late summer etegami

I missed my chance to send out the traditional mid-summer greeting cards (shochuu mimai) this year, but when I finally pulled myself out of the hot weather doldrums, I found I still had time to send out late-summer greeting cards (zansho mimai). These two types of summer greetings are explained in this post from three years ago. You still have time to send out your own!

The dragonfly etegami is from early July, when the dragonflies started swarming in Atsuta on the Japan Sea coast where I often go to paint. I was puzzled because it seemed far too early in the year to see dragonflies in such numbers, and I still don't have an explanation for it. The accompanying words say "It's far too early for dragonflies, isn't it?" The background colors represent the sunset because dragonflies are often associated with sunsets in Japanese children's songs, and Atsuta is particularly famous for its sunsets.

illustration friday (round)

There are two gift-giving seasons in Japan. One is in the summer and one is in the winter. Winter gifts often involve agricultural produce for which the sender's home prefecture is known. Each winter I receive a case of potatoes from an old friend in south-western Hokkaido, a case of tangerines from an even older friend in Nagoya, and a case of persimmons from the oldest friend of all in Shikoku. I reciprocate by sending each of them a case of lily roots, a rather high-class vegetable that is often used in New Year dishes. 90% of the domestic product is produced in my home prefecture of Hokkaido. I also try to send each of these friends an Etegami thank-you card with a painted image of the gift I received from them.

I never tire of the gifts, even though my friends have been sending me the same thing every year for over twenty years. I base my winter shopping and meal plans on the assumption that I will have lots of potatoes, tangerines and persimmons. And I suspect my friends make similar plans each year around the lily roots that I send them.

The problem is, I run out of new ways to depict this produce in my Etegami thank-you cards. I've painted whole persimmons, halved persimmons, persimmon wedges, persimmon pie, persimmons in the box, persimmons on the branch, persimmons in salads... One year when I was at loss for a new way to paint persimmons, I decided to slice them cross-wise, which is never done, because it makes them harder to eat or use in cooking. It did provide a new and interesting visual perspective though. So I accompanied the image with the words: "A Change in Perspective."

For those of you who have never seen a lily root, here is a smaller image from one of my illustrated recipes. Lily root is a lot of fun to cook with. You can see that it's (sort of) round too. : )

illustration friday (silent #2)

Here are two more from the Holiday Daruma Series, which I introduced in the Halloween post. In addition to the two etegami posted here, yesterday I finally finished the Christmas etegami I plan to send out this winter to my closest friends and family. It also features a daruma doll. I don't want to spoil the surprise for them, so that one remains secret for now. : )

easter etegami

Happy Easter.

nengajou (received n.y. cards)

The message gives the traditional New Year greeting with the addition of a private message to me. The image depicts one of the seven lucky gods that is referred to a lot at this time of year.


Shows tiger (2010 zodiac) turning into a rabbit (2011 zodiac). Printed words translate roughly to "Having long ears doesn't make you a rabbit." In his private message, the artist says he's resolved to quit pretending to be other than what he is.

This lino-cut rabbit is accompanied by the words: "May this year be full of happy things." The artist is a certified etegami instructor and reminds me time and time again that the best etegami is simple and childlike.

Rabbit and carrot etegami with "Beginning of Spring" in gold ink. This is another common way to refer to the New Year. Even if the cold and snow continues for many months, New Years Day is when we rejoice in the expectation of Spring and in new beginnings.


This is the second year I've receive a nengajou from this artist, and once again she has delighted me with her creative ideas. The card is overlaid with soft, fluffy, wrinkled washi paper and stamped with an utterly adorable bunny seal. On the other side is her greeting: "Happy Fluffy New Year!"

I've come to expect gorgeous colors & fine technique from this etegami artist, and this nengajou does not disappoint. The words are one more version of the traditional New Year greeting done in strokes oozing with character.

This nengajou is from a new etegami friend whose work has been posted several times on my mailart gallery blog. It may be hard to see, but the gold ink added to the bunny and the waves conveys wishes of good fortune and happiness. The accompanying words say "With a Fresh/Renewed Heart and Mind."

It is already New Year's Day in Japan, despite what date might appear at the top of this post. The mailman delivered the first batch of New Year cards, presumably the ones that were posted before the Dec 24th deadline. Cards from those who mailed theirs after the deadline (that includes me :p) will trickle in during the next few days. I'll post more soon. : ) To learn more about the Japanese tradition of exchanging New Year postcards, check out this post from last year.

children's day festival

When we make etegami, we try to reflect the season. Maybe that's one reason why we're sticklers for drawing from observation rather than our imagination. You wouldn't normally draw a watermelon in January, or a tangerine in July, because that would be out of their season.

Another way to mark the seasons is to draw subjects that reflect certain holidays of the year. It so happens that Japan is in the middle of Golden Week, a series of holidays beginning on April 29 and ending on May 5. May 5 is Children's Day (formerly known as Boy's Day) and we traditionally eat a sweet called Kashiwa Mochi on that day. It's a simple sweet consisting of a ball of sweet bean paste enclosed inside mochi (made from rice flour), and then wrapped in an oak leaf. I posted a recipe for this sweet, along with an explanation of the symbolism, on my wagashi (Japanese confections) blog if you'd like to take a look.

Now, you may remember that last year I celebrated Children's Day by drawing a carp. More specifically, a Koi-nobori, or carp-shaped streamer like those which are flown from flag poles all over Japan at this time of year. They represent the parents' prayers and wishes that their children will grow up to be strong against adversity, like the carp is said to swim against the current.

It always adds something to an etegami if you can find a postage stamp that represents the same season as the drawing. I had a postage stamp left over from last year that depicted a Koi-nobori, and even though it's in a denomination that is more than the required postage for a postcard, I decided to use it for this year's Children's Day card. So I'm feeling rather pleased with myself.

The attached etegami depicting Kashiwa Mochi is accompanied by words which translate roughly to mean "My thoughts are drawn to my son who is far away." May you be able to celebrate Children's Day with your children (or your parents) this week, and if that is not possible, may your thoughts be for one another.

all kinds of tigers

While I was delighted by the number of nengajou (traditional Japanese New Year cards) I received this year, the percentage of hand-drawn cards was probably the smallest in decades, and has me puzzled. I had imagined that the ailing economy would result in an increase of hand-made cards, but apparently this does not follow. Of the three cards I've posted here, only the one in the center was done by traditional etegami method-- with sumi ink on soft washi cards. I don't know if you can tell that the sender used gold paint on this card. Gold and silver gansai paints are not included in standard gansai sets. They have to be ordered separately, and are used for special occasions such as New Year's.

The card on the right is a block print. Yes, the cards depict tigers. Not kitty cats. It seems that in these modern times, people hesitate to use ferocious images on their felicitous greeting cards. I've noticed this in other years, whether it be the year of the mouse or the year of the dragon. Images tend to be cute or humorous. The card on the left was made on a computer, but I included it because it is an original design by an elderly sculptor friend of mine. Notice the stripes hanging off the tiger's body. The accompanying words declare the sender's intent to lose weight in 2010.

new year's cards

Japan has a long tradition of exchanging New Year's greetings in writing, apparently going as far back as the Nara period (AD 700s). It wasn't until 1873, when the Japan Postal Service began to print standardized postcards requiring less postage than an ordinary letter, that the idea of postcard greetings began to catch on. In 1899, the current system of nenga yuubin (New Year mail) was conceived, in which all mail marked as New Year's greetings, and which is posted within a specific time frame in December, will be delivered en mass on New Year's Day. There are lots of other delightful historical details on the subject that I don't have room to post here, but maybe you can read them for yourself on Wikipedia Japan (in Japanese only, sorry).

There are many cool things about traditional Japanese New Year's cards, not the least of which is how images and words are used. Certain images are associated with the New Year holiday specifically, and with spring (which New Year's day is symbolically the start of) in general. For example, the etegami I drew for New Year's 2009 depicts sprouting water chestnuts (water caltrops). The sprouts make it a felicitous image and conducive to word play, a common device with etegami in general, but especially at New Year's. The accompanying words translate roughly to: [the new year brings with it] the sprouts of new possibilities.

For New Year's 2010, I made several new designs. One depicts a toy top, symbolic of the new year because it is one of a group of traditional toys that children used to play with during the New Year holidays. The accompanying words say: May 2010 be a well-balanced year [for you]. Word play again. The rest of my holiday etegami are variations on tiger images, because 2010 is the Year of the Tiger. I've posted one of these here. The animal representing a particular year is probably the most common motif for Japanese New Year's cards.

Not all New Year's cards are etegami, of course. These days most people whip up greeting cards on their computers, using stock images and formulaic words. If you have over 100 people on your greeting card list, as I do, it really is too much to expect of yourself to hand-make each one. What I do is draw several original designs, and color-copy my favorites to send to the people on my list. For my fellow etegami artists, though, I do make an effort to send original cards only.

Tell me what kind of cards you will be sending this year. Something hand-made I hope. After the holidays I plan to post a sample of some of the etegami cards I receive from my Japanese etegami colleagues.

christmas cards

Time passes very quickly for me these days, but never so fast as when I notice that it's time to make my holiday greeting cards. I try to get Christmas cards posted before the end of November, because at this time of the year, even air mail delivery to overseas addresses can be delayed beyond belief.

The etegami pictured here is the one I drew for Christmas 2007. It depicts the berries of the mountain ash (rowan) tree, each berry covered with a cap of snow. Mountain ash is one of my favorite trees, and while they grow profusely in the mountains of Hokkaido, they are also a favorite for planting along city streets. The berries start out pale and yellow, hardly noticeable in the green foliage, but by the end of fall, when the leaves have dropped off the branches and it begins to snow, the berries are bright, bright red.

Snow is a tricky thing to depict on a white card. I added blue shadows to make the snow more distinct, but this didn't show up very well in digital form. Nevertheless, it remains one of my favorite etegami. In my next post, I want to write about nengajou, the New Year cards that are traditionally exchanged in Japan. All the mail art I do now has its roots in the tradition of nengajou. Stay tuned!

etegami and the heat of summer

When the rainy season ends, making way for the intense heat of mid-summer, the Japanese customarily send out a special kind of greeting card called the shochuu mimai to ask after the health of their acquaintances. Like the New Years greeting known as nengajou, it is a postcard, and is sent primarily to friends and family members that one doesn't see very often. Sometimes they are unadorned cards printed with the standard phrase, but more often they depict photographs or drawings of something representing summer-- especially something refreshing, like flowing water, a cool drink, fluttering wind chime, or slice of dewy fruit. The custom of exchanging cards like these at various set times of the year may seem burdensome to some, but I find it smooths socialization with people who have been on my mind but whom I hesitate to contact without an excuse. I've attached some samples of summer greeting cards that I've drawn and sent in the past. A wedge of watermelon. A famous-brand cantaloupe (popular summer gift). A retro pig-shaped ceramic container for coils of mosquito repellent.