Modern Kyoto, Modern Geisha
Geisha Entertainment in the 1920s and 1930s
Gavin James Campbell, Doshisha University
Embedded Files
Writers, painters, film directors, photographers, and travelers have long fantasized that geisha live amidst an alluring fog of mystery and tradition. In her 1995 book, nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, for instance, the photographer Jodi Cobb writes, “Everything about the geisha, her kimono, her makeup, her art, her very existence, is bound to history [...]. In her silence and secrecy […] she became Japan’s unparalleled guardian and conservator of tradition” (Cobb 1995, 14). Cloistered from the outside world, living a life of mystery, geisha seem to have no history because their "very existence" is the past.
This common image of the geisha obscures the profession's extraordinary evolution over three centuries. Far from silent, secluded, and secretive, geisha have a history to tell.
Above: Geisha and maiko of Gion perform on stage. Undated, personal collection of the author
Two Osaka geisha, c. 1933, from a geisha's private photo album.
Personal collection of the author
Few periods of the geisha's long history are more spellbinding than the 1920s and 1930s. Like in every preceding generation, too many were exploited and downtrodden, their dreams ground up by poverty and desperation. Yet many in the profession refused to simply endure silently until their indentures ended. Instead, they dove into Japan's modern, urban culture of spectacle and play, and redefined what a geisha could do and be. They won huge audiences at home and abroad with public Odori dance spectaculars, serenaded listeners over live radio, made hit phonograph records, appeared alongside celebrities in the popular press, and a few even became movie stars. They experimented with new forms of dance and music, and the profits of their labor financed major capital investments that transformed city skylines. They danced at events celebrating a town's new railroad station, the opening of trade fairs, upgrades to old bridges, and at nearly any event marking the nation's progress into the modern age. And when the time came, they raised funds and patriotic fervor for their troops on the frontiers of empire.
Geisha of the 1920s and 1930s, then, did not just cling to the past. They made history, and helped push Japan into the modern age.
Tomigiku, a superstar geisha of interwar Gion.
Gigei Kurabu (1927). Personal collection of the author
Civic leaders invited geisha to celebrate a range of advances into the modern age. Here they dance at a harbor improvement ceremony in Teradomari (top left, detail), the completion of a railway station in Tsuruoka (right), and the opening of a power plant in an unknown location (bottom left). These commemorative postcards show that geisha made themselves part of the civic landscape beyond their licensed districts, and that neither geisha nor the public officials who invited them to perform saw a contradiction between geisha work and the modern world.
All personal collection of the author
This online resource tells the story of how geisha in the 1920s and 1930s reimagined a profession already two hundred years old. In an era of cafes, jazz clubs, dance halls, movie theaters, and cabarets, geisha found themselves at an inflection point. They were both ubiquitous and facing extinction.
The interwar years are therefore a critical moment in the development of the modern geisha. Geisha responded to an entirely new popular entertainment landscape by bringing their skills outside the old "pleasure quarters." Taking cues from the silver screen, modern dance, and cabarets, geisha innovated dance extravaganzas (called "Odori") that captivated a society besotted with all forms of popular spectacle. And by situating their Odori within the broader world of consumerism and popular leisure, geisha showed how the profession could evolve to remain a relevant — and even exciting — part of Japan's emerging modern culture (Watanabe 2002, 91–99).
Geisha adapted to the demands of a modern, urban consumer society partly so they could still make a living. They were, after all, working women. But they were also just as eager as their contemporaries to enjoy new forms of mass entertainment, and to embrace new opportunities for self-expression and adventure. These are not qualities stereotypically associated with geisha. But defying expectations was precisely how geisha hoped to thrive during the excitement of the interwar years.
How to Use this Resource
This resource explores how Kyoto's interwar geisha situated their work within the city's modern entertainment landscape. It focuses particularly on the Pontocho and Gion geisha districts, whose geisha were not only among the city's most prestigious, but whose innovative Odori dance extravaganzas set the standard for geisha Odori all across Japan.
The first section — The Geisha in Crisis — examines the various threats to the geisha profession that became acute in the 1920s and 1930s.
The second section — The Modern Odori — explores how Pontocho and Gion navigated their way through these threats, particularly by embracing their annual dance spectacles (Odori) that entertained huge audiences. It also explores the different paths Gion and Pontocho chose to promote geisha in the modern world.
The third section — Geisha and Popular Entertainment — demonstrates the way that geisha integrated their Odori performances into a broader world of popular spectacle, leisure and consumption, and how new forms of entertainment likewise influenced geisha performances.
A bibliography offers resources cited in the main text, as well as suggestions for further reading and research.
Finally, below are two additional resources: a map that locates major sites in the interwar Kyoto geisha world, and an annotated glossary of select keywords that provide background for understanding the interwar geisha community.
Undated. Personal collection of the author
This map highlights some of the most important sites in the interwar geisha world.
Given the geographic extent of each geisha district, the location point on this map provides only an approximation of where its center of gravity lay.
A Few Important Terms
These three Gion geisha debuted together on October 31, 1928: Kimitsuru (left), Kimifuku (center) and Kimiko (right)
Personal collection of the author
Geisha
Geisha
Although contemporary Kyoto geisha call themselves geiko, throughout this resource I use geisha. When the profession was common all across Japan in the 1920s and 1930s, writers, fans, and geisha themselves described the profession using a range of words. Geisha (芸者) was understood everywhere, while "geigi" was preferred in Kantō, and "geiko" commonly used in Kansai. Because geigi and geiko both use the same kanji characters (芸妓), there is no way of knowing which reading an author of a written text intended. To further complicate things, when writers used the kanji characters for geigi/geiko, publishers often glossed the kanji with furigana characters that read "geisha" (げいしゃ). Sometimes authors changed terms in the same piece of writing.
There were also specialized terms like "rōgi" (老妓; senior geisha), "meigi" (名技; celebrity geisha), onsen geisha (温泉芸者) who worked the nation's countless hot springs resorts, and "gidayū geisha" (義太夫芸者) who were experts in a narrative-song and shamisen repertoire. "Hōkan" (幇間) and "taikomochi" (太鼓持) identified men expert in many of the same arts and entertainment skills as female geisha. Meanwhile, geisha in Tokyo's legendary Yoshiwara district were so proud of their superior skills that they claimed only they could truly be called geisha (Minako 2009, 107).
To avoid confusion, and to help people find this resource through online searches, I use geisha. Those fortunate to encounter Kyoto geisha for themselves, however, should take care to use the term they prefer -- geiko -- and to add the honorific "san": geiko-san.
Though conditions varied across Japan, and even within Kyoto, a geisha's distinction from other paid companions came down to her mastery of gei — the varied arts of music and dance. Depending on the district, this could include training in tokiwazu, kiyomoto, and jōruri, musical genres with roots in the Edo period that continued to evolve through the twentieth century. A geisha also had to master a repertoire of short songs (kouta) and longer ballads (nagauta), learn to play various percussion instruments collectively known as hayashi, and master a three-stringed instrument called the shamisen. All that just covered her musical training. She also studied her district's dance style, or ryū (流), and was drilled in social graces and proper etiquette, such as the correct way to greet someone, and the art of sliding open a door when carrying a tray.
The intensity of this training varied by district, but command of gei was the cornerstone of a geisha's professional identity (Foreman 2008). Gidayū, nagauta, Kiyomoto, Tokiwazu, hauta, jiuta: "if a geisha couldn't do it all," one Yoshiwara geisha wrote, "she would be embarrassed" (Fukuda 2010, 105). An Asakusa geisha agreed, writing that "it was her breadth of knowledge that was the geisha's strength. If you couldn’t meet a client's demands then you couldn’t call yourself a geisha" (Asahara 2003, 19).
The 1929 debut of two geisha in Kyoto's Miyagawacho district, marked by celebratory posters (mokuroku). Gigei Kurabu (May 1929). Personal collection of the author
Below: undated photograph of a Pontocho maiko on the day of her debut. Personal collection of the author
A typical geisha party in Osaka from the early 1930s. Personal collection of the author
Geisha earned a living by entertaining clients in private parties (ozashiki) held at members-only establishments. In interwar Kyoto these venues were known as room rentals (kashi zashiki) and they were located within the city's licensed geisha quarters. In other parts of Japan geisha often worked at exclusive restaurants called ryōtei, or entertained guests at hot springs resorts (onsen).
Kyoto's interwar geisha were typically quite young. In 1926 nearly seventy percent of them were between the ages of twelve and twenty-four (Kyotoshi tōkeisho 1926, 278). Geisha over thirty were comparatively rare.
The number of geisha fluctuated throughout the 1920s and 1930s, but it was certainly not an unusual career for a young woman. Government statistics compiled in 1926, for instance, revealed that across Japan, close to 80,000 women made their living as a geisha ("Nihon naichi no geishōgi" 1926, 38).
Personal collection of the author
This 1942 receipt pulls back a curtain on finances in the interwar geisha world.
Since the Edo period, one common way Kyoto geisha measured their working hours was by burning incense sticks. The total number of sticks consumed was then calculated as their "flower fee" (hanadai) (Koch 2017, 76-84).
This receipt shows that the geisha Tsukiko and Hisamatsu have charged their client, Tanaka, a flower fee of eight incense sticks. Tanaka has also been billed for food, drink, and a tip (shūgi) for the geisha.
A central administrative office (kenban) in each district recorded and disbursed the fees to all those involved. In elite geisha districts, client expenses were accumulated and billed once every six months, or even just once a year in January.
In elite districts, a geisha's path to financial security, however, was not through entertaining individual clients night after night, but by attracting the financial backing of a patron (danna). He was expected to buy her clothes, pay for lessons, and take her out to meals and on vacations. A patron could even guarantee his exclusive access by paying the geisha whatever monthly sum she lost by turning away other patrons.
Undated. Personal collection of the author
Maiko
Maiko
A maiko (舞妓, sometimes 舞子) was a girl training to become a geisha. Like the word geisha, maiko was just one of several terms used across Japan, including hangyoku (半玉), oshaku (おしゃく), and ochobo (おちょぼ), as well as additional terms that identified distinct stages in her career prior to becoming a geisha.
A typical interwar Kyoto maiko started her professional life at around the ages of ten to fourteen, though her training in music and dance often began a good deal earlier. A girl like Hinazaru (right) born into a geisha family typically started dance lessons at age six, and well before her official debut she might also take other lessons in various instruments and singing styles, as well as receive a thorough drilling in etiquette. In fact some daughters born to geisha mothers, or those sold into the profession at a young age, had so many years of training and such a deep knowledge of the geisha world that they debuted directly as geisha without becoming maiko first.
The standards in elite geisha districts were very high, and the girl who fell short could expect little sympathy. One Tokyo geisha recalled in her early years that if she failed to dance well at an ozashiki, one of her seniors would certainly humiliate her with a tongue lashing in front of all the clients. ”To avoid that embarrasment again you would practice extra hard" (Asahara 2003, 15). Likewise, a geisha in Kyoto's Kamishichiken district recalled, "if you couldn't remember [a lesson] after three times you'd get struck. If you couldn't remember after five times you'd get hit on the shoulder or thighs with metal chopsticks." Lessons were so relentless and her own geisha mother's standards so very high, she recalled, that "I sometimes doubted that she was actually my mother" (Aihara 2012, 22). In later years both women expressed gratitude for their strict training, while also acknowledging that "back then there were so many hardships" (Aihara 2012, 22). Clients were likewise unforgiving and often openly critical if a maiko didn't perform to the standard he expected (Aihara 2012, 52).
The Pontocho maiko Hinazuru. Kamogawa Odori Program (1936). Personal collection of the author
Below: a group of Gion maiko. Undated. Personal collection of the author
Maiko were particularly associated in the popular mind with Gion, a district that put a great deal of energy into fashioning what is now a Kyoto icon. Not all of the city's interwar geisha districts, however, had maiko. In districts without maiko, young women trained for a time and debuted directly as a geisha. Those who dreamed of a maiko apprenticeship in districts without them sought out opportunities to work in Gion (Arai 2015, 11-21).
Thus, rather than a timeless figure of Japanese geisha culture, Kyoto's maiko were a modern attempt by Gion to manage its brand, and to promote a particular image of Japanese girlhood (Bardsley 2021).
A maiko posing near the Sanjo Bridge
Undated. Personal collection of the author
Gion
Gion
Gion is one of Japan’s most famous geisha districts, but there are in fact two Kyoto geisha districts that use Gion in their name. In the interwar years they were known as Gion Shinchi Kōbu (祇園新地甲部), and Gion Shinchi Otsubu (祇園新地乙部, now called Gion Higashi). Gion Shinchi Kōbu was by far the city's largest and wealthiest district. In 1937, 34% of all geisha in Kyoto worked there (Kyotoshi tōkeisho 1937, 264).
Generally when prewar authors wrote about the maiko and geisha of “Gion,” they meant Gion Shinchi Kōbu. For simplicity, this resource uses “Gion” in the same way. Nevertheless, the contribution of Gion Otsubu/Higashi to the city's geisha culture should not be ignored.
For the geographic distribution of Kyoto's interwar geisha districts, see the interative map above.
This 1930s tourist map of Kyoto marks Gion Shinchi Kōbu (emphasized with a large red circle added by the author) as the site of the famous Miyako Odori. The map does not, however, mention the nearby Pontocho and Gion Otsubu districts. This indicates just how well-known Gion was compared to other districts, and how its fame drew tourists from all over Japan.
Personal collection of the author
Cherry blossoms in the Gion Shinchi Kōbu district
Gigei Kurabu (Feb. 1927). Personal collection of the author
Geisha District
Geisha District
Though their boundaries shifted over the interwar years, Kyoto city had eight organized geisha districts of varying sizes. Each district had its own name, but collectively they were known as kagai or hanamachi (花街), or, more commonly at the time, kuruwa (廓), iromachi (色町), or yūkaku (遊郭). The latter three terms, leftover from the Edo period, were euphemisms making it clear that geisha districts had much more than geisha to offer their male clients. Licensed prostitution was a standard feature of geisha districts throughout Japan, and Kyoto was no exception. In the city's eight districts, the ratio of prostitutes to geisha varied significantly. In 1930, for instance, Pontocho had 213 geisha and 9 prostitutes, while Miyagawacho had 511 geisha and 433 prostitutes (Kyotoshi tōkeisho 1930, 246). That is, in every district geisha and prostitutes worked and lived alongside each other (Terazawa 2022, 150-81; Miyajima 2019).
But a district needed more than geisha and prostitutes. Clients expected to also find bars and restaurants and, during the interwar years, cafes, pool halls, and other popular amusements as well. Thus no one in the 1920s considered it out of character when several Kyoto geisha districts scrambled to secure official city permits to open a dance hall.
Geisha districts were also a tourist attraction that lured out-of-town visitors. Maps and guidebooks helped first-timers navigate their way through a district's pricing and its customs, and provided advice about public transportation options as well as the district's best places to eat (Matsukawa 1929).
In short, interwar geisha districts were places of modern amusement, at least for their male clientele, and were often seamlessly integrated with other forms of popular entertainment. That means that the term "geisha district" is slightly misleading, since it overlooks other workers who also made their living in the same place.
Kyoto's eight interwar districts were as follows: Pontocho (先斗町), Shichijo Shinchi (七条新地), Gion Shinchi Kōbu (祇園新地甲部), Gion Shinchi Otsubu (祇園新地乙部), Kamishichiken (上七軒), Shimabara (島原), Kita Shinchi (北新地), and Miyagawacho (宮川町).
Most districts were locally governed by three interdependent business guilds, known as the sangyō (三業), that included geisha houses, restaurant owners, and room rental (kashi zashiki, 貸し座敷) proprietors. An official chosen by the district, called the torishimari (取締り), coordinated these guilds to manage overall finances, handle publicity, settle disputes, and plan for the future. The torishimari himself fell under the supervision of the district's nearest police station (keisatsusho, 警察署), which kept contract records, filed any necessary government reports, and ensured good order and obedience to the laws.
Given interwar Japan's strong patriarchal bent, it should surprise no reader that geisha rarely took a public role administering their own districts. Even when geisha gathered at private ceremonies to mark the new year, male dignitaries presided. When they organized local geisha chapters of the National Defense Women's Association in the 1930s, male dignitaries presided.
Detail of a postcard showing the Gion geisha district along Shijo Street
Undated. Personal collection of the author
Yet behind the scenes, whatever policy the torishimari wished to pursue required the geisha guild's cooperation. Geisha labor generated most of the money necessary to fund business expansion, new construction, and other improvements. The annual Miyako Odori in Gion, and the Kamogawa Odori in Pontocho both became major civic events that employed men to write scripts, men to print programs, men to take photographs, and men to paint and build stage sets. But without geisha pouring their own creativity and years of training into every performance, the entire project would have collapsed. Without the geisha's ingenuity and hard work, then, the district's torishimari would have ruled over an empty and impoverished kingdom.
The interior of a geisha kashi zashiki in Kyoto's Kamishichiken district. Personal collection of the author
Working conditions for geisha differed substantially between districts, even within a single city. In no place were these conditions easy.
Even under the best circumstances, life ranged from hard to heartbreaking. Geisha in Tokyo's Asakusa district, for instance, took enormous pride in their sterling reputation and clientele, but even there life was spartan. Remembering her own years there in the prewar era, the geisha Yūko writes in her memoir, "it was said that if a geisha boarding house (geishaya) fed geisha too well, they wouldn’t work hard, so our meals were very simple. In the morning we had miso soup and pickles, for lunch it was just pickles and rice, and before our evening work it would be soup, rice and a side dish." She also recalls many forms of intimidation, harassment, and bullying at the hands of senior geisha, and the emotional pain of leaving her family at a very young age to begin her training. There were also grueling hours of lessons and practice, followed by work lasting into the wee hours. "When I think back on those times," she concludes, "even now tears come to my eyes" (Asakusa 2013, 61, 64).
Over time a certain gauzy popular romance has grown up around the geisha world of old, and the lives of high-ranking prostitutes (tayū and oiran) they often worked alongside. In Kyoto there are now even studios where customers can dress up as a courtesan and take a studio photograph or two as a souvenir. Primary source records from the time, however, disabuse us of any inclination to glamorize life and labor in the geisha districts of old.
Geisha districts were work sites. Geisha work was hard work.
A street view of one of the largest "pleasure districts" (yūkaku) in prewar Japan: the Matsushima district in Osaka (n.d.)
Personal collection of the author
Odori
Odori
Odori (踊り) simply means dance. But in the context of interwar Kyoto, and Japan more broadly, it also meant an annual geisha stage spectacular. Interwar Kyoto boasted two: the Kamogawa Odori (鴨川踊) in Pontocho, and the Miyako Odori (都をどり) in Gion, both begun in the Meiji era, but which blossomed in the 1920s and 1930s into annual Kyoto events. These two Odori proved so popular that geisha all across Japan followed suit with local Odori that celebrated the sites of regional pride in their own local communities.
Unlike the more intimate dances geisha performed at private parties, Odori took place on public stages where the general public were invited to luxuriate in the elaborate props, multiple dancers in striking costumes, an array of musicians, painted backdrops, and synchronized choreography.
Taking inspiration from the kabuki stage and popular dance revues of the interwar years, Odori were one way geisha integrated their skills into the emerging popular entertainment landscape of modern, urban Japan. Even townspeople who had never entertained with geisha and knew little about their lives could treat themselves to an Odori ticket and enjoy the skills of highly trained musicians and dancers.
Geisha Odori performances in Kyoto (top) and Miyajima (below)
Both undated. Personal collection of the author
The next section, The Geisha in Crisis, examines the threats geisha faced to their livelihoods from new forms of urban mass culture.
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