In 1893, the celebrated French playwright Eugene Brieux (1858-1932) penned the following lines:

"Perched on the ledge of a high shelf, I dream of the gentle country where I was made. Around me one speaks a strange language, and they find it difficult to pronounce my name, 'Mikika.'"

Just who is this "Mikika"? Brieux goes on to describe his physical characteristics: "My head is shaved like an ostrich egg, except for two places where, like water pouring from a jug, two spewing streams of jet black hair long and straight. My head is like a globe, shining and polished, where one sees a narrow ear with a lobe and no fold. My almond eyes with fine eyebrows, my mouth is not so big, my forehead betrays no worries. My size, for which I am mocked, truly small, helps me avoid unpleasantness. My robe is like a marvelous birdsong presenting to the eyes, with exploding colors, golds, whites, blues, greens, amaranthine, and many other tones to create in singing scales a refrain of light." Brieux closes the first section of the poem with the following: "I am big, fat, round, large, with a serious expression of a warrior, and my feet by which these charms are supported, are bare."

The "Mikika" in question was none other than a Japanese gosho-ningyô (palace doll) in the personal collection of the French artist Jules Adeline (1845-1909). Mikika became something of a cause celebre in French artistic circles during the late 19th century, a time when much of Europe and America had fallen under the sway of Japanese art and aesthetics and Japonisme, the precursor to the art nouveau movement, was in full swing. Brieux's poem, with an adorable illustration by Adeline (Fig. 1) was distributed among a tight-knit circle of artists and connoisseurs of this "new" art form. Mikika was an iconic image, a mascot of sorts, well familiar to the likes of the influential art critic Philippe Burty (1830-1890) as well as the founder and major progenitor of the Art Nouveau movement, Siegfried Bing (1838-1905). The art nouveaux glass-maker Emile Galle (1846-1904) himself referred to Mikika as an "ambassador linking us together."

Mikika was indeed an ambassador of sorts, but he was not alone. With the opening of Japan to trade and tourism in the late 19th century, Japanese dolls, known as ningyô, were finding their way into the Western marketplace with surprising speed. Made available through shops such as Siegfried Bing's or Madame Oesoye's Jonque Chinoise on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris, ningyô were becoming a ubiquitous part of the artistic and cultural landscape. Toulouse Lautrec (1864-1901) even had his picture taken sporting a Japanese kimono and lacquered court cap, and holding an ichimatsu-style ningyô in his lap.

Like many of the aesthetic forms which first captured the public imagination, however, few of the period ever delved behind the surfaces to understand the meanings or traditions which lay underneath, say, the kimono which adorned many a society grande dame, or the fans which peppered the walls of the salons, or, indeed, the ningyô which inspired the pens of the poets and the brushes of the artists of the day. So despite this early interest and exposure, few, even today, know much about these wonderful sculptures, these dolls from a distant land. Again, using Mikika as our ambassador, we will explore in brief the form he so beautifully exemplified, the Japanese gosho-ningyô.

The term gosho literally means "palace," and it is amidst the imperial court of 18th-century Japan that we must first look to find the origins of Mikika. Today, Japan's gift-giving customs are well known, even legendary. This is not a new corporate rite or ritual introduced by modern industry. Gift exchange in recognition of favors received or honor bestowed was an important part of classic Japanese culture. Within the imperial palace, on occasions of particular note, dolls were frequently given, both to fellow members of the aristocracy and to visitors to this rarified realm. (Fig. 2) During the Edo period (1615-1868), it was part of official protocol for military lords (daimyo) to pay respect to the emperor in Kyoto, bringing with them an impressive array of gifts. An itemized list of this tribute (mokuroku) was presented to the emperor, and, in acknowledgment, a doll was given to these powerful military lords. By the mid 1700's this type of doll became somewhat codified, typically depicting a corpulent male child of three years of age, either naked or with a small haragake bib, frequently holding an auspicious object conveying wishes for health, longevity, prosperity, martial success, or enhanced fertility (Fig.3). These dolls are now generally referred to as gosho-ningyô or palace dolls.

An odd choice of gift for a military commander? It would certainly appear so to the outside observer. But with centuries of development behind them, fulfilling a myriad of roles far beyond our limited sense of play and cute, ningyô represented to the Japanese a rich, symbolic, and potent tradition, and were therefore perceived as an entirely appropriate gift for such moments. Similarly, and in a slightly more modern context, when formal gifts were exchanged between the Japanese and American governments at the conclusion of treaty negotiations opening Japan to Western trade in 1854, Izawa Masayoshi, the official Reception Commissioner and one of the four plenipotentiaries who negotiated the treaty with Commodore Perry, included among his gifts to the American legation several gosho-ningyô. Trying to imagine an analogous moment when Nixon first went to China in 1972 or Regan first clasped the hand of Gorbachev in 1985 that among the official gifts acknowledging this solemn moment would be a Gi Joe or a Malibu Barbie seems ludicrous beyond belief. But such is the importance of ningyô within Japanese traditional culture that we must set aside our biases, preconceptions, and values which we in the West have historically attributed to dolls and endeavor to see ningyô in a different light.

Prized by the military lords who received them, gosho-ningyô were brought back to these lords' respective provinces and displayed with pride. What originally began as a closed rite within the imperial palace gradually became known to the larger world, and their popularity as gifts spread beyond the palace grounds, eventually becoming more common practice among other sectors of Japanese society. Initially, it is assumed that the gosho-ningyô presented to the daimyo were created by ateliers officially designated as suppliers to the imperial court, known as goyô-shônin. These imperial craftsmen had over the years achieved a level of distinction which elevated them above the rest of their peers earning them the honor of supplying products for consumption by the emperor himself and his household.

With the rise in popularity of the gosho form extending far beyond the imperial residence in Kyoto, by the later half of the 18th century, other makers and shopkeepers became actively involved in their creation and sale. As with many ningyô forms, it is frequently difficult to identify the maker or specific atelier which handled their distribution. Unlike paintings and many other classic art forms, ningyo of the Edo period are rarely signed. Storage boxes which were used to protect these fragile objects when not displayed sometimes bear signatures or other indications of provenance (Fig. 4). On rare occasions a paper gift tag may still be attached to the doll indicating either its intended recipient or the occasion which sponsored the gift. On even more rare occasions paper documents may have been handed down with the doll indicating its previous owners or other details. A small gosho-ningyô in the Hannig collection, in addition to being quite lovely, came with an impressive set of documents linking the piece to the Meiji Empress (1849-1914) who gifted it to the imperial nunnery "Chika-in" (Fig. 5).

Anatomy of a Gosho-ningyô

But what is a gosho-ningyô? As described in the poem by Brieux, gosho-ningyô are easily recognized by their chubby proportions. The head, body, and legs frequently form three relatively equal proportions, creating not so much a natural look, but something quite stylized. In distinction from many other Japanese doll forms, the bodies are generally fully carved, their sex clearly depicted. The majority of gosho-ningyô are depicted seated with one of the legs extended towards the front. In one hand, they generally grasp an object symbolic of a desired quality: helmets represent military prowess, a peach or a turtle symbolizes longevity, a Buddhist pearl known as a tama symbolizes wisdom, a treasure ship, wealth, etc. A doll holding a tachi-bina from the Girl's Day display, for example, evokes this celebration (Fig. 6). The array of objects and associated symbols is virtually endless.

In terms of construction, their bodies are either carved of wood, molded from a wood composite known as toso, or modeled from clay. Over the entire surface, layers of a distinctive white material known as gofun is applied like a lacquer. Gofun, also known as "shell-white," is made from a mixture of pulverized oyster shell combined with an animal glue binder (nikawa). Each layer is applied and then burnished to a fine sheen. The result is a startlingly white surface that is frequently mistaken for porcelain by the uninitiated. The tonal qualities of the gofun surfaces of each doll vary based on the relative ratio of nikawa to oyster shell, with the gelatinous properties of the nikawa providing the sheen. Age and patination also add to the rich luster of the best examples of ningyô. The painted details of the face, such as the red of the lips or the black of the eyebrows were formed through a mixture of pigments and gofun to create a more reliable adhesion with the sub-surface. Although gofun is a signature element in most categories of ningyô, it is in the realm of the gosho-ningyô that this mysterious material achieves its most potent effect, covering the entire body which is largely left exposed to the viewer (Fig. 7).

As with many ningyô forms, popularity drove a need to expand upon and "improve" the basic models. While the early, classical forms are believed to have been relatively simple as described above, examples from the late 18th and early 19th centuries show a spectacular level of depth and variety in their treatments. By the turn of the 18th century we find an array of figures richly clothed and depicted in imitation of classical themes and famous personages, an artist conceit known in Japan as mitate or "parody." An archival photograph taken in the West around the turn of the 19th century depicting a set of six standing gosho-ningyô illustrates the astonishing level of beauty and sophistication which these forms could reach (Fig. 8). Depicting three Chinese generals Kan'u, Chahi and Ruubi and their attendants, the ensemble drawn from the literary classic "The Tale of Three Kingdoms," swathed in layers of rich silk brocades, elaborate head gear, and standing 24" high, these spectacular gosho-ningyô are a far cry from the simple naked seated forms most commonly associated with the genre. Discovered at a US auction house and ignominiously labeled as "Japanese dolls with big feet," only three of the original six remain. After extensive and costly professional restoration, they were returned to their former glory.
Images of the restored pieces reveal details perhaps overlooked in the archival image (Figs. 9-11).