Sartorial Identity: Early Modern Japanese Textile Patterns and the Afterlife of Ogata Kōrin

Abstract

Through the example of Ogata Kōrin (1658–­1716), one of the most representative painters of Japan’s Edo period (1603–­1868), this essay examines how the public identities of artists could be shaped by pattern catalogues for textiles, or hinagata bon. Published in large numbers using inexpensive monochromatic prints on paper, hinagata bon were regular best sellers, easily accessible to a broad public readership. Between the early and late 1700s, Kōrin’s name appeared dozens of times in relation to a specific set of designs for garments, called “Kōrin patterns” (Kōrin moyō or Kōrin mon’yō), which adopted and transformed key aspects of his painting mode. Such designs significantly determined Kōrin’s popular reception during the later years of his life and after, illustrating the cultural potency of hinagata bon, and fashion in general, during the early modern period in Japan.

The term “Kōrin patterns” (Kōrin moyō or Kōrin mon’yō) encompasses the body of early modern textile patterns associated with one of the period’s most innovative painters, Ogata Kōrin (1658–­1716).[1] Kōrin’s eponymous patterns extracted elements of his style and transposed them to the world of fashion, embedding the artist’s name in the public discourse of his time and beyond. Most of Kōrin’s artworks found their way into the collections of high-­ranking warrior families, court aristocrats, and the upper-­class bourgeoisie. But, by way of Kōrin patterns, his oeuvre experienced a parallel reception among a large general audience. These patterns were featured in catalogues, or hinagata bon, that were issued in considerable numbers from the mid-­seventeenth to the early nineteenth century.[2] This unprecedented vernacular response to Kōrin’s work cast the artist into the limelight of early modern stardom. Hinagata bon functioned as reference catalogues for consumers and textile makers; through their publication in these catalogues, Kōrin patterns were adapted in large parts for designs of kosode (lit. “short-­sleeved [garments]”). Kosode, the precursors to the modern kimono, were the customary attire for all classes in the early modern period, and their designs had a significant impact on the visual culture of the time.[3]

Kōrin’s life and oeuvre have been the focus of intense scrutiny by Japanese art historians, but the painter has been relatively marginalized in Western-­language scholarship. The same holds true for Western studies on hinagata bon. In recent years, however, scholars like Terry Milhaupt have examined hinagata publications and their impact on textile production.[4] The field of Kōrin studies in Japan has taken a holistic approach; almost every aspect of the artist’s life and afterlife has been placed under scrutiny. Kōrin patterns, too, have been the subject of attention from numerous scholars. Maruyama Nobuhiko, Nagasaki Iwao, and Oyama Yuzuruha, among others, have surveyed Kōrin’s presence in hinagata bon and attempted to locate possible avenues that hinagata designers might have used to access the artist’s oeuvre.[5]

This study builds on these scholars’ research to explore the creation of Kōrin’s posthumous persona through a combined focus on textiles, prints, and paintings. By concentrating on representative hinagata bon—­namely, Tōfū bijo hinakata (Patterns for Contemporary Beauties, 1715/1727), Kōrin hinagata wakamitori (Fresh Leaves of Kōrin Patterns, 1727), and Hinagata itosusuki (Pattern Grasses, 1727)—­I will demonstrate that Kōrin patterns provided the foundation for a significant aspect of the painter’s reception during the eighteenth century and after. These publications, which center exclusively on Kōrin patterns, turned the name “Kōrin” into an ideated concept that maintained some relation to the artist before gradually growing detached from him.

A Self-­Fashioned Persona

Kōrin’s absorption into the popular realm represents a singular case among early modern painters, and it foreshadows the modern phenomenon of celebrity through mass media. The Edo period witnessed the emergence of unmatched personal fame, with kabuki actors being revered in the popular realm. Textile culture played an essential role in the emergence of personal fame as well, as audiences were known to emulate their favorite actors’ stage fashion.[6] Performers profited both financially and in terms of publicity from the popular espousal of their attire. Kōrin patterns seem to have had a similar effect on increasing the artist’s renown, although they were developed mostly posthumously. Hinagata bon generated a perception of Kōrin that existed alongside his achievements as a painter, shaping his reception among both the artistic and the popular cultural milieus of the Edo period.[7]

Whether Kōrin was directly involved in the making of Kōrin patterns is unknown, as no hinagata bon survive that carry any indication of his immediate agency. It appears that professional designers (mainly from Kōrin’s own city of Kyoto) may have selected and appropriated characteristics of his oeuvre.[8] The hinagata patterns associated with his name echo the simplified shapes of plants, birds, water, and other pictorial elements that constitute the hallmarks of Kōrin’s style. For example, the first Kōrin pattern to appear, “Kōrin plums” (Kōrin mume), replicates the round, abbreviated shapes of the painter’s distinctive way of rendering the plum flower, particularly in ink paintings (figs. 1–­2). Other patterns follow a similar principle: designs of water under Kōrin’s name make reference to the convoluted, twisting streams that the artist used in some of his best-­known works (fig. 3); a pattern in Tōfū bijo hinakata that features a stylized swirl of water with simplified floating maple leaves evokes the meandering rivulet beneath two craggy flowering trees in Kōrin’s screen painting Red and White Plum Blossoms (fig. 4).

Figure 1. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin plums), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 2. Ogata Kōrin, Bamboo and Plum Blossoms (right panel), early 18th century. Two-­panel folding screen; ink on gilded paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 3. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin cloud water), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 4. Ogata Kōrin, Red and White Plum Blossoms, early 18th century. Pair of two-­panel folding screens; ink, color, and silver on gilded paper. MOA Museum of Art, Atami

Figure 4. (continued)

Hinagata patterns relied on the memorable character of Kōrin’s style, and his seemingly effortless forms were well suited to textiles. The prominence and exclusivity of the painter’s family business, which inspired his oeuvre, may have provided an additional incentive for the textile industry to absorb aspects of his artistry. Kōrin’s family owned a prominent Kyoto dry goods business, the Kariganeya, which was the textile supplier to Empress Tōfukumon’in (1607–­1678) and her court. Although the business crumbled during Kōrin’s twenties, and eventually dissolved under the leadership of his elder brother Tōzaburō, its heritage impacted his work and artistic persona. One of Kōrin’s earliest surviving large-­format paintings is a pair of screens entitled Irises, painted around 1701, after he received the honorary title hokkyō (lit. “Dharma Bridge”), which recognized Kōrin as an accomplished professional painter. This work offers a case in point for the artist’s indebtedness to the Kariganeya (fig. 5).[9] Kōrin replicated one cluster of irises on each screen, an approach that is reminiscent of stencil use in textile dyeing.[10] The patterned arrangements of flowers employed in Irises are partially repeated in one of Kōrin’s later screen paintings, Irises at Yatsuhashi, demonstrating that the use of recurring forms was an integral part of his artistry (fig. 6).[11] The Kariganeya used a similar technique in their textile designs for the imperial household, in which the same flower is reiterated from various vantage points, creating an illusion of alternating renderings through slightly adjusted copying (fig. 7).

Figure 5. Ogata Kōrin, Irises, early 18th century. Pair of six-panel folding screens; color and gold on paper. Nezu Museum, Tokyo

Figure 6. Ogata Kōrin, Irises at Yatsuhashi (Eight Bridges), after 1709. Pair of six-­panel folding screens; ink and color on gold leaf on paper, overall (each screen): 70 1/2 in. x 12 ft. 2 1/4 in. (179.1 x 371.5 cm). Purchase, Louisa Eldridge McBurney Gift, 1953, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1953. 53.7.1, 53.7.2

Figure 7. Catalogue of Textile Designs of the Kariganeya, from the Konishi Family Archives, 1661 and 1663. Ink on paper. Osaka City Museum of Art

Through his family’s business, Kōrin was apparently aware of the visually stimulating effects of repetition that were a vital part of textile designs; he incorporated into his works several motifs found in the Kariganeya books, including the swirling ornamental water pattern called “Kanze water” (Kanze sui). Public imagination recognized these textile-­related features in his oeuvre. Even before Kōrin was honored as an advanced painter with the hokkyō title by the imperial court, popular literature had already featured his name in relation to textiles. The novella Kōshoku fumi denju (Story of a Love Letter, 1699) includes the following passage: “Onto the white satin, he had Kōrin paint a swift ink painting of pines. [The result] was splendid and he was very pleased.”[12] This brief passage marks the earliest mention of Kōrin’s name in early modern prose; as we shall see, it resounded with the public and left an enduring imprint on the artist’s popular reception, associating him with textiles and ink.[13]

The offspring of a wealthy urban family, Kōrin initially studied painting as a part of the education that was expected of men of his social stature. Evidence suggests that his early training in the arts focused on Noh theater rather than painting.[14] Although Kōrin took to the stage in his teens, he seems to have made the decision to become a vocational painter when he was well into his thirties. Surviving sketches and painting studies reveal that Kōrin must have studied with a Kano-­trained painter, a frequent path for wealthy commoners. This trend was facilitated by the extensive network of Kano painters that spanned the Japanese realm; Kōrin’s father, Ogata Sōken, also trained with a Kano master. Such painters often entered the atelier at a young age and were groomed to become professional artists. But unlike painters of the Kano school and other professional ateliers, Kōrin had the liberty of choosing his career and was not poised to be a painter from childhood. His decision-­making process evidently took quite some time, and he made the arts his primary career only in his adult years. This trajectory afforded him the freedom of being unconnected to any of the major professional ateliers. His persona and oeuvre resonated with his contemporaries, and aspects of the latter found their way into popular painting manuals, artist biographies, and the culture of hinagata bon.[15] Kōrin was one of the few non-­affiliated artists of his time to be absorbed into the public discourse.

From the beginning of his career, Kōrin worked in a variety of artistic genres, and, making use of the elaborate network of early modern art dealers—­the so-­called karamonoya—­he sent items as diverse as lacquerwork and screens to customers as far away as the shogunal capital of Edo. This dissemination of his work through professional intermediaries served to expose a geographically diverse clientele to Kōrin’s name and style. At the same time, this sales strategy may have provided hinagata designers who sought to capitalize on the artist’s budding popularity with comparatively easy access to aspects of Kōrin’s oeuvre. Through the artist’s appropriation into the world of popular fashion—­a process that determined his persona for more than a century thereafter—­Kōrin’s style gained lasting traction among a broad public audience. Kōrin patterns are symbolic of the mechanisms by which vernacular publicity shaped the posthumous receptions of early modern painters such as Kōrin, as well as how fashion held the power to influence an artist’s afterlife.

Kōrin Patterns

The earliest surviving hinagata bon is Shinsen onhiinakata (Newly Selected Hinagata Patterns), first published in 1666 (fig. 8). The book’s preface reveals that its author perceived hinagata bon not merely as pattern manuals but as displays of the skills and possibilities of the garment industry at the time:

Figure 8. Shinsen onhiinakata, 1667. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

The preface seeks to situate hinagata bon in the history of human attire by reaching far back into mythical times. It characterizes textiles and hinagata bon as symbols of civilization, a reflection of the early modern spirit that often measured the achievements of the past against those of the present.

The very fact that hinagata bon came into existence reflects the societal role of dress during the seventeenth century and after, and the books exemplify a demand for categorizing and disseminating textile patterns. Further, the emergence of hinagata bon symbolizes the extent to which attire had become commodified, a process that further accelerated as hinagata bon began to be published in increasing numbers. The fast-­paced succession of hinagata bon encouraged designers to compete for new patterns and to produce ever greater numbers of catalogues. Between 1666 and the 1820s, when the tradition of pattern books came to an end, nearly 180 editions had been published.[22]

In 1712, Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei (Compendium of Elegant Patterns, New Edition) was the first hinagata bon to feature patterns using Kōrin’s name. Under the labels Kōrin mume and Kōrin no mume, these patterns include designs of plum blossoms (fig. 9).[23] The choice of plum blossoms as the first textile pattern associated with Kōrin reflects the way his subject matter and distinctive painting style first made an impression on his contemporaries. Kōrin had devised an innovative mode of painting the flower, a ubiquitous subject in East Asian painting. His blossoms in ink are brushed using two semicircular strokes made with swift movements of the hand (fig. 10). Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei, however, renders Kōrin plums with two concentric, warped lines.[24] This divergence from the rendering of plum blossoms in Kōrin’s paintings did not continue for long. Only two years later, such adaptations gave way to more accurate representations of the artist’s style. For example, Hinagata Gion hayashi (Gion Collection of Patterns, 1714) displays the bulbous, smooth plum blossoms found in Kōrin’s paintings (fig. 11). The modulating outlines and rendering of the bark also convey aspects of painterly brushwork, exhibiting similarities to the paintings on textile for which Kōrin was known. Following Hinagata Gion hayashi, publications successively moved away from Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei’s example, and the patterns often are exceedingly faithful to Kōrin’s painterly models, reproducing his blossoms down to the overlapping tips at the ends of his brushstrokes. The creators of hinagata bon from around the time of Kōrin’s final years evidently poured considerable energy into adhering to the artist’s idiosyncrasies.

Figure 9. Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei (Kōrin plums), 1712. Woodblock print on paper. From Oyama Yuzuruha, Kōrin moyō, Nihon no bijutsu 524 (Tokyo: Gyōsei, 2010)

Figure 10. Ogata Kōrin, Bamboo and Plum Blossoms (detail of plum blossoms), early 18th century. Two-­panel folding screen; ink on gilded paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives (detail, fig. 2)

Figure 11. Hinagata Gion hayashi (Kōrin plums), 1714. Woodblock print on paper. From Ueno Saeko, ed., Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1974)

While plum blossoms found an early path into the public realm, and would ultimately be the Kōrin pattern rendered most frequently, other designs quickly followed suit. The first decade after Kōrin’s death witnessed unprecedented attention to the artist, and hinagata bon both capitalized on and contributed to this fascination. The number of designs associated with him gradually became larger, and the patterns themselves more varied.[25] For example, Shōtoku hinagata (Patterns of the Shōtoku Era, 1713), designed by Nishikawa Sukenobu (1671–­1750), added two kinds of “Kōrin paulownia” (Kōrin kiri and Kōrin no kiri) to the growing number of Kōrin-­related motifs (fig. 12). In 1715, a year before Kōrin’s death, Tōfū bijo hinakata marked a new milestone in the development of Kōrin patterns. This catalogue, first circulated by Shinoya Gen’eimon and reprinted in 1727 by Kikuya Kihei, is an homage to Kōrin; it gathers a considerable selection of Kōrin patterns that represent the most accurate reproductions of the painter’s oeuvre as published in hinagata bon to that date.[26] The book’s preface is also the first extant hinagata bon to make direct reference to Kōrin[27]:

Figure 12. Shōtoku hinagata (Kōrin paulownia), 1713. Woodblock print on paper. From Imao Kazuo, ed., Shōtoku hinagata zen Tōryū moyō hinagata ama no hashidate zen (Kyoto: Hakuōsha, 1972)

This claim reflects the fierce competition among hinagata bon publishers; it also indicates that Kōrin’s name was well known among a broad readership. The book provides no other context, and it seems that simply mentioning Kōrin served to identify the quality and appeal of the textile designs it features.

In including several patterns that directly reflect Kōrin’s oeuvre, Tōfū bijo hinakata provides the closest quotation of Kōrin’s style examined thus far. In addition to the book’s close correspondence to Kōrin’s plum blossoms, we find a kosode design with a flock of herons that is reminiscent of the simplified, repetitive shapes of cranes that Kōrin adopted from his great-­granduncle Hon’ami Kōetsu’s (1558–­1637) collaboration with Tawaraya Sōtatsu (d. ca. 1640) in the early seventeenth century (figs. 13–­14). The book also presents designs with maple leaves and plovers in the effortless forms, composed of just a few brushstrokes, that Kōrin himself used. Furthermore, “Kōrin chrysanthemums” (Kōrin giku) are rendered in the peculiar shape that he established, consisting of a circle and filled-­in oval petals (fig. 15).

Figure 13. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin herons), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 14. Tawaraya Sōtatsu (artist) and Hon’ami Kōetsu (calligrapher), Imperial Anthology, Kokinshū (detail), early 17th century. Handscroll; ink, gold, silver, and mica on paper, 33 x 968.30 cm (13 x 381 1/4 inches). Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC: Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1903.309

Figure 15. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin chrysanthemums and paulownias), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Many of the designs that Tōfū bijo hinakata associates with Kōrin’s name reappear in one form or another among his surviving sketches. Along with Kōrin plums, the Sōtatsu-­inspired herons are the most recognizable quotation of Kōrin’s painterly habits (fig. 16). Additionally, the crest-­like chrysanthemums and paulownia in the catalogue find their counterparts in Kōrin’s painting studies (fig. 17); the maple leaves and the coiling water pattern entitled “Kōrin cloud water” (Kōrin no kumomizu) also feature in Kōrin’s preparatory drawings (figs. 18–­19).

Figure 16. Ogata Kōrin, Sketch of Cranes, from the Konishi Family Archives, late 17th or early 18th century. Ink on paper. Kyoto National Museum

Figure 17. Ogata Kōrin, Sketch of Chrysanthemums and Paulownias, from the Konishi Family Archives, late 17th or early 18th century. Ink on paper. Kyoto National Museum

Figure 18. Ogata Kōrin, Sketch of Water, from the Konishi Family Archives, late 17th or early 18th century. Ink on paper. Kyoto National Museum

Figure 19. Ogata Kōrin, Sketch of Maple Leaves, from the Konishi Family Archives, late 17th or early 18th century. Ink on paper. Kyoto National Museum

However, occasional anomalies are also an aspect of Tōfū bijo hinakata. “Kōrin larch” (Kōrin no karamatsu) adapts the shape of the chrysanthemum pattern from a few pages earlier—­apparently, Kōrin patterns could be associated as much with interchangeable forms as with specific subjects (fig. 20). Some patterns were blatantly misunderstood. The author of Tōfū bijo hinakata labeled a representation of Kōrin’s typical ice pattern as “Kōrin swirling water” (Kōrin uzumizu), illustrating an interpretative discrepancy between the hinagata bon and Kōrin’s pictures (fig. 21). This divergence, in turn, draws attention to the principle that underlies Kōrin patterns. They are not exact copies of Kōrin’s oeuvre but borrowed shapes that hinagata designers modified at will. An adherence to representational accuracy was less important than reproducing the physical shapes of Kōrin’s unconventional style.

Figure 20. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin larch), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 21. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin swirling water), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

In light of the correspondences between Kōrin’s sketches and Tōfū bijo hinakata, however, some immediate connection may have existed between Kōrin’s work and that of the unknown designer of the book. It is possible that the painter’s late atelier acted as a filter. In a letter dated to the early period of his Edo activities, the artist mentions a pupil, suggesting that he was already running a workshop with subordinate painters during the first years of the eighteenth century.[30] After Kōrin returned from Edo around 1709, he planned a new residence in Kyoto to accommodate his needs during the final years of his life. The floor plan, designed by Kōrin himself, includes a prominent atelier.[31] Around the same time, Kōrin showed increasing signs of old age and complained about his inability to work long hours, leaving little doubt that he maintained a workshop with assistants to meet the demand for his artwork during at least his final half-­decade.[32] Tōfū bijo hinakata was first compiled in 1715, when Kōrin was still living, and its publisher could have had access to some of Kōrin’s sketchbooks or other designs through one of the artist’s pupils, if not Kōrin himself. Given the increased output of Kōrin’s atelier during his last years, it is also possible that the large number of studio works facilitated exposure to his oeuvre. Geographic proximity may have played a part. The location of Shinoya Gen’eimon, the initial publisher of Tōfū bijo hinakata, is unknown, but Kikuya Kihei, who reprinted the book, operated his business in the Teramachi Matsubara neighborhood, a short walk from Kōrin’s final residence at Nijō Shinmachi.[33] The Teramachi area was a center for Kyoto’s publishing industry, and it is possible that Shinoya also operated his business there.

Although many designs in Tōfū bijo hinakata can be directly connected to key stylistic aspects of Kōrin’s oeuvre, the book also forms a threshold for the bifurcation into Kōrin the painter and Kōrin patterns. While claiming Kōrin as their inspiration, the producers of Tōfū bijo hinakata also distanced themselves from the artist in a subtle way. Most of the catalogue’s patterns are labeled with the painter’s name in a prominent cartouche above each picture. Yet the characters used to write Kōrin (光林) differ from the way in which the artist commonly wrote his name (光琳). This small but significant modification became the norm for subsequent publications, resulting in a gradual movement away from the insinuation of Kōrin’s direct involvement in the production of Kōrin patterns. Around the time of the artist’s death, Kōrin patterns had graduated to being an independent brand rather than maintaining an implied link to the artist himself.

The difference in characters could be the result of a simple misspelling that became perpetuated through subsequent publications. In Kōrin’s surviving correspondence we find only a single instance—­a receipt for expenses paid to a courtesan in 1697—­in which his name was recorded as 光林.[34] In a series of letters written to Kōrin by one of his amorous liaisons, a woman named Suma, the author reveals difficulty with the relatively unusual second character of Kōrin’s name by writing it in the syllabic hiragana script (光りん). Kōrin himself—in a letter to Konishi Chihō, the adoptive mother of one of his sons—­wrote his name that way, suggesting that some of his contemporaries may have had problems correctly writing the second character.[35] Earlier books, like Hinagata Gion hayashi, employ either the same characters that the artist himself used or write the name in hiragana. The faithfulness to Kōrin’s name in earlier hinagata bon indicates that Kōrin patterns were initially intended to reproduce an image of the artist’s oeuvre that is directly tied to him. Later, hinagata bon gradually disconnected from Kōrin the artist and formed a separate entity, in part symbolized by the alternate way of writing his name.[36] Yet in both cases the association with Kōrin as the source of reference for Kōrin patterns continued. In this way, Kōrin patterns maintained a dual connection to Kōrin himself and to an ideated image of his oeuvre. By the time of Tōfū bijo hinakata, the concept of “Kōrin” had been turned into a trademark designation, with associated designs that were an established component of textile culture. Thus, Kōrin patterns became an extension of Yūshiken Masafusa’s anecdote in Kōshoku fumi denju: wearing an outfit with motifs designed by Kōrin or linked to his name meant wrapping oneself in one of his works. Hinagata bon provided a broad clientele with the opportunity to don Kōrin’s artistry. In this context, the altered second character of Kōrin’s name in his eponymous patterns is more than mere coincidence. Textile designers intended to draw from the painter Kōrin and his oeuvre while transforming the patterns into a brand image.

The importance of Tōfū bijo hinakata in shaping Kōrin patterns is highlighted by the book’s republication (without extensive revisions) in 1727. The reprint served to perpetuate the book’s approach to Kōrin patterns and illustrates the continuing popularity of Tōfū bijo hinakata and its patterns among fashion-­conscious consumers. The reissued Tōfū bijo hinakata also had a significant impact on two other bedrocks of Kōrin’s posthumous reception, which were published shortly after: Kōrin hinagata wakamitori and Hinagata itosusuki.[37] Both works appeared in the same year, 1727, coinciding with an initial wave of interest in Kōrin’s work after his death,[38] and both rely on motifs that Tōfū bijo hinakata established but add a new level of diversification to the landscape of Kōrin patterns. Kōrin hinagata wakamitori prominently includes the artist’s name (using the now broadly adopted characters 光林) in its title, signifying the marketability of the Kōrin label. Seeing no need to further specify the trademark, the preface of the book makes no mention of Kōrin,[39] and the artist’s name is not featured throughout the book as prominently as it is in Tōfū bijo hinakata, in which each design bears a large cartouche above it. Kōrin hinagata wakamitori underscores the catalogue nature of hinagata bon by labeling the designs with consecutive numbers. The designer, an unidentified man who called himself “Isako from the Capital” (Rakuyō Isako), also added a short description of each design, providing specifications on the materials and colors suitable for each composition (fig. 22). Hinagata itosusuki contains no such details—­apart from the numbering of each design—­and is generally plainer and more economical (fig. 23). The book’s designer, Hasegawa Kiyohisa, only refers to Kōrin patterns in the preface and not in the rest of the publication. The absence of designations of Kōrin patterns as such in Hinagata itosusuki suggests that its designer considered Kōrin patterns so easily recognizable that they did not require repeated identification throughout the book. The same is true in the case of Tōfū bijo hinakata and Kōrin hinagata wakamitori. The latter, however, uses Kōrin patterns not as freestanding designs that encompass entire garments but as parts of larger compositions that combine a range of different patterns, a feature that echoes a trend toward more complex composite kosode designs during the mid-­ to late eighteenth century.

Figure 22. Kōrin hinagata wakamitori (detail), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. From Imao Kazuo, ed., Edo moyō hinagata bon Kōrin hinagata wakamitori zen (Kyoto: Hakuōsha, 1972)

Figure 23. Hinagata itosusuki (detail), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. From Imao Kazuo, ed., Edo moyō Hinagata bon Kōrin moyō Hinagata itosusuki zen (Kyoto: Hakuōsha, 1972)

The development begun by Tōfū bijo hinakata paved the way for a full-­fledged embrace of Kōrin’s popular persona during the eighteenth century, indicated by Kōrin hinagata wakamitori, Hinagata itosusuki, and other hinagata books, many of which are exclusively devoted to Kōrin patterns. In particular, Tōfū bijo hinakata and Kōrin hinagata wakamitori provided templates for future hinagata bon and helped anchor Kōrin’s name in the public consciousness.[40] These publications were major sources for textiles designers, and, especially in the decades after the artist’s death, Kōrin patterns were increasingly desired by customers. The round plum blossoms devised by Kōrin were particularly conspicuous in the consumer culture of the Edo period. Kōrin patterns often migrated from textiles to other media, such as ceramics and painting, establishing a circle of mutual references that traversed all genres of the early modern arts. Regardless of the role that Kōrin himself may have played in creating his eponymous designs, his style had a profound impact on visual culture, and hinagata bon had a crucial part in disseminating and perpetuating his oeuvre.

Patterns and Paintings

Between 1711 and 1753, large numbers of hinagata bon came to include Kōrin patterns, indicating that such designs had become an established feature in early eighteenth-­century fashion. According to Kirihata Ken, a total of thirty-­three hinagata bon during this time span feature Kōrin patterns or patterns that follow his style; fourteen such catalogues are exclusively devoted to Kōrin patterns.[41] Kōrin patterns appeared in literature as early as 1717, one year after the artist died: the novella Seken musume katagi (The Character of Nowadays Daughters) mentions that the protagonist “obtained [a garment] with a Kōrin pattern.”[42] Two years later, the puppet-­theater play Keisei shimabara kaeru gassen (A Battle of Frogs at Shimabara Pleasure District) made reference to Kōrin pines.[43] Kōrin plums and Kōrin pines (two subjects that Kōrin himself painted on kosode) were the first hinagata patterns to be associated with his name, establishing a link between the painter’s textile paintings and hinagata bon. The vernacular popularity of Kōrin patterns also is reflected in the large number of kosode and other pieces of attire that dyers adorned with them. For reasons of cost, hinagata bon were mostly published in simple, monochromatic woodblock-­printed editions, but their designs as translated to textiles were gorgeously polychromatic. Several extant textiles attest to the colorful palette of Kōrin patterns’ actual uses. A kosode in the Nomura Collection at the National Museum of Japanese History displays a complex composition of Kōrin patterns in Yūzen dye (fig. 24).[44] Now mounted on a screen, the kosode depicts a series of “Kōrin plovers” (Kōrin chidori) that are included in Tōfū bijo hinakata as well as the characteristic Kōrin plums that appear in numerous other hinagata bon. As was the case on other kosode, the Kōrin patterns traverse the entirety of the piece, creating a symphony of color and form.

Figure 24. Screen with Kosode, first half of the 18th century. Shibori, yūzen dyeing, and painted pigments on silk crepe. National Museum of Japanese History, Sakura

The decorated areas of kosode generally consist of a back side and two smaller frontal parts, with the left overlapping the right when worn. The back provides the largest space for designs, but the decoration commonly extends to the sleeves and the front, enveloping the entire garment. Hinagata bon, however, usually only display the back of a kosode. This practice is in line with one of the presumed purposes of such publications. Rather than depicting complete garments, hinagata bon served as catalogues for sartorial motifs from which a customer could assemble her desired robe. The final kosode would be based on more intricate designs, such as those found among the extant documents of the Kariganeya. Prints and paintings by such artists as Nishikawa Sukenobu display a number of Kōrin patterns and approximate how a kosode would have looked when worn (figs. 25–­26). Yet Kōrin patterns were not exclusive to kosode and also appear in numerous Noh costumes—­“Kōrin pines” (Kōrin matsu), for example, grace an eighteenth-­century kataginu jacket used in kyōgen performances (fig. 27).

Figure 25. Nishikawa Sukenobu, Women Enjoying the Evening Cool, 18th century. Hanging scroll; ink and color on silk. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Figure 26. Standing figure wearing a garment with design of Kōrin plums (detail, fig. 25)

Figure 27. Kataginu with Design of Kōrin-­Style Pines and Bamboo on Light Blue Ground, 18th century. Private Collection, Japan. Image courtesy National Noh Theatre of Japan, Tokyo

Although many different channels contributed to the development of these patterns, the extant examples of Kōrin’s hand-­painted kosode reveal the degree to which his identity was linked to textiles. They also offer additional insights into the avenues by which hinagata designers may have accessed Kōrin’s oeuvre. The so-­called Fuyuki kosode, a garment of white twill onto which Kōrin brushed images of autumn flowers in ink and light colors, bears only a fragmentary resemblance to Kōrin patterns (fig. 28).[45] Probably produced during Kōrin’s late years, the kosode depicts chrysanthemums with clearly articulated petals, brushwork that Kōrin used in several of his paintings but that differed from the round, economical shapes of the flower in Kōrin patterns.[46] The overall painterly quality of the kosode contrasts with the stylized shapes of Kōrin patterns. Although the star-­shaped bellflower blossoms are similar to their equivalents in Kōrin patterns, the clearly articulated veins in their leaves contrast with their representation in hinagata bon and are more reminiscent of Kōrin’s personal sketches of the flower in the Konishi Family Archives.

Figure 28. Ogata Kōrin, Kosode with Design of Autumn Grasses, early 18th century. Ink and light color on white twill. Tokyo National Museum. Image: TNM Image Archives

Another short-sleeved garment, in the Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, presents a rare mirror image of hinagata patterns in a textile painting by Kōrin himself (figs. 29–­30).[47] Depicting plum branches in ink with blossoms added in white, the kosode has been cut apart and mounted on a pair of two-­panel folding screens. The style and brushwork of the painting leave little doubt that Kōrin himself brushed the sprawling floral arrangement onto the white satin surface, which bears an intricately woven ornament of clover. On the back of the kosode, a slender branch emerges from the lower hem and traverses the expanse of the white ground. It reaches out toward a second bough that begins on the garment’s upper right side and curves upward to erupt in a bouquet of blossoms on the right sleeve. The front sections, mounted onto a separate screen, carry an equally complex composition. The variety of thicknesses, directions, and shapes of Kōrin’s brushstrokes results in a surprisingly naturalistic rendering, despite the stylized frontality of most of the blossoms; the work required a painter of considerable skill. The quick strokes and overall expressiveness of the picture bring to mind the 1699 anecdote in Kōshoku fumi denju, of Kōrin adding pines in ink onto a white kosode, suggesting that the artist’s early appearance in literature may reflect his long-­standing practice of painting on textiles.

Figure 29. Ogata Kōrin, Kosode with Design of Plum Blossoms, early 18th century. Pair of two-­panel folding screens (right screen); ink and light color on white satin damask. Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, Tokyo

Figure 30. Ogata Kōrin, Kosode with Design of Plum Blossoms, early 18th century. Pair of two-­panel folding screens (left screen); ink and light color on white satin damask. Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, Tokyo

Works like the Hatakeyama kosode were admired as accomplished paintings. This is evidenced by the fact that Kōrin signed the work and thereby labeled it as an unmistakable original by his hand. The kosode bears a prominent signature, “Jotting by Seisei Kōrin” (Seisei Kōrin manga), alongside his round “Dōsū” seal. The pseudonym used in the seal was divined for Kōrin in 1704, shortly before his first departure for Edo, and he used the seal throughout his activities there, until around 1709.[48] The placement of the signature and seal reflects Kōrin’s attention to detail and is reminiscent of his careful consideration of the overall composition of his paintings. He signed the work on the right frontal section; the left side of the garment would have concealed the signature, and only the wearer would know of its existence. Yet the subject of plum blossoms rendered in Kōrin’s characteristic style would hardly have required a visible signature to identify the artist. A few years later, Kōrin’s name increasingly appeared in hinagata publications, suggesting a possible correlation between his textile paintings and Kōrin patterns.

Given Kōrin’s use of the pseudonyms “Seisei” and “Dōsū,” the Hatakeyama kosode probably dates to the time of or shortly after his return to Kyoto, around 1709. This date roughly overlaps with the period when Kōrin patterns emerged. Despite natural divergences between paintings and prints, the kosode painting correlates with Kōrin plum patterns in various hinagata publications. The rendering of the thick branch on the front left of Kōrin’s kosode is comparable to one of the earliest Kōrin patterns in Hinagata Gion hayashi. The different plum motifs in Tōfū bijo hinakata also resemble the overall stylistic features of the Hatakeyama kosode (fig. 31). Further, the book adheres to the three types of blossoms that Kōrin commonly included in his paintings of plums: frontal views of fully opened blossoms; side views of opened blossoms showing three petals; and the stamen and round buds. Both the kosode and the hinagata bon share these idiosyncratic details of Kōrin’s works.

Figure 31. Tōfū bijo hinakata (Kōrin plums), 1727. Woodblock print on paper. From Ueno Saeko, ed., Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1974)

Although it is impossible to know whether the maker of Tōfū bijo hinakata or other hinagata designers saw works like the Hatakeyama kosode, their fidelity to Kōrin’s stylistic peculiarities suggests that they could have had access to textile paintings by the artist. Kōrin may have painted other kosode through which textile makers accessed elements of his artistry, and which they used as foundations for conceiving an increasing range of Kōrin patterns.

Perhaps it was Kōrin’s mastery of ink on textile that prompted garment designers to turn to his style. Ink was popular in textile designs, and hinagata bon emphasize the suitability of that material to Kōrin patterns.[49] Around the Shōtoku era (1711–­16), when Kōrin’s name first began to appear in hinagata bon, ink was one of the most desired materials in textile design, leading Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei to declare pictures of plum blossoms brushed in ink on a white kosode to be the embodiment of elegance (fūryū).[50] In addition, books like Hinagata Gion hayashi specify ink as one of the most suitable materials for Kōrin patterns. Ink, Kōrin’s medium of choice in his extant kosode paintings, draws a material connection between the artist’s own works and his hinagata persona, and the artist’s paintings on textiles might have offered an early template of his style for hinagata designers. Thus, it is not surprising that plum blossoms, a traditional ink painting subject, was the earliest Kōrin pattern to be published. The fact that ink was a desired aesthetic and material in kosode designs may have led pattern designers to search for inspiration among Kōrin’s ink paintings, such as those of plum blossoms. In general, Kōrin patterns of plum blossoms and similar subjects are closest to Kōrin’s paintings in ink. In this way, they adhere to the popularity of the flower in ink painting. The two curved, modulating lines that largely compose Kōrin plum patterns in Hinagata Gion hayashi and other hinagata bon are idiosyncratic features of the artist’s ink paintings, reflecting his early popular association with the material and its aesthetic in Kōshoku fumi denju and Kōrin patterns.

Although Kōrin may not have been actively involved in the formation of Kōrin patterns, his artistic proximity to the vogues of his time inevitably established a tangible connection between the private world of his works and the public realm of vernacular culture. By way of this avenue, a filtered version of Kōrin’s artistry became accessible to a broad array of artists, leading to an expansion of the meaning of “Kōrin” after the painter’s death.

Diversifying Kōrin Patterns

From their use in textiles, Kōrin patterns were translated into other artistic media and genres. The 1730s witnessed the strongest concentration of hinagata bon with an exclusive focus on Kōrin patterns, instigating a migration of such patterns to model books for paintings and other arts. Nonomura Chūbei (dates unknown), who compiled Kōrin ehon michi shirube (Illustrated Guide to Kōrin, 1735), played a central role in bridging the transition of Kōrin patterns from textiles to other arts.[51] The book was circulated by Kikuya Kihei, the publisher of the 1727 reprint of Tōfū bijo hinakata.[52] The bold forms and abbreviated character of Chūbei’s images make clear reference to previous hinagata bon, such as Tōfū bijo hinakata, betraying his activities as a designer of hinagata patterns.

Calling himself a “Kōrin painter” (Kōrin eshi), Chūbei published the pattern catalogues Hinagata someiro no yama (Mountain of Dye-­Colored Patterns, 1732) and Hinagata otowa no taki (Otowa Waterfall Patterns, 1737), both also through Kikuya Kihei.[53] Some designs in Hinagata someiro no yama precede those in Kōrin ehon michi shirube. In fact, the first image in Hinagata someiro no yama is effectively a combination of the first two in Kōrin ehon michi shirube (figs. 32–­33). This correspondence in designs provides evidence for the considerable overlap between Chūbei’s hinagata patterns and his model book of Kōrin’s style. But rather than exclusively duplicating images from hinagata bon, Chūbei followed the broader notion of Kōrin patterns—­simplified forms with prominent, smooth outlines—­and concocted his own image of Kōrin. In this way, he manifested the essence of what it meant to be a “Kōrin painter”: rather than adhering to the artist Kōrin in the manner of a pupil, a Kōrin painter embraced the general, public image of Kōrin patterns—­a persona removed from the actual artist—­and strove to establish his own original position within it. This process instigated a diversification of the idea of “Kōrin,” turning the human being into a flexible, abstract concept:

Figure 32. Nonomura Chūbei, Kōrin ehon michi shirube, 1735. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo University of the Arts

Figure 33. Nonomura Chūbei, Hinagata someiro no yama (detail), 1732. Woodblock print on paper. From Ueno Saeko, ed., Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1974)

This expanded notion of the artist and his oeuvre drew from a variety of sources that gradually blended hinagata patterns with other media. One of Chūbei’s sources was the model book Ehon tekagami (An Illustrated Book of Model Paintings, 1720), by the Kano-­trained painter Ōoka Shunboku (1680–­1763). In the sixth volume of Ehon tekagami, Shunboku included six images that he associated with Kōrin, such as plum blossoms, chrysanthemums, and plovers (figs. 34–­36).[55] Shunboku likely adapted the bold outlines and round forms in each image from hinagata publications, indicating the degree to which textile patterns helped determine Kōrin’s posthumous perception in painting. Ehon tekagami served as a source for Chūbei and thereby began a process of cross-­references that culminated in the complex potpourri of agents that determined Kōrin’s persona.

Figure 34. Ōoka Shunboku, Ehon tekagami (An Illustrated Book of Model Paintings) (detail), 1720. Woodblock print on paper, 26.50 x 17.80 cm. British Museum, London, 1973,0723,0.166. Photograph: © Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 35. Ōoka Shunboku, Ehon tekagami (An Illustrated Book of Model Paintings) (detail), 1720. Woodblock print on paper, 26.50 x 17.80 cm. British Museum, London, 1973,0723,0.166. Photograph: © Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 36. Ōoka Shunboku, Ehon tekagami (An Illustrated Book of Model Paintings) (detail), 1720. Woodblock print on paper, 26.50 x 17.80 cm. British Museum, London, 1973,0723,0.166. Photograph: © Trustees of the British Museum

Chūbei is the only commentator on Kōrin’s work who makes direct reference to ceramic paintings as a source of inspiration. Some images in Shunboku’s Ehon tekagami and Chūbei’s Kōrin ehon michi shirube resemble the decoration of ceramics by Kōrin’s brother Kenzan (1663–­1743), providing evidence for the role of Kenzan ware in proliferating Kōrin’s legacy. For example, the second image in Kōrin ehon michi shirube that depicts plum blossoms evokes the iron-­oxide images found in Kenzan ware and alludes to Kōrin patterns of the subject (fig. 37). The same holds true for other designs, such as that of plovers above waves, which are reminiscent of both an iron-­oxide painting by Kōrin at the Cleveland Museum of Art and designs in hinagata bon such as Tōfū bijo hinakata (figs. 38–­39).

Figure 37. Ogata Kenzan, Dish with Design of Plum Blossoms, ca. 1712–­31. Set of five dishes, 12.60 x 0.6–­1 cm. Museum für Asiatische Kunst, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1972–­13 a-­2. Photograph: Juliane Wernicke

Figure 38. Ogata Kōrin (Japanese, 1658–­1716) and Ogata Kenzan (Japanese, 1663–­1743), Square Dish with Design of Plovers over Waves, ca. 1700. Kyoto ware; glazed earthenware with iron brown underglaze; overall: 22.00 x 22.00 x 2.70 cm (8 5/8 x 8 5/8 x 1 1/16 inches). The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, 1966.365

Figure 39. Nonomura Chūbei, Kōrin ehon michi shirube (detail), 1735. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo University of the Arts

Oka Yoshiko argues that, in his late work, Kenzan consciously adopted Kōrin patterns from hinagata bon, while Oyama Yuzuruha proposes that the designs of Kenzan ware acted as templates for hinagata designers.[56] She suggests that the first hinagata bon devoted to Kōrin patterns, Kōrin hinakata (which has not survived), coincided with Kōrin and Kenzan’s collaboration in ceramics.[57] The brothers’ joint efforts in iron-­oxide paintings on low-­fired wares likely did not begin before Kōrin’s return from Edo in 1709 and peaked around the early 1710s, roughly coinciding with Tōfū bijo hinakata and the proliferation of Kōrin’s name in hinagata bon. Kōrin patterns were already a more or less established trope at that time. Thus, rather than triggering the development of Kōrin patterns, Kenzan ware seems to have entered a symbiotic coexistence with hinagata culture, with both laying claim to Kōrin’s artistic prowess for self-­serving purposes. In the same way that hinagata designers used Kōrin as a trademark image, Kenzan appropriated this notion for his own ambitions. Two years after the publication of Kōrin ehon michi shirube, in Tōji seihō (Ceramic Techniques, 1737), Kenzan claimed, “I took care of technical aspects and patterns by consulting with Kōrin. The first pictures [on my ceramics] were all painted by Kōrin himself. The style of my pictures now exclusively follows Kōrin, but I also instilled them with new ideas of my own.”[58] Kenzan’s declaration is probably wishful thinking, but it tells of the prominence of Kōrin’s name by the mid-­eighteenth century. Oka observed that from the time of Kenzan’s Nijō Chōjiyamachi workshop, which he rented from 1712, the potter increasingly attempted to fashion his style after Kōrin.[59] The overlapping features of Kenzan ware’s decoration with hinagata designs reinforced his association with Kōrin.

Kōrin probably failed to establish a workshop that continued long after his death.[60] This lack of continuity in Kōrin’s studio made his artworks increasingly rarified, turning the considerable number of Kenzan’s late ceramics into a source that was more accessible to artists like Chūbei. Kenzan’s name, however, is entirely absent from hinagata bon and from model books like Kōrin ehon michi shirube. We cannot be sure whether Kenzan adopted Kōrin patterns from hinagata bon or whether hinagata bon looked to Kenzan in order to access Kōrin’s oeuvre. The fact that some features of Kōrin patterns, such as circular chrysanthemums, appeared in Kōrin and Kenzan’s collaborative ceramics at roughly the same time as the corresponding hinagata design was published complicates the issue (fig. 40). Kenzan remained close to Konishi Juichirō, Kōrin’s son and the purveyor of the artist’s legacy, so it is likely that he had access to Kōrin’s sketches and used them in decorating his pottery.[61] In this way, the potter employed an avenue to Kōrin similar to one that early designers of hinagata patterns may have used—­through access to the painter’s late workshop practice. It seems that rather than one preceding the other, Kenzan and hinagata designers of the first half of the eighteenth century formed a symbiotic relationship of mutual inspiration.

Figure 40. Ogata Kōrin and Ogata Kenzan, Dish with Design of Chrysanthemums, early 18th century. Glazed earthenware with iron brown underglaze. Yamato Bunkakan, Nara

Epilogue

Kōrin patterns’ chain of influence extended into the early nineteenth century. In addition to numerous hinagata designers, artists like Kenzan, Shunboku, and Chūbei acted as catalysts for late Edo-­period painters to access what they perceived as a reflection of Kōrin’s style. Hinagata bon—­and, by extension, Ehon tekagami and Kōrin ehon michi shirube—­provided sources for artists like Nakamura Hōchū (d. 1819), whose bold forms with ubiquitous thick outlines in ink possibly found inspiration in Chūbei’s adaption of Kōrin’s hinagata identity. Although Kōrin patterns began to disappear from hinagata bon by the late eighteenth century, the influence of Kōrin ehon michi shirube continued, and Kōrin patterns lived on in that publication and in others—­such as Ehon tekagami, to which artists like Hōchū seem to have referred.[62] Hōchū’s embrace of what he perceived as Kōrin’s style reached a peak with his 1802 book, Kōrin gafu (An Album of Paintings by Kōrin).[63] The work is a combination of polychromatic prints and hand-­colored elements, and it represents Hōchū’s personal homage to Kōrin. Hōchū presents his individual take on the painter and reveals that he probably made use of Ehon tekagami and Kōrin ehon michi shirube to craft his image of Kōrin.[64] For example, Kōrin gafu contains an ink-­heavy, morphing branch with plum blossoms, rendered in prominent outlines, that are reminiscent of the hinagata-­inspired plums in Kōrin ehon michi shirube (figs. 41–­42). Hōchū used the same style in his numerous paintings of plum blossoms and thereby anchored the hinagata pattern in the arts of the brush. Among others, we also find a flock of repetitive plovers flying above stylized water that closely resembles the corresponding hinagata pattern and the model in Kōrin ehon michi shirube (fig. 43). The title of Chūbei’s work alone may have led Hōchū to use it as a means of accessing the oeuvre of a painter who had been dead for close to a hundred years. Chūbei’s espousal of hinagata designs in Kōrin ehon michi shirube firmly established Kōrin patterns as a determining aspect of Kōrin’s artistic legacy.

Figure 41. Nonomura Chūbei, Kōrin ehon michi shirube (detail), 1735. Woodblock print on paper. Tokyo University of the Arts

Figure 42. Nakamura Hōchū, Kōrin gafu (detail), 1802. Woodblock print; ink and color on paper, 27.3 x 19.2 x 0.6 cm. Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC: Purchase, The Gerhard Pulverer Collection—­Charles Lang Freer Endowment, Friends of the Freer and Sackler Galleries and the Harold P. Stern Memorial fund in appreciation of Jeffrey P. Cunard and his exemplary service to the Galleries as chair of the Board of Trustees (2003–­2007), FSC-­GR-­780.436.1–­2

Late Edo-­period commentators on Kōrin’s work also associated Kōrin patterns with the artist—­and, by extension, with other members of the Ogata clan. Asaoka Okisada (1800–­1856), in his biography of painters, Koga bikō (Notes on Ancient Paintings, begun in 1850), writes that Kōrin’s elder brother Tōzaburō, who inherited the failing Kariganeya, “drew Kōrin patterns” (Kōrin moyō o kakidaseshi).[65] In the same passage, Okisada further connects Kenzan ware with Kōrin patterns by linking both to Tōzaburō’s work as the head of the garment business. Okisada’s claim is far-­fetched and cannot be verified, but it illustrates that he saw visual connections among the textile industry, Kōrin patterns, and Kenzan’s ceramics. By crediting Kōrin’s immediate circle with the creation of Kōrin patterns, Okisada also seems to have considered the patterns’ faithfulness to Kōrin’s style close enough to merit the direct involvement of the Ogata family. While hinagata bon laid the foundations, publications like Kōrin ehon michi shirube extended the impact of early modern fashion on Kōrin’s posthumous persona into the early nineteenth century. This holistic reception of Kōrin’s work also perpetuated his association with textiles. In 1791, a decade before Hōchū’s Kōrin gafu, Kanzawa Tokō (1710–­1795) wrote in his novella Okinagusa that Kōrin supposedly conceived a kosode ensemble for the wife of Nakamura Kuranosuke (1668–­1730), a wealthy silver mint official and one of Kōrin’s major benefactors.[66] The anecdote, in combination with Hōchū’s espousal of motifs and forms adapted from hinagata patterns, illustrates how deeply engrained Kōrin’s association with the world of early modern fashion had become. This process was set in motion by Kōrin himself. He constructed parts of his persona as a painter by adopting elements of his family business’s garment designs, an artistic decision that probably is reflected in the painter’s embrace by hinagata culture. Through a process that instituted a complex reception of the artist’s work, and continued into the dawn of the modern era, hinagata bon served to shape and preserve Kōrin’s memory in the public realm.

Figure 43. Nakamura Hōchū, Kōrin gafu (detail), 1802. Woodblock print; ink and color on paper, 27.3 x 19.2 x 0.6 cm. Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC: Purchase, The Gerhard Pulverer Collection—­Charles Lang Freer Endowment, Friends of the Freer and Sackler Galleries and the Harold P. Stern Memorial fund in appreciation of Jeffrey P. Cunard and his exemplary service to the Galleries as chair of the Board of Trustees (2003–­2007), FSC-­GR-­780.436.1–­2

Frank Feltens, PhD (Columbia University), 2016, is The Japan Foundation Assistant Curator of Japanese Art at the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. His work focuses on early modern Japanese painting. Recent publications include “Shinshutsu Sensōji zō Sakai Hōitsu shita-­e Namu Butsuan honzon tenjiku butsuzōki ni tsuite” [A newly discovered handscroll at Sensōji with underpaintings by Sakai Hōitsu] (Kokka, October 2015). He is currently preparing a book manuscript on the life and art of Ogata Kōrin. E-mail: feltensf​@si​.edu

Notes

1. “Kōrin moyō” was an established term in early modern hinagata bon, whereas Kōrin mon’yō is largely confined to modern use.

2. Although Kōrin also sold works through professional art dealers, the bulk of his early benefactors—­such as the high-­ranking aristocrat Nijō Tsunahira (1672–­1732), wealthy townsmen like the silver mint official Nakamura Kuranosuke (1668–­1730), and daimyo lords, namely from the Sakai and Tsugaru families—­hailed from the early modern upper class.

3. Kamiya Eiko provides a comprehensive history of the kosode and illustrates the garment’s twofold process of development. Among the upper classes, kosode began as undergarments for the multilayered robes worn by women during the Heian period. According to illustrated handscrolls, however, kosode were customarily worn by commoners during physical labor already by the twelfth century, before the garment became the general attire worn by men and women from the late Momoyama period (1573–­1600) onward. See Kamiya Eiko, Kosode, Nihon no bijutsu 67 (Tokyo: Shibundō, 1971).

4. Terry Satsuki Milhaupt, Kimono: A Modern History (London: Reaktion Books, 2014), 32–­54. For a synopsis of hinagata bon in English, also see Jack Hillier, The Art of the Japanese Book, vol. 1 (London: Sotheby’s Publications, 1987), 112–­17.

5. Maruyama Nobuhiko, “Kōrin mon’yō no hassei to tenkai,” in Kōgei to Rinpa kankaku no tenkai, Rinpa bijutsukan 4 (Tokyo: Shūeisha, 1993), 109–­19; Maruyama Nobuhiko, Edo mōdo no tanjō: mon’yō no ryūkō to sutā eshi (Tokyo: Kadokawa Gakugei Shuppan, 2008); Nagasaki Iwao, “Kōrin moyō no ryūkō to haikei,” in Kōrin dezain (Kyoto: Tankōsha, 2005), 158–­79; and Oyama Yuzuruha, Kōrin moyō, Nihon no bijutsu 524 (Tokyo: Gyōsei, 2010).

6. Monica Bethe has explained that textile manufacturers recognized the marketability of theater actors. By commissioning special patterns or dyes, which actors would wear on stage, textile manufacturers often instigated a surge in popular demand for such garments. See Monica Bethe, “The Significance of Color,” in Kosode: 16th–­19th Century Textiles from the Nomura Collection, ed. Amanda Mayer Stinchecum (New York: Japan Society; Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1984), 59–­76, especially 61–­62.

7. Hinagata bon were intended for all classes of Edo-­period society. The 1713 Shōtoku hinagata, for example, is divided into sections of designs considered suitable for each social class, from aristocrats and warriors to courtesans and bathhouse girls. Judging from extant examples and paintings, Kōrin patterns were largely confined to robes worn by urban commoners and Noh actors, while the warrior elite preferred a different set of designs. It thus appears that the clientele for Kōrin’s paintings did not embrace the kosode patterns associated with his name. Milhaupt, Kimono, 54.

8. The majority of early modern hinagata bon originated with Kyoto-­ or Osaka-­based publishers. Most Edo-­printed examples were republications of earlier hinataga bon produced in the Kansai area. For example, the earliest publication that included Kōrin patterns, Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei, was compiled by the Kyoto painter Imura Katsuyoshi in 1712. Katsuyoshi also made other hinagata bon, such as Shinpan wakoku hiinakata taizen (1698) and Tanzen hiinakata (1704). The Kyoto ukiyo-­e artist Nishikawa Sukenobu (1671–­1750), among others, was also active in composing a number of hinagata bon. Some creators of textile patterns—­such as Matsune Takatō, who compiled Hinagata Gion hayashi (1714)—­made overt references to their Kyoto origins in their signatures. Takatō called himself a “Kyoto painter” (rakuyō eshi), confirming the importance of the city as a center for hinagata bon production. An example of Osaka publishers is Kashiya Kiyoemon, who printed considerable numbers of hinagata bon with Kōrin patterns during the late Edo period. See, for example, Maruyama, Edo mōdo no tanjō, 117–­87. See also Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 21–­32; and Sugimoto Yoshihisa, “Kyō no machi eshi: Ogata Kōrin no ishōsei to Kōrin mon’yō,” Kurokawa kobunkan kenkyūjo kiyō Kobunka kenkyū 7 (February 2008): 61.

9. Irises carries Kōrin’s early “Iryō” (also read “Koresuke”) seal, which he used until around 1704, together with his “Hokkyō Kōrin” signature. The artist abbreviated the first character of his name in a way that is characteristic of his earliest works, indicating that Irises was made soon after he received the hokkyō sobriquet. Yamane Yūzō argued for a date of production between 1701 and 1704, but Igarashi Kōichi recently proposed the narrower margin of 1701 to 1702. See Yamane Yūzō, Kōrin kenkyū ichi, Yamane Yūzō chosakushū 3 (Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Bijutsu Shuppan, 1995), 59–­61, 188; and Igarashi Kōichi, Kinsei Kyōto gadan no nettowaaku: chūmonnushi to eshi (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2010), 167.

10. Kōrin repeated the arrangement of irises from the first two panels of the right screen on the fourth and fifth panels of the same screen. The cluster of flowers on the first two panels of the left screen is repeated on the second and third panels. The corresponding floral patterns were first discovered by Kosugi Kazuo, who drew attention to their similarities to stencil use in textile designs. See Kosugi Kazuo, “Kakitsubata zu byōbu ni mirareru kata no shiyō,” Sansai 130 (September 1960): 35–­38.

11. Noguchi Takeshi observed that the repetitive clusters of irises on the right screen correspond to flowers on the third, fourth, and sixth panels of the right screen of Irises at Yatsuhashi. He also found that irises on the left screens of Irises and Irises at Yatsuhashi—­on the fourth to sixth, as well as the fourth and fifth panels, respectively—­overlap. These correspondences are not always exact, but they suggest Kōrin’s use of model books and his attempt at creating continuity within his oeuvre. See Noguchi Takeshi, “Yatsuhashi zu byōbu ni kan suru oboegaki,” in Kōrin ten Kokuhō Kakitsubata zu to Metoroporitan bijutsukan shozō Yatsuhashi zu (Tokyo: Nezu Bijutsukan, 2012), 75–­85; and Noguchi Takeshi, “Yatsuhashi zu byōbu kō: Kakitsubata zu byōbu kara no zuyō keishō o meguru mondai o chūshin ni,” Shikun 5 (2013): 55–­72.

12. Yoshida Kōichi, ed., Kōshoku fumi denju, Kōshoku nishikigi, Koten bunko 604 (Tokyo: Koten Bunko, 1997), 324.

13. Kōrin’s contemporaries considered adding paintings to expensive textiles an expression of artistic acumen. Ihara Saikaku writes in his Wankyū issei no monogatari of 1685 that the fan painter Miyazaki Yūzen (1654?–­1736?) painted a scene from the Tale of Genji onto a kosode worn by the wealthy merchant Wan’ya Kyūbei: “A man called Wankyū, famous in Osaka’s Sakaisuji, donned a long haori jacket of white satin with stripes in light yellow that carried an ink painting of the Genji by Yūzen. As people saw him, they felt there was a never a time with better garments than now.” Translated after Kirihata Ken, “Hinagata bon ni miru Kōrin mon’yō: funpon toshite no hinagata,” Ōtemae joshi daigaku ronshū 29 (1995): 72. Yūzen’s case resembles that of Kōrin, as the painter was featured heavily in hinagata bon. As with Kōrin, it is unclear whether Yūzen engineered or endorsed his own reception through textiles, but his public presence via textile-­related publications far exceeded his fame as a painter. In the popular imagination, however, the name Yūzen was synonymous with the vogues of the late seventeenth century, foreshadowing Kōrin’s appropriation by the textile industry some years later. Kōshoku fumi denju was republished in 1753 with the title Fūryū fumi hyōban, further contributing to Kōrin’s association with textile paintings. See Peter F. Kornicki, The Book in Japan: A Cultural History from the Beginnings to the Nineteenth Century (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2001), 350.

14. On Kōrin’s early steps as a painter, as well as his involvement with the Noh theater, see Frank Feltens, “Ogata Kōrin (1658–­1716) and the Possibilities of Painting in Early Modern Japan” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 2016), 26–­86, 122–­27.

15. Hinagata bon served three basic functions: as advertisements for textile makers, as pattern catalogues, and as templates for dyers. See Milhaupt, Kimono, 32–­54.

16. A deity that appears in the Nihon shoki (dated to 720). The chronicle describes how Wakahirume no mikoto was working in the sacred weaving hall when she was startled and killed by Susano’o no mikoto, a god of wind. For a full citation, see William G. Aston, trans., Nihongi, Chronicles of Japan from the Earliest Times to A.D. 697 (London: K. Paul, Trench, Trubner; New York: E. P. Dutton, 1924), 45–­46.

17. The sun goddess and one of Shintō’s main deities.

18. A Shintō deity of food. Aston, Nihongi, 33.

19. The story of Kurehatori and Ayahatori is recorded in the Nihon shoki. They are also the protagonists of the Noh play Kureha.

20. Kibi no Makibi, a statesman of the Nara period (710–­794). He traveled to Tang China on a diplomatic mission and is said to have remained there for seventeen years.

21. The preface is transcribed in Ueno Saeko, Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei kaisetsu kaidai, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1974), 23.

22. Milhaupt, Kimono, 46.

23. A similar pattern of plum blossoms was included a year earlier in another publication, Shinsen tōryū sōshō hinakata (1711), albeit without an attribution to Kōrin. Shinsen tōryū sōshō hinakata features a design of plum blossoms that resembles that in Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei. See Kirihata, “Hinagata bon ni miru Kōrin mon’yō,” 75.

24. Other publications that directly succeeded Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei, such as Shōtoku hinagata (1713), adopt a similar shape.

25. Kirihata Ken has surveyed the contents of a large variety of hinagata bon with Kōrin patterns. See Kirihata, “Hinagata bon ni miru Kōrin mon’yō,” 75–­76. See also Maruyama, “Kōrin mon’yō no hassei to tenkai,” 117–­19; and Oyama, Kōrin moyō, especially 20–­37.

26. The level of faithfulness to Kōrin’s oeuvre in Tōfū bijo hinakata has led Oyama to speculate that the book may have been created by or with the involvement of Kōrin himself. See Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 29.

27. A now-­lost hinagata bon, entitled Kōrin hinakata, was published between 1711 and 1716. It marks the first publication to include Kōrin’s name in its title. See Ueno Saeko, Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei kaidai, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1974), 9–­10.

28. Literally, “they say that puppets, too, should be clad in costumes” (世話に人形も衣装とやらんいいし).

29. The preface is part of the 1727 reprint of Tōfū bijo hinakata. See Ueno, Kosode moyō hinagata bon shūsei kaidai, 9.

30. “. . . In the meantime, I have been receiving commissions for paintings from various clients [tokorodokoro]. I quickly finished a pair of chrysanthemums screens. Kō[ken?] is also well and I take him along to appointments [with clients] to paint. . . .” Yamane, Kōrin kenkyū ichi, 78–­80.

31. Yamane Yūzō, ed., Konishi-­ke kyūzō Kōrin kankei shiryō to sono kenkyū (Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Bijutsu Shuppan, 1962), 130.

32. “. . . When I work at night, my hands and legs become numb—­signs of old age, I think. Now I have [no more than] a decade to live. It pains me that [life] passes by like this. . . .” Yamane, Kōrin kenkyū ichi, 82–­84.

33. Maruyama, Edo mōdo, 145.

34. Yamane, Konishi-­ke kyūzō, 122–­23.

35. Yamane, Konishi-­ke kyūzō, 143–­45, 150.

36. All hinagata bon that included Kōrin patterns prior to 1715—­that is, before Tōfū bijo hinakata—­label the designs with the characters 光琳. Their total number is far smaller than the number of publications that followed Tōfū bijo hinakata and adopted the characters 光林.

37. These hinagata bon were published just months apart. Kōrin hinagata wakamitori appeared in the fifth month of 1727. Published in Kyoto by Ogawa Hikokurō, the book was the first catalogue of Kōrin patterns to be circulated in Edo. Hinagata itosusuki was produced by the Osaka publisher Ōtsukaya Sōbei in the third month of that year. See Imao Kazuo, ed., Edo moyō hinagata bon Kōrin moyō hinagata itosusuki (Kyoto: Hakuōsha, 1972), 1–­2; see also Maruyama, “Kōrin mon’yō,” 117–­119; and Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 29. On Kōrin hinagata wakamitori, see also Kazuo, Edo moyō hinagata bon Kōrin hinagata wakamitori, 1–­2; and Toriimoto Yukiyo, “Kōrin hinagata wakamitori ni miru Kōrin moyō ni tsuite,” Nihon fukushoku gakkaishi 20 (2001): 93–­102.

38. Scholars observed that, around the mid-­eighteenth century, a surge of interest in Rinpa-­related kosode designs occurred. See, for example, Amanda Mayer Stinchecum, “Kosode: Techniques and Designs,” in Kosode: 16th–­19th Century Textiles from the Nomura Collection, 55–­57.

39. The preface is transcribed in Ueno Saeko, “Kōrin hinagata wakamitori kaisetsu,” in Edo moyō hinagata bon Kōrin hinagata wakamitori zen (Kyoto: Hakuōsha, 1972), 2.

40. Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 30–­32.

41. See Kirihata, “Hinagata bon ni miru Kōrin mon’yō,” 75–­76.

42. Maruyama, “Kōrin mon’yō no hassei to tenkai,” 109.

43. Maruyama, Edo mōdo, 179.

44. Yūzen dye is a form of resist dyeing. Using a stencil, the outline of a design is laid out in starch paste. After the paste has dried, the dye is brushed onto the textile before the paste is washed away. The dye settles only in areas around the applied starch, leaving a motif in negative space. See Kirihata Ken, “Yūzen Dyeing: A New Pictorialism,” in When Art Became Fashion: Kosode in Edo-­Period Japan, ed. Dale Carolyn Gluckman (Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1992), 115–­31. The collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art includes a kosode fragment with a design that is nearly identical to that on the Nomura collection piece. See John Carpenter, Designing Nature: The Rinpa Aesthetic in Japanese Art (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2012), 131–­32, 140.

45. A second kosode that was painted by Kōrin and displays a similar image of autumn flowers is kept at the MOA Museum of Art, Atami.

46. The provenance of the so-­called Fuyuki kosode is uncertain, but the garment was acquired by the Fuyuki family of Edo-­based lumber merchants sometime during the Edo period and may have been commissioned by them as well. See Yamane Yūzō, “Ogata Kōrin hitsu Hakuchi akikusa moyō byaku-­e kosode,” Kokka 814 (January 1960): 18–­25.

47. On the kosode, see Hatakeyama Kinenkan, ed., Rinpa yoshū aigan (Tokyo: Hatakeyama Kinenkan, 2011), 34–­35, 98.

48. A number of paintings bearing the “Dōsū” seal survive: Waves (single two-­panel screen; round relief seal; Metropolitan Museum of Art); Scroll with Flowers of the Four Seasons (handscroll; dated Hōei 2 [1705]; round relief seal; cut up and dispersed among various private collections in Japan); Azaleas (hanging scroll; round relief seal; Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art); Misogi (hanging scroll; square relief seal; Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art); Murasaki Shikibu Writing the Tale of Genji (hanging scroll; square intaglio seal; MOA Museum of Art); Hotei on Horseback (hanging scroll; square intaglio seal; private collection, Japan); and Dragon Ascending a Waterfall (hanging scroll; square relief seal; dated to 1708; Miho Museum). Dragon Ascending a Waterfall was originally a painting of a waterfall by Kano Naonobu (1607–­1650); Kōrin added to it a dragon in ink and gold. Since Dragon Ascending a Waterfall is dated to 1708, it seems that Kōrin used the seal until around that time—­and perhaps after. Yamane proposed that Kōrin may have continued using that seal concurrently with later pseudonyms, such as “Masatoki” (also read “Hōshuku”). See Yamane, Kōrin kenkyū ichi, 60–­63. Kōrin sought celestial testing of the name “Dōsū” from the astrologer Nakane Genkei (1662–­1733) in 1704. A record of Genkei’s favorable prognostication is preserved among the Konishi Family Archives. See Yamane, Konishi-­ke kyūzō, 175.

49. For example, the earliest publication with Kōrin patterns, Shinpan fūryū hinagata taisei, proposes ink as an appropriate material for Kōrin plums: “On top and bottom [of the kosode] are Kōrin plums. The most fitting rendering is a pattern drawn in ink (sumi-­e no moyō). Mix in thin ink.”

50. Furuya Aiko, “Kōrin mon’yō no seiritsu to tenkai: kosode moyō o chūshin ni,” Fukushoku bigaku 33 (September 2001): 35–­36. The penchant for ink as a suitable material in kosode designs is continued by later publications, such as Kōrin hinagata wakamitori of 1727. Ueno, “Kōrin hinagata wakamitori kaisetsu,” 1–­2.

51. Koga bikō (1850) includes Chūbei as part of the Kōetsu school (Kōetsu ryū) and associates him with the Tawaraya atelier in Kaga domain (present-­day Ishikawa), although evidence to fully substantiate this claim is lacking. See Asaoka Okisada, Zōtei Koga bikō, vol. 3 (Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 1970), 1537. See also Furuya, “Kōrin mon’yō no seiritsu to tenkai,” 40; and Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 31.

52. Although Kōrin ehon michi shirube was printed in 1735, the 1727 version of Tōfū bijo hinakata includes Chūbei’s book in a list of publications of Kikuya Kihei’s business, indicating that Kōrin ehon michi shirube may have circulated concurrently with Tōfū bijo hinakata.

53. See Furuya, “Kōrin mon’yō no seiritsu to tenkai,” 40–­41. The designer of Hinagata itosusuki, Hasegawa Kiyohisa, also called himself a “Kōrin painter,” suggesting that the designation was an established category among hinagata designers.

54. The translation follows the Japanese transcription in Sugimoto, “Kyō no machi eshi,” 73–­74. Furuya Aiko has pointed out that Chūbei may have adopted the term “light brush” (keihitsu) from Ōoka Shunboku, who used the same terminology in reference to Kōrin in his Ehon tekagami. See Furuya, “Kōrin mon’yō no seiritsu to tenkai,” 40.

55. In his preface, Shunboku states that the images are modeled after the style of Kōrin, here written in the characters the artist himself used 光琳. Shunboku displays a lineup of plum blossoms, bellflowers, chrysanthemums, poppies, plovers and waves, and dandelions. On Shunboku and his appropriation of Kōrin’s style through hinagata bon, see Yasuda Atsuo, “Edo jidai ni okeru Kōrin zō no hensen ni tsuite (jō): Shōtoku-­Hōreki,” Aichi kyōiku daigaku kenkyū hōkoku 50 (March 2001): 97–­106, especially 101–­2.

56. Kenzan may have tried to capitalize on the surge of interest in Kōrin’s oeuvre prompted by hinagata patterns by incorporating them into his ceramics. See Oka Yoshiko, Kinsei Kyōyaki no kenkyū (Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 2011), 263–­67; and Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 38–­41.

57. Oyama, Kōrin moyō, 39.

58. Japanese quoted after Kawahara Masahiko, Kenzan, Nihon no bijutsu 154 (Tokyo: Shibundō, 1979), 22–­23.

59. After 1712, Kenzan seems to have referred to Kōrin’s lacquer designs and other samples of his brother’s work for the decoration of his pottery. See Richard L. Wilson, The Art of Ogata Kenzan: Persona and Production in Japanese Ceramics (New York: Weatherhill, 1991), 117–­18; and Oka, Kinsei Kyōyaki no kenkyū, 260–­61.

60. In his last will, Kōrin writes to his illegitimate son, Konishi Juichirō: “. . . You are my flesh and blood. But since I lack a family business, it was hard [for me] to provide security [for you] . . . ,” suggesting that Kōrin suspected that his atelier would not provide adequate funds for raising a child and would not merit his son to train as a painter to succeed him. The will, dating to 1713, is transcribed in Yamane, Konishi-­ke kyūzō, 148–­49.

61. Extant letters suggest that Kenzan remained in touch with Juichiro until at least 1743, the date of their last correspondence and the year of the potter’s death. Juichirō played a central role in managing in the Ogata family affairs, indicating that Kenzan likely had regular access to the Konishi Family Archives before his relocation to the Kantō region around 1731. Kenzan seems to have used Kōrin’s sketches for his ceramics. See, for example, Yamane, Konishi-­ke kyūzō, 186.

62. The 1778 publication Hinagata fudetsubana, for example, reproduces several images from Kōrin ehon michi shirube. See Furuya, “Kōrin mon’yō no seiritsu to tenkai,” 41.

63. Kōrin gafu is analyzed in Roger S. Keyes, Ehon: The Artist and the Book in Japan (New York: New York Public Library; Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2006), 148; and Matthew P. McKelway, Silver Wind: The Arts of Sakai Hōitsu (1761–­1828) (New York: Japan Society; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012), 78–­79. See also Kōrin o shitau: Nakamura Hōchū (Tokyo: Unsōdō, 2014). Hōchū’s life remains largely obscure. Kimura Shigekazu suggested that Hōchū was probably born in Kyoto and worked in Osaka for most of his life. Hōchū compiled Kōrin gafu during a brief residence at Edo. See his Nakamura Hōchū gashū (Kyoto: Fuji Āto Shuppan, 1991); and “Nakamura Hōchū no botsunen, Edo gekō, shi ni tsuite,” Museum 515 (February 1994): 14–­24.

64. The visual overlaps among Kōrin gafu, Ehon tekagami, and hinagata patterns were pointed out by Fukui Masumi in her “Nakamura Hōchū to sono jidai: Hōchū ni totte no Kōrin, haikai, Ōsaka,” Bigaku 208 (March 2002): 57–­59.

65. “The founder of Kenzan ware, Tōzaburō, drew Kōrin patterns.” Asaoka, Zōtei Koga bikō, 1543.

66. The anecdote in Okinagusa is as follows: “As Kuranosuke’s wife [arrived] late, [her] attendants were worried and since there was only little space left, her palanquin was announced and ushered inside. When Kuranosuke’s wife stepped out of her carriage, all gasped in awe. Her obi and habutae both were black in color while beneath she was entirely clad in white. Her garments consisted of many layers and when she smoothly exited [her palanquin] and calmly arrived at her seat it felt beyond everyone’s imaginations. . . . Originally, habutae were made of the highest quality Japanese silk, exclusively for the highest ranks of nobility. In this regard, wearing a habutae to a picnic for which [the ladies] had prepared many [kinds of] attires with mostly mosaic patterns in brocade of high quality, was superbly refined. Moreover, as the female attendants were leaving [the establishment], . . . the women on Kuranosuke’s side were twice as many than the other ladies and their robes, too, were elegantly [designed by] Kōrin.” See Sugimoto, “Kyō no machi eshi,” 69–­70.