Making in Japan

Japan is world famous for its craft heritage; often evoking envy in European makers, especially those in the UK. “You can't really avoid craft in Japan, it’s everywhere, “says Dr Rupert Faulkner, former senior curator of Japanese Art at the V&A. “If you go out to eat or go to a department store you encounter craft at various levels of sophistication. It's much more prevalent than in the UK. There are so many people involved in producing well-made, utilitarian objects, very skilfully at a very high level aesthetically.” Japan specialist, Katie Jones agrees. “It’s their meticulous attention to detail and tradition, plus their ability to blend old and new techniques, with a continuous practice and reverence for the past, yet the capacity of many craftspeople to add their own twist to traditional methods.”

That ability is in part because so many makers in Japan, come from generations of crafts people. On a recent lengthy trip to Japan, I rarely encountered anyone who wasn’t at least 10th generation and on occasion 16th. For some it was both a curse and a blessing, though most were circumspect in criticising the system. Few could grasp that makers in the UK were usually first generation, who had no obligation to follow an ancestral heritage. That responsibility was felt by almost everyone I encountered.

Whilst there is a great deal of craft, relatively little of it challenges accepted formats and techniques, which is in part due to the system, so often lauded by Western commentators, of Living National Treasures, (LNT) whereby highly skilled makers are certified as ‘Preservers of Important Intangible Cultural Properties’ and receive some State support. The system however is very conservative and requires makers to submit their work to a series of Kogei (craft) shows run by the Japan Crafts Association. If they are successful several times, they may join the organisation and may be considered for elevation to an LNT, elected by their peers on the death of an existing member and then approved by the government’s Agency for Cultural Affairs.

Kimono artist Murakami Ryoko says, “I was told that my work was too radical, I was not drawing on the traditions of Ponjee weaving and it wasn’t until I won an award in Paris in 1999 that I was taken seriously by my peers.” Made an LNT in 2016, she is now a leader in the field, known for her innovative designs. Koji Hatamayama, (see below,) a highly esteemed metal artist, refused to enter the pathway as it is too restrictive. He argues that foreign recognition is essential to be valued in Japan. (The same reverse re-importation that was essential to fashion designers like Issey Miyake and Comme Des Garçons.)

Intriguingly some of the younger generations of the most revered families have tried to break away, but all, in one way or another have come back to the fold. The Raku technique has been passed down from father to son for 450 years. Raku Jikinyū went off to study art in Italy, but on the death of his father Kichizaemon X1V in 1981, took up the family business of making tea bowls as Kichizaemon XV, despite his first love of sculpture. (Each new generation takes their name from the previous master, usually their father.) His son left for the UK but on his father’s retirement in 2019, took over as Kichizaemon XV1 making tea bowls.

Attracting a younger audience to craft is crucial. (See Tanabe Chikuunsai IV below)  This year Pokémon x Kogei: Playful Encounters of Pokémon and Japanese Craft in which 20 makers from Living National Treasures to emerging artists, explore what happens when they re-interpret Pokémon characters using traditional techniques, is a sell-out. The touring show is jam-packed with all age groups appreciating contemporary craft’s view of Pokémon.

As in the UK the number of craft galleries has declined, but craft is routinely on sale in department stores. Most is functional and conventional work, though there are frequent solo shows that are more challenging. A surprising element in the craft scene is the preponderance of craft in both specialist and lifestyle magazines. “The magazine phenomenon in Japan and its availability in bookshops is extraordinary,” enthuses Rupert Faulkner. It helps spread the word.

Tanabe Chikuunsai IV and the need to make exciting work to attract the young. Osaka 

“I'm the fourth generation of the family working with bamboo. I don’t copy the work of my forefathers, but I am trying to pass down the spirit of working with bamboo, which in my family has a history of innovation. You learn from your forefathers, I started aged three, but you don't just follow the style. You have to create something new while you are the head of the family.”

Chikuunsai means "master of the bamboo clouds" and the scale of his work is almost cloud-like. Based in Osaka, Tanabe has made tea houses and huge airy sculptures in tiger bamboo. With his emphasis on material quality and sustainability he has resurrected the growth of bamboo and has fostered a circular economy. His work, much in demand from luxury brands and institutions to create site-specific pieces, often requires adapting traditional techniques and he increasingly collaborates with architects and engineers. His large-scale and immersive works, invite viewers to experience bamboo not just as a material, “but as a space to be entered and felt with the whole body.”

Tanabe is training young workers and hopes that his children 16, 14, 12 will follow in his footsteps. “You have to do something big, wild and interesting. If we can't do that young people won’t come into making in bamboo. The scale of my projects are crucial to the development and survival of traditional craft in Japan.”

The Ohi Family Yuka Nara and the ability to develop new work breaking, but relating to tradition. Kanazawa 

The Ohi family in Kanazawa have been masters of Raku making teaware for over 350 years. The current head of the family Ohi Toshio Chōzaemon XI studied at Boston University, where he gained an MFA. His father Ohi Chozaemon X, was an LNT and is represented alongside previous generations, in the on-site Ohi Museum. Chōzaemon XI, makes traditional tea bowls, but also uses new techniques in often quite sculptural pieces. However the newest member of the family to join the fold, (who will become Chōzaemon XI1,) is Yuki Nara. Rather than become a maker of tea-ware, he studied architecture and splits his time between architecture and ceramics; the former informing the latter. His ceramics are radically different; sculptural, uncoloured, planes of clay assembled like manta ray or strange birds in flight.

“I don't want to copy my dad and my grandfather. I want to do my own style.” At first his work was not really accepted, but today he is recognised as an artist and is currently making a work for the V&A. His father asked only that “please, respect our family culture. I didn’t have to do ceramics, but I love it.” His view of ceramics is deeply rooted in tradition, family legacy, and hands-on craftsmanship. He emphasizes making everything by hand and values the personal, tactile process of creation and the continuation of legacy through both technique and recognition in the field. One day he even foresees making tea bowls. “Not because I have to, but because I want to.”

Taka Kaikado pursuing tradition. Kyoto 

Taka Kaikado makes the family’s famous metal tea caddies, just as his forefathers did 150 years ago. He even uses his grandfather’s hammer that was hidden in the War to avoid being melted down. The business employs 25 people and produces 3,000 tin caddies annually. “I am sixth generation. I learnt from my father and my grandfather. My father tried to quit, but he couldn’t. He is 77 and now semi- retired. We’ve rented the same workshop for 120 years and finally bought it five years ago. Our family of seven slept upstairs, but we moved next door 30 years ago.  Taka hopes his children 21, 18 and 13 will come into the company.

“We make about three pieces and pass it to my father. He checks by feeling, there is no measurement. Everything is done by sound, feel and eye. There are no measurements. I make by sound, listening to the hammer. I can hear and feel if something is right.” The design looks entirely contemporary.  “We don't change anything, everything is the same. People can and do bring back a damaged caddy made 100 years ago and we can fix it. The only thing that has changed is that traditionally to open the caddy, owners should hold the top and let the base fall into their hand. Today’s owners don’t do that, so we have to make the top slightly looser so it’s easier to open if you mistakenly squeeze it.”

What has changed is the marketing. Taka opened a teahouse in Kyoto and this year launched a new book on the company in Milan.

Mieko Tiara saving the culture through craft. Kijoka Okinawa 

Mieko Tiara is the saviour of Bashōfu a stretchy, breathable fabric made from the inner core of Musa Basjoo, the Japanese fibre banana plant; a textile once reserved for royalty of the Ryukyu Kingdom and for gifts to foreign dignitaries. Bashōfu was on the verge of extinction, because the occupying Americans decimated the banana trees and the industry. In Kijoka the population has declined with only 4 students now in high school in an area of 10,000 people. “It is my duty and mission to preserve this textile made here in Kijoka, Northern Okinawa,” Mieko explains.

Mieko’s mother-in-law Toshiko Taira, resurrected the weaving of Bashōfu. She was made an LNT and Kijōka-bashōfu was designated as an Important Intangible Cultural Property in 1974. Nevertheless its importance declined. There are over 20 different steps from growing the trees, making the thread to weaving the cloth. “Not a single mechanised machine is used to grow the trees, strip the fibres, spin and twist the threads, bind the patterns for resist dyeing, dye the threads, decide on the designs or weave the fabric,” Mieko says proudly. “All of the materials are gathered from nature here in Ojima. Although it takes a lot of effort and patience, it’s an important aspect of our culture that has been preserved for centuries.” Mieko has made it her business to revive the industry.

Bashōfu is still woven into traditional patterns but. Mieko also develops new ones. She has replanted trees, trains new makers and has a campaign to get samples of Bashōfu into the world’s museums. “There are 50,000 museums around the world,” says Mieko. “My aim is to encourage those curators to understand, appreciate and display contemporary bashōfu.”

Koji Hatakayema success abroad. Takaoka 

Koji Hatakayama makes geometric, angular cast bronze ‘containers’ patinated with what look like extraordinary skyscapes in hues of brown and gold or deep-sea mysteries in shades of blue and green. Each lid is a perfect fit. The vessels are not intended to be practically functional, though it’s clear that he wants them to have an aesthetic and spiritual purpose. “I pour bronze, however, my thinking is, I'm casting my consciousness into my mould. Every article I make should live.”

Takaoka is the centre of casting and metal work in Japan and Koji’s work relates to place. He revels in metal and seems to be in conversation with his material, emphasising the improvisational nature of his work, comparing it to jazz and cooking. He is not however from a metal making dynasty, yet is a consummate master who seeks new challenges. He is currently making huge nearly metre high vessels using sand-casting, one of which will soon find its way to the V&A. Once he’s achieved something, he gets bored and seeks the next challenge. “Technique is easy for me. I need to try more difficult skills.”

He didn’t’ apply to become an LNT, relying on his foreign clients, who have been crucial in his development. He has pieces in many of the world’s museums, including the British Museum, the Metropolitan and shortly 2 works in the V&A. He laments the limited market in Japan and the conventionality. “I’m an independent guy, I make not for my country but for the planet.”