Recently I splurged and spent what is for me a large amount of money on something totally unnecessary. It was a good deal on a thing I've wanted for some time. I noticed this thing up for auction from a favorite ebay seller. I watched, waited, timed my bid with surgical precision, and I won. I'm so very glad I did, even if it means I'm going to be on the ramen and easy mac diet for a little while. Today as I trudged down my street on the way home from a job that is unpleasant for me on several levels, I spied a brown cardboard package on my doorstep, positioned just under the little overhang and looking dry despite the thunderstorms that have been rolling through periodically all day. I knew immediately what it was.
My Tansu chest!
This tansu dates from the early Meiji period, (1868-1912,) considered by many to be the golden age of tansu-making. It is a small, simple wooden box called a suzuribako, which roughly translates as "writing box," or "calligrapher's chest".
The top compartment is held closed with a simple, effective push-button latch, which still functions as smoothly as I imagine it did when it was constructed over 100 years ago.
When I opened it I found three bonus treasures in the ink-stained compartment it revealed....
... A small cardboard box containing about a quarter stick of sumi ink, a brush with tapered bristles of the type used in traditional East Asian ink wash painting, (embellished with some tasteful, colored polka dots that made me hope there might be a matching pocket square in one of the other compartments,) and a rather plain, utilitarian inkstone; just the type I would choose were I a long dead Japanese painter or calligrapher.
***As a side note, in most cases the line between painting and calligraphy was not a clear one in traditional Japanese culture, as in other East Asian cultures. In fact, the Japanese verb 書く, (kaku,) can mean both "to draw," or "to write," depending on context. This makes sense, since Chinese written language, on which the Japanese writing system is heavily based, is made up of characters that originally began as pictograms. Side nerdery complete.***
While probably the brush, and almost certainly the chunk of ink stick and its box are from a much more recent time than the suzuribako, the inkstone is almost certainly its contemporary, as the two objects were made for each other.
I suppose it's possible that the false-bottom-like piece was added later, but it matches the rest of the wood remarkably well, so I doubt it, and it fits the inkstone so perfectly that it must have been cut for that specific one, to prevent it from sliding and banging around inside the compartment while being carried. The wood, by the way, is paulownia, (Japanese: kiri,) throughout.
The drawer-pulls for the two lower drawer compartments are, in keeping with the overall design, simple, practical, and ingenious. They are made up of three pieces of what I would guess is brass, and essentially the middle piece works like what my Parents used to always call a brad, you know, the brass-colored things that hold manilla envelopes closed. Drawers slide smoothly and easily.
I could go on for days about the pattern of the wood grain, and the knee-weakeningly perfect patina on everything, especially the hardware. The joinery is also simple and masterful. Japanese carpentry is well-known for its advanced use of joinery techniques, and they are visible here on a small scale, with the drawers as well as the outer structure of the box constructed using a Japanese variation of what we in the West would call a dovetail joint, as well as the use of wooden or possibly bamboo pegs, (mekugi,) rather than nails.
Check out how this dovetail-esque joint is almost invisible because of the way the craftsman has followed the contours of that interesting knot in the wood grain.
Beautiful. The best $70 plus shipping I've spent in some time, I think.
Now I'm off to make another cup of ramen noodles and browse craigslist for a better job before I hit the sack.
Over and Out.
~CPR
My Tansu chest!
This tansu dates from the early Meiji period, (1868-1912,) considered by many to be the golden age of tansu-making. It is a small, simple wooden box called a suzuribako, which roughly translates as "writing box," or "calligrapher's chest".
The top compartment is held closed with a simple, effective push-button latch, which still functions as smoothly as I imagine it did when it was constructed over 100 years ago.
When I opened it I found three bonus treasures in the ink-stained compartment it revealed....
... A small cardboard box containing about a quarter stick of sumi ink, a brush with tapered bristles of the type used in traditional East Asian ink wash painting, (embellished with some tasteful, colored polka dots that made me hope there might be a matching pocket square in one of the other compartments,) and a rather plain, utilitarian inkstone; just the type I would choose were I a long dead Japanese painter or calligrapher.
***As a side note, in most cases the line between painting and calligraphy was not a clear one in traditional Japanese culture, as in other East Asian cultures. In fact, the Japanese verb 書く, (kaku,) can mean both "to draw," or "to write," depending on context. This makes sense, since Chinese written language, on which the Japanese writing system is heavily based, is made up of characters that originally began as pictograms. Side nerdery complete.***
While probably the brush, and almost certainly the chunk of ink stick and its box are from a much more recent time than the suzuribako, the inkstone is almost certainly its contemporary, as the two objects were made for each other.
I suppose it's possible that the false-bottom-like piece was added later, but it matches the rest of the wood remarkably well, so I doubt it, and it fits the inkstone so perfectly that it must have been cut for that specific one, to prevent it from sliding and banging around inside the compartment while being carried. The wood, by the way, is paulownia, (Japanese: kiri,) throughout.
The drawer-pulls for the two lower drawer compartments are, in keeping with the overall design, simple, practical, and ingenious. They are made up of three pieces of what I would guess is brass, and essentially the middle piece works like what my Parents used to always call a brad, you know, the brass-colored things that hold manilla envelopes closed. Drawers slide smoothly and easily.
I could go on for days about the pattern of the wood grain, and the knee-weakeningly perfect patina on everything, especially the hardware. The joinery is also simple and masterful. Japanese carpentry is well-known for its advanced use of joinery techniques, and they are visible here on a small scale, with the drawers as well as the outer structure of the box constructed using a Japanese variation of what we in the West would call a dovetail joint, as well as the use of wooden or possibly bamboo pegs, (mekugi,) rather than nails.
Check out how this dovetail-esque joint is almost invisible because of the way the craftsman has followed the contours of that interesting knot in the wood grain.
Beautiful. The best $70 plus shipping I've spent in some time, I think.
Now I'm off to make another cup of ramen noodles and browse craigslist for a better job before I hit the sack.
Over and Out.
~CPR
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