List of crafts

During the Edo period, each feudal lord strictly protected their komon patterns, forbidding them from leaving their domains. Here, the refined aesthetic sensibility of Edo is vividly expressed.

During the Edo period, as society stabilized, feudal lords began competing to display the luxury of their kimonos when visiting Edo Castle. Seeing this, the Tokugawa shogunate prohibited the wearing of excessively lavish clothing.

This regulation led to the creation of Edo Komon—patterns that appear plain from a distance but reveal intricate designs upon closer inspection. Eventually, each lord protected their own signature patterns, forbidding them from leaving their domains. Over time, these patterns spread among Edo’s common people while remaining safeguarded.

Because these komon were worn by lords when visiting Edo Castle, certain patterns, known as sadame komon, are still recognized as formal wear today. Representative examples of sadame komon include the Maeda family’s “Kikubishi” (chrysanthemum diamond) and Kishu’s “Same” (sharkskin) patterns.

Kōmasa Komiya, Living National Treasure of Edo Komon from Katsushika Ward

Kōmasa Komiya was born into a dyeing workshop that has been in his family since his grandfather’s generation. Under the guidance of his father, Yasutaka Komiya—recognized in 1978 (Showa 53) as a Preserver of Important Intangible Cultural Property for Edo Komon—he diligently trained in Edo Komon and inherited his father’s techniques.

He was first selected for the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition in 1980 (Showa 55) and received the Minister of Education Award at the same exhibition in 1983 (Showa 58). In 2010 (Heisei 22), he was awarded the Medal with Purple Ribbon, and in 2018 (Heisei 30), he was officially recognized as a Preserver of Important Intangible Cultural Property for Edo Komon.

Comment from Kōmasa Komiya

“This komon dyeing cannot be done well by my effort alone. Without people who produce high-quality fabric, people who make fine paper, and people who carve excellent stencils, good products cannot be created. That is why I believe it is essential to value all the craftsmen involved in this work in order to continue producing exceptional pieces.”

Inden, which originated in India, became popular in Guangzhou.

Stylish accessories became popular among the people of Edo.

Inden refers to deerskin products of Indian origin with a 400-year history, dyed using stencils of Indian calico patterns. They have been widely used by Japanese people for armor plates, helmet flaps, and by samurai warriors during the Sengoku period.

Later, techniques for applying lacquer were invented, and the use of colored lacquer led to the creation of a wide variety of products. For example, from Shingen bags, money bags, drawstring pouches, coin purses, and tobacco pouches to modern wallets, coin purses, handbags, and belts.

The supple texture of the carefully handled deerskin and the luster of the lacquer, these two distinct characteristics harmonize to create wonderful products one after another.

A long-established Tokyo Inden (lacquered leather goods) shop founded in 1924. The traditional techniques have been passed down through three generations of the family.

Inden Yabe boasts a history of nearly 100 years since its founding.

Since 1966, under the guidance of her father, she has learned the manufacturing method of Inden (a type of leather craft), and has since enthusiastically created new patterns and other designs, producing products that harmonize not only with traditional Japanese styles but also with Western-style designs.

[1999] Certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward

[2015] Awarded the Tokyo Metropolitan Government's Outstanding Skilled Worker (Tokyo Meister) Award.

Comment from Mr. Yoshinobu Yabe

Inden craftsmanship involves the simple process of applying lacquer to deerskin, but achieving an even application requires skilled technique. The ideal consistency of the lacquer mixture, along with subtle factors like temperature and humidity, is crucial for a beautiful finish on the deerskin. All of this is done through intuition honed over years of experience.

Biography of Yoshinobu Yabe

Born in Horikiri, Katsushika Ward in 1943 (Showa 18).

Tokyo Metropolitan Government Outstanding Skilled Worker (Tokyo Meister)

Katsushika Ward Traditional Craftsman

Yusuke Yabe's Biography

Born in Katsushika Ward in 1977 (Showa 52).

In 2001, I began studying under an apprentice in the art of Inden (a type of leather craft), which is my family's business.

In fiscal year 2022, Inden room shoes received an Excellence Award at the Tokyo Metropolitan Small and Medium Enterprise Promotion Agency's "Tokyo Handicraft Project."

Certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward in fiscal year 2024.

Fine dyeing requires fine carving.
Thus emerged the distinctive world of Edo-style stencil carving, which created a new artistic current.

The roots of stencil carving are said to lie in Ise Katagami. However, even within the single term katagami (stencil paper), there exist a variety of techniques, such as kiri-bori (awl carving), dogu-bori (tool carving), tsuki-bori (push carving), and shima-bori (stripe carving).

Depending on the tools used, diverse techniques developed, and these methods further evolved in accordance with the industrial characteristics of different regions.

During the Edo period, many Ise Katagami craftsmen made their way to Edo (present-day Tokyo). While inheriting the traditions of Ise, they also developed uniquely Edo techniques—such as hiki-bori (pull carving) and boldly composed stripe patterns distinguished by their precise and delicate cuts.

This distinctive evolution came to be known as Edo Katabori.

A stencil-carving artisan carrying on a family tradition of dyeing stencils that dates back to his grandfather’s generation, he was awarded the title of Tokyo Meister by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government.

Gifted in athletics from an early age, he excelled in sports throughout his youth. During his school years, he was in such high demand that he participated in multiple athletic clubs at once. His skills in kendo and skiing, in particular, were said to be at a national level.

His friends never imagined that he would inherit the quiet profession of stencil carving—working silently with only a small piece of paper and a carving knife.

But Yada himself saw it differently:

“Anyone can cut through one millimeter in an instant. But in stencil carving, there are times when you must stop just 0.1 millimeters before that point. It may look quiet, but every single moment demands split-second judgment and a high level of physical control. There is no room for mistakes. That’s what makes it so profound—and so rewarding.”

In 2003, he was certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward.

Comment from Mr. Kozo Yada

“I want to preserve traditional craftsmanship for future generations. At the same time, I believe that designs must be considered carefully so that they can also be embraced by people today.

Even when the work involves extremely fine and demanding details that others might shy away from, I feel it is my responsibility to continue carving—so that I can respond faithfully to the needs and wishes of each client.”

The roots lie in the Chinese sanxian, while the Japanese shamisen fully developed and evolved in Edo.

The ancestor of the Japanese shamisen is the Chinese instrument called the sanxian. It was introduced to the Ryukyu Kingdom (Okinawa) from China in the 14th century, and from there it reached mainland Japan at the end of the Muromachi period.

Replacing the traditional Japanese biwa as the central stringed instrument, the shamisen became widely used during the Edo period. Its development went hand in hand with the growth of traditional Japanese music, such as nagauta and joruri.

Shamisen craftsmanship includes a unique feature called sawari, which creates the instrument’s distinctive complex tonalities and allows the sound to resonate with a lingering aftertone. It is perhaps natural that Japanese people, who traditionally favor intermediate colors over primary ones, also appreciate sounds rich in complex overtones.

With an uncompromising commitment to quality, production begins with sourcing materials from overseas.

After graduating from university, Kimiaki Kōno apprenticed with a craftsman in Asakusa, became independent at the age of 26, and opened his workshop at its current location in 1990 (Heisei 2).

Although he was not especially knowledgeable about the shamisen during his student years, he has always been deeply committed to mastering whatever he undertakes. Through intensive study of the shamisen, he not only perfected the craft of making the instruments but also began importing materials from overseas himself. He says that the joy of using carefully selected materials to create the finest instruments is a pleasure only a true craftsman can experience.

Kōno’s instruments have also gained popularity overseas.

In 2003 (Heisei 15), he was officially recognized as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward.

Comment from Kimiaki Kōno

These days, there are also machine-made instruments, but it is the handmade ones that can meet customers’ specific requests in detail. The materials are aged for six to seven years before use, and in nagauta, min’yō, kouta, and haya-uta, the thickness of the skin varies subtly to suit each style.

Kimiaki Kōno – Biograph

Born in 1958 in Taitō Ward, Tokyo
Recognized as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward

Engraving Glass: Sand Art

The Birth of Sandblasting Came with Compressed Air

Sandblasting is the technique of engraving patterns on glass surfaces using fine sand. From drinking glasses and vases to mirrors and lighting fixtures, many everyday objects around us are created using sandblasting techniques.

The wide range of products—from everyday glassware to one-of-a-kind presentation pieces—can be realized thanks to the skill of Mr. Matsuura. Each type of glass and each shape of product is carefully finished to suit its unique characteristics.

Sandblasting originated in 19th-century America and developed alongside the invention of the air compressor, which uses compressed air to propel sand particles at high speed onto surfaces. This technique is not only used for decorative glasswork but also for removing rust from metals and stripping paint.

“I was introduced to the world of sandblasting by a friend who is a company president.”

“I had always wanted to learn a skilled trade. At that time, the owner of the restaurant where I was working part-time also ran a sandblasting company. He invited me to join the company when one of his employees decided to leave and start their own business. That’s how I first encountered sandblasting. I worked there for four years, and at the age of 26, I became independent.”

Today, sandblasting has become widely accessible, with specialty shops and workshops available across Japan. It is commonly enjoyed as an easy and fun craft experience, where sand is sprayed onto glass to create frosted surfaces and decorative patterns.

However, the sandblasting work handled by Mr. Matsuura requires unique artisanal skill. Techniques such as “step engraving” (dankiri), which expresses the depth of carving, and “overlay glass” (kabasé glass), where the colored layers of glass are selectively carved to create artistic effects, demand the precision and expertise of a true craftsman.

“The skills and experience gained with various materials have become the driving force for creating new products.”

“As for glass, most of my work comes from catalog products with wide distribution or customer-provided items. Often, I continue pieces that were originally engraved elsewhere. Since skilled engravers are becoming fewer, I’m always grateful when someone reaches out to me. But when jobs overlap, it can certainly get challenging.”

The materials used for sandblasting are extremely diverse, ranging from glass—which is the most common— to metals, acrylic, and stone. Even with glass products of the same shape, the finish of each piece can vary, requiring careful attention during processing.

“Focusing only on glass can make your experience too narrow. For example, I once engraved acrylic for a project commissioned by Katsushika Ward. Accumulating experiences like that expands the range of skills and techniques I have at my disposal. I believe that’s what leads to creating new products and innovations.”

Fun things can arise from chance encounters.

Mr. Matsuura cherishes his fellow craftsmen in the same industry and continues to maintain relationships with them. He says that the sandblasting industry is also changing with the times. As a new initiative, he is working to raise awareness of sandblasting by holding joint exhibitions with his colleagues, which has led to new encounters. "I'm thinking about what kind of synergistic effects we can achieve not just as sandblasting, but as glass processing in general. That's what I'm focusing on going forward," he said.

“Although its origins are debated, Ise Katagami boasts a tradition of over 1,000 years.”

Ise Katagami is said to have originated in Shirako, in what is now Suzuka City. Production still centers mainly around Suzuka today.

The washi paper used for these stencils is Mino washi, valued for its unique texture and durability, enhanced with persimmon tannin. From this paper, Edo Komon patterns are created, illustrating a remarkable connection between traditional industries across different regions.

This regional development is largely attributed to the area's strategic location on Ise Bay, which, under the protection of the Kishu Domain, flourished as an important center of trade.

“My father told me to fall in love with my work, and those words still support me to this day.”

Matsui Katagami Shop, now in its fourth generation, continues the tradition of Ise Katagami, known in Tokyo as Edo-style stencil carving. Mr. Matsui places great importance on the roots of Ise Katagami that have been passed down through his family.

During his apprenticeship, he lost his predecessor and had to establish the foundation of his craft on his own. Looking back, he acknowledges the support he received from those around him. One lesson from his father remains particularly memorable: “Fall in love with your work.”

At the time, he didn’t fully understand what that meant. Yet, following his father’s advice, he spent hours observing women in yukata and pursued even the smallest details with meticulous care. Today, he laughs, admitting that he has completely grown to love his work.

In 2009, he was certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward.

Comment from Kikako Matsui

“I am still very much an apprentice. I want to continue working hard, keeping in mind my father’s words: ‘A lifetime of training’ and ‘Always work carefully.’”

Ms. Kikako Matsui – Biography

• Born in 1964 in Tateishi, Katsushika Ward.
• Certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward in 2009.

“Metalworking techniques, considered the ancestor of traditional crafts, date back as far as the Kofun period.”

Metalworking possesses an enduring history, with its origins traced back to the late Kofun period. By the Genroku era in Edo, its inventive approach and fresh designs had spread into everyday life.

Metalworking is applied to accessories such as kanzashi (hair ornaments) and rings, as well as to decorative objects and religious implements, adding elegance and depth while enhancing the natural qualities of the material.

The techniques include:

“Higaki Metalwork Craft has honed and refined techniques inherited from the first generation through the second and third generations.”

The second-generation Yoshio Higaki established the shop in Katsushika and has dedicated over 60 years solely to metalworking.

The third-generation Takahiro Higaki began apprenticing under his father upon entering university. After graduation, he further honed his skills at a jewelry company before becoming independent. In addition to traditional metalworking techniques, he has developed his own unique braiding methods, earning high acclaim for his work in jewelry and other personal accessories.

Comment from Takahiro Higaki

Higaki Metalwork Craft was founded in the 1910s by Ginzō Higaki, the grandfather, in Kitasenju, Adachi Ward. The second generation, Nobuo Higaki, further developed and refined the family’s unique metalworking techniques. The third generation, Takahiro Higaki, has pioneered a new field known as “Hand-Braided Jewelry.””

“Hand-Braided Jewelry” is a modern style that combines the traditional tools and methods of Higaki Metalwork Craft with contemporary sensibilities. It involves processing precious metals such as 18K gold, platinum, and silver into wire-like forms, which are then carefully hand-braided to create decorative pieces. The name was devised by Takahiro Higaki to clearly convey the focus of this technique, at a time when the term “metalworking” had come to be used broadly for a wide range of techniques, from hand engraving to wax modeling.

In 2015, “Hand-Braided Jewelry” was recognized as a Katsushika Brand. Traditionally, Higaki Metalwork Craft’s creations have been produced in the family workshop and presented at artisan exhibitions held at department stores such as Mitsukoshi, Isetan, and Takashimaya. Responding to customer requests, the shop is now also offering these works online, making it possible for customers from distant locations to discover and enjoy the art of Hand-Braided Jewelry for the first time.

Takahiro Higaki – Biography

• Born in 1960 in Katsushika Ward (Third Generation).

“The history of silverware in Japan, dating back to the Engi-shiki era.”

Silver (Ag), a metal with a soft, silk-like luster, excellent thermal conductivity, and a warmth that can almost be felt upon touch, has long been a valuable material for creating a variety of everyday items. While silverware is often associated with Europe, Japan has a rich history as one of the world’s largest silver producers, with numerous mines including Iwami Ginzan.

The history of silverware in Japan is clearly documented as far back as the Engi-shiki (916), and it is believed to extend even further. Many silver artifacts remain among the treasures donated to Hōryū-ji, demonstrating an exceptional level of craftsmanship.

During the Edo period, craftsmen who made silver items were called shiroganeshi, and many were highly esteemed by feudal lords, leaving behind a wide range of works. In 1867, at the Exposition Universelle in Paris, Japanese silverware—including tea sets—was showcased, and its unique, expressive forms captured the attention of Europe.

Subsequently, European techniques were introduced to Japan, leading to the production of a diverse array of silver items, blending traditional Japanese artistry with new influences.

“Products created using the full range of techniques in gold, silver, and copper.”

Takasago, located west of Katsushika Shibamata, famous for the Taishakuten Temple, is also known as an important transfer point on the Keisei Line. About a 10-minute walk south from the station is the workshop of Shinji Nishiyama.

Born in March 1952 as the fifth of eight children in the Nishiyama family, he grew up in a household of silver artisans specializing in forging techniques within Tokyo silverware. Silverwork encompasses a variety of techniques—including forging, engraving, casting, and others—each a respected traditional craft in its own right. In the Nishiyama household, it was considered essential to study not only forging but many of these techniques.

Perhaps because he was encouraged to learn from a young age, Nishiyama, with his gentle smile and calm, quiet manner of speaking, gives off the impression of a researcher as much as a craftsman.

“Well, I think it was probably because it broadened the scope of our work. But my father also seemed to feel a responsibility to preserve the established techniques of metalcraft,” he says, showing an old book. The book details how, in 1895, the Tokyo School of Fine Arts (now Tokyo University of the Arts) established a craft department to teach techniques including forging, and it records the lineage of metalcraft artisans involved. That lineage is connected directly to the Nishiyama family.

“From his thirties onward, he devoted himself entirely to learning, moving with the currents of the times rather than against them.”

After graduating from junior high school, Nishiyama, like his siblings, became an apprentice under his father, Saburō. In the evenings, he attended the Tokyo Metropolitan Kōgei High School, Metalcraft Department, for four years, studying a wide range of techniques.

“Silverware doesn’t have strict rules about how it must be,” he recalls. “That’s what makes it fun, but also challenging. I’ve made all kinds of things when asked—models of printing machines, and pieces not just in silver, but in platinum, gold, copper, and more.”

Until the age of 30, he worked alongside his father and siblings in the family workshop, producing everything from horse racing trophies to silverware for U.S. military personnel and gold cups. However, the era of mass production and mass consumption eventually reduced their work significantly.

At that point, Nishiyama joined a jewelry company as a craftsman, following a long-standing interest in jewelry. “I was still young and wanted to learn as much as possible,” he says. At this larger, mechanized company, he gained experience in model making, finishing, stone setting, and repair techniques. “Repair work was fascinating—every piece was a first-time challenge—but I could apply much of what I had learned before. It was also rewarding to see my skills and ideas appreciated, and that was fun.”

He worked there for about 20 years, but once again, times changed. Production moved overseas where labor was cheaper, and the company’s fortunes declined. Ironically, during this period, traditional handcrafts began to be reappraised.

Nishiyama then left the company that had supported him and began assisting at his brother’s workshop. Eventually, he took the step to start his own workshop, “Muun.””

“At his workshop, ‘Muun,’ he enjoys creating his own works while also taking pleasure in teaching students.”

One of the most memorable moments in Nishiyama’s life was when his very first work won the “Tokyo Small and Medium Enterprise Association Award” at the first Tokyo Silverware Guild Gold & Silver Craft New Works Competition. What made it truly unforgettable was the joy it brought his father and mentor, Saburō Nishiyama.

“My older brother also won a different award in the same competition. Since both of us received prizes, my father was overjoyed. I never expected him to be so happy—it left a strong impression on me,” Nishiyama recalls.

Today, Nishiyama runs his own workshop, “Muun,” while his siblings continue to thrive as Tokyo Silverware Masters, each pursuing their craft. “I feel this was the right path. I’ve learned a great deal, and now I can focus entirely on creating my own works without feeling rushed,” he says.

Alongside his own production, Nishiyama also accepts interns from his alma mater, Tokyo Metropolitan Kōgei High School, providing technical guidance. Occasionally, students even express a desire to apprentice with him.

“I’m always happy when students take an interest and come to learn. In today’s world, it’s hard to take on apprentices, and there’s only so much I can teach in a limited time. But if I create quality works, they can learn from them in their own way,” he explains.

Currently, Nishiyama has many projects he wants to pursue. One of them is a single-piece hammered kettle. “The forging technique of shaping the metal from the spout to the handle is a specialty of the Nishiyama family.”

This metal hammering technique, called tsutsumi-zukuri, involves repeatedly hammering and stretching a flat metal sheet countless times to create a three-dimensional form. Nishiyama inherited this skill from his father, but his older brother had excelled at it and remains both his goal and greatest rival.

“If my brother can do it, I believe I can too. I don’t know if I’ll surpass him, but I want to try the same way,” he says.

It is remarkable that, despite being buffeted by the changing times, the siblings remain connected through the pursuit of the same craft. While it is uncertain when Nishiyama’s kettle will be completed, anticipation is high for the moment it is finally revealed.

Ueda Silverware Crafts, a pioneering Japanese silverware manufacturer recognized by prestigious families.

Ueda Silverware Crafts Co., Ltd., a long-established silverware manufacturer, is located very close to Horikiri-Shobu-en Station in Katsushika. Many people may not be familiar with this company name. In this industry, where sales channels are limited, the brand names attached to products are often found in top-tier department stores in Tokyo and Osaka.

However, Ueda Silverware is a manufacturer with manufacturing techniques said to be unparalleled among Japanese silverware manufacturers.



The first to recognize their capabilities was the Shoda family, the family of Empress Michiko. Later, due to this connection, they were commissioned to produce silverware bearing the birch tree crest for the Empress's wedding. This led to the Imperial Household Agency recognizing the high quality of their work, and they were commissioned to produce tableware for state banquets held for foreign dignitaries. Even now, they receive various requests directly from the Imperial Household Agency, including repairs. The silverware bearing the beach rose crest worn by Empress Masako is also made by this company, and it would not be an exaggeration to call it a Japanese royal brand, but the company has not so much publicized this fact until now. The reason is that they don't feel they are making anything particularly special.

Ueda Silverware combines European cutlery manufacturing techniques with traditional Japanese craftsmanship.

The company was founded in 1926 by the previous owner, Shinjiro Ueda, who opened a factory in Taito Ward after training in Yokohama. After the war, it settled in this location in Katsushika. However, they weren't able to produce high-quality products from the start.

　"Back then, we were making the handles and tips of spoons and other items by soldering them together, but our technique was poor, and the strength wasn't comparable to overseas products. As a result, the occupying forces who placed orders returned them as defective," recalls Kozo Ueda, the current president of the company, with a wry smile. This is an anecdote from when he was training under his father after graduating from school. Since silverware such as knives and forks are not part of Japanese food culture, he didn't know what level of quality was required. Nevertheless, Ueda, who was determined to win, used the traditional Japanese metalworking technique to thoroughly hammer the metal to stabilize its molecular structure and create forks and spoons that would never bend. However, this meant he could only produce a few pieces a day, and the production efficiency was far too low.

　So, in order to make the most of his metalworking skills, he came up with the idea of ​​incorporating three-dimensional molding, and saved up money to buy a press. Apparently, this looked like he was trying to make his work easier, and his father chased after him with a hammer.

　"It wasn't that I wanted to take the easy way out. I simply wanted to create something that could compete with Europe. That's all."

　His earnestness eventually reached his father. He must have realized the sincerity of his son's efforts, which included creating molds with tremendous effort. This is how one of Ueda Silverware's styles—thoroughly forging and polishing the metal after shaping—was established.

To preserve tradition means not to be bound by it.

As detailed below, Ms. Ueda has an impressive career as a traditional craftsperson. However, she says she is not confined to her position as a traditional craftsperson.

　"Tradition is important. However, we craftsmen always want to create the best possible products. If science advances and a technique superior to tradition emerges, I will not hesitate to adopt it. I believe that's how traditional crafts have continued to thrive."

　He has incorporated many techniques in the past. One example is knife brazing. Silver table knives absolutely require brazing of the blade and handle. Mr. Ueda disliked using harmful substances such as lead for knife brazing, and searched for a way to achieve high strength without using them. After many years, he arrived at a machine installed on the production line of a major automobile manufacturer that could instantly press together materials with different melting points. Surprisingly, the machine was manufactured by a small factory in the same Katsushika Ward.

　"The answer was right under my nose. I took quite a roundabout route," Ueda said with a wry smile.

　"Silver has antibacterial properties and is a very good substance for the body. I make silver tableware. Because it's something that goes in your mouth, I wanted to make products that I could say are safe even for babies."

The clear, resonant sound it produces when played is proof of its high quality as a silver product.

Ueda Silverware's tableware, whether spoons or forks, is so durable that even a strong man cannot easily bend them. This is due to the meticulous forging process and the generous amount of silver used, which gives them their thickness.



　"Now, I've finally gained a little confidence in our products," Ueda said, flicking a table fork made by his company with his finger. A tinkling sound like a bell rang out. Next, he flicked a fork from a well-known European brand, but it only made a dull thud.

　"Sound isn't everything, you know. But I guess Georg Jensen is about the only brand in Europe that I really like," he murmured sadly. Apparently, in Europe, the home of silverware, it's becoming increasingly difficult to produce good quality silverware.

　Therefore, Ueda says he feels fortunate to be able to create the silverware he wants to make in Japan.

　"Thankfully, there are people in Japan who hear about us from somewhere and place orders. It's because we have customers like that that we can continue to make good products." When you hold a Ueda Silverware product in your hands, you somehow feel proud of yourself. It's not because it's a luxury item, but rather because you can feel the passion of the craftsman who made it from a good product. How many products like that are there in Japan today? Without a doubt, Ueda Silverware products are one of those products.

[Kozo Ueda]

1990: Designated by the Minister of International Trade and Industry as a National Traditional Craftsman

1993: Received the Kanto Bureau of International Trade and Industry Director's Award for silver tableware at the 1st All Japan Gold and Silver Creation Exhibition

1994: Designated as a Tokyo Metropolitan Government Traditional Craftsman and certified as a Traditional Craftsman

1998: Received the Excellent Skills Award from the Governor of Tokyo as an Outstanding Skilled Worker

2000: Awarded the Yellow Ribbon Medal

“A uniquely evolved form of Yuzen, characterized by calm colors and a quiet elegance.”

“Yuzen dyeing is one of Japan’s representative textile dyeing techniques. Among its various styles, three are particularly well known: Kyo-Yuzen (Kyoto Yuzen), Kaga-Yuzen, and Tokyo-Yuzen.

Tokyo-Yuzen was introduced from Kyoto during the Edo period and developed in the cultural environment of the townspeople of Edo. Unlike the ornate elegance associated with Kyoto, Tokyo-Yuzen is characterized by refined designs and subdued colors that reflect the sophisticated aesthetic of Edo.”

“Its distinctive qualities are calm colors and compositions that are both intricate and bold.

• [2000] Certified as a Traditional Craft Artisan by Katsushika Ward
  
  

“Comment from Osamu Hyodo”

“I continue striving with the motto, ‘To create work that only I can accomplish.’”

“Biography of Osamu Hyodo”

• 1957 – Born in Hagi City, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan
  
• 1975 – Studied traditional Japanese sewing (wasai)
• 1977 – Began apprenticeship in hand-painted Yuzen under Manabu Tajima
• 1979 – Selected for the International Dyeing and Weaving Exhibition
• 1981 – Received the Chairman’s Award of the Japan Chamber of Commerce and Industry at the Japan Handicraft Art Exhibition
• 1983 – Established independent studio
• 1985 – Selected for the Japan Traditional Crafts Dyeing & Weaving Exhibition
• 1986 – Certified as a full member of the Japan Kōgei Association
• 1989 – Held solo exhibition “Flowers of Miyazaki” at the Miyazaki Prefectural Museum; received award from the Tokyo Kimono Fashion Council
• 1993 – Selected for the 1st Sakura Exhibition; received the Chairman’s Award at the Akita Kimono Flower Exhibition
• 1995 – Selected for the Japan Traditional Dyeing & Weaving Exhibition, “Mountain and Clouds” (Traditional Dyeing & Weaving category)
• 1998 – Selected for the Japan Traditional Dyeing & Weaving Exhibition, “Shibuki” (Traditional Dyeing & Weaving category)
• 1999 – Received Encouragement Award for “Kuon” at the Japan Traditional Dyeing & Weaving Exhibition
• 2000 – Certified as a Traditional Craft Artisan by Katsushika Ward

“The timeless beauty that emerges from the interplay of fire and water, glowing softly with golden hues.”

Tortoiseshell (Bekkō)

Tortoiseshell has a long and fascinating history. While its origins are subject to various theories, it is believed that the craft spread in China during the Han dynasty, made its way to Europe, and eventually reached Japan in the Nara period. This decorative material is made by processing the shells of hawksbill turtles, yielding a soft yellowish-white glow. Its beauty and smooth texture have made it highly prized for centuries.

In Japan, numerous tortoiseshell items are preserved in the Shōsōin Treasury, but it was during the mid-Edo period that tortoiseshell became widely used as ornamentation for the general public. Containing components similar to animal glue, tortoiseshell can be shaped into any form using only fire and water, without the need for adhesives. This versatility allowed it to be used in a wide range of daily tools and decorative items.

Today, however, international trade in tortoiseshell has been globally halted under the Washington Convention (CITES). Once the pre-imported raw materials are exhausted, the traditional craft of tortoiseshell in Japan will face the risk of disappearing. Various efforts are underway to prevent this outcome, but the future of this centuries-old craft remains uncertain.

“Tortoiseshell items, which were originally made for the upper classes, became widely used by the general public during the mid-Edo period.”

Kinsaku Yamakawa and the Craft of Edo Tortoiseshell

Shinkoiwa, located on the border of Katsushika and Edogawa Wards, is a bustling downtown area with convenient access to Narita Airport and central Tokyo. Its affordable cost of living has attracted many foreign residents as well. In a building not far from Shinkoiwa Station lies the workshop of traditional craft artisan Kinsaku Yamakawa.

As you may know, Edo tortoiseshell (Edo Bekkō) is a traditional craft made by processing the shells of hawksbill turtles (Eretmochelys imbricata). Hawksbill turtles do not inhabit Japanese waters, so since the Nara period, tortoiseshell has been imported from the Ryukyu Islands and the Philippines, and was considered a luxury item for the upper classes. Ordinary people were able to wear tortoiseshell only around the mid-Edo period, when trade through Nagasaki became active.

Among tortoiseshell products, pieces with more amber-colored areas in the mottled “fu” pattern were considered higher quality. These were crafted into eyeglasses, hairpins, combs, and many other items. Through the Meiji, Taisho, and Showa eras, tortoiseshell remained a highly coveted material among the public. During the postwar period of rapid economic growth, many tortoiseshell shops flourished.

However, international trade in hawksbill turtles was prohibited under the Washington Convention, and since 1992, raw materials could no longer be imported. Standing in front of his seasoned workbench, Yamakawa chuckles as he says,

“Nowadays, materials just don’t come in. If we had good raw materials, there’s so much I would like to make.”

The global restriction on hawksbill turtle trade has yet to be resolved. Japanese tortoiseshell artisans continue to produce their work by sharing scarce materials and stock through cooperatives, making the most of what is available to sustain this centuries-old craft.

“After a childhood spent moving from place to place, his path as a tortoiseshell craftsman opened in Tokyo.”

Kinsaku Yamakawa – From Regional Childhood to Tokyo Tortoiseshell Artisan

Kinsaku Yamakawa was born in Niigata Prefecture and soon moved to Shizuoka, where he spent his elementary school years. From middle school onward, he relocated to Yamanashi. Reflecting on his childhood, he recalls:

“Because of my parents’ work, we moved from place to place. I didn’t want to leave Shizuoka, but moving to Yamanashi shaped who I am today.”

It was a teacher at his Yamanashi middle school who introduced him to a major tortoiseshell workshop in Tokyo, enabling him to move to the city. Employment came before further education. Though his family was poor, such circumstances were common at the time. Yamakawa fondly remembers:

“The president of the tortoiseshell workshop where I started was a great person. He took care of me a lot. I was just a child back then and made many mistakes, but looking back, I’ve been very fortunate to have such support.”

Having moved across regions so often as a child, Yamakawa sometimes humorously likens himself to a sea turtle. Among his colleagues, he is affectionately called “Kin-chan.” His calm demeanor and gentle manner of speaking make everyone feel at ease. Yet when he begins working, his expression changes instantly, and the intense concentration in his hands spreads to those around him. It is no wonder that his peers trust him implicitly. One fellow artisan observes,

“Kin-chan has always relied on others growing up, so his mindset toward work is completely different.”

Yamakawa opened his own workshop relatively recently, in 2004 (Heisei 16). Until then, he had worked under the guidance of the very first president who had taken him in. He reflects:

“When that president passed away, it felt like a push to start on my own. I thought I could manage, and besides, this is the only thing I can truly do.”

At a time when many workshops were closing due to uncertainty in the tortoiseshell industry, Yamakawa’s new venture was not without risk. Yet with the support of his colleagues, he was able to establish his own path and continue the craft.

“Perhaps the future is an era in which various traditional crafts will collaborate with one another.”

Kinsaku Yamakawa – Dedication to Craft and Collaboration

In the field of tortoiseshell, Yamakawa is often commissioned to create decorative parts for a variety of crafts. While these pieces do not become his own works and require meticulous effort, he approaches every task with unwavering care, no matter how small. Word of his precision and dedication eventually reached major jewelry brands, who began entrusting him with a variety of projects.

One particularly memorable commission was the creation of a base for a top-quality cameo. Yamakawa reflects:

“Truly, good materials make for good work. And when you succeed in creating something excellent, the joy is immense.”

The allure of Yamakawa’s work lies in its curves, as a long-time customer—a lady who has collected his pieces for years—explains. Indeed, the polished surfaces of his pieces are layered with a depth of sheen unmatched by plastic replicas, creating a beauty that can only come from careful, repeated finishing.

When asked what he enjoys most about working with tortoiseshell, Yamakawa replies:

“It’s when customers are truly pleased. They’ve paid a significant amount for my work, and then express their thanks. That makes me happy—I feel genuinely appreciated.”

For ordinary people, encountering the works of craftsmen like Yamakawa, who do not operate direct retail shops, can be difficult. While department stores may carry such items, they are often beyond reach for most. In Katsushika, however, artisans maintain strong networks, organizing joint events and exhibitions, providing opportunities for the public to experience these crafts.

Yamakawa notes that the deep connections among different types of traditional artisans in Katsushika allow him to respond to orders across disciplines with remarkable attention to detail.

“Even though traditional crafts usually organize within their own guilds, collaboration across different crafts is rare in Japan outside of Tokyo’s Katsushika Ward. But I believe the future is moving in that direction.”

“Following the Haitōrei (sword abolition edict), Edo swordsmiths evolved their skills to produce tools for ordinary people.”

Edo and Tokyo Forged Blades

Edo-forged and Tokyo-forged blades share the same origin. During the Sengoku period, Japan was divided into regions, and each warlord focused on producing stronger and more durable weapons. This was the era when swordsmithing reached its peak.

When the Edo period began, warfare ceased, and the demand for swords suddenly vanished. However, because samurai culture persisted, swordsmiths did not disappear. Centered in Edo, swordsmiths continued their craft. In fact, the end of mass production allowed quality to improve, and techniques evolved further.

The Meiji period brought a dramatic change with the Haitōrei (sword abolition edict), which effectively dismantled samurai culture that had continued since the Kamakura period. Edo swordsmiths were forced to find new paths. In the newly established Tokyo, they applied their skills to the production of various tools. One notable example was tailor’s scissors (tachi-basami).

Highly skilled blacksmiths gathered in a corner of Negishi, Tokyo, using a technique called sōbutsuri (forging entirely by hand from a single piece of steel, without molds) to create scissors. The exceptional quality of these scissors earned widespread acclaim. With the rise of Western-style clothing, demand for these scissors rapidly increased, replacing the traditional cutting knives previously used in sewing.

Today, very few artisans preserve this technique in Tokyo, yet Tokyo-forged blades are still widely associated with tailor’s scissors, reflecting the enduring legacy of this centuries-old craftsmanship.

“Sōbutsuri is the most traditional forging method, in which various tools are made entirely by hand with a single hammer, without using molds.”

Yasuhiro Okawara – Continuing a Legacy of Master Scissors Craftsmanship

Yasuhiro Okawara inherited the workshop of Hiroshi Kikuwa from his father, Yukio Kikuwa, and now manages it on his own. Following in the footsteps of his father, a nationally renowned master of tailor’s scissors, one might imagine the pressure would be immense. Surprisingly, Yasuhiro exudes none of that tension. Instead, he speaks with enthusiasm about his own aspiration to one day create all kinds of blades, just as his father did.

“Scissors are very difficult,” he laughs. “I’m still training hard to make pieces I can truly be satisfied with.”

Though he modestly describes himself as still in training, Yasuhiro was officially recognized as a traditional craft artisan in 2019, having met the rigorous standards of Katsushika Ward. Even as a young artisan, he plays a central role in the Katsushika Traditional Industry Craftsmen’s Association, coordinating district events and exhibitions.

His straightforward personality and the innovative products he creates have drawn attention nationwide, and invitations from department stores and exhibitions across Japan continue to come in steadily.

"The world of woodcarving in Japan, intertwined with its history from ancient times to the present."

"A Carefully Chosen Path to Woodcarving"

Woodcarving is said to have been introduced from the Asian continent along with the arrival of Buddhism. As is well known, since the Heian period, many Buddhist statues were carved, particularly in Kyoto and Nara. However, during the Muromachi period, sects such as Zen, which rejected the worship of statues, rose to prominence, and opportunities to carve Buddhist images sharply declined.

Afterward, artisans turned their skills to architectural carvings, creating elaborate decorations for temple halls, transoms, and pillars, giving rise to a flourishing decorative culture in architecture. When the Edo period began, these techniques advanced even further, producing famous architectural masterpieces such as the Tōshōgū Shrine in Nikkō. Recent research has revealed that nearly all parts of Tōshōgū were crafted in Edo, lacquered, transported to the site, and then assembled. One can sense the ingenuity of Edo craftsmen, who used lacquer to harden the wood and minimize damage during transportation.

In addition to such architectural works, the Edo period was also a time when woodcarving techniques were applied to everyday items, theater and tea ceremony tools, and other objects, marking a period in which woodcarving culture truly flourished.

With the Meiji era and the advent of modernization, Western culture spread, and Western-style architecture became popular in Japan. As time progressed through the Taishō and Shōwa periods, many craftsmen were influenced by these trends in woodcarving. Their masterpieces can still be seen today in various buildings, including the National Diet Buildin

"A Carefully Chosen Path to Woodcarving"

Even within Edo woodcarving, the range of work is vast. Looking back at its history, woodcarving has touched nearly every aspect of Japanese culture—from Buddhist statues, architectural art in temples and shrines, and everyday objects like plates and tea bowls, to personal ornaments. For instance, in the world of traditional performing arts such as Noh, there are woodcarvers known as Nohmen-shi or Omote-uchi-shi, who specialize in carving Noh masks.

Shuta Kitazawa is one such Noh mask artisan. Born in 1968 in Katsushika, his father was Ikkyō Kitazawa, a leading figure in Edo woodcarving, renowned for crafting the mikoshi of Tomioka Hachimangū, the lion heads at Naritasan Shinshō-ji Temple, and the Buddhist altar for the late Yujiro Ishihara. From a young age, Shuta enjoyed observing his father’s work up close. Yet, his father never once told him to take over the family craft.

Knowing how demanding the world of woodcarving could be, Shuta felt drawn to it but was hesitant to commit, and so he chose to pursue higher education. He enrolled at the National Tokyo University of Agriculture and Technology, majoring in the Department of Forest Products. Considering his personal career and the social context of the time, he could have followed many different paths upon graduation. However, without hesitation, he asked to apprentice under his father. His father simply said, “If you want to do it, go ahead.”

Shuta spent his days diligently performing the preparatory carving tasks assigned by his father, carefully observing and imitating his work. Yet in the back of his mind, he always nurtured a desire to one day develop a style of woodcarving that would be uniquely his own, distinct from his father’s.

"Diving into the World of Noh and Kyogen in Search of a Woodcarving Style Only He Can Create"

Through his connection with the Edo woodcarvers’ guild, Kitazawa had the fortunate opportunity to meet Michihiko Itō, a master Noh mask carver. “At that time, it was a kind of year-long workshop where we made a Hannya mask, and I realized how incredibly enjoyable it was to create a mask. The fact that it involved painting was fascinating, too, and I felt I wanted to learn more, so I approached Master Itō,” Kitazawa recalls.

From that moment, his new training in woodcarving began. He devoted himself wholeheartedly to carving masks. “The fundamental techniques of woodcarving are the same whether you’re making a Noh mask or a Buddhist statue. But the materials aren’t just wood. There’s painting, and sometimes even the addition of hair. In my case, I was really fortunate to have the support of various craftsmen through the Katsushika artisans’ guild, which brought together professionals from many fields. I owe a lot to that network.”

Even more good fortune followed. Kitazawa was given the opportunity to have his work seen by professional Noh performers. His craftsmanship was highly praised, and that recognition allowed him to take his first step forward as a mask carver.

"The Joy of Bringing Images to Life from Blocks of Wood, with Dreams that Continue to Reach the World"

Today, Kitazawa receives offers not only from across Japan but from all over the world. In 2011, he carved the mask for Princess Cordelia in a Shakespeare production of King Lear performed in San Francisco by an international cast. His remarkable skill in adapting the deep facial features of foreign actors into Noh masks without any sense of incongruity was widely praised both in Japan and abroad.

That same year, he was involved in the English-language Noh play PAGODA, written by British playwright Janet Chong, which toured China and Japan. Kitazawa created the masks, conducted workshops, and even gave a lecture at Peking University. “Working with actors from overseas is incredibly educational and inspiring in many ways,” he says.

In fact, Kitazawa himself continues to study Kyogen whenever he can, believing that experiencing performance firsthand deepens his understanding of the masks. “The joy of woodcarving comes from creating images from a block of wood. That’s why it’s essential, as an artist, to nurture and expand your imagination,” he explains.

When one looks at Kitazawa’s masks, their poised beauty captivates, while their sheer presence conveys an almost overwhelming intensity—as if they can see through everything. This sensation is unlike what one experiences with paintings or other forms of sculpture. Facing his masks, it becomes clear that Noh and Kyogen are arts that integrate the appeal of actors, costumes, and masks alike, creating a harmonious whole.

We hope that through this site, visitors can experience the unique allure of authentic stage Noh masks—masks made not as souvenirs, but as true works of art intended for the theater.

"The World of Woodcarving in Japan, Interwoven with Its History from Ancient Times to the Present"

Woodcarving is said to have been introduced from the Asian continent along with the arrival of Buddhism. As is well known, since the Heian period, many Buddhist statues were carved, particularly in Kyoto and Nara. However, during the Muromachi period, sects such as Zen, which rejected the worship of statues, rose to prominence, and opportunities to carve Buddhist images sharply declined.

Afterward, artisans turned their skills to architectural carvings, creating elaborate decorations for temple halls, transoms, and pillars, giving rise to a flourishing decorative culture in architecture. When the Edo period began, these techniques advanced even further, producing famous architectural masterpieces such as Tōshōgū Shrine in Nikkō. Recent research has revealed that nearly all parts of Tōshōgū were crafted in Edo, lacquered, transported to the site, and then assembled. One can sense the ingenuity of Edo craftsmen, who used lacquer to harden the wood and minimize damage during transportation.

In addition to such architectural works, the Edo period was also a time when woodcarving techniques were applied to everyday objects, theater and tea ceremony tools, and other items, marking a period in which woodcarving culture truly flourished.

With the Meiji era and the advent of modernization, Western culture spread, and Western-style architecture became popular in Japan. As time progressed through the Taishō and Shōwa periods, many craftsmen were influenced by these trends in woodcarving. Their masterpieces can still be seen today in various buildings, including the National Diet Building.

"A technique called ‘Umenashi,’ in which no wood chips are wasted and the work is assembled and finished using a single piece."

Shiota Carving Shop was established in 1946, in the postwar Showa period, by the founder, Matahei Shiota. The current head, Tadashi Shiota, is the second-generation owner. After graduating from junior high school, Tadashi became his father’s apprentice. However, he recalls with a wry smile, “My father didn’t teach me anything.”

At the same time, twelve others joined as apprentices, but seven years later, Tadashi was the only one who remained. Even so, he honed his skills by assisting his father and carefully observing him at work.

Tadashi’s specialty is the “Umenashi” technique, in which no wood chips are wasted and even the thinnest pieces are combined to complete a work. This method, mastered not only by the Shiota family but also by many Edo woodcarving artisans, creates pieces that appear as if carved from a single block of wood. Tadashi assembles his works from dozens of separate wooden parts, yet the viewer never realizes it. This subtlety embodies his pride and professionalism as a master craftsman.

"The postwar era, when craftsmen sustained their work by sharpening their tools and stockpiling materials."

What Tadashi inherited from his father was not just skill—he also received the tools that his father valued more than life itself. After Japan’s defeat in the war, Tokyo lay in ruins, yet his father remained devoted to woodcarving. With neither materials nor tools at hand, he scavenged what he could and purchased old tools from antique shops, sharpening them into usable forms himself.

With work scarce, he studied the surviving pieces from the Edo period, walking from one example to another. Witnessing the extraordinary works left behind by master artisans ignited a passionate fire within him. He believed that only when he could achieve the same level of craftsmanship would he become a true artisan.

The ability to replicate these historic woodcarvings remains the strength of Shiota Carving Shop today, and it is precisely this skill that has earned the trust of countless clients.

"The greatest pride in woodcarving is being able to move people."

At Shiota Carving Shop, in addition to producing regular woodcarvings, Tadashi also handles the restoration and replication of Buddhist statues. Reproducing and preserving classical works for future generations requires not only high-level skill but also tremendous motivation and passion. “My father was the same,” Tadashi says. “By studying old works and reproducing them, you raise your own level as a craftsman.”

When he talks about woodcarving, Tadashi frequently emphasizes the importance of “moving people.” This, he explains, is his greatest joy and source of pride. “If someone who sees my work feels even a moment of emotion and is reminded of the people of the past and those who came before us, that makes me truly happy.”

The World of Wood Carving That Has Existed Alongside Japanese History from Ancient Times to the Present

Wood carving is said to have been introduced from the Asian continent along with the arrival of Buddhism in Japan. As is well known, from the Heian period onward, numerous Buddhist statues were carved, primarily in Kyoto and Nara.

However, with the advent of the Muromachi period, Zen and other Buddhist sects that rejected idol worship rose to prominence, and opportunities to carve Buddhist statues rapidly declined. Thereafter, craftsmen began to work on architectural carvings—such as ranma transoms and pillars in temple and shrine buildings—leading to a flourishing culture of architectural ornamentation.

Entering the Edo period, these techniques advanced even further, giving rise to magnificent architectural masterpieces such as the Toshogu Shrine in Nikko. Recent research has revealed that nearly all of Toshogu’s components were crafted in Edo, lacquered, then transported to the site and assembled there. By tightly sealing and strengthening the wood with lacquer, Edo craftsmen sought to reduce damage during transport—an ingenious solution that reflects their remarkable skill and foresight.

Beyond such grand architecture, the Edo period was also a time when wood carving techniques were applied to everyday woodenware, as well as tools for theater and the tea ceremony. A wide variety of products were created, and wood carving culture flourished dramatically.

With the dawn of the Meiji era and Japan’s rapid modernization, Western culture spread throughout the country, and Western-style architecture became popular. As the Taisho and Showa periods followed, many woodcarvers were influenced by these new styles. Their masterpieces can still be seen today in numerous buildings, including the National Diet Building.

Finding His Way as a Craftsman in an Unfamiliar Land

In early summer, some 200,000 irises of about 100 varieties burst into bloom at Mizumoto Park in Tokyo’s Katsushika Ward, drawing crowds of visitors. Just a few minutes’ walk from there stands the workshop of Ikkei Kitazawa.

Speaking of Ikkei Kitazawa in the world of Edo wood carving, there is hardly anyone in the field who does not know his name. From the lion head at Naritasan Shinshoji Temple to the carvings on what is said to be Japan’s largest mikoshi at Tomioka Hachimangu Shrine, his work is widely renowned. He is truly one of the leading figures representing contemporary Edo wood carving.

Born in 1940 (Showa 15) in Tochigi Prefecture, Kitazawa’s father was a hand-painted yuzen artisan and also a painter who created illustrations for national newspapers. However, while traveling to Singapore as a war correspondent during the war, his ship was sunk, and he never returned home.

After the war, Kitazawa’s mother began peddling flowers to raise her four children. The image of her back, carrying a large basket of flowers, remains vividly etched in his memory. With their mother often returning home late, the children shared the household chores among themselves. Splitting firewood and heating the bath were Kitazawa’s responsibilities. While tending the fire, he would pass the time carving kokeshi dolls and small figures with a pocketknife. Neighbors praised his skill, saying how talented he was—an encouragement that led him to pursue the path of carving.

“In short, I was flattered into it,” Kitazawa recalls with a laugh. “So at fifteen, I left home to apprentice at a carving workshop in Saitama. My mother simply told me to follow what I loved and quietly saw me off.”

Yet having never stepped outside Tochigi before, Kitazawa found himself lost in unfamiliar Saitama. No matter how much he searched the town, he could not find the workshop he was looking for. Exhausted and at a loss, he happened by chance to encounter the head of a Buddhist altar shop. After hearing his story, the man said, “What? You’re going there? I’ll introduce you to a far better carver. Don’t go to a place like that.”

The man then took him to the Asakusa workshop of Iijima Beizan, who was already celebrated at the time as a master craftsman of Edo wood carving.

“You never know where life will change,” Kitazawa says with a smile.

The tools teach you the work. What a master must teach is something else.

Kitazawa says that Iijima Beizan was an extraordinary man.

“My master used to say, ‘A master doesn’t teach the work itself; he teaches the way to make a living.’ That was his favorite phrase. He never really taught me the craft. But now I understand exactly what he meant.”

The meaning, it seems, is this: wood carving is not something one can master simply by being taught. There are more than 300 different chisels to use, and learning to handle them skillfully comes only through accumulated experience. To do so, one must sharpen one’s own tools and come to know them intimately. As that happens, skill improves naturally. In other words, it is the tools that teach you how to work.

However, obtaining work requires not only personal connections but also the fortune of timing. Opening that path—creating those opportunities—is the role of the master.

Despite being a renowned craftsman with such exceptional skill, Kitazawa no longer takes on apprentices. The primary reason lies here.

“When I think about what I can truly do for someone as a master, this isn’t an era when you can casually take on apprentices. Traditional Japanese architecture is declining. Homes without tatami rooms or Buddhist altars have become the norm.”

Of course, the world of wood carving extends beyond architecture and household altars. Yet it is also true that elements of Japanese identity and traditional aesthetics are gradually disappearing from everyday life. The craft of wood carving overlaps closely with that reality.

“But,” he adds, “I believe new fields will surely open up in the future. The history of wood carving has always been a repetition of such changes since the Heian period.”
The Style of Ikkei Kitazawa as a Sculptor, Born from Partings and Encounters

The achievements of Kazuyuki Kitazawa as a woodcarver are remarkable. He has created works that will remain treasures for generations of Japanese people, from the largest mikoshi at Tomioka Hachiman Shrine to the lion heads of Naritasan.

Yet, Kitazawa had a turning point in his life that shaped his approach to his craft. About 30 years ago, his wife suddenly passed away at the age of 42. With three young sons to raise, there was no time to dwell on grief, though he recalls feeling an emptiness in his heart. “Even if I tried to convince myself it was inevitable and put on a brave face, my heart was honest,” he says.

This loss, however, led to a new opportunity. A Butsudan (Buddhist altar) Kitazawa had carved caught the eye of the late actress Makiko Ishihara, the widow of the great Shōwa-era star Yujiro Ishihara. She insisted on having Kitazawa craft her late husband’s altar. “I understood the depth of sorrow that comes with losing a spouse at a young age, so her request resonated deeply. I didn’t carve it as ‘work.’ I carved it desperately. I felt it would also be a memorial for my wife,” Kitazawa recalls.

A Butsudan is more than a piece of furniture; it is a symbolic representation of the deceased, visited by family and friends. Nothing less than perfection would do for a star of the Shōwa era. Using Yakusugi cedar, now a natural monument, at a height of six shaku, Kitazawa personally carved every detail, creating a unique altar. When it was completed, Mrs. Ishihara was reportedly unable to move away from it.

Kitazawa reflects that the experience transformed his approach to work and to woodcarving. “I realized that what is meant to be carved already exists within the wood. My role is to remove the unnecessary parts,” he explains. By meticulously stripping away excess material and bringing the subject to its utmost form, Kitazawa developed his signature style, where the carvings seem almost alive.

A few years later, Kitazawa completed the mikoshi for Tomioka Hachiman Shrine. On the day it was revealed to the public and installed in the shrine, he went to observe. Following tradition, the mikoshi arrived by boat at Eitai Bridge, greeted by tens of thousands of people. Kitazawa recalls standing in the crowd, watching quietly, when he overheard two elderly spectators saying, “We’re lucky to live long enough to see this.” At that moment, he finally felt a sense of relief and fulfillment in his work.

Today, Kitazawa says he takes great joy in facing a block of wood, eager to carve. The only limitation is finding the right wood to bring his visions to life. Every piece he creates is entirely handcrafted by him, and it is incredible that his works are available on this site. These are authentic, original works of Kazuyuki Kitazawa, and deserve careful appreciation.

"Japanese Blacksmithing Culture, Blossoming Within Society Despite the Tides of History"

From the Sengoku period into the Edo period, the demand for swords declined as wars became less frequent, and swordsmithing skills gradually transformed into the production of various tools. Broadly speaking, these skills developed in three directions: agricultural tools, woodworking tools, and everyday items for common people.

Blacksmiths who made agricultural tools were called no-kaji, while those who crafted woodworking tools were known as dōgu-kaji or daiku-dōgu-kaji. No-kaji developed regionally in rural villages and were highly respected, being the only people permitted to keep a fire burning all night in households.

On the other hand, dōgu-kaji mainly advanced their techniques in urban centers, creating high-quality tools for carpenters and joiners. The enduring quality of furniture and buildings made with Edo-period tools today testifies to their exceptional craftsmanship.

The third category, everyday tools for common people, included knives, scissors, and other cutting instruments. With the modernization of Japan during the Meiji period, Western tools were introduced, bringing new types of blades, such as forged knives, scissors, and carving tools. This period also saw further development and refinement of blacksmithing techniques to produce these tools.From the Sengoku period into the Edo period, the demand for swords declined as wars became less frequent, and swordsmithing skills gradually transformed into the production of various tools. Broadly speaking, these skills developed in three directions: agricultural tools, woodworking tools, and everyday items for common people.

Blacksmiths who made agricultural tools were called no-kaji, while those who crafted woodworking tools were known as dōgu-kaji or daiku-dōgu-kaji. No-kaji developed regionally in rural villages and were highly respected, being the only people permitted to keep a fire burning all night in households.

On the other hand, dōgu-kaji mainly advanced their techniques in urban centers, creating high-quality tools for carpenters and joiners. The enduring quality of furniture and buildings made with Edo-period tools today testifies to their exceptional craftsmanship.

The third category, everyday tools for common people, included knives, scissors, and other cutting instruments. With the modernization of Japan during the Meiji period, Western tools were introduced, bringing new types of blades, such as forged knives, scissors, and carving tools. This period also saw further development and refinement of blacksmithing techniques to produce these tools.

"Kameari, where the atmosphere of Shōwa-era downtown Tokyo remains, is home to a workshop of a master craftsman celebrated since the Edo period."

Sekiri’s workshop is located in a residential neighborhood, about a five-minute walk from Kameari Station. On my first visit, I was struck by how ordinary the surroundings were—it was hard to believe that a blacksmith’s workshop, where fire is used daily, could exist in such a setting.

Sekiri is said to be one of the oldest knife-forging workshops in Tokyo. The bright and surprisingly cool environment of the workshop, where it hardly seems that hot forging work takes place, is the result of years of refinement by Sōichi Yaegashi. He carefully devised ways to minimize sparks and smoke, allowing the workshop to operate in this residential area to this day.

“There used to be many small factories and artisan workshops around here. Over time, they gradually disappeared, one by one, and the area became a residential neighborhood,” he explains.

“Forging, tempering, and quenching—when these three come together, a fine blade is born.”

In working with forged blades, everything begins with selecting the right steel. The quality of the steel directly determines the quality of the final product. Next comes heating and hammering, where the temperature, the number of strikes, and other details rely on years of experience and intuition.

The final step is quenching. “Some people debate whether forging or quenching is more important,” he explains, “but I believe the final quenching determines everything. It is the most critical step, capable of completely transforming both the material and the effects of all the hammering that came before.”

Forging refers to heating the metal and hammering it repeatedly. This process removes impurities within the metal. Quenching, on the other hand, involves rapidly cooling the blade in water after it has reached a specific temperature. This changes the blade’s internal structure and increases the hardness of the metal.

“While modern steel and fuel are now available, the goal going forward is to continue pursuing the techniques of the latest craftsmanship.”

“The quality of steel has really improved compared to the past. Also, the switch from charcoal to oil as fuel has made it possible to achieve more consistent results,” says Sōichi Yaegashi. Adapting to these changes, he continues to refine his skills without being bound by tradition.

“I learn a lot from my peers. If someone suggests a better way to do something, I listen carefully and incorporate it into my own work,” he explains.

Sekiri knives are known for their softness, which makes them less prone to chipping—a feature said to be unique compared to other knife makers. The secret lies in the precise control of the quenching temperature, though the details remain confidential.

Yaegashi has a deep attachment to his tools. He believes the greatest understanding of his work comes from those who actually use the tools he makes. Every day, he listens to customers’ feedback and constantly thinks about how to make his tools more user-friendly.

"Eco-Friendly Household Goods Designed by Japanese Artisans"

The tawashi brush is said to have been invented in 1907 (Meiji 40) by the first-generation master, Masazaemon Nishio, of Kamenoko Tawashi Nishio Shoten. He came up with the idea after seeing people use scraps of mud-removing mats for gold washing and decided to bundle them into brushes.

There are two main types of materials: coconut husk and shuro (palm fiber) bark. In the past, almost every household kitchen had a tawashi. Today, however, most brushes are made of nylon and mass-produced by machines, making handmade tawashi increasingly rare.

Tawashi made from shuro are particularly valued for their softness and durability.

"The Only Shuro Tawashi Workshop in Tokyo, Run by Brothers"

The dry, clattering sound of engines echoed through the area. The ground floor of the raised wooden house serves as a garage, and the noise came from beyond it. Passing between two cars, an old wooden staircase leads upward to a workshop with plank floors.

The space resembles a traditional Japanese barn, yet carries a faintly foreign atmosphere. This impression comes from the uniquely shaped handmade tools, the wooden-framed windows overlooking the streets of Katsushika, and the strong summer sunlight streaming through—casting a European-like glow reminiscent of a Studio Ghibli animation.

The source of the floor-shaking motor noise was a machine used for trimming the twisted tawashi sticks—a large, belt-driven trimming machine with a seat attached. With the massive ventilator nearby roaring in tandem, it almost looked as if it could fly.

Shinichi Sagara, a master craftsman of traditional shuro tawashi, was seated on the machine when we visited, in the middle of the trimming process.

“The key to making a tawashi brush is twisting. A brush with evenly aligned fibers is strong and long-lasting.”

When we greeted him, he flashed a friendly, welcoming smile, stopped the machine, and first showed us one of the most important steps in making a tawashi: twisting. Using a twisting machine that has been in the family since his grandfather’s time, he folded a piece of wire in half, bundled the shuro fibers, and placed them evenly between the wires. Then he twisted it all at once.

After twisting, the wire is removed—but at that moment, the tension is so high that it makes a sharp, rifle-like snap. I tried it myself, and as expected, it required considerable strength. Twisting multiple brushes like this would be exhausting. Too much force is also dangerous; if the wire exceeds its limit, it snaps. The secret to a good tawashi is twisting it right up to that delicate threshold.

“The spiral twists must be perfectly even, or the brush won’t turn out well,” he explained. “You have to align the fibers, twist, untwist, and repeat until it’s uniform. It’s tedious work (laughs).”

Shinichi Sagara is the third generation in his family to make tawashi. He began training immediately after finishing school, and nearly half a century has passed since. Today, he runs the workshop with his younger brother, Seiji. Seiji originally worked for a major corporation but joined the family craft after their father passed away.

“Hot, isn’t it? Even with the air conditioning, the dust from the trimming machine breaks it immediately. So in the summer, we’re drenched in sweat,” Seiji laughs. Indeed, it’s hot—just helping briefly made sweat pour from me. Yet the occasional breeze through the open windows is refreshing.

“The best thing about craftsmanship is that you can always pursue perfection. Tawashi seem simple, but they’re surprisingly deep. I think I’m at least five years ahead of most people, but my older brother is another five years beyond me,” Seiji adds.

“Materials, people, and times change—and we adapt accordingly. There is no end to this process.”

I was fascinated by the idea that a traditional craft could still continue to evolve. Lost in questions and conversation, I completely lost track of time. The process of making Sagara’s shuro tawashi involves more than 30 steps from selecting the palm fibers to beginning the twisting stage. According to Shinichi Sagara, this process changes slightly every day. Each adjustment has a reason, backed by decades of experience.

“The quality of the materials has changed, and the way they are used is different from the past, so we can’t do it the old way. Naturally, the process keeps expanding,” Shinichi explained.

Sagara’s shuro tawashi is highly regarded among professional chefs and artisans, with a client list full of familiar names. Today, most tawashi available in stores are made from palm (coconut) rather than shuro, and nearly all are produced overseas. This has made them cheaper and widely available, but it has also meant that very few craftsmen in Japan continue to make traditional shuro tawashi.

“The quality of shuro has been declining year by year. Not that the fibers themselves are worse, but the proportion of unusable parts has increased. If the materials are unstable and the work takes so much time, no one would want to do it,” he says.

The defining qualities of shuro are its flexibility and resilience. To achieve this, the fibers must be aligned, bundled to the proper density, and twisted evenly. Sagara spares no effort in the meticulous preparation required. The unique texture of his shuro tawashi, distinct from other brushes, is the result of carefully selecting materials and the craftsman’s unwavering pride.

“I don’t consider tawashi a traditional craft. It’s different from the old days. I’ve never thought of myself as a traditional craftsman. If someone asks, I just say I’m a tawashi maker—that’s enough,” Shinichi says.

It’s truly unfortunate that there is no one to carry on Sagara’s tawashi today. As you know, traditional industries in Japan are in decline. Partly, that’s just the flow of time. But with each craft that disappears, opportunities for young people to work in that field vanish too.

Even so, any sentimental thoughts aside, the two brothers continue their work: carefully selecting shuro, twisting it, and climbing onto the trimming machine that seems ready to take off at any moment. They continue to make tawashi, always striving to make them better, debating passionately with each other about how to improve. Watching them, one can’t help but be reminded of the Wright brothers in their old bicycle workshop—they too had no successors. Yet their work did not vanish, and aviation technology endured.

For now, as consumers, the best we can do is enjoy the feel and quality of Sagara’s tawashi, trusting that their quiet, diligent work continues to shape the craft for the future.

Shinichi Sagara – Biography

• “Born in 1946 (Shōwa 21) in Takaramachi, Katsushika Ward, Tokyo.”
• “Certified as a Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward.”

Oshie hagoita—decorative padded wooden battledores—became popular gifts, given with wishes for girls’ healthy growth.”

Hagoita (Decorative Battledores) have a long history in Japan.

Records in the Kankai Nikki, a Muromachi-period diary, note that in 1432 (Eikyo 4), during the New Year at the Imperial Palace, courtiers and female attendants played hanetsuki, a traditional shuttlecock game, divided into red and white teams. This indicates that hagoita were already being made even before that time. Historically, they were also called kokiban, and were used both for playing hanetsuki during the New Year and as gifts to celebrate the occasion. Hagoita were believed to ward off evil spirits with the shuttlecock and to wish for healthy growth.

Oshie hagoita—the padded and decorated wooden battledores—emerged in the Edo period as a craft made by women, combining the art of oshie (padded applique work) with hagoita associated with girls. In the late Edo period, portrait hagoita featuring popular kabuki actors became especially fashionable among the people of Edo.

Asakusa Hagoita Market: The oldest and most famous hagoita market in Edo was held in Asakusa, said to have started around 1659 (Manji 2). It is still held every year over three days: December 17th, 18th, and 19th.

“Takasago, a long-established shop at the Hagoita Market of Sensō-ji in Asakusa. Authentic oshie hagoita, carefully handcrafted by women artisans.”

After succeeding her husband, Yoshiko Minamikawa has continued to make hagoita with great care, beginning with the careful selection of fine silk fabric. The artisans who support her are also women.

Michie Nitta, who learned the craft from the previous generation, is a veteran artisan who has been making Edo oshie hagoita for more than thirty years. The hagoita created by these two women are highly regarded for their elegant sense of color and meticulous craftsmanship—qualities often associated with a woman’s touch.

Customers visit the Takasago workshop not only during the annual Hagoita Market but throughout the year. The hagoita from Minamikawa Doll Shop, which have also gained high recognition overseas, are specially offered for international customers through eBay.

• Yoshiko Minamikawa – Certified Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward (2011)
  
• Michie Nitta – Certified Traditional Craftsman of Katsushika Ward (2012)
  
  

“A Message from Yoshiko Minamikawa”

Hagoita are most often purchased at the annual Hagoita Market, and craftsmen create their works in time for this event. Each year, we make portrait hagoita featuring people who reflect the spirit of the times and present them to the public. For the customers who look forward to them every year, we hope to continue creating hagoita that bring joy and delight.

“Yoshiko Minamikawa – Biography

• Representative of Minamikawa Rokuzaburō Shoten
• Engaged in the craft since 1970 (Shōwa 45)
• Has continued to produce hagoita together with fellow artisans to the present day
  

What is Edo Kiriko?

Edo Kiriko refers to the technique of cutting the surface of glass.

Edo Kiriko is said to have originated in 1834 (Tenpo 5), when Kyubei Kagaya, a glassmaker in Edo's Odenmacho district, devised a method of engraving the surface of glass using emery powder.

In the Meiji era, European cut glass techniques were introduced from the Shinagawa Glass Factory of the Ministry of Industry, establishing the technique of applying patterns to the surface of glass. The technique of cut glass (Kiriko) has been passed down from person to person and continues to this day.

About Edo Kiriko, a traditional craft

Edo Kiriko is designated as a national traditional craft and a traditional craft of Katsushika Ward, Tokyo.

It refers to glass produced primarily by hand using rotary tools in designated production areas.

* "Edo Kiriko" is a registered trademark of the Edo Kiriko Cooperative Association, of which our company is a member.

Edo Kiriko patterns

Traditional Edo Kiriko patterns have names for each cut design.

For example, many of the cut glass pieces featured in Kagaya's advertisements feature a pattern called "Nanako." The Nanako pattern, with its delicate cuts that reflect light like fish scales, is a typical cut used in England and Ireland from the 18th to the 19th centuries.

Other patterns include Octagonal Basketweave, Chrysanthemum Connection, and Yari.

Besides these geometric patterns, there is also Hana Kiriko (flower cut glass). Hana Kiriko is a technique that uses small wheels to cut and express motifs such as flowers, birds, and the moon.

About Shimizu Glass

Our company was founded in 1923 (Taisho 12) by Naojiro and Shizue Shimizu in Honjo Kikukawa-cho, Fukagawa. In 1927 (Showa 2), we moved to Katsushika due to urban redevelopment.

We are one of the oldest Edo Kiriko glass workshops, having been established before World War II.

For many years, we have processed a wide variety of products through various contract manufacturing services.

In addition to direct sales, we have also ventured into new fields, responding to various requests for commemorative gifts and custom-made items for companies and organizations, and collaborating on projects such as the interior design of the Tokyo Skytree, completed in 2012 (Heisei 24), for architectural, design, and content collaborations.

And in 2023 (Reiwa 5), ​​we celebrated our 100th anniversary.

The skills and passion for craftsmanship of our founder, Naojiro Shimizu, who studied under Jinnosuke Imamura, an apprentice at the Shinagawa Glass Manufacturing Plant of the Ministry of Industry, are passed down to today's craftsmen.

Our Edo Kiriko glassware is handcrafted with care by skilled artisans. Please take a look and try using it for yourself.

A Unique World of Buddhist Paintings

Creating Buddhist Paintings on Copper Plates

Did you know that the practice of offering Buddhist paintings to temples for the memorial of ancestors still exists throughout Japan? The technique of copperplate painting is said to have been first studied by the Edo-period painter Shiba Kōkan.

Although called “copperplate Buddhist paintings,” these works are not conventional prints. Rather than transferring an image onto paper, this innovative technique involves applying color directly to the raised areas of the copper plate itself. Because the paint can only adhere to the circular raised sections created by etching, careful planning of the color composition during the preliminary drawing stage is essential to achieve a properly finished painting.

This technique was perfected by traditional craft artisan Yuji Yanagi. By combining the natural metallic luster of copper with historically accurate colors of Buddha figures based on classical texts, Yanagi has opened a completely new world of Buddhist paintings. His works have received numerous awards worldwide, including recognition at the Louvre Museum in Paris.

“The World of Yuji Yanagi’s (Ryūsankan) Buddhist Paintings, Beginning with National Treasure Replicas”

Yuji Yanagi and the Reproduction of the Ryōkai Mandalas at Kojima-dera

Kojima-dera, located in Takatori Town, Takaichi District, Nara Prefecture, is renowned for its National Treasure, the Ryōkai Mandala, said to have been bestowed by Emperor Ichijō. This historic temple, quietly nestled amid deep greenery, has stood since the Heian period.

Yuji Yanagi is the artisan who achieved high acclaim for reproducing the Kongōkai Mandala and Taizōkai Mandala using his own unique techniques. At Kojima-dera, the original mandalas are painted with a mixture of gold and silver pigments on a deep indigo silk background. While mandalas are traditionally vibrant in color, each Buddha depicted must be rendered in strictly prescribed hues.

After delivering the reproductions to the temple, Yanagi sought to create an exact color reproduction of the Ryōkai Mandalas. To accomplish this, he gathered ancient texts and meticulously studied each Buddha figure to determine the correct colors. Having previously learned coloring techniques while working for a toy manufacturer, Yanagi may have found the task of interpreting and reproducing colors from historical texts less daunting. Nevertheless, with over a thousand Buddha figures depicted across the two mandalas, the project took several years to complete.

“Even after gaining recognition at the Louvre Museum in Paris, he continues to remain devoted to his identity as a craftsman.”

Yuji Yanagi – The Craftsman and the Pilgrim

As the saying goes, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” For Yanagi, this was more than a proverb—he had long traveled as a pilgrim. Step by step, he embraced the process of accumulation, and this patience became a cornerstone of his life and work. Indeed, Yanagi has another face: that of a pilgrim on the Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage. This journey began following the death of his father, at the same time he began his path in Buddhist painting.

Through repeated pilgrimages, Yanagi was awarded the title of Sendant by Zentsū-ji Temple, granting him the responsibility of safely guiding novice pilgrims. Today, he holds the higher rank of Gon-Chū Sendant, continuing his pilgrimage practice alongside his artistic career.

Currently, Yanagi’s completed color reproductions of the Ryōkai Mandalas are enshrined and displayed at various locations, including Kinegawa Yakushi in Tokyo, allowing the public to experience them firsthand. Reflecting his philosophy, Yanagi laughs as he says,

“I don’t see myself as an artist—first and foremost, I am a craftsman. That’s why I don’t sign my works. Even when I enter contests, it’s not about my name; a true craftsman lets the work speak for itself.”

His participation in the Exhibition of the Liberation of Beauty at the Louvre Museum in Paris in 2004, where he won the Grand Prix, brought Yanagi international attention. Since then, his works have been invited to exhibitions and competitions worldwide, including the International Biennale in Barcelona, Spain.

Though copperplate etching is originally a foreign technique, Yanagi’s approach is entirely unique: he applies color directly onto the copper plates themselves. There is nothing else like it in the world. As Yanagi explains,

“By combining the sharp metallic luster of copper with the soft hues of Buddhist paintings, I wanted to create a type of painting that no one had ever seen before.”

Remarkably, Yanagi pioneered the genre of colored copperplate Buddhist paintings well into his mid-forties. The journey was not easy.

“Professions change as the times change,” he reflects. “The toy industry where I learned coloring techniques also faced decline. Technology can replace certain skills. But the experience and techniques I gained there are never wasted; I try to make sure they are put to good use.”

At a time when the toy industry was in decline, Yanagi discovered etching, then a relatively new technique. He realized that it could fully leverage his expertise in coloring, and thus began the path that would define his unique contribution to Buddhist art.

“Buddhist paintings that convey an overwhelming presence of the Buddha, impossible to capture fully in photographs.”

The Contemporary Buddhist Paintings of Yuji Yanagi

The Buddhist paintings created by Yuji Yanagi are numerous, and many of them are large-scale works exceeding 50 go (approx. 150 cm or more per side). Visitors often remark on the overwhelming presence of the Buddha in his works. Amid brilliant metallic luster and the vibrant five colors of Buddhist tradition, the figures of the Buddha, rendered in soft hues, seem to envelop the viewer with their presence. The power and impact of these paintings cannot be fully captured in photographs.

Yanagi’s works are on permanent display at several locations, including Kojima-dera in Nara Prefecture, Kinegawa Yakushi in Tokyo, and the Katsushika Traditional Industries Center. Those who live nearby are highly encouraged to visit. Despite employing a completely new technique of expression, his paintings blend seamlessly into the historic temple landscapes, appearing as if they had always been there.

Regarding this balance between tradition and innovation, Yanagi explains:

“It’s not about pandering to novelty, but I also don’t like clinging to the old. Times are always changing.”

Just as tools and techniques evolve with the era, so too do human sensibilities. Yanagi’s Buddhist paintings are not of the past nor of the future—they are truly contemporary works for today, which may be why they resonate so naturally with modern viewers.

The history of Japanese dolls began with Hagoita dolls and flourished rapidly during the Genroku period alongside the rise of urban merchant culture.

Tosekku Dolls (Edo Costume Dolls) refer collectively to dolls dressed in costumes, including hina dolls, musha dolls (warrior dolls), and Ichimatsu dolls, as well as dolls that are dressed with costumes over a plain body (naked dolls).

It is said that the origins of these dolls date back to the Heian period, when newborns were placed with small figures called amago or hagoita by their pillows to pray for health and safety. The tradition is believed to have originated in Kyoto.

During the Edo period, feudal lords traveling for sankin-kōtai (alternate attendance) would bring along licensed doll makers, whose apprentices helped spread doll-making techniques across Japan. By the Genroku era, urban merchant culture in Edo flourished, and many artisans, guided by prominent masters, established technical standards. They produced various dolls, including hina dolls, Gogatsu (Boys’ Day) dolls, Ichimatsu dolls, and folk dolls, laying the foundation for the tradition of Edo Tosekku Dolls.

The Ichimatsu doll, which continues to be popular today, originated from reproductions of the young male figures of Sano-gawa Ichimatsu, a kabuki actor from Osaka who was extremely popular at the time.

Matsukiku, a long-established doll workshop in Aoto.

Matsukiku was originally established by the great-grandparents of the current generation in Higashi-Mukojima, Sumida Ward, as Kikuchi Doll Workshop. In 1978 (Shōwa 53), production was consolidated in Aoto.

After completing their training, the artisans mastered the techniques for making Gogatsu (Boys’ Day) dolls, hina dolls, and other traditional Japanese dolls. Today, they continue to refine these skills, creating unique, handcrafted dolls using traditional methods.

Matsukiku dolls are highly regarded overseas and are available for purchase on eBay: http://stores.ebay.com/Katsushika-densankan

In 2004 (Heisei 16), the workshop’s artisans were officially recognized as Traditional Craftsmen of Katsushika Ward.

Comment from Yukio Kikuchi

From creating conventional dolls to developing more unique and expressive ones, we continually conduct research and strive to produce works that meet our highest standards.

A traditional Japanese decorative technique used to reinforce and lavishly adorn buildings and mikoshi (portable shrines).

Decorative metal fittings for buildings.

For the Japanese, metal fittings used to adorn buildings and mikoshi (portable shrines) are deeply familiar. The oldest known examples are said to be on the Kondō (Main Hall) of Hōryū-ji, a designated National Treasure. The craft flourished from the Azuchi–Momoyama period through the Edo period, producing a wide variety of patterns.

Although gold and silver were occasionally used, the primary materials are copper and brass. Artisans cut out the shapes and then engrave intricate patterns with a tagane (chisel). Originally, the main purpose was architectural decoration, but the work of these metal artisans also extended to ceremonial objects such as mikoshi and tsutsumi (ritual tools), not just for decoration.

Since the early Shōwa period, the traditional techniques of kazari-shi (decorative metal artisans) have been passed down through two generations of the family.

The work of Tsuruoka Kazari Workshop is extensive. They handle the restoration of Tōshō-gū shrines across Japan, including the famous Tōshō-gū in Nikkō. They also repair and produce metal fittings for cultural treasures such as the Chūson-ji Konjiki-dō, the sacred treasures and ceremonial platforms of Ise Jingu, portable shrines (hōren), and other Shinto shrines.

In addition, they create metal fittings worn in traditional court music and dance, and are frequently commissioned for projects by the Imperial Household Agency.

Comment from Tamotsu Tsuruoka

Restoration of cultural properties occurs only once every few decades, so it is a task where the skills of artisans from different eras are compared. Since we are working alongside fellow craftsmen, even the techniques of past artisans are a challenge we do not want to be outdone by. Because these works will be passed down to future generations, we often redo them as many times as necessary, taking as much time as possible to achieve complete satisfaction.1972: After graduating from the Tokyo Metropolitan Kogei High School, he took over the family business.

1972: After graduating from the Tokyo Metropolitan Kogei High School, he took over the family business.

Tamotsu Tsuruoka – Biography

1972: After graduating from the Tokyo Metropolitan Kogei High School, he took over the family business.