‘Chigusa and the Art of Tea in Japan’ at the Princeton Museum
Andrew M. Watsky, a professor of Japanese art history at Princeton University, understands that an exhibition about a jar — a single jar — is unlikely to incite stampedes.
The
good news for him and Louise Allison Cort, his co-curator for “Chigusa
and the Art of Tea in Japan,” an exhibition organized for the
Smithsonian Institution last spring and currently on view at the Princeton University Art Museum,
is that it is better suited to “quiet, intimate contemplation,” Dr.
Watsky said. More good news: The jar in question, which is most likely
making its only appearance outside Washington, has about 500 years of
experience beguiling the quietly contemplative.
Chigusa
is the proper name of the roughly 16-inch-tall, unadorned brown vessel
that sits behind plexiglass in the first of three galleries devoted to
its central role in chanoyu, a revered Japanese tea ceremony. Made in
China in the late 13th or 14th century, the jug for storing tea leaves
found its way to Japan sometime before the 15th century, when it was
discovered by chanoyu practitioners. Using similar vessels, the tea
ceremony is still performed in Japan, as well as in the United States
and other countries.
Chigusa
“is not the Mona Lisa,” Dr. Watsky said during a recent tour, meaning
that it is not as famous worldwide as da Vinci’s masterpiece, but it is
nonetheless considered an important work of art in Japan. Whether
Americans will find it as stunning or arresting is up for debate, and a
question that may well inspire them to consider the nature of beauty
while getting to know the little brown jug and what it symbolizes.
“In
China, where it was made, it was not an aesthetic object,” Dr. Watsky
explained. “It was utilitarian. Only in Japan was it perceived to embody
these rich aesthetic qualities” — possibly, he said, after a
15th-
or 16th-century owner known for his skill at recognizing beauty
discovered it. The term “Chigusa,” most likely drawn from the ancient
Japanese poetry studied by chanoyu practitioners, translates to “myriad
things” or “myriad flowers,” said Dr. Watsky, whose interest in Japanese
ceramics dates to 1980, when he lived in Japan shortly after graduating
from college.
“I
hesitate to say I think it’s beautiful,” Dr. Watsky said of the vessel,
“because as a scholar I try to separate my own response from what
people in a historical moment might have thought about it. But I do find
it appealing.”
His
vague yet appreciative response to the centuries-old container echoes
the elusive tone struck by some of its Japanese admirers, who wrote
about the jar after communing with it during chanoyu. The exhibition
includes a selection of letters and diary entries about the jar dating
to the 16th century.
The
diary excerpts often describe Chigusa physically. “The glaze is a
single layer and resembles the wood-grain pattern known as
‘quail-feather grain,' ” reads one from 1586. The letters, including one
from 1888 that describes a transfer between owners, get at the feelings
and spirituality associated with the jar a bit better. “I hope you will
long treasure it,” Hisada Hanshoan Soetsu, the initial owner, wrote.
“My thoughts cannot be fully expressed.”
In
addition to the preserved documents, the exhibition includes a model
chanoyu room outfitted with tea utensils and an alcove within which
Chigusa would have been placed for optimal viewing. Displayed in a
separate gallery are three nesting storage boxes built to house Chigusa
during its travels as well as at its owner’s home. The earliest box
dates to the Japanese Edo period (1615-1868).
Also on view: a selection of ornaments and accouterments used to “dress” the vessel.
“In
the front room we show Chigusa naked,” Dr. Watsky said. “But we know
from the diaries that when Chigusa was displayed it had clothes on. Over
time, the owners felt that one of the ways to enhance its beauty was to
dress it in fine textile clothing.”
The
wardrobe items include a mouth cover made from 15th-century silk
brocade, a 16th-century blue net bag that slips over the jar’s contours
and a set of decorative thick blue cords, tied in ornamental knots and
woven in the late 19th or early 20th century.
Though Chigusa’s days as a vessel for storing tea have long since passed, its wardrobe is still being updated. When Freer Sackler, the Smithsonian’s Museums of Asian Art,
in Washington, bought Chigusa in 2009, a conservator there said the
mouth cover could no longer be used because the jar had become too
fragile, Dr. Watsky said. “So we commissioned a new mouth cover to be
made,” he said. “That’s not something you often associate with a
museum’s practices, but owning Chigusa comes with responsibilities.”
Dr.
Watsky and Ms. Cort plan to return Chigusa to the Freer Sackler after
the Princeton show closes. “It will never leave there again,” Dr. Watsky
said, noting that the museum’s policy precludes objects’ traveling. “So
you see this is a pretty unusual opportunity.”
For
those who take it in, the show’s effect will probably be more
meditative than thrilling, Dr. Watsky said. “But with a little
concentration and a little time spent looking,” he said, “maybe the
beauty of Chigusa will reveal itself to you.”
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