Traditional Japanese Wood and Bamboo Crafts | Part II

In case you haven't read Part I:
Traditional Japanese Wood and Bamboo Crafts | Part I

 

17. Miyajima woodwork

Miyajima woodwork, known in Japan as Miyajima zaiku, comes from Miyajima Island in Hatsukaichi, Hiroshima. This island, often called the "Island of Gods," is one of the most famous scenic spots in Japan. Hatsukaichi is rich in timber, making it easy for woodworkers to get high-quality materials without going far. That access to good wood is a big reason why woodworking has thrived there for so long.

Each piece of Miyajima woodwork goes through a detailed finishing process. The wood is first dampened with water. This step brings out the grain, making it more visible and textured. After that, the surface is polished by hand. This process helps highlight the natural look and feel of the wood. The goal is to show off the material itself, not to cover it up. That’s why lacquer is used sparingly. They keep the coating light so the warmth and grain of the wood still come through.

One of the most well-known products is the rice paddle. These are famous not just for how they look, but for how they work. The scent of the wood doesn’t transfer to the rice, and rice doesn’t stick easily to the surface. Because of that, Miyajima produces more rice paddles than any other region in Japan. Besides paddles, craftspeople also make round trays, saucers, and hollowed-out square trays using wood turning techniques. Some trays and screens also feature carvings of landscapes and flowers. These decorative carvings, known as Miyajima bori, are done directly into the surface. They’re precise, simple, and focused on showing the natural character of the wood.

The Story Behind Miyajima Rice Paddles and Traditional Carving

Miyajima woodwork dates back to around 1800. It started with a Buddhist priest named Seishin. He saw a Japanese lute in the hands of Benzaiten, the goddess of music, speech, and the arts. That shape gave him the idea to make a rice paddle. He then taught others on the island how to craft them. They started selling them as souvenirs. The design caught on quickly. The quality was high, and the function was solid. Locals were able to bring in money by selling them, which helped turn things around for the struggling island community.

By the 1850s, wood turning tools and methods were brought to Miyajima. This opened up more ways to shape and refine the wooden pieces. Craftspeople began producing round trays and tea cup saucers. Around the same time, a skilled carver named Shoshai Haki moved to Miyajima from Yamanashi. He introduced more advanced carving techniques. His work raised the artistic value of local crafts and helped establish the style now known as Miyajima bori.

That reputation grew. By 1910, Miyajima had become a hub for woodworking. Nearly 300 skilled wood turners from across Japan traveled there to train and learn. They came to study the region’s detailed techniques and precision carving. That shared knowledge helped shape the craft into what it is today. Miyajima woodwork remains one of the best-known examples of Japanese woodworking, valued for its simplicity, utility, and attention to natural beauty.

How Miyajima Rice Paddles Are Made

The process of making Miyajima rice paddles takes time, care, and a deep understanding of wood. Each paddle goes through multiple steps that focus on bringing out the natural beauty and durability of the material.

Choosing and Cutting the Wood

It starts with selecting the right timber. Craftsmen typically use mulberry, Japanese maple, cypress, or cherry birch. The wood is sawn into the needed size with care. There's a common phrase heard at this stage: "make the most of the material."

That means every cut is planned to avoid waste and to match the wood’s natural strengths. Before shaping, the wood is marked by hand and trimmed down with an adze to get a rough shape.

Drying the Paddle

Once the basic form is ready, the paddle is left to dry naturally. This step can take one to two years. The slow drying prevents the wood from warping or cracking later. It's a key part of making sure the final paddle holds up with use and keeps its shape over time.

Carving the Paddle Face

The curved front side of the paddle is carved next. First, a small round-bottom plane is used to shave the surface vertically, following the grain. This step is called yoko kezuri. A second plane, shaped to handle curves, helps form the slight dip that makes the paddle easier to use. The craftsman then smooths the surface with a dull knife edge followed by sandpaper. The back is also shaved down carefully to thin the paddle’s tip. This is a tough step and requires a sharp eye and steady hand. A smaller plane smooths out any rough spots, and then sandpaper is used again to get a clean surface.

Forming the Handle

The handle is shaped for comfort. A curved plane is used to carve the back so it's easy to grip. The end of the handle is shaped with an adze and then refined with a small plane to soften the edges and round out the lines.

Final Polishing and Finishing

Next comes the final sanding. Every surface gets polished by hand. Any spots left unshaved earlier are carefully smoothed down. This sanding process is repeated several times until the surface is even and soft to the touch.

Oiling the Surface

Once the paddle is polished, vegetable oil is applied. The piece is left for a full day before being rubbed down with a dry cloth. In some cases, no oil is used at all. This lets the wood stay more absorbent, which some people prefer.

How Miyajima Lathe-Turned Wood Items Are Made

Miyajima woodworkers don’t just make rice paddles. They also produce trays, saucers, and other turned wood goods. These are made using a lathe and follow a different process, one that’s just as time-consuming and detail-focused.

Selecting the Timber

It begins with picking solid, quality wood. Zelkova, pine with heavy resin, wild cherry, and mulberry are commonly used. The logs are cut to size and left to dry for two or three months.

Shaping by Hand

Before cutting, a sketch of the item is drawn directly on the wood. This helps line up the design with the natural grain. Since Miyajima woodwork uses very little lacquer, how the grain appears is everything. A good layout helps bring out the beauty of the wood in the finished piece.

Rough Lathe Turning

The marked wood is placed on a lathe and roughly shaped. Craftsmen use more than ten different types of curved planes for this step. A single-edged blade removes extra material. A flat plane follows, then sandpaper is used to smooth out the shape. Every part of this step relies on the craftsman's judgment. They adjust the speed of the lathe and pressure of the blades based on feel and experience.

Protecting the Wood from Cracking

After the first round of turning, the wood is still sensitive to drying. If left as-is, cracks can form. To stop this, melted wax or an anti-crack coating is applied. This seals the surface and slows down the drying.

Long-Term Drying

The partially shaped piece is then left to dry again. This time, it can sit for one to three years, depending on the wood type and size. This extra drying is what gives Miyajima pieces their durability.

Semi-Final Turning

Once dry, the wood goes back on the lathe. More material is shaved away. Another layer of anti-crack coating is added, and it rests again. The timing between steps keeps the wood stable and prevents future issues.

Final Turning and Polishing

The last shaping uses the full range of planes. Each tool brings the form closer to its final shape. Once the carving is done, the piece is sanded by hand. This stage can be repeated many times to get a clean finish and smooth feel.

Every step in this process is designed to preserve the natural look of the wood. The goal is not to cover flaws, but to work with them, showing off the raw character in a refined way. Whether it’s a simple rice paddle or a polished tray, each Miyajima woodwork item carries the mark of patience, skill, and respect for the material.

 

18. Nibutani carved wooden tray

Nibutani carved wooden trays, known as Nibutani ita in Japan, come from Biratori, a town in Hokkaido. The name Biratori comes from the Ainu word pirauturu, which means cliff. These trays stand out for their bold and detailed carving, full of traditional Ainu patterns.

You’ll see designs like moreunoka, a spiral pattern, aiushnoka, which looks like thorns, and shiknoka, shaped like an eye. These patterns come from the Ainu language and culture. Carvers often mix them together to bring out the style and spirit of Ainu tradition. One thing you’ll always find is the carved scale pattern called ramramnoka, which fills the spaces in between. It's not just decoration. It ties the whole design together.

These trays weren’t always just for display. Back in the day, Ainu people used them during meals, every single day. Now, they’re seen as valuable handcrafted pieces, respected for their cultural roots and fine detail.

Why They Matter in Ainu Culture

Even though these look like trays, old Ainu stories, especially folk tales known as Uepekere, describe them more like plates. People served food on them. And the carving wasn't random. For Ainu men, blade work was serious. Knowing how to carve wood well gave a man respect and status.

When it came time to marry, a man would often make a carved wooden piece, like a Nibutani ita, for the woman he hoped to marry. So these trays also held emotional weight. They were personal. That’s why they became valuable not just in homes, but also as formal gifts, trade items, and things to sell.

Between 1854 and 1859, records show these trays were sent as gifts to the Matsumae domain, which controlled parts of Hokkaido back then. That gives you an idea of how much they were valued, even outside the Ainu community.

From Folk Craft to National Recognition

Nibutani carved trays eventually gained global attention. In 1873, they were displayed at the Vienna World Exposition. It was one of the first times the world saw them as more than just local craft. Then, in March 2013, the Japanese government officially recognized them as a traditional national craft. That was a big deal. It marked the first time any Hokkaido-made item got that title.

This kind of recognition not only preserves the Ainu carving tradition, but also pushes it into the spotlight. Today, people see these trays not just as woodwork, but as cultural treasures. Each carved line tells part of a story that goes back generations. And with each new tray, that story keeps growing.

How Nibutani Carved Wooden Trays Are Made

Preparing the Tray Base

To make a Nibutani carved tray, it starts with wood from the Japanese Judas tree or walnut tree, both grown in Hokkaido. These wooden boards have to dry for three years before they can be used. Once they’re ready, the boards get roughly shaped and carved to the right depth. A special knife called a kawadachi bocho is used to smooth the surface and even out the tray. This knife has a flat, spatula-like blade at the end.

Round trays are faster to shape because machines like the senban can be used. But square trays can’t be carved with that machine since it only works by rotating. So square trays take longer and more hands-on work.

Smoothing the Back

Even the back of the tray gets full attention. The edges are rounded off by hand. This step affects how the tray feels when you hold it. A smooth edge gives a better grip and a more polished final look.

Designing and Carving the Pattern

Next, the artist sketches out the surface design. The main patterns come from Ainu culture: moreunoka, which is a soft spiral; aiushnoka, which looks like thorns; and shiknoka, shaped like an eye. These patterns get arranged in a way that feels balanced and meaningful.

Once the design is set, the outlines are carved with a V-shaped chisel. Then, deeper cuts are made using a gouge to give the surface a 3D effect. Today, carvers use different chisels for this detailed work. But back when the Ainu first made these trays, everything was done with just one small knife. That’s why the old trays look more raw and bold, with strong simple lines.

Double Line Details

The aiushnoka thorn pattern usually takes center stage. To make it pop, carvers use a double line carving technique. They carve the inside of the pattern, which adds depth and gives the tray more visual texture. This step boosts the overall design and gives it that bold, raised look.

Adding the Scale Lines

Before the scale patterns called ramramnoka are carved, the artist first makes guide lines using a chisel called an into. This chisel is normally used to carve names into signature stamps. For this part to work, the grain of the wood must run lengthwise. The scale patterns are often placed between the spiral and eye-shaped designs to tie everything together.

Lifting the Scales

Once the scale grid is carved, each small square is lifted, one by one. This creates the raised scale texture that defines ramramnoka. The carver lifts each square toward the center, working from both sides. Only half of the squares are carved this way. How this part is done can change the whole look and feel of the tray. That lifted scale texture is what makes Nibutani ita stand out.

Final Touches

The last step is about getting the details just right. The carver smooths and adjusts the surface, making sure every edge, line, and carved shape is clean and sharp. This careful finish is what brings the whole tray together. The result is a handmade piece with depth, texture, and meaning, rooted in Ainu tradition.

 

19. Okuaizu Basketry

Okuaizu Basketry, known in Japanese as Okuaizu Amikumi Zaiku, comes from Mishima Town in Onuma County, Fukushima Prefecture. This mountain region gets heavy snow in winter, which makes farming impossible during those months. For generations, locals have used that downtime to make baskets by hand. That’s how this tradition got passed on: as winter work when fields were frozen and covered in snow.

These baskets are made with plants that grow in the area. There are three main types, each with its own raw material. Hiroro baskets use carex multifolia, yamabudo pieces use crimson glory vine, and matatabi work comes from silver vine. The weaving is always done by hand. It looks simple at first, but the detail is sharp and refined. That’s what makes it stand out.

Hiroro crafts include hand baskets, large carriers, and shoulder baskets. These are made by tightly weaving carex multifolia into patterns that almost look like lace. Yamabudo products are stronger and built to last. Locals use the tough crimson glory vine to make sturdy baskets and bowls for sweets. Matatabi is softer and smoother to the touch. That makes it a good choice for kitchen tools like strainers and food baskets. Each one has its own purpose, shaped by how the material feels and behaves.

This basketry isn’t just about making things. It shows how the people here live close to nature. They use what the land gives them and turn it into everyday items they actually need. It’s not about decoration. It’s about function, but made with real care.

People have been doing this in Okuaizu for a long time. At the Arayashiki site in Mishima, they found basket fragments and rope dating back to the Jomon period, which ran from 14,000 to 300 BCE. That’s proof that the roots of this craft go back thousands of years. Written records from 1684 and 1788 also mention basket-making in the region, even though they don’t explain exactly where it started. Still, it’s clear that people in this area have been weaving these tools for hundreds of years, if not longer.

Things changed in the 1960s. The local population was aging, and fewer people were making baskets. Mishima Town saw what was coming. They knew the tradition was in trouble. So they stepped in. The town started a movement to make these baskets a part of everyday life again. They didn’t just want to preserve history. They wanted it to grow.

That effort paid off. Over time, more people got involved. Today, more than 100 artisans are still making Okuaizu Basketry. The skills are alive. The craft is still going. It’s not a museum piece. It’s something people use and value, right now.

How Okuaizu Basketry Is Made: Step by Step with Matatabi Vine

Making a traditional Okuaizu basket takes time, care, and the right materials. This process explains how matatabi baskets are made using silver vine. These steps have been passed down through generations in Mishima Town and are still followed today.

Harvesting Silver Vine for Basket Weaving

Silver vine, called matatabi in Japanese, is gathered starting in November. Locals wait until the vines are thick, strong, and mature. Harvest ends once the first snow hits. Timing matters. The vine must be fresh for weaving, so once it’s cut, the next steps need to happen fast.

Peeling the Outer Bark by Hand

After harvesting, the bark is peeled off. This removes the tough outer layer and exposes the part of the vine that can be shaped. It needs to be clean and smooth before it can be split.

Splitting the Vines into Strips

Once peeled, the vine is cut lengthwise. It gets split into four or five long strips. This forms the base material for the basket. The strips must be even and straight, or the basket won’t hold its shape later on.

Shaving and Shaping the Core Strips

The next step is called core making. Using a sharp blade or carving tool, the soft inner layer of each strip is shaved down. This makes the material thinner and easier to weave. The entire process from cutting to shaping must be done before the vine dries out. Once it’s dry, it’s too stiff to use.

Weaving the Basket Base with Traditional Patterns

With the strips ready, weaving starts from the bottom. The base must be flat and even. This part often uses the nihontobi-ajiro-ami method, which is a kind of herringbone weave. Sometimes yotsume-ami is used instead, which looks more like an open grid or lattice.

Shaping and Weaving the Basket Sides

After the bottom is done, the sides are formed by bending the strips upward. Weaving continues from there. The same weaving styles are used: either the herringbone or the zaru-ami, which is more open and looks like a colander.

Closing Off the Rim for a Clean Edge

Once the basket reaches the height it needs, the rim gets finished. The strips are folded over the top edge and fastened into place. This gives the basket a clean, strong top border.

Reinforcing the Rim with Stronger Vines

To make the rim even tougher, an extra vine is wrapped around it. Artisans usually use Berchemia racemosa or a similar plant for this step. This reinforcement keeps the basket sturdy and helps it last longer.

Drying in Cold Weather to Harden and Brighten

The last step is drying. Baskets are placed under the eaves of houses where air and sunlight reach them. Exposure to cold wind helps harden the weave. Snowy conditions also help. Light reflected from the snow naturally bleaches the basket, giving it a lighter, brighter look. This final step locks in the shape and finish.

Each part of this process connects the basket to its environment. From the raw vine to the final shape, every stage is shaped by local knowledge and the rhythm of the seasons.

 

20. Echizen traditional chest

Echizen Tansu are handmade wooden chests from Echizen City and Sabae City in Fukui Prefecture. These traditional Japanese drawers are known for their thick lacquer, strong build, and detailed ironwork. They're mostly made using two types of wood: Japanese zelkova and paulownia. Zelkova is dense and strong, with a rich wood grain that ages well. Paulownia is lighter but very resistant to moisture, and it doesn’t crack or warp easily. That’s why it’s been used for centuries in luxury tansu furniture.

The wood is air-dried before any work begins. No nails are used in the building process. Instead, every piece is carefully joined by hand using traditional woodworking methods. This includes two main styles of joinery: one uses a frame structure, and the other is board-based. This method makes each chest incredibly strong and able to last for generations.

Every Echizen Tansu is coated with natural urushi lacquer. There are three common finishes. One is fuki-urushi, which leaves a soft, raw texture that feels earthy and clean. Another is shunkei-nuri, a transparent finish that shows off the grain of the wood. The last is roiro-nuri, a deep black gloss that gives the chest a sleek, shiny look. Each style gives the chest its own personality and makes it easy to match with both traditional and modern interiors.

What makes Echizen Tansu stand out is their heavy, solid feel and their ability to grow more beautiful as they age. Over time, the wood darkens and gains a warm patina. You’ll also notice special corner fittings on many of these chests. These are called inome, shaped like small hearts. They aren’t just decorative. They’ve long been used as protective charms meant to keep away bad energy.

The History Behind Echizen Tansu and Japanese Joinery

The roots of Echizen Tansu go way back. During the 7th century, the region that includes present-day Fukui, Yamagata, Noto, and Kaga was part of a larger area known as Koshinokuni. This part of Japan was famous for producing urushi lacquer and became a center where people from different trades came together. Echizen, being the political hub of the area, naturally attracted skilled workers and craftspeople.

During the Muromachi and Warring States periods, the area was run by the powerful Asakura family. Their magistrate’s office brought more activity to the region, including artisans who crafted items for the tea ceremony. These artisans, known as sashimonoshi, were experts in wooden joinery. Their craft became the foundation for what would later become Echizen Tansu.

When Tomimasa Honda took over as feudal lord during the Edo Period, he pushed the development of the town by inviting skilled workers. He brought together experts in woodwork, lacquer, and metalwork. That move helped create the structure for a full-scale tansu production industry.

By the middle of the Meiji Period, the tansu business was booming. Skilled tansu makers became a big part of the local economy. Even today, if you walk through certain parts of Echizen City, you’ll find streets lined with joinery shops and furniture makers still carrying on this tradition.

Echizen Tansu isn't just furniture. It’s the result of deep tradition, expert craftsmanship, and a long history rooted in Japanese culture. These chests are built to last, made to age well, and crafted with care from start to finish.

How Echizen Tansu Are Made: Step-by-Step Craftsmanship

Sawing and Drying the Wood

The process starts with selecting high-quality logs. Craftsmen inspect the tree rings and pick only the best ones. Japanese zelkova and paulownia are the main types of wood used. Once chosen, the logs are cut into solid boards and square timber. Fresh wood holds too much moisture, sometimes more than half its weight, so it can’t be used right away. If it’s too wet, it can warp or crack later. If it’s too dry, it may expand. To avoid all that, the wood is left to dry naturally for three to five years, depending on how much water it contains. This slow drying is key to keeping the wood stable.

Planning and Preparing the Timber

Next, a full design is drawn on paper. Every step follows this plan. Once the wood has fully dried, it's checked for damage like worm holes or surface scratches. Then it's cut down to the exact thickness and width based on the plan. Each board is prepared to fit the final layout with tight accuracy.

Joining Boards and Measuring Dimensions

Boards that form parts like the top panel are joined together at this stage. The craftsmen add ink marks to the ends to guide the assembly. Every piece must line up exactly. The front edge that you see on a frame is called mitsuke, and the visible depth from the front is mikomi. The top and bottom surfaces of each board are carefully planed down until they reach the right thickness. These small details help the chest hold its shape over time.

Joinery, Cutting, and Dry Fit

Different joints are used for different parts. Frames are built using mortise and tenon joints, all done without nails. Some are flat mortises, others have wedges. These joints make it easier to connect pieces with different thicknesses. Drawer corners use dovetail joints. These are cut so the wider ends lock in tightly and resist being pulled apart.

For each joint, a long board and a short board are chosen and marked. Pencil lines are drawn to show where the final edges should be, and these lines prevent cutting off too much. Craftsmen then saw along the lines, leaving a tiny extra margin of about one millimeter. The rest is trimmed clean with a chisel for a perfect fit.

Once all the parts are ready, they’re put together without glue or nails in a full dry run. This temporary build helps check for mistakes and allows any final tweaks before final assembly. Every fit is adjusted by hand to make sure everything aligns exactly.

Final Steps in Crafting Echizen Tansu

Finish Planing and First Lacquer Coat

After checking the dry-assembled chest, the surface gets one last round of planing. This smooths the wood and brings everything to the same thickness. A clean, even surface makes the final lacquer finish look much better.

Lacquering begins with a base coat. This first layer is the most important. It sets the tone for the final look and feel. The craftsman applies the lacquer, then polishes it, and repeats the process several times. Each pass brings the wood closer to that rich, smooth finish Echizen Tansu is known for.

Final Assembly of the Chest

Once the surface is ready and the structure has been checked, every part is put together for good. This is the final build. All pieces are fitted and tightened. Nothing gets glued or nailed. Every joint relies on exact cuts and perfect alignment.

Lacquering in Layers: Base, Middle, and Top

Before the rest of the lacquer is applied, the raw wood gets another polish to remove any last bumps or rough spots. This helps the next coats spread evenly. The intermediate layer builds a smoother surface, which helps the top layer shine.

Echizen Tansu uses three main lacquering methods.

The first is fuki-urushi-nuri. This involves wiping on raw lacquer, then wiping it off, and doing it over and over again. The final layer is a clear coat that brings out the natural grain.

Next is shunkei-nuri. For this, the craftsman uses red iron oxide or polishing powder to fill in small dips in the wood. Then, a mix of raw lacquer and powder is added as a base coat. Once polished smooth, a clear lacquer made from slow-heated raw lacquer is applied to finish.

The third method is ro-nuri. Here, the base is coated with rust lacquer. Then it's covered with black roiro lacquer. The surface is whetted, then polished with charcoal powder until it shines with a deep black gloss.

Making and Attaching Metal Fittings

The metalwork is done entirely by hand. Iron plates are hammered flat with a mallet over heat. A stencil is glued onto the metal and cut out with a chisel. Then the edges and surfaces are smoothed with a file.

Every detail matters here. Rivets are added to knobs, and washers with engraved lotus or chrysanthemum designs are fitted for decoration. These metal details give the chest its elegant, distinct style.

The heart-shaped fittings are a signature of Echizen Tansu. They aren’t just for looks. They’re part of the design’s meaning and history. Once all the metal is shaped, it’s heated and fired with raw silk to finish.

After one last polish and inspection, the piece is complete. A finished Echizen Tansu is not just furniture. It’s a product of precision, patience, and generations of skill.

 

21. Kasukabe traditional paulownia chest

Kasukabe paulownia chests, known in Japan as Kasukabe Kiri-tansu, are handmade storage chests crafted in and around Saitama and Kasukabe City in Saitama Prefecture. These pieces are built without nails, which helps preserve the raw, natural look and feel of the wood. What sets them apart is their clean, straight-line design and the smooth grain of the paulownia wood. The look is warm, minimal, and timeless, which is why people still choose them today.

Paulownia wood isn’t just beautiful. It’s also smart. It naturally resists moisture and slows down flames, which makes it safer and more reliable than other types of wood. It’s also much lighter. That makes it easier to move around, even when the chest is full. Paulownia has a unique quality: it swells when the air is humid and shrinks when it’s dry. This helps keep clothes and other items safe from moisture, mold, and insects. Because of this, Kasukabe chests are often used to store things like kimono or other delicate fabrics that can’t handle humidity.

History Behind the Craft

The roots of this tradition go back to the early 1600s. Between 1624 and 1644, a team of woodworkers working on the Nikko Toshogu shrine moved to Kasukabe. When the shrine was done, these artisans stayed in the area and started crafting small wooden boxes. That was the beginning of what would later become the Kasukabe Kiri-tansu.

Back then, these chests weren’t made full-time. Most craftspeople worked on them during the off-season from farming. Only a few specialists built them all year. But around 1830, things changed. New river routes along the Furutone and Edo Rivers made it easier to ship goods to Edo, which is modern-day Tokyo. With better trade access, more craftsmen began making paulownia chests as a full-time job.

Later, in the Meiji era, the reach of these chests spread even further. Transportation improved across Japan. That opened up new markets in cities like Osaka, Hiroshima, and Fukuoka. By then, Kasukabe Kiri-tansu had made a name for themselves nationwide.

A Place in Modern Living

Today, these chests still hold value. People use them not just for storage but as part of their home decor. They fit into modern interiors with ease, thanks to their clean look and natural feel. They bring together beauty, function, and history in one piece. The design has barely changed over time, which speaks to its lasting quality. Kasukabe Kiri-tansu continue to offer a calm, elegant presence in homes while still doing what they were built to do: protect and preserve.

How Kasukabe Paulownia Chests Are Made

The process behind each Kasukabe Kiri-tansu is long and detailed. Every step matters. The work is done by hand, using time-tested methods that make these wooden chests both beautiful and practical. Here’s how it all comes together from start to finish.

Cutting the Raw Wood

The paulownia used in these chests comes mostly from Aizu in Fukushima. This region in Tohoku grows some of the best-quality paulownia trees. Sometimes, magnolia and mulberry from Hokkaido are used too, but only as support materials. Each log is picked with care. Every tree is checked before it’s cut. The goal is to make the most of every piece, so there’s as little waste as possible.

Once cut, the logs are sawn into boards of different thicknesses. Standard boards for drawer cases and side panels range from 9 to 21 millimeters. For the high-grade straight-grain wood, which is split into four parts, the thickness is trimmed down to 5.5 millimeters.

Drying the Wood

After cutting, the wood isn’t rushed into use. It gets stacked in a double-cross pattern and left outside to dry in the open air. Wind and rain do the job over three to four months. This natural drying method is key. It pulls out the stuff that causes discoloration and helps the wood keep its soft, light color. That color is one of the standout features of Kasukabe chests.

Sizing and Matching the Grain

Once dry, the boards are cut again, just a bit larger than needed. This extra bit gives room for final adjustments later. The straight-grain wood, used for the chest's outer surface, is checked to make sure the grain lines up from board to board. This is what gives the finished piece its clean and even look. Each board is marked so the right pieces go in the right place when it's time to build.

Fixing Warped Boards

Sometimes, boards warp during drying. If that happens, each one is heated over a flame. Then it’s reshaped with a hand plane. This step is tough. It takes a skilled hand and years of practice to get it right. Most artisans need at least three years just to master this part alone.

Planing to Final Size

After the warp is fixed, the boards still aren’t quite the right size. They’re planed down slowly and carefully until every piece is cut to fit.

Putting It All Together

Next, the chest is assembled. No metal nails are used. Instead, nails made from deutzia wood are hammered in. But before that, holes have to be drilled, because wood nails can’t punch through solid boards like metal can. This step takes steady hands and precision. The joints need to be tight and clean.

Final Touches and Finishing

Once the chest is built, it’s checked again for warping. Water is used to help make small corrections. Every drawer and door is tested. They should slide open and shut without sticking. More adjustments are made using a hand plane.

Then comes the polish. A brush made from dried cogon grass roots is used to bring out the natural lines in the wood. After that, a coloring mix made from polishing powder and dye from Japanese green alder is rubbed on. This gives the wood its soft tone. A wax coating is added last to protect it from moisture, and the surface gets one final polish.

The last step is adding the hardware. After that, one last overall adjustment is made, and the Kasukabe Kiri-tansu is done. Every piece that comes out of this process is shaped by tradition, skill, and patience.

 

22. Katsuyama bamboo crafts

Katsuyama Take Zaiku are handmade bamboo baskets that come from Maniwa City in Okayama Prefecture. This area is known for its high-quality Japanese timber bamboo. While many parts of Japan make bamboo products using different types like black bamboo or thick-stemmed bamboo, Katsuyama baskets use only the local green bamboo from Maniwa. These baskets stand out because they use raw, untreated bamboo. No boiling, no heating. Just fresh bamboo, cut and crafted by hand.

The craft goes back to the late Edo period, around the 1860s. Back then, people used these baskets in everyday life and for farm work. The original designs were simple and built to last. There were four main types: ouzouke for storing grain, mizouke for carrying crops like vegetables, komeage-zouke for draining washed rice, and meshi-zouke for hanging rice under the roof to keep it dry and fresh. These baskets weren’t for show. They were made to be tough, practical, and easy to use.

Today, people still make Katsuyama Take Zaiku, but the range has grown. You’ll find bread baskets, flower vases, and hand baskets, all keeping the same style and natural look. The untreated bamboo gives each piece a clean green tone that slowly turns into a rich amber over time. That color change adds character and shows how the basket ages naturally, without chemicals or paint.

Most bamboo crafts in Japan today use bamboo that’s been boiled or smoked to soften it, but Katsuyama baskets skip that step. The makers here stick to the old ways. That’s what gives these baskets their raw, organic look and strong build. The technique has been passed down by local craftsmen for generations, and even now, the process remains the same.

While not many original baskets from the 1800s survive, some old records give us a glimpse into the past. A document from the Yamatani family dated around 1860 talks about basket-making in the region. Another record from 1877, an application for a sake brewing license, also mentions bamboo baskets used for grain. These details show that by the end of the Edo period, Katsuyama bamboo ware had already become common in people’s homes and fields.

Back in those days, families would often invite craftsmen to stay for days or even weeks to make enough baskets for the whole year. That’s how important these tools were. These baskets weren’t luxury items. They were daily essentials. Peddlers would sell them across the Chugoku region, and over time, their quality and usefulness helped them spread across Japan.

In 1979, Katsuyama Take Zaiku was officially named a national traditional craft. This recognition helped preserve the practice and gave it the respect it had always deserved. Even now, these bamboo baskets are valued not just for their function, but for the honest, simple beauty that comes from using natural materials and old-school techniques.

How Katsuyama Bamboo Baskets Are Made

Choosing and Cutting the Bamboo

Everything starts with picking the right bamboo. The makers use Japanese timber bamboo from Maniwa, and it has to be handled with care. The bamboo grows for about a year before it stops changing in height or thickness. But as it gets older, its color deepens and it becomes harder. The best age for crafting is between three and five years. That’s when the bamboo is strong, mature, and less likely to be damaged by insects. So each November and December, during the ideal season, enough bamboo is cut to last the year. A special bamboo saw is used for cutting. Once cut, the bamboo is scrubbed clean with a brush to remove all dirt before it gets split.

Splitting the Bamboo

This step takes serious skill. It’s one of the hardest parts of the whole process. Even for a trained hand, it takes a few years to get it right. The bamboo poles, which are between one and five meters long, are first split lengthwise with a hatchet. Then, the pieces are split again into smaller stakes. From there, thin strips called higo are sliced. These are sometimes just a few millimeters wide. Higo are what get woven to form the basket walls. The stakes form the frame and rim. How thick the strips are depends on what kind of basket is being made. Sharp blades are crucial here. A dull edge will ruin the surface and dull the final shine of the bamboo.

Weaving the Bamboo

The main weaving method is called gozame-ami, which looks like a mat pattern. To get that textured look, strips from both the smooth green outer layer and the pale white inner layer are woven together. First, the frame is built using the stakes, cut to traditional sizes. Then, the higo strips are woven through that frame. The patterns aren’t printed or painted. They come purely from the way the strips are arranged by hand. It’s a slow, careful process. Once the basket is fully woven, the rim is finished using a special local vine called Chinese moonseed. This step matters. Only baskets bound with this vine qualify as official national traditional crafts. If a rim is tied with wire instead, it’s not recognized under that title.

Final Touches

Each Katsuyama Take Zaiku basket is made completely by hand. Most of the time, the same craftsperson handles the entire job from start to finish. That hands-on process is what gives each basket its strength, detail, and character. Every step, from cutting to weaving to the final bind, follows the same traditional path that’s been used for generations.

 

23. Osaka karaki wood joinery

Osaka Karaki Wood Joinery, or Osaka Karaki Sashimono in Japanese, is a traditional woodworking craft from cities across Osaka Prefecture. It uses hardwood from Southeast Asia like rosewood, ebony, Chinese quince, and Bombay blackwood. These woods are dense, dark, and known for their deep color and shine.

The method behind this craft is called sashimono. It’s a joinery style where pieces of wood are connected without nails or screws. The joints are held together using mortise and tenon cuts. This technique goes back hundreds of years and is still used to make everything from large cabinets to small decorative boxes.

How the Craft Took Root in Osaka

The roots of Osaka Karaki Sashimono stretch back to the Edo Period. At that time, Osaka was a major trading hub. Artisans and merchants who specialized in this woodworking settled in the city and built a local industry around it. The lacquered surfaces, clean joints, and mirror-smooth finishes became a signature of the region’s joinery.

This blend of polished form and skilled construction helped the craft survive for centuries. Even now, these handmade pieces fit well with modern interiors. You’ll find tables, tea shelves, vase stands, and even things like chopsticks and compact storage boxes made using the same age-old methods.

The Origin Story of Karaki in Japan

Karaki wood first arrived in Japan during the Nara Period, between 710 and 794 CE. Japanese envoys brought rare woods back from Tang-dynasty China. These woods had never been seen in Japan before. The pieces made from them were called karaki, which means "Chinese wood." This is where the Osaka Karaki Sashimono tradition started.

Later, during the Azuchi-Momoyama Period, from 1560 to 1600, more people started using karaki items. This rise happened alongside the growth of tea ceremony culture and flower arrangement, which both valued elegant furniture and tools. At that time, Japanese homes had built-in two-level shelves and desks, but these weren't easy to move. So the need for portable furniture grew fast.

The Rise of Joiners as a Skilled Trade

Back then, joinery was something only carpenters did. But as the types of sashimono furniture grew, so did the need for full-time joiners. By the Genroku era, between 1688 and 1704, joinery had become a real profession.

During the Edo Period, from 1603 to 1868, Osaka became even more important as a business center. Karaki wood came in through the port of Nagasaki and made its way to Osaka. Many pharmaceutical wholesalers in the city started selling cabinets made from this wood, which helped the trade grow. Eventually, the local joiners formed a guild. This gave the craft a strong base, and Osaka Karaki Sashimono took off as a regional tradition.

How the Craft Lives On Today

Osaka Karaki Sashimono has over 300 years of history. It’s been officially recognized as a traditional craft by the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry. Today’s artisans still use the same tools, the same hand techniques, and the same types of imported wood. The end result is furniture that’s both strong and beautiful, rooted in old Japan but easy to place in modern homes.

What started with rare wood from China is now a living piece of Japan’s craft culture. Every joint, every polished surface, and every carved edge carries that long story forward.

How Osaka Karaki Sashimono Is Made

The entire process behind Osaka Karaki Wood Joinery is slow and exact. Every step matters. From choosing the right wood to applying the final coat of lacquer, nothing is rushed. This is why each piece lasts for generations and stands out as both furniture and art.

Choosing and Sawing the Wood

Everything starts with the wood. The type and condition of the logs directly affect the final product. Only hardwoods like rosewood or ebony are used. These are extremely dense and hard to cut, so they have to be sawn at mills that specialize in this kind of timber. Each log is examined carefully before sawing, one at a time. The core of the log must stay intact to prevent cracks, so it takes steady hands and patience.

Natural Indoor Drying

After sawing, the wood isn’t used right away. Instead, it’s dried indoors for five to six years. No machines. No shortcuts. Just time and controlled air. This slow drying keeps the wood from warping and makes sure the grain stays strong and stable.

Sizing the Timber

Once fully dried, the wood is roughly cut down to the general size it needs to be. This early cut includes a small buffer to allow for any mistakes during shaping. At this point, it’s still rough and far from finished.

Smoothing with Planes

Next, the rough timber gets planed. This means it’s shaved down to the correct thickness. Flat surfaces, curves, and joints are all trimmed with precision. Craftsmen use different types of hand planes, each set at specific angles, depending on what part they’re shaping.

Marking with White Lines

Once the surfaces are smooth, white guide lines are scratched into the wood using a blade. These marks show where to cut and join during later steps. It’s a careful layout, not guesswork.

Cutting the Joinery

Now, the mortises and tenons are made. These are the core of sashimono joinery. Holes and pegs are cut with chisels and refined by hand with wood files. The fit must be exact. No nails or screws are used, so everything needs to hold tight on its own.

Polishing the Surfaces

After the joints are cut, the wood is polished. Water and waterproof sandpaper are used to smooth every surface. This brings out the grain and gives a clean, fine texture before coloring and finishing.

Finishing the Joint Sections

Before the final assembly, the joint ends are finished. This ensures the pieces lock together cleanly. Every contact point is refined to make sure there are no gaps once it’s put together.

Applying Color

The wood is dyed by hand. Artisans use traditional dyes like sappanwood and black-tooth dye. These natural colors deepen the look of the wood without hiding its natural grain. The right coloring enhances the material, not covers it.

Assembling the Parts

Once everything is ready, the pieces are assembled. Instead of synthetic glues, natural options like animal glue or wood glue are used. These bond the joints while staying true to tradition.

Final Lacquer Finish

The last step is lacquering. A thin layer of raw lacquer is rubbed into the surface. This lacquer is purified naturally and gives the wood a rich shine. It protects the piece and gives it that deep, glassy look that Osaka Karaki is known for.

From raw log to polished finish, each step in this process is done with care. It’s not just about building something. It’s about respecting the material and keeping centuries of technique alive in every finished piece.

 

24. Takayama tea whisks

Takayama tea whisks, also called Takayama Chasen, are made by hand in Takayama Town, Ikoma City, in Japan’s Nara Prefecture. These whisks are crafted from bamboo and are mainly used in Japanese tea ceremonies. Right now, they hold one of the largest shares in the tea whisk market across Japan.

Each whisk is made from a single bamboo stalk, around 10 centimeters long. The top of the bamboo is sliced into thin strands, then tied together with thread. These whisks have been made this way since the Muromachi period, which lasted from 1336 to 1573. Today, over 60 different styles of tea whisks are being made. The whisk’s size, thread color, bamboo type, and overall shape can change depending on the tea school or how it’s going to be used.

While most people know them for whisking matcha, Takayama whisks are also used in other kinds of regional teas. Okinawa has buku-buku cha, a foamy tea that needs a larger whisk. Matsue is known for bote-bote cha, a kind of soup-like tea, which also uses a bigger whisk to stir and froth it.

Where Takayama Chasen Came From

The story of the Takayama Chasen goes back to the mid-Muromachi period. It’s believed that a man named Juko Murata, who helped create the wabi-cha style of tea, asked another man, Minbunojo Nyudo Sosetsu Takayama, to make him a tea whisk. That original handmade whisk was later given to Emperor Go-Tsuchimikado. The Emperor was pleased with it and gave it the name “Takaho.” For a time, the whisk was known as Takaho Chasen.

No one really knows when the name changed to Takayama Chasen, but it seems the characters used to write “Takaho” were replaced with the ones used for the Takayama area and family name. Historical records from that time are limited, so there’s still a lot we don’t know about the details.

Why Takayama Became the Center of Tea Whisk Crafting

Takayama’s location played a big role in its success. The area is surrounded by forests that grow high-quality bamboo, perfect for making whisks. It’s also not far from Kyoto and Osaka, where tea culture has always been strong. These cities gave Takayama craftsmen a steady demand for their work.

Today, the tradition continues. Craftsmen in Takayama still make each whisk by hand, just like their ancestors did. These whisks aren’t just tools. They reflect centuries of culture, careful skill, and Japan’s deep connection to the art of tea.

How Takayama Tea Whisks Are Made

Choosing and Preparing the Bamboo

It starts with the bamboo. It gets cut, then left to rest for one to two years before anyone touches it again. This drying time keeps the bamboo strong and stops it from cracking later. Craftsmen usually use three kinds of bamboo: henon bamboo, black bamboo, and soot-colored bamboo.

Henon bamboo, also called white bamboo, is straight and smooth, which makes it easy to work with. To turn it white, it gets boiled to pull out the oil and lye, then left out in the sun for about a month to bleach naturally. Black bamboo is actually a type of henon bamboo that darkens with age. Its trunk turns a deep brown-purple color, so it’s often called purple bamboo, or shichiku. The rarest kind is soot-colored bamboo. It comes from old Japanese homes, where it sat in ceilings for over a hundred years, stained by smoke rising from fireplaces. That smoke gives it a unique color and texture that you can’t fake.

Splitting the Bamboo

Once the bamboo is chosen, the craftsman begins to split it. This part forms the whisk’s head. First, they strip the bark from the top section while leaving the handle untouched. Then, with a knife, they split the top of the stalk. They keep halving it like slicing a cake. Depending on how thick the bamboo is, the number of splits ranges from 12 to 24. After the base tines are cut, the inside pulp is removed to thin each tine.

Making the Fine Splits

Next, those rough tines get split even further. Each original segment is divided into a set of thinner tines, with alternating large and small sections. The exact number depends on the whisk type. For example, if they start with 16 thick tines and each one is split into 10, that makes 160 total. Half of those become outer tines and the other half become inner tines.

Shaping the Tips

After the fine splits, the tips need to be softened. They’re soaked in hot water until flexible. Then, each tip is shaved and shaped by hand. This step matters. The shape of the tip changes how the matcha froths and how the flavor comes through. Different tea schools have different preferences. Mushakouji Senke prefers straight tips. Urasenke likes them curved like small hooks.

Smoothing the Edges

Every outside tine is chamfered by hand. That means both edges are gently shaved down. If this step gets skipped, tea clings to the tines and makes the foam messy or uneven. Clean edges help the matcha foam break down properly in the bowl.

Tying the Threads

After the edges are smoothed, the outer tines are tied with thread to hold the whisk’s shape. They’re tied once to hold the structure, then again to lock it in place. Black thread is common because it hides stains, but it depends on the school or purpose. Some groups, like the Sekishu-ryu school, use white thread. Yellow is used for Buddhist ceremonies. Red or red-and-white thread is used during celebrations.

Final Adjustments

Now, it’s time to adjust everything. A thin bamboo spatula is used to tweak the spacing between the tines and fix the base height. This step keeps the whole shape balanced and functional.

Last Touches and Packing

At the end, the whisk is looked over one more time. Uneven tips, odd spaces, or crooked sections are fixed by hand. Only then is it packed up, ready to be used for making matcha or given as a gift. Every step along the way is done by hand, with patience and years of skill behind it.

 

25. Toyooka wicker crafts

Toyooka wickerwork, known in Japan as Toyooka Kiryu Zaiku, is a handmade craft from Toyooka City in Hyogo Prefecture. The craft comes from the area’s natural willow, a species called Salix koriyanagi, that grows along the Maruyama River. Back when Toyooka was a castle town, locals started weaving baskets from these willow branches, turning the skill into a local trade. The result was a practical, tough, and flexible craft that’s still made today by hand.

Each piece is woven by artisans using real willow. The texture feels raw and natural, and the material holds up over time. These baskets aren’t just for show. They’re meant to be used, and they fit into modern life without trying too hard.

Toyooka Kiryu Zaiku uses many types of weaving. There are six main patterns, thirty-three ways to fill in the body, and eighteen finishing styles just for the rims. These techniques can be mixed to create all kinds of shapes. Some of the most common items are deep round baskets and square containers with lids, often used as bento boxes. But recently, modern-style wicker handbags have become more popular, especially ones designed with a fresh take on the old style.

History of Toyooka Willow Craft

The story behind Toyooka wickerwork stretches back centuries. Some say it began in the year 27 CE, when Ame no Hiboko no Mikoto, a prince from Silla (now part of Korea), brought the method of weaving with him to Japan. Over time, locals began using willow from the Maruyama River to make everyday baskets. By the 9th century, the weaving process was fully established.

One of the oldest known pieces of Toyooka Kiryu Zaiku, a willow basket called “Tajima no Kunisan Yanagibako,” is stored in the Shoso-in Treasure House at Todaiji Temple. This shows how long the craft has been part of Japanese culture.

Later, during the Edo period, Lord Takamori Kyogoku helped grow the industry. He pushed for more willow planting and better basket-making skills. He also set up ways to distribute the products throughout Japan. Because of his support, Toyooka’s name spread as a top place for basketry.

By the Meiji era, makers started producing Western-style handbags. Then in the Taisho period, a new kind of handbasket with a lock became trendy. People called them “Taisho Baskets.”

In the 1960s, Crown Prince Naruhito used a small Toyooka basket when he went to Gakushuin Kindergarten. That little basket became a hit and earned the nickname “Naru-chan Bag.” The design was simple, but everyone wanted one.

Today, the craft has expanded into modern goods. You’ll see Toyooka wicker in home items, storage pieces, and interior design. Still handmade, still rooted in tradition, but shaped to fit the way we live now.

How Toyooka Wicker Baskets Are Made

The process of making a Toyooka wicker basket is slow and precise. Every step depends on skill, timing, and the right kind of willow. The tools are simple, but the technique is anything but.

Starting with the Bottom

Everything begins with the base. Artisans lay out thicker willow rods flat on a surface. These rods are called tateri, and they act as the frame. Then they take thin willow strands, known as amiso, and weave them tightly through the tateri. This forms the flat bottom of the basket. The weavers keep the lines even and the tension strong. If the bottom isn’t right, nothing else will be.

Weaving the Lid

Next, they weave the lid. This part is a little more delicate. The lid has to be slightly larger than the basket's base to make sure it fits over it. The willow used here is usually finer and more attractive, chosen specifically for looks. Every lid is made to match the base it belongs to, and it takes a lot of adjusting to get the size just right.

Setting Up the Basket Walls

After the lid is done, they go back to the bottom section and get ready to build up the sides. They place a wooden mold on the finished base. This mold gives the basket its shape. The craftsman marks equal points around the edge of the bottom. At each mark, they open a small hole and insert upright rods, again called tateri. These will be used to weave the basket walls. They also add support cores to keep the sides firm and prevent warping.

Weaving the Body

With the tateri in place, they start weaving the basket’s body. This is where the height and overall shape come together. They weave upward until they reach the planned height. Once that’s done, the mold is pulled out, and they finish the top edge. A method called ogamibuchi is used to shape the rim and make sure the lid fits snug. The last two tateri are tucked in, and any sticking-out ends get trimmed clean.

Building the Lid

The lid is built in a similar way to the base. The same weave pattern is followed to keep the look and structure consistent. This keeps the basket balanced and clean from top to bottom.

Crafting the Handles

The handles are made separately. Artisans wrap willow around strong, round wisteria cores. This gives the handles the strength to hold up over time, and also keeps them light. It’s a small detail, but it matters for how the basket feels in the hand.

Putting It All Together

The final step is putting the pieces together. The handles are fixed to the lid, and the lid is attached to the basket. At this point, the whole piece comes together. From the inside out, every part is done by hand using willow that’s picked and prepared with care. The basket is done and ready to be used or passed down.

 

26. Akita cedar tubs and barrels

For centuries, craftspeople in Odate and Noshiro, two cities in Akita Prefecture, have been making handmade tubs and barrels from local Akita cedar. These pieces, known as Akita-sugi Oke Taru, date back to the late Heian period, around the 11th century. The tubs, called oke, are made from straight grain cedar and usually have no lids. They’re held together with hoops made from bamboo or copper. Barrels, or taru, come with lids and are crafted from flat grain cedar.

What makes these tubs and barrels stand out is more than just their look. The cedar grain gives each piece a rich, natural design. But it's the wood's performance that really counts. Akita cedar has excellent water absorbency. It also gives off a clean, calming scent that people say brings out the flavor of sake. These tubs don’t soak up moisture or shrink much over time, so they keep their shape. The wood even helps control the salt level in foods, which makes them perfect for pickling.

A Craft Rooted in Ancient Akita History

The roots of Akita-sugi tub making go deep. Remains of tubs found at the Akita Castle ruins trace back to the late Heian period, between 794 and 1185 CE. These pieces are the oldest known examples of the craft. Later, in the Edo period, from 1603 to 1868, local rulers began promoting this traditional woodworking. It turned into a proper industry.

A historical diary from 1612 shows that sake barrels made from Akita cedar were already being used in castle towns. Over time, these tubs and barrels became part of everyday life. People across the region used them regularly, and their design has stayed mostly the same ever since.

Everyday Use Through the Ages

From the Meiji era through the Taisho era, which lasted from 1868 to 1926, demand for these cedar pieces kept growing. They were strong, reliable, and easy to use. People used them for washing, storing cooked rice, keeping soy sauce, and more. But starting in the 1960s, plastic containers became common, and the use of wooden tubs and barrels started to fade.

Today, though, that’s starting to change. People are once again noticing the quality of Akita cedar. There’s a new appreciation for the natural warmth of wood. These tubs and barrels are useful, for they bring tradition, craftsmanship, and a touch of beauty into the everyday.

How Akita Cedar Tubs and Barrels Are Made

Timber Selection and Drying Process

It all starts with raw Akita cedar logs. From the heart of each log, fan-shaped blocks are cut based on how wide and deep the final tub or barrel needs to be. These blocks are split by hand using a hatchet into narrow panels called kure. They aren’t used right away. First, they’re left to air-dry naturally for around 90 to 100 days. After that, they go through another 30 days of controlled drying. Depending on the end use, the wood is sorted into two types: straight grain panels called masame-gure, and flat grain panels called itame-gure.

Shaping the Panels by Hand

Once dried, each kure is shaped using a tool called a sen, which is a double-handled blade. The craftsman sits on a bench called an uma and shaves each panel carefully to size. It takes both skill and patience. This step is where each piece starts to take its final form.

Fine-Tuning With a Plane

Next, the edges of each kure panel are refined using a large plane called a shojiki. A single tub needs 17 or 18 of these cured panels. After rough planing, the artisan uses a measuring tool called a kegata to mark exact shapes and angles. Then the kure get a second, more precise round of planing so they fit together tightly.

Putting the Tub Together

At this point, the pieces are ready to be assembled. The kure panels are connected using bamboo pegs. As the tub takes shape, the grain and color of each panel are matched closely to keep the final product uniform and clean-looking. A temporary hoop is wrapped around the outside to help keep the perfect round shape intact while the structure is still fragile.

Smoothing the Inside and Outside

Now the tub gets a final surface finish. Two types of round-blade planes are used: one convex for the inside, one concave for the outside. While smoothing the interior, the craftsman uses their feet to rotate the tub steadily. At this same stage, a groove is carved inside the tub using a tool called a kehiki. This groove is where the base plate will fit.

Securing the Base and Bamboo Hoop

Last comes the final assembly. The base plate is set into place, and a permanent bamboo hoop is added around the tub. The hoop is tightened with a mallet while the artisan spins the tub using both hands and feet. The best hoops come from strong, smooth Japanese timber bamboo. The bamboo is shaved and worked carefully so it doesn’t splinter or snag. Once everything is tightened and locked in place, the tub is finished. It’s solid, balanced, and built to last.

 

27. Nagiso woodturning

Nagiso woodturning, called Nagiso Rokuro Zaiku, comes from Nagiso Town in Kiso, Nagano Prefecture. This craft has deep roots, going back to the early 1700s. It’s known for a special technique called rokuro zaiku. That means turning a round piece of wood on a lathe and shaping it by hand. Everything is done manually, so it takes serious skill and a strong understanding of wood. The craftspeople who master this work are called kijishi.

What makes this craft stand out is how it brings out the natural beauty of the wood grain. The wood is turned slowly and carefully, which shows off the lines and texture in a clean and elegant way. Most of the items made are plain wood bowls and small containers, usually used for storing things like tea sets. Every piece is made with care, taking into account the type of wood, its color, and how the grain runs through it. The forests around Nagiso provide the high-quality wood that gives these pieces their simple beauty.

A Craft Rooted in Centuries of Woodwork

Old records show that Nagiso woodturning products were shipped out to cities like Nagoya and Osaka as early as the 18th century. But it likely started even earlier. Some sources point to the 1500s, based on old tree-cutting licenses given to woodworkers at the time. The craft is thought to have come from Omi, which is now Shiga Prefecture. That’s where the early kijishi were known to harvest wood and shape plain-wood products. Later, some of these craftspeople made their way to Nagiso and passed on their skills there.

By the mid-Edo period, handmade wood items were being produced steadily in Nagiso. Over time, more woodworkers gathered in the area and built a community that became known as the kijishi’s village. This helped keep the tradition alive and let it grow into what it is today.

The Switch from Manual Tools to Electric Machines

For a long time, every step of the process was done without machines. It took patience, strong hands, and a lot of knowledge. But with the rise of electricity and powered tools, the process changed. Today, most craftspeople use electric lathes. Even though machines help speed things up, the core of the craft still depends on the maker’s skill and feel for the wood.

Nagiso Rokuro Zaiku remains a respected tradition. It reflects both the natural beauty of the wood and the long history of careful craftsmanship in the region. Each bowl or container isn’t just a product. It’s a piece of a living heritage.

How Nagiso Woodturning Is Made

Choosing the Right Wood

Every item of Nagiso Rokuro Zaiku starts with one artisan and one local tree. They use wood from Japanese horse chestnut, zelkova, castor aralia, or Japanese judas. The process begins with a close look at the tree. The bark is stripped off, and tools are used to remove any stains or marks. The craftsperson checks when the tree was cut, how it grew, and what the wood looks like. By studying the surface, both at the end and on the sides, they figure out which type of item each piece of wood is best for.

Cutting and Shaping the Timber

Once the right logs are picked, they’re cut into thick, round slices. The slices are then laid flat with the cut face up, and sawed lengthwise. This creates rough shapes that can be trimmed down. From there, each piece is carved into either a circle or an oval. The outer layers of wood are carefully removed to reveal the natural grain inside. This is where the patterns start to show. Then, a lathe is used to do rough shaping and planing to get the piece closer to its final form.

Drying the Wood

After that first turning, the wood has to dry. This step is important. The pieces are set near a stove or open hearth and left to dry slowly. Most wood needs about three months, but large or wetter pieces can take up to three years. The drying has to be precise. The moisture level is checked often. When it hits 10 percent, the wood is moved outside so the moisture can rise back up to 12 percent. At that point, the wood is considered fully seasoned and ready to use.

Final Turning and Smoothing

Now the real shaping begins. The dried wood goes back on the lathe, and the artisan works with special hand planes to smooth it out. This part takes years to learn. The kijishi usually make their own tools, each one suited for a different step: rough shaping, final turning, and detailed finishing. After the final shaping is done, the piece is lightly sanded to make the surface smooth.

Bringing Out the Finish

The final step depends on the type of look the artisan wants. Some pieces are polished with scouring rush and water. This brings out the natural grain and keeps the wood plain and uncoated. Others are brushed with natural lacquer, then polished. Lacquered pieces still show the grain, but they have a richer tone and a little more shine. Both finishes keep the surface smooth and clean. Bowls, trays, and tea storage containers made this way show the true feel and warmth of the wood. Each one is made to last and feel good in your hands.

 

28. Kishu traditional chest

Kishu Tansu are handcrafted wooden chests that come from the area around Wakayama City in Wakayama Prefecture. The name “Kishu” refers to the historical name for this region. These chests are well known for their strength, detailed craftsmanship, and elegant design. Over time, they’ve earned a solid reputation as top-tier traditional storage furniture in Japan.

Paulownia Wood: The Heart of Kishu Tansu

Kishu Tansu are usually made from paulownia wood. This type of wood is soft, lightweight, and easy to work with, but it’s also tough and reliable. It has a light yellow color and a smooth, natural grain that fits nicely into both traditional Japanese interiors and modern Western-style rooms. The wood gives off a clean, calm look that blends into different spaces without clashing.

Paulownia is also known for how it handles moisture. When the air is humid, the wood soaks it up. When things get dry, it lets some of that moisture back out. It also doesn’t heat up easily and doesn’t warp over time. These qualities make it perfect for storing clothing and other items that are sensitive to changes in temperature or humidity. That’s one reason why Kishu Tansu have stayed in use for so long without falling apart or losing their shape.

Early Roots in Edo Period Craftsmanship

No one knows exactly when Kishu Tansu were first made, but there are signs they existed before the 1840s. In 1846, a lightning strike hit Wakayama Castle, and the fire that followed destroyed many tools and storage items. Records show that when the castle tower was rebuilt in 1850, some of the burnt chests were repaired rather than thrown out. This means people were already skilled in this kind of woodwork back then, and likely before.

More written records from that same decade have turned up in old houses throughout Wakayama. These records show that families were using tansu chests as part of bridal dowries. That included everyday households, not just samurai families. It’s also clear that merchants used these storage chests too. Some of the old ones that have survived still feature original hardware believed to be made during the Edo Period.

From all of this, it’s clear that the methods for making Kishu Tansu were well developed by the late Edo Period, especially in and around what is now Wakayama City.

Growth During the Meiji Period

During the Meiji Period, new transportation options made it easier to deliver goods outside of Wakayama. That opened the door to sell Kishu Tansu in places like Osaka. As demand grew, production ramped up fast. These storage chests went from being a local craft to a broader regional product that people in nearby cities wanted in their homes too.

Kishu Tansu remain a strong example of traditional Japanese furniture. The blend of good materials, lasting design, and old-school craftsmanship has kept them relevant, useful, and appreciated to this day.

Kishu Tansu Production: Step-by-Step Craftsmanship

Drying and Sawing the Paulownia Logs

Everything starts with choosing the right paulownia wood. Only logs between 30 and 60 years old are used. If the grain runs straight and tight, it's called masamezai, which is higher quality and less likely to warp. Logs with a more irregular pattern are called itamezai. These are slightly lower in quality, with grain that looks like small hills.

Once selected, the logs are left to dry naturally. This process can take anywhere from six months to two years. The slow drying removes lye from the wood. That step helps prevent discoloration and makes the grain stand out more clearly later on.

Shaping the Wood into Boards

After drying, the logs are sliced into boards based on size requirements. The ones used for drawer fronts and doors are chosen carefully. These parts need to look the best, so straight grain patterns spaced every two to three centimeters are ideal.

Before cutting, each board is checked for knots, cracks, or warping. The selected boards are then glued and pressed together under strong pressure to form a single solid board. After the glue sets, the surface is planed smooth and flat, ready for assembly.

Building the Chest

Next comes assembly. This stage includes the top and bottom panels, side walls, and interior shelves. The ends of each piece are shaped to fit together like puzzle pieces using traditional joinery. These joints can vary depending on their location.

One common method is the dovetail joint, which looks like a bird’s tail and locks the wood tightly. Another version, called a lap dovetail joint, hides the connection from one side for a cleaner look. First, the chest is dry-fitted. That allows for small adjustments. Then the boards are glued and nailed together using wooden pegs instead of iron to avoid rust.

The back board is attached last. Before the glue dries, wooden nails are driven in quickly. A damp cloth is used to wipe down the surface, pressing the nails in tighter and removing marks from the nailing. Once everything dries, the whole body is planed for a smooth, even finish.

Final Touches and Surface Work

Drawers are built after the main body is done. Like the chest, their joints are compressed and fit tightly together. Wooden nails are again used instead of metal. The drawers are wiped with a wet cloth, left to dry, then planed clean.

For kimono trays, a frame is tied with hemp string. The bottom board is nailed into place using wooden pegs. Once dry, the outside of the tray is rounded off to give it a softer edge.

After all the parts are built, the full surface gets polished. This is done with a stiff brush made from karukaya grass roots, called uzukuri. It brings out the natural texture and pattern of the wood grain.

Next, a polishing powder is mixed using crushed stone and boiled fruit from the Japanese green alder. This blend is applied to the wood to enhance the grain even more. Finally, the entire piece is waxed. Once that’s done, the drawers, doors, and hardware are all put in place. That’s the final step before a Kishu Tansu is complete.

 

29. Nagoya traditional paulownia chest

Nagoya paulownia chests, known in Japan as Nagoya Kiri Tansu, are a traditional type of wooden furniture made around Kasugai and Nagoya in Aichi Prefecture. These chests have been around since 1610, the same time Nagoya Castle was being built. Over the centuries, they became a key part of Japanese dowry culture, especially in Nagoya, where families often spent large sums on wedding gifts. Because of that, these chests became known as high-end, elegant furniture passed down through generations.

What makes Nagoya Kiri Tansu stand out is their size and design. They’re usually about 20 centimeters wider than chests made in other regions. Their look is bold and rich. You’ll often see gold leaf decorating the surface, with metal fittings in silver or gold. These touches weren’t just for show. They represented wealth, celebration, and family honor, which made them perfect for dowries and special occasions.

The wood used is paulownia. It’s lightweight but strong, naturally resistant to heat, moisture, and bugs. This makes it ideal for protecting clothes and keepsakes. Some families in Japan still use their original chests made over 200 years ago. These chests were built to last.

In 1981, Nagoya Kiri Tansu was officially recognized as a traditional Japanese craft by the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry. That title isn’t handed out lightly. It means this craft is seen as part of Japan’s cultural heritage, something valuable that needs to be preserved.

How Storage Furniture Evolved in Japan

In early Japan, most people didn’t own much, so there wasn’t much need for storage furniture. Shelves first showed up during the Kamakura period, which ran from 1185 to 1333. These were mainly used in kitchens. Real wardrobes didn’t appear until the Edo period, between 1603 and 1868. During the 1600s, cotton became more available, which meant people started buying and wearing more clothes. This shift created a real need for proper storage.

The first Nagoya Kiri Tansu are believed to have been made by carpenters who worked on Nagoya Castle. After Japan was unified under the Tokugawa shogunate, the country became more stable. Trade started to grow. Wealth spread beyond the elite, and with it came a demand for better clothing. That created demand for high-quality storage chests. Tansu weren’t just furniture anymore. They became status symbols.

In Nagoya, having a fine Tansu was part of a bride’s dowry. Families took pride in giving something so valuable and beautiful. But times change. That custom is slowly disappearing, and many of the artisans who make these chests are growing older. Not many young people are stepping up to learn the trade, which puts this craft at risk.

Still, Nagoya paulownia chests remain a symbol of careful craftsmanship, deep-rooted tradition, and functional beauty. They carry not just clothes, but history.

How Nagoya Paulownia Chests Are Made: Step-by-Step from Tree to Tansu

Every Nagoya Kiri Tansu is handmade by a single craftsman, from start to finish. It takes about a month to complete one chest, and the full process includes more than 130 steps. Each stage is done with care, precision, and experience.

Drying the Wood and Cutting the Planks

It all starts with drying. After the tree is cut down, it’s left to dry for one to two years. Then it gets sawed into planks. After that, the planks dry for another six to twelve months. The wood is placed where it can get wet in the rain. This washes out lye, which helps stop the wood from warping or changing color later. This long drying phase is key to keeping the final chest stable and clean-looking.

Inspecting and Preparing the Timber

Once the wood is fully dried, the artisan checks every plank closely. They’re looking for changes in color and paying attention to the grain pattern. The front of the finished chest should look like it came from one solid piece of wood. To do that, the drawer and door pieces are cut to match the grain lines.

Fixing Any Warping

Paulownia is soft and can bend a little over time. To correct any warping, the boards are warmed gently over a fire. This makes the wood straight again. Only the best, most even boards are chosen for the final build.

Joining the Boards

Several smaller boards are joined to make one larger piece. The edges are shaved smooth, covered with glue, and pressed together. Then the boards are bound with ropes or metal tools and left to dry on their own. This creates stable, solid panels ready for shaping.

Building the Body

The main frame of the Tansu is built using strong, old-school joinery. Mortise and tenon joints hold everything together. The quality of these joints determines how long the chest will last. So this step takes time and patience. Once the body is built, cedar pegs are hammered in to lock everything in place.

Making the Drawers

With the body done, drawers are built one by one. Each drawer is made from a bottom board and a shaped frame. Everything is fitted to slide smoothly and sit flush inside the chest.

Final Surface Finish

The entire chest is then planed again to get a smooth surface. After that, it’s polished with a tool called uzukuri, made from grass roots. This reveals the natural beauty of the wood grain. The surface is stained using a mix made from Japanese green alder fruit and polishing powder. It’s brushed on in two coats, then waxed. This protects the wood and gives it a warm, rich look.

Attaching the Hardware

Finally, metal fittings are added. These are carefully placed to match the shape and balance of the chest. Once everything is done, the chest goes through a close inspection. If it passes, it’s ready to be called a real Nagoya Kiri Tansu.

 

30. Osaka bamboo screens

In the southern part of Osaka Prefecture, in the towns of Tondabayashi and Kawachi-Nagano, there’s a craft that’s been around for centuries: bamboo blinds, known locally as Osaka Kongo Sudare. These towns sit at the base of Mount Kongo, the tallest peak in Osaka. The mountain and the land around it are rich in strong, straight Japanese timber bamboo. That’s what gives these blinds their durability and clean look.

These aren’t your average blinds. They're handmade from natural bamboo and bring a calm, warm feel to any space. Whether in a traditional Japanese room or a modern house, these blinds work well with all kinds of interior styles. Over time, people have come to see them as high-end home decor, and that demand keeps the craft alive.

The history of bamboo blinds in Japan goes back a long way. The term sudare shows up in the Manyoshu, the oldest collection of Japanese poetry, which dates back before the 7th century. That gives us an idea of how far back this craft goes. The specific tradition of Osaka Kongo Sudare began around 1700 during the Edo period. Back then, samurai living in what is now Wakamatsu Town in Tondabayashi taught local villagers how to weave baskets. They also mixed in skills from Kyoto's famous Kyo Sudare blinds. That blend of methods kicked off what would become Osaka’s own version.

In 1948, makers in Kawachi-Nagano came up with a way to cut bamboo with a blade, which made mass production possible. That changed everything. Shindo Village, one of the main hubs for this craft, kept growing. By the 1960s, it was known across Japan as a major center for bamboo blind production and other bamboo goods.

Recognition came in the following decades. In 1985, the Osaka Governor named Osaka Kongo Sudare an official traditional craft of the region. Then, in 1996, the national government followed suit, giving it status as a traditional Japanese craft. To preserve the history and pass on the skills, the Sudare Museum opened in 2004.

Today, the tradition continues. Craftsmen still make the classic blinds that stay true to the original style. But they’ve also started creating updated versions to match today’s design trends. These new designs still use the same local bamboo and handmade techniques, but now they fit right into modern homes, offices, and even cafes.

Osaka Kongo Sudare combines old-world craftsmanship with new ideas. The blinds are simple, natural, and carefully made, offering both function and beauty. And as more people look for timeless pieces that also work in everyday spaces, this quiet craft from Osaka is finding new life in the modern world.

How Osaka Bamboo Blinds Are Made: Step by Step

Choosing and Cutting the Bamboo

It starts with picking the right bamboo. Craftsmen use bamboo that’s three or four years old, harvested between October and February. This is when the bamboo holds the least water, which makes it easier to work with. Once cut, the bamboo is washed and left to dry under the sun. As it dries, the greenish-blue color fades and turns into that familiar pale yellow. Then it’s cut down to the right size.

Removing the Outer Skin

The surface of raw bamboo isn’t clean or smooth. It has scars, stains, and joints that need to be removed. Craftsmen cut off the joints with a curved blade. Then they scrape the surface using a barking knife. These steps sound easy, but they take real skill. One wrong move and the bamboo can get damaged. The goal is to clean it up without ruining its natural beauty.

Splitting the Bamboo

After that, the bamboo is split. First into eight equal pieces, then each of those is split into four. To do this, they use all kinds of tools: splitter knives, hatchets, even small swords. Bamboo naturally splits along the grain, but getting it even and smooth still takes a sharp eye and steady hands. A good craftsman can split it just right without needing any guides or measurements.

Shaving the Strips

Once split, the bamboo strips are shaved thinner. Craftsmen divide each piece into outer and inner layers, then keep shaving until each strip is just the right width and thickness. This is done by hand, using a small knife. One hand holds the strip, the other shaves it. They do this by feel, with experience guiding each movement. Everything has to match up so the strips fit cleanly when assembled later.

Polishing and Dyeing

Next, the strips go through a polishing machine to smooth out the surface. If the blind is for a shrine or temple, the strips are also dyed yellow. This adds a touch of tradition and helps them match the surroundings where they’ll be used.

Putting the Blind Together

Now it’s time to assemble the blind. It’s a simple process in theory: the bamboo strips are held together using cotton or silk threads. One strip is laid across a frame, and threads are tied across it every 10 centimeters or so. Then the next strip is laid beside it, and the threads cross over again. They repeat this process until the whole blind is built. The threads are wrapped around reels, which get tossed back and forth like a shuttle to lock each strip in place. The spacing between threads changes depending on how thick the bamboo is or how big the blind needs to be. Some designs, like a chevron pattern, are made just by changing the spacing. While they work, the reels make a steady clacking sound, kind of like a musical rhythm. As they go, the craftsman tosses aside any strip that doesn’t look right.

Adding the Border

Once the strips are set, they trim the edges to even them out. Then they attach a border. This is usually made of Nishijin silk damask or brocade. It gets sewn on by hand. Lining up the pattern without using rulers or guides takes real practice. The cloth has to stay straight, and the design needs to flow across several blinds with no gaps or breaks.

Finishing with Tassels and Metal Fittings

The final touch is decoration. They add tassels and metal fittings to complete the piece. These small details turn the blind into a luxury item. What you end up with is a traditional Osaka Kongo Sudare, made from natural bamboo and finished by hand, down to every last stitch.

 

31. Osaka-senshu traditional paulownia chest

Osaka Senshu Kiri Tansu are traditional wooden chests built in and around Kishiwada and Sakai in Osaka Prefecture. They’re crafted from paulownia wood, which is known for being lightweight but strong. This wood handles moisture well and doesn't catch fire easily, making it perfect for long-lasting furniture. For generations, these chests were seen as a key piece for a bride to take to her new home. People trusted them to last, not just because of the material, but because they were made from solid, thick planks and built to last.

What really sets these Osaka Senshu chests apart from other paulownia tansu in Japan is the quality of their joints. The way the wood fits together shows true skill. Every piece is handmade, and each chest has a clean, refined look. They’re elegant but not flashy. They feel simple but strong. Because the techniques used are so advanced and take a lot of time to master, not many are made. That low supply and high quality give them serious value. Some even call them the finest paulownia chests in the country.

How These Chests Came to Be

No one can say for sure when the Osaka Senshu Kiri Tansu first appeared, but they’ve been around a long time. A reference to a tansu maker shows up in Naniwazuru, a book written over 300 years ago. So it’s safe to say the craft had already taken root by the middle of the Edo Period. Back then, Osaka had grown into a major city right in the center of Japan. Thanks to the shogunate's policies, it became the heart of trade and business, earning the nickname Tenka no Daidokoro, or “the nation’s kitchen.”

That growth in commerce helped drive up the demand for well-made tansu. Merchants needed good storage for their goods. And in nearby farming areas, agriculture was booming. Farmers with money wanted sturdy, beautiful furniture that also showed off their success. Paulownia chests like the Senshu tansu became a kind of symbol. Owning one said something about your taste and your place in the world.

Why These Chests Still Matter Today

Osaka Senshu Kiri Tansu aren’t mass-produced. Each one takes skill, patience, and experience. That’s why they’re rare. They aren’t just practical storage pieces. They’re quiet statements of quality. With their clean joints and graceful shape, they reflect a style that’s been passed down for centuries.

If you’re looking for a traditional Japanese chest that brings beauty and purpose together, it’s hard to top the Osaka Senshu paulownia chest. It’s not just furniture. It’s part of Japan’s history. And every piece tells that story.

How Osaka Senshu Paulownia Chests Are Made

Sourcing and Drying the Wood

Osaka Senshu Kiri Tansu are made from top-grade paulownia wood. In the past, wood from Aizu in Fukushima was used the most. These trees grow slowly and produce strong, smooth timber. But over-logging in Japan has made mature trees harder to find. So now, logs from Virginia and Pennsylvania are often used. These areas have a similar climate and produce wood that’s close in quality to Aizu's. The logs are pricey, but they're key to making a high-quality tansu.

Once cut, the logs are checked for straight and cross grain. The goal is to figure out how best to use the wood's natural patterns. Then the wood is left outside to dry naturally for one to three years. Wind and rain help strip away harsh elements in the wood. This slow drying keeps the color clean and helps make the wood stable over time.

Matching the Wood for Appearance

Before building begins, planks are matched carefully. The goal is to show off the wood’s natural grain in the finished piece. This step takes patience and a good eye. Everything depends on how the final chest will look.

Fixing Warps in the Wood

As paulownia dries, it bends a little. That’s normal. To fix this, craftsmen heat the wood gently over a fire. Then they press it flat. This keeps the planks strong and usable without splitting or cracking.

Joining the Planks

To make wider boards, a method called the hagi process is used. This technique is unique to Osaka Senshu chests. Edges of planks are glued and pressed together, but it’s not just about sticking them side by side. The grain has to flow as if the board is one solid piece. That takes real skill and time.

Cutting the Pieces

Once the wide boards are ready, they’re cut into pieces for different parts of the chest. This includes the top, the sides, the drawers, and any doors. Then, the surfaces are planed until they’re completely smooth.

Making the Joints

These chests don’t use screws or nails. Instead, every part is joined using wooden joints. Craftsmen cut mortise and tenon joints. These fit together tightly, almost like puzzle pieces. Each tenon is cut so the fit is exact. This makes the structure strong and keeps it from changing over time.

Assembling the Chest

The main body is joined using dovetail slides. These fit tightly together and lock the frame in place. Once everything is in, a final planing smooths out any small bumps left from assembly.

Building Drawers and Doors

Drawers are made by fixing the bottom panel with small wooden nails. Sliding doors are shaped and fitted while in the closed position. There’s no room for even tiny gaps. Every edge is planed down by 0.01 millimeters. That kind of precision takes years to master.

The Final Finish

To finish, a special tool called an uzukuri is used. It looks like a small brush and brings out the grain in the wood. Then the surface is colored using a mix of polishing powder and dye made from Alnus firma. This process is done in layers. Each layer brings out more of the wood’s texture and shine. After that, wax is applied and polished to seal the surface. Finally, custom fittings are attached by hand.

Each Osaka Senshu chest takes time, skill, and effort. Every step shows the care and tradition behind the craft. These aren’t just storage pieces. They’re the result of centuries of refined woodworking.

 

32. Sendai traditional chest

A Sendai tansu is a handmade chest of drawers from Sendai, a city in Miyagi Prefecture. These pieces are known for their strong build, deep craftsmanship, and bold decorative metalwork. Most are made using Japanese woods like chestnut, zelkova, or cedar. What sets them apart is the mix of clean joinery, detailed iron fittings, and layers of fine Japanese lacquer that make each one stand out.

How Sendai Tansu Are Made

Three old techniques come together to make a single chest. First, the woodwork: every piece is joined without nails or screws. This keeps the structure solid and long-lasting. Then comes the lacquer. Craftsmen apply it in layers to show off the natural grain of the wood while adding depth and shine. Finally, the ironwork. Each chest gets between 100 to 200 individual metal fittings, all shaped and carved by hand. You’ll see animals like dragons and lions, or flowers like peonies. These designs aren’t just for looks. They’re symbols of strength, good luck, and protection.

Where It All Started

Sendai tansu has been around for centuries. Many believe it began during the time of Masamune Date, a powerful feudal lord in the Sengoku period between 1467 and 1568. When he ordered the construction of Aoba Castle, his lead carpenter also built furniture for the site. That’s when the first Sendai-style chests were likely made.

Why Samurai Valued Them

By the end of the Edo period, around 1603 to 1868, samurai living in the Sendai area started making these chests themselves. It gave them extra income, and they used the chests to store armor, formal wear like haori jackets and kamishimo robes, and important papers. That’s why the early designs were usually about 120 centimeters wide and 90 centimeters tall. The size was ideal for military gear.

From Local Craft to Global Exports

Once Japan entered the Meiji era in 1868, Sendai tansu production grew fast. More furniture types started appearing. During the late Meiji and early Taisho periods, makers began exporting to Europe, especially Germany. The ornate, elegant style caught on overseas. But when World War II hit, production stopped. Materials ran short, and craftspeople turned to other work. After the war, though, makers in Sendai picked up the tools again. They brought back the same methods, sticking to the old ways. Today, these skills are still alive and passed down through each generation.

How a Sendai Tansu Chest Is Made

Preparing the Wood

Everything starts with raw logs. The trees are cut down and left to season outdoors for three to four years. This step helps remove moisture and gets the wood ready for long-term use.

Turning Logs into Thick Planks

After the seasoning period, the logs are cut into rough planks, each about 12 centimeters thick. These thick boards are then air-dried for around fifteen years in a storage area that gets good airflow. This long drying process keeps the wood stable.

Making Thinner Boards

Once the thick planks are dry, they get trimmed down again. The final boards are around 24 millimeters thick. Then they’re moved indoors to dry for another ten years or so. This second round of drying makes sure the wood doesn’t warp or crack later.

Cutting to Size

The dried planks are measured and trimmed to fit the chest’s final shape. Zelkova wood, known for its grain, is used on the outer surfaces. Cedar forms the main body. Paulownia and cedar are used for the inside sections.

Selecting and Processing Fine Grain

Some wood has grain so nice it gets made into thin veneers. These thin slices are backed with paulownia wood. That mix helps the chest hold up better in air-conditioned spaces, with no shrinking or bending.

Assembling the Chest

Once the wood pieces are shaped, they’re roughly planed to smooth the surfaces. Joints are carefully cut so the parts lock together cleanly. The drawers, made from cedar and paulownia, are trimmed to slide in and out smoothly.

Lacquer Application

Natural lacquer is made from the sap of lacquer trees that are at least fifteen years old. That raw sap is dried in the sun until most of its water content is gone. What’s left is called akaro lacquer. This forms the base.

Kuroro lacquer is made by adding a bit of iron powder to the akaro. Shuai lacquer is richer, made by mixing in things like canola oil, pine resin, and malt syrup. Kuronuritate lacquer uses even more iron to darken the tone.

Before the lacquer goes on, the chest is sanded and polished. Then it gets its first coat. There are three styles: clear lacquer, black lacquer, and red lacquer. Each method uses layer after layer, with sanding and polishing in between.

Drying the Lacquer

After each coat of lacquer, the chest is placed in a humid room to dry. This cycle of coating and drying happens up to ten times, giving the chest a deep, glass-like finish.

Making the Metal Fittings

Each metal piece starts as a hand-drawn design on washi paper. The lines are traced and embossed using small chisels. For complex patterns, different chisels are used to shape every curve. Some raised areas are hammered from the back to give them depth.

Coating the Metal Fittings

Once shaped, each fitting is treated to prevent rust. A base coating is added, followed by a color finish. Some fittings are also oxidized or plated with copper or silver to give them an aged look.

Final Assembly

At the end, all the fittings are attached using rust-proof brass nails. Every part is checked for detail and quality. Once the chest passes final inspection, it’s done. Each one is a finished piece of traditional craft, built to last for generations.