[Burart diary] On the "Showa-Era Prints" I Discovered at a Ginza Gallery

On my way home from work, I dropped by a gallery in the Ginza area.

At this gallery, the proprietor minds the shop alone, and panels of prints stacked many layers deep are lined up like LP records, so that customers can flip through the panels one after another and purchase works.

The interior, occupied by artworks, is steadily losing space to the ever-multiplying number of pieces; with works set on the floor and crammed into every gap, this space-filling display succeeds in cultivating a sense of anticipation for hidden gems. The price tags on the works cluster around 10,000 yen, and you can even find pieces going for 1,000 yen.

Most of the works are prints, and you can sense the proprietor’s discerning eye. His remarks while attending to customers, on the other hand, are often meek—forever lamenting the status of prints in an art market on a path of steady decline. Though he repeats such lines as “Showa-era Japanese printmakers are magnificent, even in the light of history!”, the gap between those words and the low price tags reveals the proprietor’s timid inner self.

While searching through the works, I repeatedly end up inhaling great lungfuls of dust. It may be that the shop isn’t kept especially clean, but surely the visitors are also very few. Most of the works looked as though no human hand had touched them for a long time.

Among such works, there were also pieces that gave off a light of a different order. Works by the grand master Iwami Furusawa, when in good condition, are displayed at prices that hold a dignity above the other works, and even a simple drawing might be sold at the astonishing price of 10,000 yen.

He says he has been in business in Ginza since 1979, and I listened in silence to his account of how, amid the art recession, so many shops have been driven to close.

“Prints are harder than drawings. However much effort you put in, it just doesn’t pay off.” Even as he grumbled on and on, the moment I picked up a work he would call out in fine spirits, “You’ve got a good eye for a fine piece.”

In the end, I didn’t take out my wallet today. I think I’ll drop in once more on a day off.