There are no heroes without adversaries. Without Frieza, Son Goku would never have surpassed himself. Without Raoh, Kenshiro would have been nothing more than a solitary traveller. Without the ghost awaiting him at the Sayo no Nakayama Pass, the Tōkaidō would be nothing more than a landscape. This auction pays tribute to those we fear, those we hate, and those we often end up favouring.
Japanese animation did not invent its monsters. It inherited them from a country which, for centuries, has painted its dead, sculpted its demons and catalogued its yōkai. The yūrei scrolls, Kuniyoshi’s woodblock prints, the Hannya mask and the carved skulls of the Meiji era are therefore no strangers here. They are the direct ancestors of Kitarō, Cell and Orochimaru, and are presented side by side with them. A few contemporary creations, from Michel Haillard to Ryō Matsumoto and Toshimasa Kikuchi, prove that this vein has not run dry.
The catalogue follows neither chronology nor licences, but rather a moral progression. It opens with ghosts and skeletons – what remains of us after death. It moves on to the yōkai, sorcerers and monsters, then tyrants and their henchmen, before descending to the ranks of ordinary antagonists. The final three chapters reverse the perspective: false villains, heroes possessed against their will, and frightening creatures with faithful hearts. Fear, at its core, is often nothing more than a misreading.
The animation lots are all original production documents. They consist of hand-painted celluloid sheets and the preparatory drawings—doga, gengas and layouts—sometimes accompanied by their background art. Where possible, each piece is linked to its corresponding episode and timing. These unique items were used to create the animated images: they are the physical traces of a collaborative art form.
Held just a few days before Halloween, this sale is an invitation to look monsters straight in the eye – and to take one home with you.
See original version (French)