Multi-authored volumes seem to be rather difficult to publish these days, and yet they can be among the most important resources for scholars and students alike. The Artist as Professional in Japan is one such volume. The series of essays in this book consists of individual case studies, ranging in time from the seventh century to the twentieth, and covering the fields of sculpture, painting, pottery, printmaking, and architecture. The authors tackle a variety of questions pertinent to the idea of artist as professional: How did producers of art conduct their business? How did they learn their art and/or become involved in the production of art? How much control did an artist have over the final product, and what kind of input did she or he have in the process? How were artists viewed by society and how did they view themselves? What, for that matter, is meant by the terms “art” and “artist” in the Japanese context? These and other questions are addressed throughout the volume, starting with the introduction by the book’s editor, Melinda Takeuchi.

This reviewer was struck throughout by the effective debunking of long-held assumptions about well-known figures in the history of Japanese art. Chapter 2, “Tori-busshi and the Production of Buddhist Icons in Asuka-Period Japan,” by Donald F. McCallum, asks the fundamental question of who really was Tori-busshi? McCallum takes a careful look at the Shaka Triad in the Golden Hall of Hôryûji, and uses documentation as well as visual analysis to refute the idea that Tori-busshi was a hands-on sculptor. Rather, McCallum argues, Tori-busshi was a high-ranking person who supervised the primary studio that was active during the early Asuka period. Further, McCallum argues that it was not the imperial family that served as the principal patrons of the Shaka Triad and related icons, but the dominant Soga clan instead.

Chapter 3, by Karen Brock, is entitled “E’nichibô Jônin, the Saint’s Companion.” Once again, assumptions about the attribution of a person’s name to works of art are challenged in this carefully argued essay. Jônin’s name is frequently linked to two paintings, the portrait Saint Myôe Seated in Meditation in a Tree (ca. 1232–1234) and a set of picture scrolls known as Kegon Origin Tales (ca. 1219–1221), both owned by Kôzanji and now residing in the Kyoto National Museum. Yet, as Brock argues, the connections made to Jônin as painter of these works has never been solid. Brock’s careful study of the paintings led her to discover that “the entire issue of Jônin’s participation in the making of both portrait and picture scrolls needs rethinking” (46). Like McCallum, Brock then uses documentary evidence to reconstruct Jônin as a member of Myôe’s monastic community, who did paint Buddha images, but was not, in fact, a professional painting master.

Takeuchi also tackles the provocative issue of the “fluidity of the relationship between an artist’s name and a body of work that might be attached to it” (78) in chapter 4, entitled “Signed, Sealed, and Delivered: Tosa Mitsunobu (1434–ca. 1523) and the Afterlife of a Name.” Mitsunobu’s name has been associated with a body of work that is, to paraphrase Takuchi, diverse, significant, and yet does not have a demonstrable link with Mitsunobu himself. Takeuchi takes us into the world of Mitsunobu and his “biography,” the medieval painting workshop organization and professional operation, and the interesting questions of how the Tosa became “an index of the court style,” as well as how Mitsunobu’s name became associated with the idea of the court, of Kyoto, and of the “old.” Along the way, we come to understand through Takeuchi’s argument how an artist’s name can ultimately transcend everything else, even the discourse itself.

Another theme that weaves through these chapters is the pragmatic issues of the art business, be it Tori-busshi’s position as a supervisor of the production of Buddhist icons allied with the Soga clan or the competing interests of the Tosa and Kano workshops. In chapter 5, “A Tosa Potter in Edo,” Louise Cort draws attention to the mission of the Tosa domain in 1678 to improve the quality and desirability of their Odo pottery. As Cort points out, recent studies now make it clear that the daimyo of this era viewed pottery primarily as a source of revenue. Thus, a samurai by the name of Morita Kyûemon, who had been trained as a potter, is sent from Tosa to Edo on a mission to learn firsthand about the current taste—what was in style, what was desired—as reflected in the wares from other kilns along the route. This intense desire to know as much as possible about how others do things—the advance research as it were—that permeates much of Japanese business (and other) practice(s) manifests itself here, in a seventeenth-century mission to improve one’s product through serious study of one’s competitors. That the enterprise failed due to changing political winds makes this case study even more intriguing.

The association of a name with an artistic style also leads to the topic of persona. Julie Nelson Davis, in her chapter entitled “Artistic Identity and Ukiyo-e Prints: The Representation of Kitagawa Utamaro to the Edo Public” (chapter 6), argues that Utamaro as we understand him today is “a carefully constructed personality expressed through the objects bearing his signature” (115). This is not to say that Utamaro did not design a certain corpus of work but rather that there was a branding of his name as a marketing ploy, in a pragmatic effort to sell prints. Davis traces the making of the Utamaro persona, from the idea of the childhood fascination and skill for drawing from life (also claimed of other artists such as Maruyama Ôkyo and Kawanabe Kyôsai) to the “fiction of the ‘self-portrait.’” As Davis persuasively argues, the persona of the artist became a successful marketing mechanism. At the same time, it also seems—in this reviewer’s opinion—that the branding would not have been successful had not the quality of the product (prints, in this case) been recognized by the typically fussy Japanese customers.

The artist as professional can also be concerned with her or his own place in history. Christine M. E. Guth, in her chapter “Takamura Kôun and Takamura Kôtarô: On Being a Sculptor” (chapter 7), tackles this topic. Both of these men were active in the dramatic transformations of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when the profession of artist itself underwent changes. Guth demonstrates how the careers of these two individuals are valuable case studies for understanding the broader picture of “the battles being fought . . . on many cultural fronts in Japan and Europe” at the time (152). The father, Kôun, serves as an example of the successful adaptive abilities of Edo craftsmen to the changing landscape of the period. Kôun’s technical skills and ability to adjust to changing tastes led to recognition at both domestic and international exhibitions. He became a professor at the newly formed Tokyo School of Fine Arts in 1889, and, together with his students, produced monumental public statuary for the new age. Kôun’s son, Kôtarô, entered the Tokyo School of Fine Arts in 1897 and was trained in an entirely different way from his father. A generation gap emerged between them, which was enlarged when Kôtarô’s travels abroad impacted his desire to be an “artist” rather than a craftsman. To follow Kôtarô’s journey toward self-discovery is to follow the journey of many of his era in countries around the world. At the same time, the struggles between the two men and their respective professional self-definitions speak to the diversity of the views of Japanese of this period.

Japanese viewpoints were not only diverse on numerous issues during the modern era, but also nuanced into many shades of grey. In the final chapter (chapter 8), by Jonathan M. Reynolds, “The Formation of a Japanese Architecture Profession,” we read of the relatively recent development of the profession of “architect” in Japan. Through a series of individual cases, Reynolds moves from the framework of the pre-modern master carpenter into the world of the modern architect. We follow not only the men themselves but also the government’s interest in “strong building for a strong nation.” Reynolds also traces the development of professional institutions and the professionalization of architects themselves, along with the debate over whether architects were primarily artists or engineers. Different architects espoused different ideas, but, as Reynolds demonstrates, they engaged in a process of integrating ideas and practices from abroad into their own cultural context. In doing so, many of them shared with their contemporaries in other fields a sense that their work contributed to a larger purpose, and that architects played an important role in the building of a modern nation.

Whether taken as a whole or in looking at individual chapters, The Artist as Professional in Japan serves a useful purpose as a valuable collection of essays on a variety of topics related to the title of the book, not all of which could be mentioned in this review. The book was the result of a great deal of work on the editor’s part, and is a welcome addition to the field.