A few years ago, I was exploring the back streets of the old Japanese city of Kamakura, which was the de facto capital of Japan during the Kamakura Period (1185–1333). The city is steeped in history and is home to many grand temples, shrines and the very popular “Daibutsu” or “Great Buddha.”
On my walk, I happened across a tiny antique shop run by a very elderly gentleman who may have been older than some of the artefacts he had on display in his emporium. He was elegantly dressed in a fine kimono, and despite it being a hot summer day, he seemed cool and calm in the stifling heat and still air of his shop. He was extremely knowledgeable about his collection and was happy to discuss the provenance and historical significance of the items he had on display.
Among his collection was a gnarled piece of tsuge (Japanese boxwood) that resembled an enraged minatour sliding into a turn after a charge, seemingly having missed his target and wheeling back onto his foe to send him to oblivion. I immediately fell in love with the piece and wanted to purchase it, but assumed it would be well beyond my means. However, as there was no price tag on the beast, so I asked what he let it go for…”Oh, there’s no price tag?” He asked. “I can’t see one,” I replied, taking the sculpture to him. “It’s ¥7,500,” he said, seemingly off the cuff. At that time, it was about $US70, which was well below what I was expecting and within my budget, so “SOLD,” I said, and the Mad Minatour is now one of my favourite objet d’arts on display in my New Zealand home.
Last week, I was at it again, trawling the backstreets of Tokyo in search of antique treasures…this time in Ōmori, which is an old central Tokyo suburb that was the childhood home of famous Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa popularised the Samurai film genre and brought Japanese cinema to the world. Kurosawa combined Japanese and Western storytelling traditions, producing films of visual grandeur and moral messaging. His work is respected internationally for its innovative artistry and profound humanity.
Legendary Japanese Film Director Akira Kurosawa: “I suppose all of my films have a common theme. If I think about it, though, the only theme I can think of is really a question: Why can’t people be happier together?”One of my favourite Kurosawa films, “Rushomon,” is the tale of a murder from the perspective of four different witnesses, each offering a distinct and contradictory account of the incident. The film explores the philosophy of justice, and the story is told in reverse chronological order. The innovative portrayal of the story inspired Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction.”
Ōmori also housed a brutal POW camp in WWII. The site is now the site of the popular Heiwajima boat racing arena, where punters place their bets on the first two finishers among six powerboats piloted by jockey-sized racers in colourful “silks” roaring around three laps of a 600m course. Ironically, “Heiwajima” means “Peace Island,” which belies the site’s past but, hopefully, heralds its future.
While exploring Ōmori, I was fortunate to come across 大塚陶器店 the Otsuka Ceramic Shop, which, at first glance, seemed cluttered, decrepit, unkempt and derelict…just the kind of place I was looking for!
On display were a broad range of antique Japanese pottery, cups, bowls, sake sets, sculptures and vases. The aged owner was reclining fast asleep at the back of the store, which enabled me the chance of quiet inspection and contemplation of his displays, which were coated with a thick layer of black, sooty dust. I was possibly his only customer for the month, but the slumbering owner was delightfully nonchalant about the possibility of making a sale, choosing to remain comatose over the pursuit of commerce.
Among his wares was a delightfully crafted wooden sake decanter and set of cups that I caught my attention and spurred my desire for ownership. Again, there was no price on the items, so I politely roused the Old Boy from his slumber to enquire their worth. In a very similar scenario to the experience I had in Kamakura many years earlier, he seemingly randomly said, “¥2.500.” (Currently about $US15). Again, I was surprised, thinking the set would be much more, “SOLD,” I said, and he began wrapping them in old newspaper and popped them into a recycled shopping back for me to carry home.
Despite the lack of a cash register, payment was in cash as I don’t think the aged antique merchant had Internet, credit card facilities or had even ever considered such new-fangled nonsense…He opened a drawer from an old chest and retrieved my change from a paper bag full of banknotes. This speaks to the lack of petty crime in Japan that an elderly gentleman could keep wads of cash in an insecure and easily accessible location without concern is a wonderful testament to the honesty, respect and social responsibility of Japanese people.
The six-piece wooden sake set…after a good clean!
I took my antique find home, shared my treasure-hunting story with my wife Sanae and showed her the photos of the shop. After she stopped laughing, she noticed the Jōmon dogū figurines in one of the photos…She is particularly interested in the Jōmon period (circa 14,000 BC to 300 BC) history and cultural traditions, so I promised to return the next morning and ask about the statues to see if I could possibly procure one for her.
So, I dutifully arrived at the shop at 9:00 am the following day, only to find the shutters down and the shop very closed. I peered through the post slot in the roller door, and Sensi was in the back of the store reading the morning paper. “Ëxcuse me,” I shouted through the hole, “Yes?” he replied. “What time do you open?” I asked. “10:00 a.m.,” he said firmly. “OK,” I said, “I’ll come back then.”
Otsuka Ceramic Shop Sensei reading the morning paper at the back of his pottery emporium prior to the 10:00an opening time. Photo taken through the mail slot on the roller door .
I returned at 10:00 a.m. and the shop roller door was half open, but Sensei was nowhere to be seen. I waited another 15 minutes or so and eventually stuck my head under the door and said, “Sumimasen” to hear “‘Gomaenasai” from behind me and down the street, and there was Sensai, marching back from a shopping expedition in his white singlet, shorts and sandals, shopping bag in hand, very apologetic for having forgotten I was coming.
I reminded him that we had spoken the day before, and that I’d purchased the wooden sake set. Unsurprisingly, he remembered me as I really must have been his only customer for the day. I asked about the Jōmon dogū figurines, and he was quite surprised that I knew what they were. He laughed quite a lot when I enquired about the authenticity of the dogū. Genuine Jōmon dogū are museum pieces or the preserve of wealthy private collectors, and he honestly informed me they were not genuine Jōmon-era artefacts.
There were about a dozen dogū statuettes to choose from, and after some quiet deliberation and some enthusiastic encouragement from Sensai, I decided on the large one…¥4,500 (About $US30). Before my shopping spree, I’d done a bit of online research to make sure I didn’t get touched on the purchase. On Ebay, the asking price for 10 cm similar replica dogū statues was about $US65, so I was in good shape. I dropped the hammer on Sensei’s offering, which was twice the height and half the price!
Jōmon period (縄文時代), people were peaceful hunter-gatherers and early agriculturalists with a common culture. They were largely sedentary and had a well-established and complex society, religious beliefs and cultural traditions, which included artistic pursuits of which their remnant pottery and ceramic sculptures demonstrate.
I asked Sensei a few questions about his fascinating store. It turns out his father had started the business in 1948 as a means of post-WWII survival. He’d taken it over when his father retired and was himself now 86 years old and doesn’t have an heir willing to continue the family legacy. So, sadly. the Otsuka Ceramic Shop may soon be closed forever…perhaps Sensei will have a “closing down sale”? Keep an eye out for that antique hunters, there’s sure to be bargains galore!
I’ve always found it curious that, in general, Japanese people, (with a few notable exceptions, private collectors, traders, galleries, museums etc) see little value in antiques, preferring new. clean, disposable, fashionable and whatever the current trend suggests is popular.
Back in the “Bubble Economy” days, it was quite common to find Japanese antiques on the roadside awaiting pick-up and disposal by the rubbish trucks. An Irish friend created a great business by going around collecting antique “rubbish,” giving it a clean up and a polish and exporting it to Europe for resale at premium prices.
Antique treasures from the Otsuka Ceramic Shop soon to be proudly on display in our NZ home.
As my wife and I both forgot our wedding anniversary….again…I decided to give the dogū to her as a belated anniversary gift. Romance is not dead in the Murray household!
Happy 17th Wedding Anniversary My Darling!
Seventeen happily married years without a cross word! What an incredible wife you are and mother to our two amazing children…Who will soon, hopefully, be wonderful adults.
Thank you for your compassion, kindness and consideration and for forgiving my many foibles.
You are vastly more beautiful and interesting today than the happy day I met you, incredibly, over 20 years ago. Thank you for being my wife and for making my fabulous life ever more wonderful.
Please accept this somewhat unusual wedding anniversary gift from your somewhat eccentric, but loving husband.
Jōmon dogū figurines are thought to represent the religious beliefs, artistic practices, and social structures of Jōmon period peoples and symbolise fertility, safety, social etiquette and protection from illness.
Let’s continue together to keep our family healthy safe and strong and to develop our artistic appreciation, creativity and sensibilities and our family spirit.
Thank you my LOVE for everything you do, you are and all you share with me.
I will love you, Diva, Winston and “Kawa” Murray unconditionally into perpetuity and continue to provide for you all and to, laugh, share life’s experiences,, explore possibilities and grow wise and happily old together.
Paul Murray is the founder of the LivinginPeace Project.
www.livinginpeace.com
Paul originally from Australia, but have been living in New Zealand for 14 years. Before that he was in Japan for a decade working as a journalist. He met his wife Sanae in Japan and they married in 2008.
The Rongolian Star 
Antique Antique Shop Owners of Japan
Off The Top of My Head
By Paul Murray
A few years ago, I was exploring the back streets of the old Japanese city of Kamakura, which was the de facto capital of Japan during the Kamakura Period (1185–1333). The city is steeped in history and is home to many grand temples, shrines and the very popular “Daibutsu” or “Great Buddha.”
On my walk, I happened across a tiny antique shop run by a very elderly gentleman who may have been older than some of the artefacts he had on display in his emporium. He was elegantly dressed in a fine kimono, and despite it being a hot summer day, he seemed cool and calm in the stifling heat and still air of his shop. He was extremely knowledgeable about his collection and was happy to discuss the provenance and historical significance of the items he had on display.
Among his collection was a gnarled piece of tsuge (Japanese boxwood) that resembled an enraged minatour sliding into a turn after a charge, seemingly having missed his target and wheeling back onto his foe to send him to oblivion. I immediately fell in love with the piece and wanted to purchase it, but assumed it would be well beyond my means. However, as there was no price tag on the beast, so I asked what he let it go for…”Oh, there’s no price tag?” He asked. “I can’t see one,” I replied, taking the sculpture to him. “It’s ¥7,500,” he said, seemingly off the cuff. At that time, it was about $US70, which was well below what I was expecting and within my budget, so “SOLD,” I said, and the Mad Minatour is now one of my favourite objet d’arts on display in my New Zealand home.
Last week, I was at it again, trawling the backstreets of Tokyo in search of antique treasures…this time in Ōmori, which is an old central Tokyo suburb that was the childhood home of famous Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa popularised the Samurai film genre and brought Japanese cinema to the world. Kurosawa combined Japanese and Western storytelling traditions, producing films of visual grandeur and moral messaging. His work is respected internationally for its innovative artistry and profound humanity.
Ōmori also housed a brutal POW camp in WWII. The site is now the site of the popular Heiwajima boat racing arena, where punters place their bets on the first two finishers among six powerboats piloted by jockey-sized racers in colourful “silks” roaring around three laps of a 600m course. Ironically, “Heiwajima” means “Peace Island,” which belies the site’s past but, hopefully, heralds its future.
(Image from https://www.heiwajima.gr.jp/en/)
While exploring Ōmori, I was fortunate to come across 大塚陶器店 the Otsuka Ceramic Shop, which, at first glance, seemed cluttered, decrepit, unkempt and derelict…just the kind of place I was looking for!
On display were a broad range of antique Japanese pottery, cups, bowls, sake sets, sculptures and vases. The aged owner was reclining fast asleep at the back of the store, which enabled me the chance of quiet inspection and contemplation of his displays, which were coated with a thick layer of black, sooty dust. I was possibly his only customer for the month, but the slumbering owner was delightfully nonchalant about the possibility of making a sale, choosing to remain comatose over the pursuit of commerce.
Among his wares was a delightfully crafted wooden sake decanter and set of cups that I caught my attention and spurred my desire for ownership. Again, there was no price on the items, so I politely roused the Old Boy from his slumber to enquire their worth. In a very similar scenario to the experience I had in Kamakura many years earlier, he seemingly randomly said, “¥2.500.” (Currently about $US15). Again, I was surprised, thinking the set would be much more, “SOLD,” I said, and he began wrapping them in old newspaper and popped them into a recycled shopping back for me to carry home.
Despite the lack of a cash register, payment was in cash as I don’t think the aged antique merchant had Internet, credit card facilities or had even ever considered such new-fangled nonsense…He opened a drawer from an old chest and retrieved my change from a paper bag full of banknotes. This speaks to the lack of petty crime in Japan that an elderly gentleman could keep wads of cash in an insecure and easily accessible location without concern is a wonderful testament to the honesty, respect and social responsibility of Japanese people.
I took my antique find home, shared my treasure-hunting story with my wife Sanae and showed her the photos of the shop. After she stopped laughing, she noticed the Jōmon dogū figurines in one of the photos…She is particularly interested in the Jōmon period (circa 14,000 BC to 300 BC) history and cultural traditions, so I promised to return the next morning and ask about the statues to see if I could possibly procure one for her.
So, I dutifully arrived at the shop at 9:00 am the following day, only to find the shutters down and the shop very closed. I peered through the post slot in the roller door, and Sensi was in the back of the store reading the morning paper. “Ëxcuse me,” I shouted through the hole, “Yes?” he replied. “What time do you open?” I asked. “10:00 a.m.,” he said firmly. “OK,” I said, “I’ll come back then.”
I returned at 10:00 a.m. and the shop roller door was half open, but Sensei was nowhere to be seen. I waited another 15 minutes or so and eventually stuck my head under the door and said, “Sumimasen” to hear “‘Gomaenasai” from behind me and down the street, and there was Sensai, marching back from a shopping expedition in his white singlet, shorts and sandals, shopping bag in hand, very apologetic for having forgotten I was coming.
I reminded him that we had spoken the day before, and that I’d purchased the wooden sake set. Unsurprisingly, he remembered me as I really must have been his only customer for the day. I asked about the Jōmon dogū figurines, and he was quite surprised that I knew what they were. He laughed quite a lot when I enquired about the authenticity of the dogū. Genuine Jōmon dogū are museum pieces or the preserve of wealthy private collectors, and he honestly informed me they were not genuine Jōmon-era artefacts.
There were about a dozen dogū statuettes to choose from, and after some quiet deliberation and some enthusiastic encouragement from Sensai, I decided on the large one…¥4,500 (About $US30). Before my shopping spree, I’d done a bit of online research to make sure I didn’t get touched on the purchase. On Ebay, the asking price for 10 cm similar replica dogū statues was about $US65, so I was in good shape. I dropped the hammer on Sensei’s offering, which was twice the height and half the price!
Jōmon period (縄文時代), people were peaceful hunter-gatherers and early agriculturalists with a common culture. They were largely sedentary and had a well-established and complex society, religious beliefs and cultural traditions, which included artistic pursuits of which their remnant pottery and ceramic sculptures demonstrate.
I asked Sensei a few questions about his fascinating store. It turns out his father had started the business in 1948 as a means of post-WWII survival. He’d taken it over when his father retired and was himself now 86 years old and doesn’t have an heir willing to continue the family legacy. So, sadly. the Otsuka Ceramic Shop may soon be closed forever…perhaps Sensei will have a “closing down sale”? Keep an eye out for that antique hunters, there’s sure to be bargains galore!
I’ve always found it curious that, in general, Japanese people, (with a few notable exceptions, private collectors, traders, galleries, museums etc) see little value in antiques, preferring new. clean, disposable, fashionable and whatever the current trend suggests is popular.
Back in the “Bubble Economy” days, it was quite common to find Japanese antiques on the roadside awaiting pick-up and disposal by the rubbish trucks. An Irish friend created a great business by going around collecting antique “rubbish,” giving it a clean up and a polish and exporting it to Europe for resale at premium prices.
As my wife and I both forgot our wedding anniversary….again…I decided to give the dogū to her as a belated anniversary gift. Romance is not dead in the Murray household!
Happy 17th Wedding Anniversary My Darling!
Seventeen happily married years without a cross word! What an incredible wife you are and mother to our two amazing children…Who will soon, hopefully, be wonderful adults.
Thank you for your compassion, kindness and consideration and for forgiving my many foibles.
You are vastly more beautiful and interesting today than the happy day I met you, incredibly, over 20 years ago. Thank you for being my wife and for making my fabulous life ever more wonderful.
Please accept this somewhat unusual wedding anniversary gift from your somewhat eccentric, but loving husband.
Jōmon dogū figurines are thought to represent the religious beliefs, artistic practices, and social structures of Jōmon period peoples and symbolise fertility, safety, social etiquette and protection from illness.
Let’s continue together to keep our family healthy safe and strong and to develop our artistic appreciation, creativity and sensibilities and our family spirit.
Thank you my LOVE for everything you do, you are and all you share with me.
I will love you, Diva, Winston and “Kawa” Murray unconditionally into perpetuity and continue to provide for you all and to, laugh, share life’s experiences,, explore possibilities and grow wise and happily old together.
Grace, Peace, Love and Happiness,
Your forever husband,
Paul.
愛しい人、17回目の結婚記念日おめでとう！
口喧嘩一つせず、幸せな結婚生活17年！あなたは本当に素晴らしい妻であり、二人の素敵な子供たちのお母さんです。きっともうすぐ素敵な大人になるでしょう。
あなたの思いやり、優しさ、そして思いやり、そして私の多くの欠点を許してくれてありがとう。
20年以上前にあなたに出会ったあの幸せな日よりも、今のあなたはずっと美しく、魅力的です。私の妻でいてくれて、そして私の素晴らしい人生をさらに素晴らしいものにしてくれてありがとう。
少し変わっているけれど、愛情深いご主人からの、少し変わった結婚記念日の贈り物を受け取ってください。
縄文土偶は、縄文時代の人々の宗教的信仰、芸術的慣習、そして社会構造を表し、豊穣、安全、社会的な礼儀、そして無病息災の象徴であると考えられています。
これからも一緒に、家族の健康、安全、そして力強さを保ち、芸術的な鑑賞力、創造性、感性、そして家族の絆を育んでいきましょう。
愛しい人よ、あなたがしてくれたこと、あなたがいてくれること、そして私と分かち合ってくれたことすべてに感謝します。
ディーヴァ、ウィンストン、そして「カワ」・マレーを、私は永遠に無条件に愛し、これからもあなたたちを支え続け、共に笑い、人生の経験を分かち合い、可能性を探求し、共に賢く、幸せに歳を重ねていきます。
恵み、平和、愛、そして幸福を、
永遠の夫より、
ポールより
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About LivinginPeaceProject
Paul Murray is the founder of the LivinginPeace Project. www.livinginpeace.com Paul originally from Australia, but have been living in New Zealand for 14 years. Before that he was in Japan for a decade working as a journalist. He met his wife Sanae in Japan and they married in 2008.