October 28, 2026
A personal reflection on art, beauty, and the joy of collecting netsuke.
There is something about netsuke that has always fascinated me. Perhaps it is their size, their delicate details, or their almost inexplicable ability to express so much through something so small.
Sometimes i think collecting netsuke is a little like being a child again.
As children, we are drawn to miniature figures and small objects we can hold in our hands, examine from every angle, and turn into characters in stories of our own. We enjoy gathering them, discovering new ones, and finding that one piece that somehow feels more special than all the others.
I don’t think that fascination ever really leaves us. We grow older, our tastes develop, and we begin to recognize that some of those little figures can be remarkable works of art.
That is what i find in netsuke.
I have always admired the skill it takes to turn a small piece of wood, ivory, antler, or another material into a sculpture full of life.
Some netsuke measure only an inch or two, yet they convey an extraordinary sense of expression and movement. Their scale makes the smallest detail matter.
An animal seems just about to move. An old man’s face suggests a lifetime of experiences. A mythical figure wears an expression so distinctive that you can almost imagine what it is thinking.
All of this, shaped by hand through patience, careful observation, and extraordinary skill.
I like to imagine the carver at work, spending hours—perhaps days—with a piece that would eventually fit in someone’s palm. I think about the decisions involved: which details to emphasize, where to carve more deeply, and what to leave to our imagination.
A good carving goes beyond accurately reproducing a figure. It gives that figure a personality. Somehow, an object begins to feel as though it has a life of its own.
One of the things i enjoy most about collecting netsuke is that i never stop learning.
A figure may hold a connection to a story, a legend, a religious belief, or an everyday moment in Japan’s past.
Some depict deities or characters from Japanese folklore. Others show animals with symbolic associations, scenes from literature, traditional occupations, or customs that now feel very distant from our own lives.
Sometimes i choose a piece simply because i love its carving or expression. Only later, as i look into its subject, do i discover a story i knew nothing about.
That is one of the quiet pleasures of collecting: a small sculpture can lead you into centuries of culture and history.
The longer i spend with netsuke, the more i see in them. Alongside their beauty are glimpses of what people believed, what they feared, how they lived, and what made them laugh.
The humor of the carvers is something i find especially endearing.
When we think of historical Japanese art, we often think of spirituality, discipline, and extraordinary craftsmanship. Netsuke also reveal a playful, wonderfully human side.
There are figures pulling faces, animals behaving like people, exaggerated expressions, absurd situations, and scenes with a decidedly irreverent spirit.
Some pieces seem made simply to raise a smile.
I love the thought that a carver might have enjoyed imagining a scene two hundred years ago—and that someone on the other side of the world can hold it today and laugh at the same joke.
There is something wonderful about that connection.
Across the distance of time and place, we recognize a familiar sense of mischief. People then, just as now, found pleasure in life’s small absurdities.
A tiny carving can make that shared humanity feel surprisingly close.
For me, much of the joy of collecting netsuke lies in the search.
Walking into small antique shops in Japan. Browsing markets. Talking with dealers. Looking closely at dozens of pieces until, suddenly, one makes me pause.
Sometimes it is an exceptional work. Sometimes it is a much simpler figure with something i find difficult to explain: an expression, a composition, a certain personality.
Then comes that feeling any collector will recognize:
There is something special about this one.
The oldest piece, the most expensive one, or the one signed by the best-known artist will not always be the piece that stays with me. Quality and authenticity matter deeply, of course. So does the personal connection we feel with a particular work.
I have seen technically magnificent carvings that left me largely unmoved. I have also spent several minutes studying much more modest pieces because something about them held my attention.
That is part of what makes collecting so personal. Each of us develops a particular way of looking, shaped by our tastes, experiences, and curiosity.
And the more we learn, the more that way of looking changes.
Perhaps this is why netsuke still remind me of our childhood fascination with small figures.
As children, we collected for the simple pleasure of discovering, imagining, and gathering little treasures.
As adults, we can bring other interests to that pleasure. We learn about history, sculpture, materials, artistic traditions, and individual carvers. We study signatures, compare styles, and spend years trying to understand the character of a particular period.
Yet underneath all that knowledge, i think the feeling remains much the same.
The delight of finding something unexpected. The curiosity about what it represents. The pleasure of holding it, turning it over, and noticing a detail we missed the first time.
And, eventually, the satisfaction of adding it to a collection that slowly begins to tell a story of its own.
A collection tells us something about the artists who created its pieces. It also reveals something about the person who chose them.
Their tastes. Their travels. Their discoveries. The conversations and small moments that accompanied each acquisition.
Over time, those memories become part of what we treasure.
After so many years devoted to Japanese art, i still find an endless source of curiosity in netsuke.
I admire their beauty, their variety, and the skill of their makers. I also love their intimacy: the way such a small object invites you to come closer and pay attention.
Even after seeing thousands of examples, i can still come across a piece that surprises me.
There is something deeply moving about holding a small sculpture someone made centuries ago and discovering that it can still teach us something, stir a feeling, or make us smile.
Perhaps that is the true charm of netsuke for me.
Small works of art that fit in one hand, yet hold an entire world.
Eric
Supein Nihonto
CEO of SupeinNihonto, dealer and collector of ancient Japanese art and weapons from Canillo, Andorra.
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