Exhibition Notices

New Year Exhibition—Kazuta Furukome

Work by Kazuta Furukome will be on show at the Isetan Department Store in Shinjuku, Tokyo.  The West Park gallery is on the 5th Floor.  The show runs from Tuesday 3rd January until Tuesday 10th January 2017.  Kazuta will be at the gallery from Wednesday 4th January until the end of the show.

Netsuke Strawberry and Sweet Chestnut

2017年1月3日（火）～10日（火）

新宿伊勢丹本店5階ウエストパーク

営業時間　10：30～20：00

存廊日1月4日～10日

To see other examples of Kazuta’s work go to:

http://www.urushi-zikichi.com/

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Visions of the Unseen—Hikoju Makie, Takashi Wakamiya

Pieces of lacquerware illustrating impressions of an unseen world, something felt more than seen or expressed in words.  Inspired by the work of the novelist Kyoka Izumi (1873-1939).  The show is to be held at the Nihonbashi Mitsukoshi Department Store in Tokyo, starting Wednesday 28th December 2016 and closing on Tuesday 3rd January 2017.

The inside and back of a shallow drinking dish

泉鏡花の闇とは、小説から感じる目に見えない世界、また感知できるが言葉では表現できないとても豊かで心地よい感覚、人の心の奥に存在し表面からは知る事の出来ない感覚を闇に見立て漆の作品により表現してみたいと考えている。

期間:2016年12月28日（Wed.）～2017年1月3日（Tus.）

Place: 東京  日本橋三越

彦十蒔絵（Hikoju Makie)

企画・広報・海外窓口(Planning, public relations and overseas window）

高禎蓮（Wawa / Kao, Chen-Lien)

Mobile:+81-90-2375-9093

Address: 1-188, Kekachidaira-machi, Wajima City, Ishikawa, Japan

Lacquerware—Commentary and Impressions Three

Gouge the bark, cut into the inner layer and the 

thick cream coloured sap begins to ooze from 

the wound.  Collect what you can and return 

to the tree the next day to do the same thing.

Lacquerware All-sorts Three—Lacquerware Archive, Ninohe

This series of posts on lacquerware continues with a look at work in the Ninohe Archive in Iwate Prefecture.

The aim of my second visit to Morioka and Ninohe was to learn more about the basics of lacquerware, from source to finish.

I learned how to tap a lacquer tree to extract the sap which oozes from a wound made with a gouge in the bark.  The sap is filtered and warmed to drive off some of the moisture in it, before it is filtered again and pigment is added.  Then comes the job of applying the lacquer.

Keep the brush still and turn the bowl.

Simple?  Well yes but not for a novice like me.

It is not so easy, especially when applying a top coat.  The idea is to keep the brush more or less still and turn the bowl.  I struggled at first.  But even before applying a top coat, a tack cloth is used to remove and pieces of dust or hair or fluff.  I did not do it carefully enough and specks are visible on the surface.

I went to the Tekiseisha facility in Ninohe to do this basic work.  I was also privileged to be shown the local history museum, which holds a number items related to lacquerware made in the area.  Even more of a privilege and something of a surprise, I was shown the archive of old piece of lacquerware.  Some I have already presented in other posts, so I have only picked out the more surprising examples.

In the archive some of the bowls were really rustic but refreshingly unpretentious and full of character.

It is assumed that a number of the pieces in the archive were perhaps made as samples.  Nevertheless, there is a spontaneity about the work which is generally unseen in the decoration used on lacquerware in other production centres.

Hand painted random squiggles but rendered with purpose and method.  It is certainly not a doodle.  There may not be a ground to this bowl as the mark of a turning tool is visible.

Simply speaking, the decoration is very painterly.  It is not in a style that an “artisan” would usually work with.  An artisan follows a prepared style of decoration but a number of pieces in the archive look as if an “artist” has used a piece of lacquerware as a canvas.  And unusually each piece would be slightly different.

Here a flame effect is perfected as the lacquer is applied.

This was made clear to me when I visited Wajima last year.  I suggested that it would be interesting to have a kind of chipped effect on the outside of a turned bowl.  I was hoping to achieve something rather random in an attempt to make each bowl unique.  I wanted to see something uninhibited and relaxed.  Once again something painterly.

In this case I was working with a woodturner in mind not someone doing decoration.  Nevertheless, I was told in no uncertain way that I could not expect a woodturner “craftsman” to produce something like that.  He would need something to follow.  In other words his job was “making” not “creating”.

Some of the pieces in the archive in Ninohe, however, bore the touch of someone who was “creating”.

The grain is visible below the surface of the lacquer.  The wood could be beech and may not have been well seasoned as there is some distortion to the form.  The abstraction of the images is appealing and could not be more painterly.  The large collection of this kind of hana-zara is popular with many visitor to Ninohe.

There is certainly room in the field of lacquerware decoration for both of these approaches to rendering pattern or some other decorative effect.  There is a stumbling block however.  The use of true lacquer as a decorative medium tends to inhibit spontaneity.  But I believe there are ways around this problem.

An interesting exception is Tsugaru lacquerware.  However, the pattern common to this ware is “manufactured” rather than “created”.  A chance effect of layering coloured lacquer and then rubbing it back to produced a stippled effect was recognised as an interesting looking finish.

http://www.nsda-uk.com/wp-content/uploads/3_Tsugaru_Japan_Lacquerware.pdf

Tora-nuri—Smoke from a burning pine root or perhaps a candle or oil lamp produced the soot to make the smoke-like effect.  The colouring is highly original but may not have been so unusual when it was decorated toward the end of the nineteenth-century or perhaps in the early part of the twentieth-century.  Some how the colouring reminded me of the Pokémon character Pikachu.

The second trip to the north was especially exciting as I came across tora-nuri—“tiger ware” because of the colouring.  This smoky decorative effect is never seen in contemporary lacquerware.  Also after visiting Ninohe I went to three other lacquerware production centres.  None of the people I showed photos of tora-nuri to had even seen the effect before.  What next?

Along with many other traditional crafts, lacquerware is covered in Japan Crafts Source Book, originally published by Kodansha International.  For background information on Joboji access:

http://www.japanjoboji.com/e/

Access the Tekiseisha site for more images of products under “Commodity” on the Japanese site.

http://www.tekiseisha.com/index.html

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Lacquerware—Commentary and Impressions Two

The current price of a Joboji soup bowl is about £46 or ¥6800.  Each one comes in its own box—ours are beginning to show their age.  The profile of the bowl even at this angle seems to proclaim its low centre of gravity.  The refections make it difficult to discern the depth of the finish but believe me it is there.  Compared to other wares the finish is not glossy nor matt but satin.

Lacquerware All-sorts Two—Joboji Lacquerware

This series of posts on lacquerware continues with a look at Joboji lacquerware originating from near Morioka in Iwate Prefecture.

It was a friend that introduced me to Joboji lacquerware in about 1995.  I was assured that it had a really modern feel and appearance, while still managing to retain its dignity by having a refined rustic quality that some other lacquerwares I felt seemed to lack.  In fact I think I was complaining to my friend that Wajima lacquerware was “a bit too perfect and somehow had lost any sense of the hands that made it”.  Sorry Wajima!

Unlike the extreme degree of excellence of Wajima lacquerware, which to me can inhibit a dialogue, Joboji lacquerware wanted to communicate with me. It seemed to want to be my friend.  Yes, it is a slightly strange thing to say but that was how I felt on my first encounter with this lacquerware from northern Japan.

A piece of Joboji lacquerware has a presence that can really be felt.  This is especially true when a soup bowl is picked up and the finish is examined closely.

First of all there is a depth to its finish.  Either in red or black the layers of lacquer below the final coat can be perceived.  The more a bowl is used the more this becomes evident.

Then its weight tells us that the core is of wood.  It is thickest towards the base of the bowl.  By placing the thumb on the inside and the index finger on the outside and running them down into the depth of the bowl, that thickness can be felt.

In fact at the lip the thickness is a little over one millimetre but at the base where the sides of the bowl meet the high foot, the thickness is approximately 17mm give or take a hair’s breadth.

Held in the left hand and supported by the right hand, soup can be sipped from the bowl.  This is the refined way a woman would drink from a bowl.  A man is more likely to only use his left hand and to use his chopsticks in his other hand to manage the contents of the soup.

This makes the centre of gravity, rather like that of a sumo wrestler, undeniably low and gives the bowl a satisfying sense of stability.  It also contributes to the distinctive solid sound the bowl makes when placed on a wooden table.

But what of its real weight?  Although there is some variation from one bowl to another, an empty bowl weighs about 118g.  Filled with 150cc of fluid pushes the weight up to 268g depending on the ingredients of the soup.  Nevertheless, the combined weight is not so much.  In fact it is less than a small ceramic mug containing 150cc of fluid—beaker is 156g making a total of 306g.  There are so many variables here but the relationship between the weight of the container and the fluid it can hold is interesting.

The satin finish of some of the Joboji lacquerware is highly appealing.  At least it is to me.  It is a pleasure to the eye and to the touch.  The weight, the low centre of gravity and relatively high foot make one of these bowls easy to hold with confidence.

I was completely taken with the Joboji soup bowls in particular and the ones I bought often grace our table at mealtimes here in England.

I did not realise, however, that my first encounter with Joboji lacquerware would lead to some fascinating discoveries about true lacquer the material as well as the rich diversity of lacquerwares in Japan.

Along with many other traditional crafts, lacquerware is covered in Japan Crafts Source Book, originally published by Kodansha International.  For background information on Joboji access:

http://www.japanjoboji.com/e/

Access the Tekiseisha site for more images of products under “Commodity” on the Japanese site.

http://www.tekiseisha.com/index.html

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Lacquerware—Commentary and Impressions

While this is not actually going to be a piece of Wajima lacquerware, the style of reinforcing is the same.  The ridges on the wooden core provide a key for the start of many applications of true lacquer.  And none of the cloth or the wood grain will be visible in the finished work.

Lacquerware All-sorts—One

The aim of this series of posts on lacquerware is to introduce a number of different wares, which are not necessarily well-known either in Japan or overseas.  While I want to show how much diversity there is, I also hope to introduce my own reaction to the wares, as a way of perhasps gaining a better grasp of the aesthetic, functional and cultural aspects of one of Japan’s most ancient crafts.

Lacquerware is not produced on an industrial scale.  It is a craft, which is mostly handmade.  Some items are everyday pieces of tableware while others are examples of studio craft and are therefore one-off creations.  Nevertheless, the boundaries between these types of ware are blurred and may differ in each production centre, of which there are 41 up and down the country.

There is an insistence in Japan to call true lacquer “urushi”—the Japanese word for lacquer—even in English texts.

This insistence comes from a desire to make sure the public does not think that lacquerware is made using a paint or a synthetic material.  Personally I find the term “true lacquerware” most fitting, although I sometimes use “lacquer”.

Wajima Lacquerware

Wajima is among Japan’s top ten production centres of lacquerware.  For many it is the best especially for its robustness and quality of work as well as its makie decorations.

The ground being rubbed down with wet abrasive paper and charcoal.  The result—wood turns to stone!  Not literally but something closer to stone than wood 

when this important groundwork is finished.

A good deal of its strength comes from the ground and primer that is applied to a wooden core.  Using a mixture of true lacquer, a power of roasted diatomaceous earth and rice paste, the core takes on the characteristics of a stone—hard enough to be mercilessly rubbed down with wet and dry abrasive papers.  This produces a suitable substrate onto which many coats of true lacquer are then applied.

Additional reinforcing of surfaces and vulnerable parts of that core, like the lip of a soup bowl for instance, is carried out using a piece of open weave cloth soaked in lacquer (See on this blog—A One Day Apprenticeship dated 9/01/2016).

The finished product shows no sign of the amount of pains-taking work that has been completed in order to produce a piece of craftwork that is strong and a manifestation of perfection.

My reaction to this at first was one of disbelief—is it really necessary?  Is all the work justifiable?  Is the finished article any better than a piece of contemporary plastic?  The simple answer is “yes”.

Wajima lacquerware may be robust but if is is dropped on a stone floor it will, at the very least, chip the lacquer and may even crack the wooden core.  Such damage, however, can be repaired.

Raised to the mouth, there is direct contact with the true lacquerware bowl through our hands and one of our body’s most sensitive areas—our lips which tell us much.

Better than plastic? There is no question about it.  The touch and appearance of a good piece of true lacquerware is unmistakable. The way the colour and finish “mature” over time is a bonus.  It mellows.  What this sometimes means is that the complexity of the colour and texture of the finish will change and show signs of a “history” of use that adds to the appeal of the item.  This is seen as a desired effect.  I would liken it to the way a fine wine matures and the taste become more complex.

Functionally speaking, the ground/primer makes it possible to pour boiling water into a bowl, for example, with no fear that it will crack.  It also allows us to hold a bowl.

A very early piece of hand-painted English pottery, which sadly is not marked.  As a teacup and saucer, it follows the Chinese style of tea bowl and therefore has no handle.  The decoration, however, follows English traditions.

A soup bowl in a Western dinner service is not lifted to the lips.  And, simply speaking that is why a porcelain teacup has a handle.

The hand-painted decorations are deftly rendered, giving the cup and saucers an enduring lively character despite its signs of age.

When tea was first introduced into England, it was almost a medicine.  It was a green tea and therefore not drunk so hot.  The tea bowls were like those used in China and had no handles.  It was only later with the introduction of Indian teas made with boiling water that handles became necessary.

So, you may ask why are there no handles on tradition tea cups in Japan?  Because good tea is served using water at around 70 degrees centigrade.  The cup, therefore, is warn not hot.

The overall finish of a piece of true lacquerware means that the experience of bringing a bowl to the lips to drink some soup is a pleasant one.  What contributes to this experience is the weight of the bowl—even full it is neither too heavy nor too light.  Furthermore, our senses are stimulated by the sound of the bowl being placed back on a table.  Everything about a piece of lacquerware becomes a complete bodily experience—all of our senses are stimulated.

This is as important as what sound a car door makes when it is closed—does it produce a sound that instills a sense of trust, strength and reliability?  Car manufacturers think about that kind of thing.  Perhaps more craftspeople should do the same.

So there is much to consider when handling a piece of true lacquerware.  Whether it is a piece of Wajima lacquerware or not makes no difference.  But if it is, it will certainly have a character all of its own and of that, there is no doubt.

Along with many other traditional crafts, lacquerware is covered in Japan Crafts Source Book, originally published by Kodansha International.  Search Amazon.

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Two years, ninety-three posts and counting…

It is now just over two years since I started writing this blog.  I would like to thank all of those who have been good enough to read it and sincerely hope that you have gained something from it, whether it be about Wajima and the Noto Peninsula or about Japan in general.

Having lived in the country for 24 years it is like a second home to me and actually I do not really know which to put first, England or Japan.

It therefore gives me a great thrill to be able to pass on what I have learned about my adopted second homeland.  I hope, too, that my insights into the culture as a whole and in particular about the craft, history, architecture, climate and life style to be found in Japan and the Noto Peninsula have fostered a deeper understanding and interest in Japan and its people and culture.

To date there have been some 10,888 page views. Of course it is wonderful to have so many people taking the trouble to view the blog but it is quality rather than numbers I have been aiming for.  Still, if nobody was reading it…..

So far readers who hail from 19 countries have accessed the blog.  This has been partly due to readers sharing the posts on social media, for which I must be grateful.

Access has come from Japan, United States, Canada, United Kingdom, France, Germany, Netherlands, Switzerland, Romania, Ukraine, Russia, Australia, Argentina, India, Taiwan, Indonesia, Singapore, Brazil, Belarus.  Inevitably many of the readers are from Japan and the UK.

I have every intention of continuing to write the blog and hope that there will continue to be people out there who are interested in reading it.

Many thanks to you all.

Bill Tingey

The newspaper clipping is from the Hokkoku Shinbun, written by Hiroyuki Kitayama for this regional newspaper published on 26th November, 2016

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Haiku and Design

This natsume—a caddy for the finely ground powered green tea used at a tea ceremony—epitomises winter.  Natsume by Mr. Wakashima who lives and works in Wajima.

Understanding the code

Can any parallels be drawn between haiku poetry and decorative motifs?

Haiku have become quite well known beyond the borders of Japan, either in translation or written as an English language from of poetry.

Simply speaking haiku is based on a sequence of five-seven-five syllables of the Japanese language.  Although the subject matter is unlimited much of it comes from nature.  What all haiku poems do is to encapsulate a juxtaposition of time and/or events.  They may also deal with phenomena and common truths to form powerful imagined or remembered vignettes designed to awaken the emotions of the reader in an almost predetermined way.  That at least is my understanding of what haiku is.  But that is not all.

I see haiku as being written in a kind of code.  And, just like the dots and dashes of Morse, the code needs to be understood by both transmitter and receiver, or in the case of haiku by the writer and the reader to realise its full potential.  Some people will dispute this idea I feel sure but it works for me.

Let us say, for example, that a haiku is about a hot, humid evening just after the sun has gone down.  A small bat bursts from its day-time roost to be silhouetted agains the glowing limpid sky, still radiant with light and the colour of pale pink coral.  The setting is, of course, in Japan.  Having experienced many evenings like this I would find any haiku extolling such a moment especially touching.  The memory of such an evening as a total bodily experience—the temperature, the level of humidity, the smell on the warm air, the stillness, the colours and many other things—would all serve to enhance my understanding of the haiku.

Having lived in Japan, a haiku based on these conditions would seem very real and plausible.  But could it really strike a chord with someone living in a hot dry climate in the Middle East, for instance.  Reading such a haiku would no doubt resonate with them but surely there would always be something lacking—they would not have the benefit and pleasure of being fully acquainted with the circumstances or the intricacies of what is suggested and no experience of the real situation.

But the question is, could a piece of design or a decorative motif have a similar effect?  Is there a similar kind of message in code?

This natsume—a caddy for the finely ground powered green tea used at a tea ceremony—epitomises winter.  Despite being an abstract motif, the spiral represents wind—a rough one—and the graded, roughly rendered and restrained dull red spiral on a dark background stirs feelings of anxiety.  There is a feeling gloominess—a leaden sky, heavy with snow, like those that sweep in across the Japan Sea in winter to assail the Noto Peninsula where its creator, Mr. Wakashima lives and works.

For me, this decorative effect is as brief as a haiku and yet carries a powerful message, all be it in a kind of “code”.  But what would it mean to me if I had never lived in Japan, if I had never encountered such a day to tease and stimulate all my senses, and if I were not able to recall as a total bodily experience the reality of such and event?

So, if haiku can be seen as a code, why not decorative effects.

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Ceramic Roof Tiles Two—In Noto

In bright June sunshine, the roofs of the buildings of this small farming complex shimmer.  In the winter the glass-like surface will cause settled snow to slip off.

Toward Black

Historically the burning of kindling with which to cook or to heat bath water always heightened the risk of fire breaking out in Japan’s communities both large and small.

Imagine what could happen when an earthquake struck just as food was being cooked over a naked flame.  Constructed of combustable materials, the collapse of a timber building could easily seed a massive fire.  The wind could then fan the flames and in no time at all the sparks would fly.

Although far less vulnerable than reed thatch, boards of wood or roofing shingles were an improvement but what was really needed was a non-flammable roofing material.

For a long time, however, tiles were more than common folk could afford.  While the aesthetic value of ceramic roof tiles should not be overlooked, they have helped inhibit the spread of fire for centuries.  They have also provided a sense of secure shelter.  To do that their durability, too, has always been important.

This was a major consideration in the Hokuriku region of which the Noto Peninsula is part.  Tiles made their first appearance here during the seventh-century on Buddhist structures.

They were, however, only biscuit fired and not glazed with a hard finish and were not therefore particularly durable.  Difficulties with production and problems sourcing sufficient amounts of wood to fire the kilns contributed to a decline in their use.

The gate at Agishi-honseiji temple is tiled with reddish brown tiles.  They were one step in the development of a shinny, hard-wearing tile.

By the beginning of the sixteenth-century basic glazes made from ground up minerals mixed with water were a step in the right direction—more durability was the result.  Subsequently a much more hard-wearing reddish brown tile was produced by adding iron oxide to the clay.  Local Noto clay was not suitable however, as it contained pumice.

Why was a more suitable clay not imported into the area?  The mere idea of transporting either the raw materials or the finished article was unthinkable at the time.

Consequently it was not until the end of the nineteenth-century that a more appropriate glaze containing manganese was used and a double firing technique was employed to produce a hard-wearing roof tile of real quality.  The result was a tile that was robust and durable and more suited the requirements of the region.

The manganese in the glaze produced a shinny, reflective glass-like coating very similar to the tiles which are being produced today.  An assured durability was not their only asset.

During the 1920s these lustrous black tiles were being sold in Kanazawa and as far away as Nagoya in central Japan.  By then transportation was so much easier.

The glossy black finish may not have been to everyone’s taste but their reputation soon spread to other regions of Japan where, like Noto, it was winter’s cold and heavy falls of snow that needed confronting.  Simply speaking the bonus was that snow soon slid off a black shinny roof.

Here too the roofs reflect the sunlight, which is reflected by the water in the newly irrigated paddy.  The regularity of the recently planted rice plants is matched by the methodical way in which the grass has been cut.  So much of the farming in Japan is orderly and tidy.  Surely it has contributed to the way so many Japanese people lead their lives.

The black mirror finish of the roofs of the vernacular architecture of the Noto Peninsula is as distinctive as the lustre of Wajima lacquerware—both treasures in their own right.

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

I am most grateful to Michihiro Ura from the Department of Culture in the Wajima City Board of Education for providing detailed informaion on Noto’s black tiles.

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Ceramic Roof Tiles One

As the status of merchants rose during the Edo period (1600-1868), they expressed their wealth in the way their store-cum-dwelling was adorned.  Exaggeration of roof ridges and gable ends was common.

When fires bloomed

Recently a devastating fire in the city of Exeter in southwest England has once again highlighted just how dangerous a conflagration can be even today, especially in a built up area and more significantly, in a seat of history. 

(http://www.exeterexpressandecho.co.uk/why-the-royal-clarence-hotel-fire-hasn-t-yet-been-announced-as-extinguished/story-29855973-detail/story.html)

Although not the source of the fire, the Royal Clarence Hotel has been gutted.  With so much wood used in its construction, this 300-year-old structure has become a shell, which may never rise from the ashes.

Historically fires have always been a problem in urban areas in Japan, nowhere more so than in Edo, as Tokyo was called before 1868.

Walls of merchant stores in particular were protected from both the weather and fire.  Here the lower tiles are permanent protection against both.  The hung wooden “shuttering” above, however, is added protection of the more or less fireproof plastered wall behind.  This shuttering would be easily removed should a fire break out near by.

Records held by the nation’s fire department show that fires were a constant threat to the city especially during the winter months when the air was dry and any fire could be whipped up by the seasonal winds that encourage dusty swirls across farmland and rattle the shutters of many of the traditional timber built houses and commercial properties that still stand in secluded corners of the capital to this day.

In 1609 the population of Edo was 160,000 meaning that the chance of loss of life was high if any fire was allowed to get out of hand.  However, that threat increased dramatically as the population swelled.  By 1693 a census recorded 353,500 people lived in this capital of wood.

The city had an organised network of fire-fighting groups and the introduction of a basic pumping engine invented in 1754 in Nagasaki must surely have helped.  It was charmingly called a “water spewing dragon”, Ryudosui (http://www.gakken.co.jp/kagakusouken/spread/oedo/06/haiken1.html).

Sadly, however, fires still raged, so often fanned by wind or exacerbated by the almost exclusive use of timber and paper to build temples, shops and homes as well as castles.  Not even Edo castle, the seat of the Shogun, was spared, although luckily damage at the time was minimal.  Now there are only remnants of what was once the largest castle in the world.

It is common for roof tiles on traditional buildings up and down Japan have a silver luster.  A coating of mica before the second firing of the tiles gives them this distinctive appearance.

The risk of fire and the spread of flame was of course recognised.  In 1601 an effort was made to reduce the chance of fire spreading.  A directive was issued to replace any thatched roofs with far less inflammable wooden boards or shingles.  This would certainly have helped.  However, records on fire prevention during the period between 1600 and 1867 make no direct mention of a compulsory use of roof tiles.  Use of ceramic roof tiles by the “common people” was, however, first allowed in 1720.  This would suggest that it was more important to shackle the less well off than it was to prevent the spread of fire.

Inevitably temples, castles and houses of the wealthy would have been the first to use ceramic roof tiles, although in rural areas reed thatch was the norm and persists today on some traditional farmhouses.

Although such buildings have disappeared from Tokyo’s streets, storehouse “fire bunkers” like this one in the City of Kawagoe represents how merchants protected their wealth—tiled roofs, plastered walls and interlocking shutters at windows all designed to keep fire out.

Fires were known as the “flowers of Edo”.  During the period between 1600 and 1867 there were upward of 550, some causing considerable loss of live and property (Edo Kasai-shi 江戸火災史 A History of Fires in Edo published by Tokyo Horei Shuppan in 1975).

The towns and villages of the Noto Peninsula did not escape damage by fire either.  Nevertheless, it was the severity of the climate in the region that saw a development in ceramic roof tiles.  More about this next time.

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

Do feel free to pass on the address of this blog to anyone you think will be interested.  Or share it on a social media site.  Should you wish to leave a comment, please do so by clicking on the comment mark at the bottom left of this or any of the other posts.   If you have found this blog interesting, why not become a follower.  Thank you.

Wajima Kirimoto Woodcraft Workshop

True lacquer finished counters in the Hilton Tokyo Chocolate Boutique.

New applications

Of all the workshops in Wajima, the Wajima Kirimoto Woodcraft Workshop is somewhat different.

An assortment of mini-pull planes close at hand on the workshop floor.

Firstly, the workshop does not exclusively produce lacquerware items.  The majority of workshops in the city do—they apply true lacquer to a wooden core commissioned from a supplier.  So just as the name suggests, being a supplier of wooden cores for bowls, dishes and other household items is just part of the work carried out in Tai’ichi’s workshop, which also produces its own lacquerware items.

Stacked cedar food boxes with a simple detail await completion—they almost resemble a modernist piece of architecture.

Tai’ichi Kirimoto is the Managing Director.  He is a bit different too.  He studied design at university and then after graduation he worked for Kokuyo, a large stationery goods producer.

Delicate work with hand, eye and

sharp chisel.

So strictly speaking Tai’ichi is not a “craftsman”.  Nevertheless, we could say that woodcraft is in his blood.

Both his father and grandfather before him fostered the development of the workshop, which Tai’ichi now runs, and he too is anxious to see the company grow and expand into new areas of endeavour.  “True lacquer is not just a material of tradition” could almost be his motto.

He is different in another way too.  Most workshop owners have a strong character and Tai’ichi is no exception.  But he is also bursting with energy and enthusiasm, a real dynamo.  This is clearly something which helps to drive the company forward.

Under his guidance the workshop is producing a very robust lacquerware—a metal spoon can be used without fear of damaging the lacquer.

While Wajima lacquerware has a reputation for being robust it is not really suitable for use with a knife and fork.  This inevitably limits its use to serving Japanese foods eaten with chopsticks or a lacquered wooden or bamboo spoons.

Just a small part of a collection of samples which can be made by the workshop.

So in order to make the final finish even more hard-wearing, Tai’ichi pioneered a finish using powdered diatomaceous earth, which is usually used for the ground of lacquerware.

Looking like pencils, chopsticks are coated with true lacquer before the pointed end in pushed into a board ready for them to go into a curing cabinet.

Even more unusual is the way that Tai’ichi has been able to introduce the use of true lacquer to finish interior items or for decorative purposes in a retail setting.  Working closely with architects and interior designers the workshop as a whole and especially its resident lacquer artisans have perfected a finish using a cloth soaked in true lacquer for counters.  The resulting textured surface is both characterful, sturdy and long-lasting.

Ritz Carlton Kyoto Sushi Bar—hard-wearing counter of cloth

finished with true lacquer.

Used decoratively, the true lacquer finished backdrop to the customer counter at the Takaoka eatery.

This kind of specialised work goes on alongside of the regular production of wonderfully crafted pieces of woodwork, some to be lacquered and others to be nothing more or less than expressive of the beauty of wood.

Courtesy of Tai'ichi Kirimoto

A visit to the workshop is simple proof of just how simulating an environment there is at Wajima Kirimoto Woodcraft.  Nevertheless, there would not be such a vital atmosphere if it were not for Tai’ichi Kirimoto—a powerhouse of professionalism and energy topped off with a dash of humour.  Surely the perfect leader.

Bill Tingey Photo © Copyright

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