Postcard from the Taylor, Platt Co., New York, N.Y.
Born into a wealthy family in Milan, Enrico Cernuschi (1821-1896) was forced to flee from Italy in 1850 due to some political differences with those in power, and became Henri Cernuschi in France, where he made his fortune in banking. In 1871, again troubled by politics, he left Paris to travel in China and Japan where he acquired about 5,000 pieces of Asian art.
In 1883, art historian Louis Gonse published L’art Japonais, drawing upon Cernuschi’s Paris collection and others, with illustrations by Henri Guérard, an etcher and woodcut artist. Among the works shown were incense burners done by Kimura Heiji, a bronze caster of Edo (Tokyo) who worked as “Toun” circa 1804-1840. A burner in the form of a snail is shown above, but he was most famous for his dragons, as below.
Of Japanese bronzes in general, Gonse wrote:
“The methods of casting are the same in Japan as with us, and are based upon the same principles: a model in wax, a mold in potter’s earth. The Japanese have neither secrets nor tricks that we have not already utilized. What places them beyond competition is conscientious workmanship, respect and love for their work, as well as great skill of hand.”
Here are three more Japanese incense burners collected by Cernuschi, described by Gonse and etched by Guérard:
When Henri Cernuschi died, he left his art collection and home to the city of Paris to be used as a museum, which is open to the public today.
At the end of the first World War, Italy had to cope with the remains of more than 600,000 war dead, men whose bones needed a resting place and whose sacrifice cried out to be honored. In 1920, an open competition was held to design appropriate cemeteries and memorials. The design above, an ossuary and memorial in one, was submitted by Enrico Agostino Griffini and Paolo Mezzanotte, and entitled a “Monumento al Fante,” a monument to the fallen. I especially like the braziers, suggestive of eternal flames and incense rising to the heavens.
“Murano, when we approached, seemed even more deeply steeped in color and indolence, but the glass factory which we entered, as if it had been a cave, directly from the Lagoon, was… a scene of persistent production by magicians in white paper caps, who stood behind long tables, manipulating with easy grace their simple tools and small furnaces… I knew for the rest of my life then, as we floated away at an even richer hour, that I had been witnessing the only way of producing the best things of their kind, in what are unjustly called the ‘lesser arts.’ A few skilled workmen, in an appropriate and natural environment, working upon individual pieces, with always the possibility of individual invention, is the true, the right, productive group. There is no other way to carry on the union of brain and hand, of which the storehouse of the ages attests the value.”
— From Background with Figures: Autobiography of Cecilia Beaux (1930)