A very thin kobushi-gata form iron tsuba decorated in openwork (sukashi), some openings filled with grey metal (silver or pewter) treated in a way to resemble cracked ice, ginkgo leaf to recto and plum blossoms to verso in low-relief (takabori) and gold inlay (zōgan), and unevenly folded over rim (hineri-mimi). The overall theme of the piece is linked to the icy ponds, falling ginkgo leaves and blossoming plums in the late winter.
Size: 84 x 80 mm, thickness (center): 2 mm.
Signed: Yamashiro no kuni Fushimi no ju Kaneie [Kaneie of Fushimi in Yamashiro Province] [山城國伏見住金家], with Kaō.
Probably the work of Meijin-Shodai Kaneie (c. 1580 – 1600).
The silver or pewter inlays likely a later work that may be attributed to Goto Ichijo (1791 – 1876) or one of his apprentices in the late 19th century, possibly as a tribute to the great Kaneie masters.
Here is an article by Steve Waszak dedicated to Kaneie masters and this tsuba in particular.
Kaneie
For many tosogu aficionados, this name reigns supreme among all tsubako across Japanese history. The first Kaneie is celebrated for many things. He is recognized as being the first ever to bring pictorial landscape subjects to a canvas so small as that of a tsuba plate. His skill in being able to render classical Chinese landscape themes while working with a material as unyielding as steel, and to do so with the sensitivity he does, is nothing short of astounding. The quality of his workmanship — especially that of his exquisitely carved motif elements and the extraordinary deftness of his tsuchime (槌目 or 鎚目, hammer-blow) utilizing such thin plates — astonishes even to this day. His sensibilities concerning the shaping of his sword guards and the presentation of the rims were no less innovative than his subject matter. He was among the very first to regularly sign his name as a tsuba smith. And it is likely that he served the great warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi in the latter years of the 16th century.
Despite the great fame and reputation of Kaneie, very little of the lives of the two men who are seen by most scholars as the “true Kaneie” tsubako of the Momoyama and earliest Edo Periods is known to us now. They were both smiths working in steel, with occasional added soft-metal inlay (usually serving to highlight features), and both made sword guards of the same style, using subject matter focused on landscapes, allusions to historical events, or religious themes. The first of these men is often referred to as “O-Shodai,” or Great First Generation, while the second is known as “Meijin-Shodai,” or Famous First Generation. While some see subsequent generations stemming from these first two men, others have the O-Shodai and the Meijin-Shodai as THE two true Kaneie and make a sharp distinction between these two smiths and any others who may share the name.
The work of the O-Shodai may appear with two different mei. One of these is written “Joshu Fushimi Ju Kaneie,” while his work may also carry a mei reading “Yamashiro no Kuni Fushimi Ju Kaneie.” It is thought by some scholars that the earlier works present with the “Joshu” mei, while his later works feature the “Yamashiro” mei. However, there are only some five or six tsuba extant with the “Joshu” signature, so we should not necessarily see works with the “Yamashiro” signature as dating only to the latest years of his working life. The answers to the questions of exactly when Kaneie might have begun his life as a tsubako, or how old he was when he moved to sign his works with the “Yamashiro” mei, will probably remain shrouded in uncertainty.
The association between Kaneie and Toyotomi Hideyoshi is speculative, to be sure, but the circumstantial evidence is tantalizing. The area of Fushimi is thought to have been an entirely unremarkable land prior to Hideyoshi’s building of a castle there, so it would seem unlikely that the first Kaneie would have been working in such a nondescript place, much less including the place name in his mei, before Hideyoshi’s putting it on the map, so to speak. Why emphasize such pride of place in one’s signature unless the place itself carries a certain weight? The name “Kaneie” translates roughly to “gold family,” which, given Hideyoshi’s notorious love of gold, would seem too much of a coincidence when combined with the explicit mention of Fushimi in the signatures. Combine this with the consideration of what is an equally compelling relationship between the celebrated tsubako Nobuie and Oda Nobunaga (“Nobuie” means roughly “of the family of “Nobu”), whom Hideyoshi served as a top general until Oda’s demise in 1582, and the circumstantial evidence becomes even harder to deny the plausibility of. Oda, ever the innovator, may have been the one responsible for birthing the practice of tsubako regularly signing their works. Having a superb smith like Nobuie affix the name to the tsuba as a regular practice establishes a sort of “brand name,” a brand coming with the seal of approval of Oda Nobunaga. It is more than possible that Nobunaga may have then used these valuable sword guards as rewards given to vassals and other important relations to honour them for their services to him, a practice that would have allowed Nobunaga to avoid having to use gold, guns, swords, horses, or land to do so. The awarding of a magnificent Nobuie tsuba to a deserving warrior, an appreciated ally, or a family member would bring honour to the recipient, of course, but would also honour the maker of the sword guard, and even the giver of the object. Such a way of thinking would be absolutely typical of him, and given that both Oda Nobunaga and Nobuie were men of Kiyosu in Owari in the early Momoyama Period, it does not strain credulity to imagine that the above dynamic could have occurred in just this way. If indeed it did, Toyotomi Hideyoshi is unlikely to have let this pass unnoticed. He may even have been so honoured himself! When he rose to power very shortly after Oda’s death, then, and when he reinforced and consolidated that power in the late 1580s and early 1590s, which included the building of the castle at Fushimi, perhaps he sought to emulate the Oda vision and practice of establishing a “royal tsubako.” If so, Kaneie would have been that smith.
As noted, this scenario is speculative, and not a little romantic. This does not mean, however, that it is in fact not likely, for there would be a number of coincidences involved for it to be entirely false.
Tsuba scholars will say that Kaneie’s skills in the making of his sword guards indicate an armour-making background. This is an interesting viewpoint, but one can’t help but wonder how many armourers were possessed of such fluent literacy in lyrical Chinese historical tales that they could then represent them as motifs on steel plates. Kaneie subjects often are in the form of Chinese landscapes and allusions, as noted, one of which — The Eight Views of the Xiao and the Xiang — was very well known as a famous subject of Chinese painting and poetry from the Song Dynasty. There exist Kaneie tsuba which depicts at least some of these “views,” and it seems unlikely that if one or more of them were to be created, not all of them would be, in a sort of “series.” The cultural and literary fluency Kaneie would seem to have had, then, may suggest a Buddhist background, and indeed, some of the subjects seen are explicitly Buddhist in nature. Perhaps his background then, somehow offering a dovetailing of metalwork and Buddhist teachings; in any event, we are all the richer for at least some of the works of Kaneie to have survived to reach us today.
One of the hallmarks of Kaneie tsuba (real ones) is the extreme thinness of the plate, combined with utterly superb tsuchime expression of that plate. To be able to hammer the plate to achieve such strength of expression while the plate is so thin is seen by the Japanese as practically miraculous. A notable and important kantei point between the early masterpieces by the two “Shodai” Kaneie and the tsuba made by followers is this thinness of the plate. Another kantei point: because the plate is so thin when raised areas representing motif elements are present, they are inlaid into the plate, because trying to carve them from such a thin plate would be practically impossible: the likelihood of piercing the plate would be high, and the plate in that area, even if not pierced, would be significantly weakened by trying to manage the raising of a motif element from the plate. In real Kaneie works, then, one would expect any raised motif elements to be inlaid.
Other highlights: the “Shodai” Kaneie are famous for the kobushi-gata (拳形) or “fist-shaped” design in their work, but despite this, there actually aren’t that many extant sword guards boasting this shape. Another feature for which the Kaneie are justly famous is their folding over of the lip of the rim onto the plate in a very tasteful manner, just here and there, rather than uniformly across the tsuba. However, again, this feature is actually not commonly seen, either. The combination, then, of a kobushi-gata shape with the rim folded over in just a few areas is that much rarer.
Which brings us to the featured piece.
Here is a Kaneie tsuba, a “Meijin-Shodai” Kaneie, which presents with a very thin plate, being between 1.5 and 2mm in thickness. The motif elements are inlaid, as we should expect. The sugata (姿, shape) is Kobushi-gata with the rim folded over in only a few places, representing a relatively infrequently encountered form, as stated. The tsuba here is fortunate not to have any added hitsu-ana, unlike many or most other Kaneie do. The sukashi elements are fascinating to consider, being difficult to determine the meaning of; however, the raised elements clearly point to a seasonal motif, with cherry and plum blossoms on the omote for Spring, and ginkgo on the ura for Fall. The inlaid metal in two of the openings — silver, shibuichi, or pewter, perhaps — is very likely a later addition, probably 19th-century, and more specifically, late-19th-century. The finishing on these inlaid portions has all the hallmarks of Goto Ichijo workmanship. Namely, the treatment of the surface of the inlay to resemble fallen snow (in the Japanese sense of things) is expressed in a very Ichijo sense of things, and, given the great importance of Kaneie tsuba, and the seasonal expression the motif of the guard has, it is plausible that the inlay is Ichijo work or that of one of his top students. In any event, this inlay complements the rest of the tsuba beautifully. The inlay also resembles the art of kintsugi (金継ぎ, golden joinery) or the Japanese practice of ceramic repair using lacquer when a piece is particularly special or important. In this way, a nod is given to Tea Culture, too, creating a wonderful blending of associations and allusions, typical of the highest Japanese aesthetic sense.
At 8.4cm, the tsuba is of an excellent size and is in great condition (no rust, no deep rust pitting, no fire damage). There is, intriguingly, one small sign of battle damage at 6:00 on the guard: it would seem a sword blow cut into the tsuba at the rim, and penetrated slightly into the plate. The superb repair represented by a little stitch or two right at the rim and along a few millimetres of the plate is visible on very close inspection. The repair is old, probably nearly contemporary with when the tsuba was made. Given the high status of Kaneie in their lifetime (as tsubako for Hideyoshi, one might imagine their importance), and given the obvious high quality of this piece, it is not surprising that the finest repair efforts were put into its care.
The name Kaneie justly enjoys its fame and accolades as pre-eminent among the tens of thousands of tsubako in Japanese history. We are fortunate indeed to have had a small number of the works of the early masters survive to this day. The first of their kind, and as most scholars and aficionados would wholeheartedly agree, the best of their kind, Kaneie sword guards remain among the very finest examples of the Japanese metal-working traditions.
The same interpretation of the said heart-like symbol (aoi leaf) is given at Helen C. Gunsaulus. Japanese sword-mounts in the collection of Field Museum. // Publication 216, Anthropological Series, Volume XVI; Chicago, 1923; p. 54: "This mokkō-formed tsuba recalls the aoi form, perforated as it is with the four aoi leaves." It is possible that the "wild boar's eye" theory was developed by later scholars.
There is also a theory, supported by Graham Gemmell, saying that: “In simple terms Onin works are decorated Ko-Katchushi tsuba. … But, not content with iron alone, they began to decorate it with what was, in the early Muromachi period, a rare and valuable metal, brass. The Onin workers cut the design into the iron, using narrow channels, cast the brass, piece by piece, and then hammered it into the iron plate as though they were putting together a jigsaw. When complete the tsuba would be black lacquered exactly as the plain iron ones had been, the brass shining dully through it in a way that fulfilled the goal of shibui or restrained elegance.” [Tosogu. Treasure of the samurai. Fine Japanese Sword Fittings from The Muromachi to The Meiji Period, by Graham Gemmell. // Sarzi-Amadè Limited, London, 1991. An exhibition held in London from 21st March to 4th April, 1991]. The following illustration from Helen C. Gunsaulus. Japanese sword-mounts in the collection of Field Museum. // Publication 216, Anthropological Series, Volume XVI; Chicago, 1923; pp. 43 supports the idea.
Helen C. Gunsaulus' description of the dragonfly emblem is as follows: "This motive, the dragon-fly (akitsu), is generally accepted as a symbol of the kingdom of Japan, and the origin of the idea is traced to the legend recounted in the Kojiki and Nihongo of the Emperor Jimmu's view of the island from mountain top. He is said to have thought the kingdom looked like a dragon-fly touching its tail with its mouth. From this it received its name Akitsu-shima... etc."
The design is referenced in LIB-1359.2017 Japanese Swords and Tsuba from the Professor A. Z. Freeman and the Phyllis Sharpe Memorial collections, Sotheby's, London, Thursday, 10 April 1997; p. 18, item 37: "pierced with two large formalised butterflies..."
Other similar specimens can be found at:
Henri L. Joly and Kumasaku Tomita, Japanese art and handicraft, "Swords and sword fittings" section, sub-section “Inlays of Ōnin, Kyoto, Fushimi-Yoshiro, and Kaga Province”, Plate CX, #128: Iron, chrysanthemoid, thin guard with alternate petals covered with brass spots. Ōnin style. 16th century.
English translation of the book indicated above Nihon Tō Kōza, Volume VI, Part 1 by Harry Afu Watson, AFU Research Enterprises, Inc., 1993. Tsuba in question illustrated on page 14 and described as follows: " Tsuba mumei Ōnin. Tetsu ji maru gata ko-sukashi tsuchime shitate shinchū suemon ten zogan maru mimi. Brass suemon". My question remains: why such a text is called 'translation' while it looks more like transliteration of romanization? 
