Most of us know Otafuku without knowing her name. She is the full-faced folk figure we see all around us in Japan, perhaps most commonly in the kitchen or in the traditional restaurant. Folklorist Haruo Misumi in an encyclopedia entry has called her "plump, rosy-cheeked," adding that "her well-fed look symbolizes prosperity."
He also identifies her mainly in her form as a mask, often on sale during traditional festivals. And, though later incarnations have given her a plump, round body, it is by the face that we know her.
This smiling, satisfied countenance was, says Misumi, originally a Kyogen mask. Under the name of Oto she portrayed the simple domestic virtue of plenty. As Okame she is still seen in shrine dances and in temple folk plays. She even has a small role in the kabuki.
Yet, though ubiquitous, she has rarely been accorded much research. Now, however, she has this excellent and entertaining new book all to herself, one that sketches in her background but, more importantly, chronicles her present place in the affections of her admirers.
Amy Katoh, whose own collection is here on display and whose affection is apparent on every page, writes: "She's not much to look at. She tends to be plump and frumpy, but something about Otafuku makes her the one you want to go home to. She's fun and playful and open."
And, when you find a new personification for the collection, perfection is not a consideration. "I want a lady with a run in her stocking, a smudge on her face, her hair out of place. I want an Otafuku I can talk to, feel at home with."
Otafuku is, she writes, the mother, companion, wife, confidante we all seek in our enjoyment of the delicious things in life. Food for example (a number of kinds of which Otafuku endorses) and drink.
Here the author fittingly inserts recipes: that for plum wine, for apricot bars, for okame sushi. Other delicious enjoyments are less corporeal, things of the mind. And here she scatters haiku on the pages, all by Kobayashi Issa, that most friendly of the master poets.
Such delights are made for sharing. There is Mayumi Oda, artist and close friend of Katoh, creator herself of a whole series of exuberant silk-screen goddesses. There is the potter, the late Seisho Kuniyoshi, the toy-maker Setsutaro Matsumoto. And then there is the Zen priest Hakuin, another person living in the eternal present.
Coming to Japan in 1962, Katoh has now spent the greater portion of her life here. Author of "Japan: The Art of Living," and "Japan: The Craft of Living," she is the proprietor of the craft-shop Blue & White, and the author of the book of the same name.
Her account of Otafuku is in a way a description of her own life here, seen through the benign eyes of this goddess. "Life in Japan has taught me -- among other things -- to believe in good fortune and bad and to see the wisdom in age-old beliefs that some call superstitions."
It is the unquenchable optimism of Japan, however ill-judged, that Otafuku comes to represent. Even the often-heard "it can't be helped" is not only an admission of defeat; it is also a proclamation of hopefully starting all over again. In this sense, Katoh's beautiful book is inspirational.
The optimism of the deity is indicated in a temple explanation leaflet. "Otafuku assures that failure always becomes success, that misfortune becomes good fortune, that one's heart's desire will be accomplished. That is why she is called Otafuku -- "Much Felicity."
Likewise, Katoh shows us that she, like Otafuku herself, welcomes. "This book," she writes," is about celebrating life, the everyday ceremonies of life . . . the unsung everyday events of life, how they give our life shape and direction. While Otafuku smiles."
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