is inferred from representations, to inform his theoretical approach to creativity. Although Gell’s approach has been criticised in recent years, it provides an interesting baseline from which to revisit the concept of form more generally and its utility in interpreting prehistoric artefacts.

　I will draw on specific case studies, in particular Jomon items recently designated as National Treasures (namely four dogu from Tanabatake (Nagano), Chobonaino (Hokkaido), Kazahari (Aomori) and Nishinomae (Yamagata) and an assemblage of Flame pots from Sasayama (Niigata). I will question whether the criteria for designating such objects in this way relates at all to their value for archaeological interpretation, or whether they are only significant in terms of appreciating these items as art objects in the contemporary world, and whether these two questions are mutually exclusive. Answering these questions requires a consideration of context, and the extent to which archaeologists seek to give meaning to objects through analysis of contextual information.

　I explore how we can assess the creativity exhibited in these objects through an appreciation of form, how those forms came about, and how they were reproduced over time. Notions of imitation, emulation and tradition are helpful in understanding the motivations behind how a blob of clay is given form, either as a pottery vessel or as a dogu.

　In addition to the ideas of Gell, I draw on ideas developed by the French anthropologist Andre Leroi-Gourhan (whose own collection included Jomon pieces) regarding the chaine-operatoire, the sequence of actions, both discursive and practical, which gave rise to artefacts of any particular material form. I also look back over the history of the idea of terms such as form, style and type, and their Japanese archaeological counterparts keishiki and yoshiki, as articulated by Kobayashi Yukio and Kobayashi Tatsuo.

13:40-14:10 Paper 2

　Sound is momentary. It disappears as soon as resounds. We only perceive sound in our memory. Refrain (kurikaeshi in Japanese),remembering flowing sound as a form, is a simple but effective device. In European classical music, sonatas, ternary form and other musical styles were established on the basis of refrain and variation. Japanese music is considerd to have no stylistic form, the performance arts that was created in the medieval period, such as Noh plays, established musical styles that involved the entire structure of the piece, down to its most detailed elements. Zeami (c.1363– c.1443) proposed a densely woven structure. This paper will consider how refrain effects were used in the establishment of the form/style of a Noh work through an investigation of the melody and acting.

　Repetition is the only and the best tool for handing on to later generations the performing arts or music. Without repetition, accumulation of practice lessons, the essence of how to act them, nor how to chant them, can’t be made concrete. However, in the course of repetition, the transmission has been changed a little by little. It is because a child and/or student is not the complete copy of his parent and/or teacher, and differences that emerge across time also have the added effects of period and taste. Whether intentional or not, it is impossible to avoid the addition of changes and new creative elements in each repetition. The performing art that withstands such change can be said to be a classic that moves its audience no matter the period.

　Noh plays have been transmitted over the more than 700 years since they were written by Zeami. And yet the Noh of 700 years ago is not exactly the same as what is staged today. How has the form of Noh changed as a result of the effects of repetition? A discussion of this issue will help initiate a consideration of what form means in traditional Japanese music and performing arts.

14:20-14:50 Paper 3

　The subject of the “coiling dragon” (banryū zu) – sometimes referred to as “dragon and clouds” (unryū zu) – often painted on the ceilings of temple architecture, was considered a notable and prestigious painting subject during the Edo period. Although it has not always been the subject of sustained scholarly consideration, banryū zu can yield numerous insights into the complex ways in which form related to meaning in early modern Japan.

　The origins of banryū zu are unclear but have some relationship to the motif of coiling dragons on the backs of Chinese bronze mirrors. Eventually this subject was transferred to the ceilings of Chinese architectural interiors during the Song period, but often retained the roundel format and was painted on a special architectural component referred to as “mirror ceilings”. Although the subject of dragons had imperial connotations, in this context it is most likely that they performed an apotropaic function, a symbolic architectural feature that was meant to prevent fire damage. And it was through the importation of Song-style architecture to Japan under the rubric of “Zen-style architecture” (Zenshū yō) that mirror ceilings came to be painted in Japan as well.

　When the earliest Japanese mirror ceiling was painted in Japan is unclear, but the monk-painter Minchō 明 兆 (1352-1431) is said to have painted one for Tōfukuji temple during the medieval period. By the early Edo period, it had become an established practice for coiled dragons to be painted on the mirror ceilings of important Zen monasteries, and the subject was usually assigned to high-ranking painters, as indicated by the career of official painters-in-attendance (goyō eshi) such as Kano Tan’yū (1602-74).

　Ceiling dragons came to be considered prestigious commissions that reflected the status of their painters, akin to other important subjects such as the “wall paintings of wise counselors” (genjō no shōji) that adorned the Shishinden building of the Imperial Palace. Its importance to the identity of painting lineages is reflected in painting texts of the Edo period. The most famous example of these is the biographical entry for Kano Sanraku (1559-1635) in Kano Einō’s History of Painting of the Realm (Honchō gashi) of 1693, in which Sanraku’s completion of Kano Eitoku’s ceiling dragon for Tōfukuji – itself a repair of Minchō’s original – appears to legitimate his status as an authentic successor to Eitoku.

　An examination of ceiling dragons opens up onto many intriguing art historical questions. The importance of the subject has to do with the inherent prestige of the dragon as a representational theme in East Asia, as well as the nature of institutions where they were found – oftentimes well-known Zen monasteries. The scale and semi-public nature of banryū zu were also relevant to their importance; they engendered a unique relationship between the painted subject and the viewer, who was immersed within the visual field of the dragon. In this regard, it is no wonder that ceiling paintings were oftentimes highly prestigious painting subjects in the west as well.

　There was also something, however, in the nature of the subject of the dragon – the way it showcased atmospheric effects and thus the skill of the artist – that made it an ideal showcase for the mastery of the painter. It conveyed both the virtuosity and performativity of ink painting in a way that made it an important subject in any format, especially large-scale formats such as folding screens and sliding-door panels. In this regard, the ceiling dragon opens up onto questions of the relationship between form, scale, site, artistic status, and meaning. But it also has the potential to complicate the distinction between tangible and intangible artifacts in premodern Japan.

14:50-15:20 Paper 4

　In architecture, the term “forms as a group” means “standards” for certain functions or uses. Standards as seen in contemporary mass-produced housing are a “form” contrivance that allows for rapid and cheap mass production. “Style” on the other hand differs from “standards” in that it is not simply “form” but rather also is inextricable bound with a shared “awareness.” For example, the shoin-zukuri architectural style of Japan’s pre-modern era included the use of interior finishing and decoration that provided visual clues as to the status of the people who would be encountered in that setting. Thus the shoin architectural style was effective thanks to the fact that all of the people involved were aware of the same rules. Unlike other art objects, architecture is something used by people and hence it can be said that in architecture there is a strong link between “form” and people.

　How then are the forms and awareness used as “style” actually made? Let us examine the temporary structures created in the pre-modern era for imperial visits as an example.

　The term anzaisho refers to buildings constructed as temporary residences for the Emperor when he visited regional Japan. Areas for rest, as opposed to overnight stays, were called okoyasumisho. During the Edo period, as a general rule, the Emperor did not leave the Imperial Palace during his reign, nor even leave the capital (Kyoto). In the modern era, however, with the aim of spreading the word of the Meiji Restoration and gaining a grasp of conditions in regional Japan, the Meiji Emperor traveled around the entire country from 1872–1885 (Meiji 5 through Meiji 18). To accommodate these journeys, more than 1,000 temporary residences and imperial rest facilities were prepared. From the first imperial journey taken in 1872, the Emperor dressed in Western clothes, and this image became the well-known symbol of the birth of Japan as a modern nation. The chairs, tables, beds and other furnishings for use by the Emperor were carried along on each journey, and this meant that the chair-based room interiors and lifestyle created through tables and chairs spread through all of the temporary residences.

　Given these practices, previous studies of the subject have focused on Western-style architectural examples of temporary imperial residences, such as the Hôheikan in Sapporo. However, judging from both the records of these journeys and the extant architecture, the majority of these structures were Japanese-style buildings. While the notifications sent to the various prefectures prior to these journeys indicated that as long as there were no particular problems, renovations of the temporary residences were unnecessary, in fact, the majority of them were either newly built or renovated structures. Regardless of the fact that these buildings were not subject to special instructions and regardless of locale, these buildings all shared certain features, such as the fact that the room for the Emperor’s use was limited to one room of about 8 tatami mats in size, the height of the roof and eaves were emphasized on the exterior, while in the interior there was an emphasis on the placement of the jodan (raised floor areas) area and the height of the ceilings, as well as the frequent use of gold and silver leaf. In the Western architecture best suited to chair seating, the buildings that had originally been built as either schools or local government structures were filled with tatami mats only during the imperial visit and further fitted with temporary jodan and tokonoma (display alcoves). These features are considered to be usage of the shoin-zukuri architectural style, while the selection of a shingled kirizuma roof style and positioning of Shintô offering shelves were features based on usage in Shintô shrines and the imperial palace.

　In other words, the standards and forms that signal high status known from the pre-modern era were used in these temporary imperial residences, while the addition of a Western-style chair seating space was the creation of a modern “space for the Emperor.” The highly uniform nature of these fittings strongly reveals the shared awareness regarding pre-modern architectural style shared by the people of the time.

　These special features of the temporary imperial residences disappeared in the nationwide tour taken by the Crown Prince Yoshihito in the late Meiji period, when buildings with floor plans and fittings that resembled those of the imperial palace and imperial villas were used instead. Against this background, the completion in 1888 (Meiji 21) of the Meiji Palace, which took a particularly long consultation period, can be seen as the establishment of a “style” for a “space for the Emperor” that could be applied to any locale.