The Story of Seikosha i.e. the "House of Exquisite Workmanship"

19th century swinging clock

I spend a substantial amount of time studying maps and seeking out scenic sights for us to visit on our weekends so it was a pleasant surprise when, without any fanfare, the Seiko Museum showed up on my radar one day. Better still, it turned out to be almost in our back yard. I was startled that Seiko had established their museum in a nearby, nondescript neighbourhood in Sumida ward but whatever the reason was for their decision, it was positive for us, as it meant that we were only a thirty-minute bicycle ride from its doors.

The Seiko Museum has an impressive collection of early timepieces. Some of the pieces had interesting forms (see the 16th century English sun dial to the left), others were beautifully crafted (see the early 19th century pocket-timepiece to the right), or served as a teaching tool (see early 17th century model of Shumi-sen below, the sacred mountain for Buddhists which they believed at the time to be the figurative centre of the universe). Additionally, there were a number of very large upright clocks from various countries and even a model replica of the Big Ben inner workings.

The museum allows photography of all of its exhibits except for this one model (the photograph below left is one of a postcard I bought from the gift shop), I had never seen one before and it piqued my curiosity. I was told it was used to defend the Buddhist belief of geocentrism after the emergence of the new Copernican theory led to attempts to discredit this belief, and by proxy, the Buddhism way of thinking as a whole. A little research later and I unearthed the fact that Shumi-sen is alternatively known as Sumeru (Mount Meru) and is a sacred mountain in Hindhu and Jain cosmology also. Can you see the hourglass shape on top of the table which represents the mountain?

I liked how the museum built on the development of time-keeping devices throughout the ages to place its own products in historical context. The first wristwatch, called the "Laurel" was produced in Japan in 1913 but the Seiko story began considerably earlier than that. It is a fabulous story of hard work and persistance by a man with a remarkable character.

Kintaro Hattori was born in Kyobashi, Tokyo (which is near Ginza) in 1860 and was apprenticed out at the tender age of eleven. He spotted a niche in the market and established his first shop for selling and repairing clocks when he was 21 years old. He first began buying imported clocks from the foreign trading houses in Yokohama before he went on to open his own clock and watch factory.

It took fifteen years before his watch line of business turned a profit but he was determined to produce accurate and high-quality watches and did not give up. The introduction of automated machinery (see right) in 1910 helped move him out of the red and his foresight to stockpile materials prior to World War One consolidated his position when shortages hampered his rivals' activities.

When I found out that the Ginza Wako building (see picture upper left) was completed by my engineer-husband's company in 1932, I felt thrilled to have a semi-personal connection with Hattori's success. I also like one of his mottos, "No hurry or rest". He seemed to have balance on his mind in all things. I started to understand my husband's appreciation of the product and to appreciate anew my own watch, which I received from him when I was a newly-wed and we were still living in Nagoya.

I saw this newspaper advertisement (on the left) from 1938.

The museum also had a section devoted to its sport timers and participation in various Olympics starting from the 1964 Tokyo Games. Seiko watches have also had the honour of being worn by astronauts and James Bond.

And lastly, not that I am a Bond girl, but I quite liked this watch from the sixties (see below).

 

I notice that I neglected to take any photographs of the inner workings of the watches, and I completely overlooked the world's first solar GPS watch released last year. I have been quite negligent - if you would like to know anything about the mechanical side of clocks, the best I can do is suggest you ask my husband. He is the true fan in our family. Here is one more photo of the most current watch that caught my eye. Does that mean I am stuck in the nineties? No never, I prefer to think it is a classic watch, it's a Seiko after all.

The Power of Ordinary People

Arriving at the above golden splendour was an unexpected delight during a visit to my homestay family in Saitama prefecture over the weekend. The Shodensan temple in the town of Menuma is hidden smack bang in the middle of farming land, and the surrounding flat fields with their cultivated rows of leeks (see picture on right) and nearby farmhouses looked way too quiet to have such an ornate temple sheltering in its midst. Otosan (my host father), who has resided all of his eighty-six years in a town less than twenty kilometres away, mentioned several times that this was his first time to visit the area. Part of the reason Shodensan temple has attracted little attention during Otosan's lifetime is because its gaudy, glittering facade only re-emerged in the twenty-first century. For many years, the intricate wooden carvings had been untended and time had chipped away the wooden surface, causing the paint to crack and flake. Their condition deteriorated to a perilous state when barely in the nick of time restoration efforts commenced. 

After seven years and 1.3 billion yen (which is more than 13 million in AUD), the overhaul was complete in 2011. The project was funded with money allocated by the government and with donations from the private sector. I can imagine there was a group of ardently concerned citizens who advocated for these repairs to be undertaken. Their hard work was rewarded as it was designated a kokuho (National Treasure) by the Japanese government the following year. This status is given to items with special historical or artistic significance and will ensure the temple is well-looked after in perpetuity (see here for more about). There is also a news article here which explains in more detail about the restoration processes.

That the temple was rescued through grass-roots efforts also seems quite appropriate as I discovered that the building of the temple had originally been sponsored piecemeal with contributions from the local people over a quarter of a century period from 1735 until its final completion in 1760. An earlier structure had been destroyed in a fire in 1670. And the actual site itself has been in use as a temple from an even earlier era as it was established by a military leader called Saito Sanemori in 1179. It is quite amazing to be in a place that has served a sacred function for more than eight hundred years.

When we drew near to the temple, there was a volunteer guide explaining the symbolism of the different carvings. The fine craftsmanship and detail of the carvings immediately stands out as worthy of high praise indeed. These works were conducted by artisans who may well have honed their skills first on the very famous temples of Nikko which are just a hop, skip and a jump away. I was finding it very interesting to look at artworks that convey a narrative (rare in Japanese temples) when the guide surprised me by referring to foreigners in her spiel. Apparently when she informs foreigners, "It's gold." they respond, "I want it!". I was the only foreigner in the crowd and I don't think she noticed me in the crowd. Not sure why she felt this was worth mentioning twice. My best conclusion is that she was proud to be the custodian of such precious objects and this is how she conveys its value. It was certainly weird to witness her recounting it to her fellow country people. 

I could not really follow her explantion and while I noticed she spent considerable time discussing some carvings of elephants, the significance did not really register until I was doing some Internet fact-checking later. This is when I read that the temple was founded by an escoteric Buddhist Shingon-sect and is dedicated to the guardian god Kangi Jizaiten who has a human body with an elephant head (although I did not see him in this form at Menuma, only the regular elephants).  "Oh, it's Ganesh" I exclaimed to myself. He is familiar to me from my time in Poona, India where I saw many representations of him. I never knew he was a cross-over god with a Japanese strand to his story. In India we had seen a giant Buddha statue in the Ellora Caves from the 12 century, and it was intriguing to now be in Japan and see where a Hindu god has been adopted into the local pantheon. 

This is what I like so much about history (and religion, too). How the separate strands overlap and combine in such disparate scenarios. How old customs and rituals reinvent themselves anew. And how our personal stories help us to make sense of our place in our surroundings.