Here are a few photos from the 2009-10 Graduating Exhibition of the Oita Prefectural Bamboo Crafts and Training Support Center. It was great to see friends and old acquaintances at the exhibition and have the chance to talk to them about our year-long work. Some of my fellow students received special orders for baskets, and we all received a lot of valuable input from bamboo craft fans about their individual design preferences. This year the show was held in Oita's Tokiwa Wasada Town rather than Beppu Tokiwa, as was done in previous years, a decision that turned out really well. With the school year finished, now students will go their separate ways, some working for local companies, some working independently, some studying other styles of bamboo crafts in other parts of Japan, and a few will continue studying at the school in 2nd year program. I owe a great deal of thanks to everyone who came to the show for their patronage and support, past and future.
静まり返ったまだ薄暗い開店直前の会場。基本課題作群は竹製品ファンの殺到を待ち構えている。
The basic assignments, neatly stacked or lined up on tables, await the store's opening. When the doors opened at 10, a flood of customers, some running, rushed to grab their 3-items-per-person maximum.
実演コーナーでは、内原さんが「四海波」(しかいなみ)の製作工程をひご取りから最後のひごの指し込みまで披露してくれた。 At the demonstartion corner, Mr. Uchihara shows the entire process of making the Shikainami (四海波) basket, from splitting the bamboo to tucking in the last strip.
Mr. Ishida (yellow jacket) talking with customers about the basic assignments. The lunchbox (called "tofu basket" long ago, named for its primary function), was the most popular, selling out within minutes after opening.
(above and below) These are some of the special assignments, called oyo kadai (応用課題) in Japanese, literally meaning "applied problem." Skills learned throughout the year in the basic assignments were "applied" to make a new and different, more complex basket. Each student took 4-6 weeks to make his/her own work, with a total of 18 unique products being exhibited. Each type of new weave, or variation on a weave we had already learned, challenged us in new ways. Special assignments were sold at prices between 18,000 and 30,000 yen (about 200-300 US dollars)--a steal considering the market prices for items like these are well over 100,000 yen (1000 dollars) a piece. Considering how long it took to make them, however, the real problem we students face after graduation is how to make high-quality bamboo products likes these at a much quicker pace.
This is the basket I made and submitted. I'll show more images of this basket and explain the process of making it in another post.
お孫さんのお気に入りということで、私の作品を買ってくださった藤塚さん。ご自宅の玄関で大事に花を飾っているらしい。 Mrs. Fujistuka and her two grandchildren who bought my basket. I was told recently that she is using it as a flower basket in the foyer of her house.
Trainees of the Oita Prefectural Bamboo Craft and Training Support Center will soon be holding their graduating exhibition. If you're in the Oita city area, please stop by to check out or buy our baskets. Details are as follows:
Date and Time: February 27 - 28 Place: Tokiwa Wasada Town, main hallway on the first floor
Feb. 27, 10AM - 8PM Feb. 28, 10AM - 5PM
Basic assignments (Kikuzoko basket and Sumitori kago) will be sold starting at 10 AM on both days.
Special assignments (18 unique bamboo products made by the trainees) will be displayed during the entire two days. Special assignments will be sold by reservation at 11AM on Saturday, and will be handed over to buyers at the end of the exhibition on Sunday. A lottery will be held when more than one buyer per basket is present.
We'll also have bamboo splitting demonstrations. Hope you can come!
In mid-January I put up a quick post and video about my experiences of cutting bamboo in the town of Naoiri to be used in my baskets. I'll go into a little more detail about that project in this post. (Scroll to the bottom to see the video.)
Caitlyn and I went with our friends, the Iida family, to visit Mr. Mikutsu on his farm in Naoiri, located in southern Oita prefecture. We've visited Naoiri before to harvest rice or dig up sweet potatoes as part of the local agricultural events planned by Mr. Mikutsu, but this time we went to cut down the bamboo growing in Mr. Mikutsu's own backyard. On the Mikutsu farm they raise beef cattle and grow vegetables and the like. Immediately behind their house is a mountain slope covered by tall cedar trees, under which they maintain their shiitake mushroom stands. Mr. Mikutsu hopes to expand the area of these stands next year, but growing tall and green in the large spaces between the cedar is bamboo. Mikutsu-san said I could use the bamboo if I like, since he would cut it down and pile it up to rot anyway, so we all decided to get together to cut it down and prepare it for temporary storage. It's a mutual cooperation like this that I imagine was so much more common in the olden days of Japan when farming was a major way of life. (Bamboo being seen by farmers or foresters as a nuisance in Japan, by the way, seems to be the general trend as bamboo is used less and less for the production of daily goods or other commercial products. As far as I know, in Oita prefecture at least there are several town revitalization projects that focus on trying to find ways to make use of the bamboo groves that are either not maintained or cut down and thrown away.)
I've used the word "bamboo" here so far without specifying type. There are over 600 varieties of bamboo in Japan, only a handful of which can be used to make baskets. At school we use only one variety, madake, otherwise known as giant timber bamboo, or, scientifically, Phyllostachys bambusoides, but hachiku (Phyllostachys nigra var. henonis) another timber bamboo almost exactly identical in appearance to madake is also usable. On the Mikutsu mountain I also found mosochiku, or Phyllostachys edulis, which is full of fiber and useful for some crafts, but is much coarser and less pliant than madake or hachiku. In Japan they're called the "big useful three (三大有用竹)," not only because they're the largest varieties, but also because they are naturally common and used so often in so many things. Luckily, the "nusiance" in this case was either hachiku or madake. You can tell the difference between these and moso by looking at the node. Moso (on the right) has one ring that sticks out, while madake or hachiku (on the left) has two rings. Supposedly it's practically impossible to pick out madake from hachiku just by looking at the two, so for now I'm satisfied with the observation that it's either one of them, both of which I can use.
So we all got together, and got to work. Mikutsu-san cut down the canes with a chainsaw (not my choice of tools, but farmers sure do know efficiency!) as the rest of us (even grandma and grandpa!) busily cut off the branches with hand saws and piled the culms together. After about an hour and a half of doing this we were finished clearing the area. I then chose the best looking bamboo, mostly by clearing out those that looked too old, worn, or damaged, and then we cut them all to about the same length, bound them in bundles of 4 or 5, and carried them off the mountain.
Knowing basically what kind of bamboo it is, the next question on my mind was how to prepare it for my baskets. The madake bamboo we use at school is never fresh--it's always cured through boiling and then dried in the sun for around a week. Uncured bamboo supposedly gets a little stiffer than cured bamboo even after it's dried, according to one of the veteran instructors at school. As long as I don't use Mikutsu's bamboo for extremely thin strips it shouldn't have any affect on my baskets. He also recommended storing the bamboo in a dry location where it wouldn't see direct sunlight. We found a perfect place in the rafters of the cow barn, where they'll be stored at least until school ends and I have time to work on my own baskets.
After a long, tiring morning of cutting and carrying, we all took a group photo and then made our way to the local ryokan, where we had a delicious meal of kiln-cooked rice (kama-meshi; 釜飯) and fried chicken, and then a soothing dip in a hot spring bath.
年齢と直径がばらばらの竹。20本はあったんだろう。一人で使いきれるか、ちょっと不安。My friend Akira and I piling up the bamboo before storing it. Only later when I split the bamboo will I find out how old, and therefore workable, each one is.
(左上から時計周りに)飯田亮、僕、御沓さん、ケイトリン、御沓さんのご両親、飯田友美、飯田佳祐。 (Clockwise from top-left) Akira Iida, me, Mr. Mikutsu, Caitlyn, Mr. Mikutsu's parents, Tomomi Iida, and little Keisuke.
Here's an article of me that appeared in the December 7th, 2009 morning edition of the Yomiuri Shimbun (Oita section, page 29), a national newspaper here in Japan. Click on the picture to get a larger image. English translation pending. Stay tuned!
I had a request recently to show bamboo being bent on a bending mold (what they call a himage-jigu, meaning "fire bending jig", here in Japan; 火曲げ治具)so here I'll go into a little more detail about how the bending mold is used to bend bamboo, and keep it that way. Once again, a picture of the mold we use at our school above. Shaped like a wedding cake, there are numerous tiers with different circumferences to bend the bamboo at tighter and tighter curves. Underneath this hollow wedding cake is a propane burner, which heats the jig from within. You can control the level of heat with the burner, but the jig is also made to release extraneous heat through an adjustable vent at the top.
Bending bamboo on the mold is both conceptually and technically a fairly simple procedure. At school there are specially made wooden wedges that fit in between the round central part and the arms that stick up. Wedges of varying thickness are on stock, but because most of the bamboo we bend at school is between 2-3 mm thick we almost always use the same wedges. You start by placing the end of the strip you are bending in between the central tier and the arm, and hammer in a wooden wedge between the strip and the arm, pressing the strip against the central tier and locking it in place. You bend the strip around the tier as far as the next arm, and hammer in another wedge (after the first wedge it's best to point the remaining wedges in the direction you are bending the strip, to keep the strip from floating away from the central tier, but my picture shows the opposite). You continue this at each arm until you get to the end of your strip. When bending strips to make rims, the strip will always double up on itself, in which case you have to bend the strip around in a slight spiral; this doesn't have much affect on the final product. Also, its best to bend a strip that's longer than the final strip's length, because bending the very ends of the strip is most difficult (in the picture I used the handle of the hammer to press the end of the strip against the mold). You measure the length of the strip you need before bending, and then cut off the extra ends after bending.
A couple other pointers about bending molds, or bending bamboo with heat in general:
Always use bamboo that's dry. Moisture keeps bamboo from setting after it's heated. Semi-dry bamboo will release moisture from the ends when bending it, which is usually a sign that it's being heated enough. Even days with high humidity can have an effect on how well bamboo retains its shape after molding.
It's easy to burn bamboo on a bending mold. Once the jig is warmed up or has been in use long enough, it only takes a minute or two to heat the bamboo enough to shape it.
As a basic rule, bend bamboo with the vascular bundles on the outside. When bending strips with the skin/vascular bundles on the inside, bend the strip more slowly, allowing the heat to soften the strip as you bend it, otherwise it could break (especially for thicker strips).
After the strip is molded, take it off the mold by hammering out the wedges. Bamboo that is still hot won't retain it's shape, so it's important either to hold the bamboo with gloved hands, or use another non-heated mold to keep it bent until it's cooled. At school we place the strips in tin containers roughly the same circumference as the final rim (see picture).
It's best to bend a strip more tightly (at a smaller diameter) than the curve it will be used for later. It's easier to unbend a strip without breaking than bend it more tightly after it was heated.
The bending mold we use at school is a rather complex piece of equipment that had cost the equivalent of several hundred dollars to have specially made. It's useful on an industrial scale, but remember that you don't need as fancy a device when making your own crafts at home. I've been successful bending 2.5 mm thick strips at home buy using a metal cake tin I bought at a 100-yen (1 dollar) store, screw-on clamps, and my kitchen stove. It takes a little longer but works just as well. Also, keep in mind that Japanese craftsmen long ago and some even today didn't/don't even use a round bending mold like this to make rims; they just rubbed the bamboo across their knees to soften and bend the bamboo enough to make a circle. Cutting the strip extra long before bending makes this method much easier.
I think that's about it. The process has become so natural to me by now that I can't think of anything else that might be worth mentioning. If you have any questions please leave a comment.
Happy New Year, everyone! It's hard to believe we're already in the start of a new decade. It still feels like the 2000s started not too long ago.
I've already notified my friends and family of this news (perhaps more thoroughly than they cared to listen), but thought because it's relevant to my current studies with bamboo I'd share it with a wider audience. Aside from my bamboo craft training, I've also been pursuing work as a freelance translator. I should say "aspiring" really, because to work as a freelance translator one must have extended prior experience in a given field, and because I only have two years of general translation experience through working with the Oita prefectural government as a CIR I don't receive many job requests. So, to validate my skills as a capable and qualified translator I did two things this past fall that one needn't do when you are receiving a consistent flow of translation requests: I entered in the Japan Association of Translators 6th Annual JAT Translation Competition for New and Aspiring Translators, and I took the "Environment" section of the 51st TQE, or Translator Qualifying Examination, a translation certification test run by SunFlare Academy, a translation/interpretation school and agency based in Tokyo. Results for the former were not as savory as the latter. I advanced to the finals of the JAT competition, only to fall out in the last judging. For the TQE, I passed Level 3, which is the lowest of 7 levels that one must qualify in order to pass the test as a whole, and be granted the ability to register oneself in SunFlare's agency as a practicing freelance translator. The test results, shown here in Japanese on their home page, say the percentage of those who passed was 9% (54 out of 594 test-takers), but what was most surprising to me was that none of those who passed the test made it beyond level 3. This is all great news for me, because it's a sign that I just might receive more orders for translation work in the near future, hopefully putting me on track to translate on a regular basis and make it a source of income to support myself as I also develop my skills in bamboo crafts. They're both challenging, time- and energy-consuming careers that are difficult or nearly impossible to jump start, but for me they inform each other in ways that would leave me feeling a little empty if I were to focus on just one of them. While I'm on the subject, even for new graduates of the bamboo craft school here in Beppu, making a living off one's newly acquired skills is extremely difficult. I don't remember the exact figures, but just a few years after graduation, what starts as 20 fresh bamboo craft practitioners often dwindles to about 3 or 4. There are many reasons for this; one is simply that one year of training is often too short a time to acquire the technical experience with enough breadth to be able to develop on one's own bamboo products that are creative and take advantage of a certain niche in the available market. Another reason is that the market itself is much smaller than it used to be a few decades ago. For these and other reasons, many of the new graduates take on part-time jobs unrelated to bamboo crafts to support themselves as they continue their studies and focus on learning a particular type of bamboo product. This is where translation work for me comes in. I'm hoping for the best on both fronts.
Now that I have a streak of free time on my hands due to this blesssed winter vacation, I'm trying to catch this blog up to what we're working on now. It's no easy task. We've completed 7 baskets so far, each within the span of about a month, and each basket incorporates such varying steps and techniques that it would take me weeks to describe and illustrate each in as much detail as I had the first two baskets. So I've decided first to present photos of each of the baskets in their completed states, each in a separate post, and then to add commentary to these posts later as I find the time to do so. I've dated each of these posts around the time we had finished the baskets in order to present them in their proper chronological order. To find the basket with the most recently added comments, just scroll down the page till you arrive at a basket that isn't just pictures. I've also added a list of the baskets on the right-hand column, so you can always easily go back to a basket you were reading about previously.
Three months and two baskets left in the school year. How time flies. I hope everyone has a happy new year. See you in 2010!
Recently, I went on a three-hour drive to a mountain town in northern Miyazaki prefecture called Hinokage to visit a bamboo craftsman who lives there. His name is Hiroshima Kazuo and he's a pretty famous figure in bamboo craft circles here in Japan. Now 94 years old, Hiroshima still lives by himself, and was mentally sharp, bright, and full of humor when we talked to him that day. The picture shows me and him sitting together, with Mr. Mike Okuma from the Oita Prefectural Bamboo Craft Training and Support Center on the far right, and Ms. Keiko Hirose, a former graduate of the center, on the far left (Kazutaka Kimiyama, also a former graduate, practicing basketmaker, and online retailer through his website http://www.takekago.com/, is taking the photograph). Some bamboo craft/basket enthusiasts may already know this, but some of Hiroshima-san's works were exhibited at Smithsonian's Arthur M. Sackler Gallery in 1995, and featured in a handsome book published under the same title as the exhibition, "A Basketmaker in Rural Japan." While poring over this and other publications, we talked with Hiroshiima san about his work. Because he lives in the deep mountain valleys of the Takachiho region of rural Kyushu, all of the baskets and other items he made were of the useful sort (contrasting with contemporary Beppu-style bamboo crafts, which run the gamut from useful and attractive to purely aesthetic and sculptural). He made household and agricultural tools and containers, sieves, trays, tools for silkworms and silk production, creels (fish and eel containers), fish, crab, and eel traps, and on and on. We talked a lot about the technical aspects of his products--what types of bamboo were used for them, their dimensions, etc.---which was an invaluable experience for me as an aspiring bamboo craftsman, but he often repeated this phrase that basically meant, "there's only so much I can express with words." He has over 60 years of bamboo craft experience after all. His workshop is a long room located in the front section of his house. The wall on one side has a small door for the long bamboo culms to fit through so he can slide them back and forth when he works. And the floor is sunken where he works so he can sit on the floor without having to fold his legs, something I now hope to have when I get settled making bamboo crafts somewhere someday.
Hiroshima's works will be on display until November 23rd at the Miyazaki Prefectural Museum of Nature and History in an exhibition titled 暮らしの中の竹と木, for anyone in the area who might have an opportunity to see them. Here is a link to Hinokage town's Bamboo Crafts Museum, where you can see more pictures of Hiroshima-san and his baskets. And lastly, you can read a full article about the 1995 Smithsonian exhibition at this website if you give information about your local library.
One step in its production that sets this basket apart from the first two baskets we made is that for this basket we "polished" (磨いた竹) all of the bamboo culms before processing them into strips or other parts. For the first two baskets, we used dried bamboo with the outermost skin still intact. In Japanese they refer to this as shiroi, or "white", bamboo, with products made from white bamboo being called shiromono (白物). While I'm on the topic, I'll add here that bamboo which is neither polished nor dried, and that still retains it's natural green color, is refered to as aoi, or "green", bamboo, with products made from green bamboo being referred to as aomono (青物). I make this distinction here because, while green bamboo products being called "green things" may seem too obvious an observation to be noteworthy, aomono are indeed a seperate breed of bamboo products in Japan, taking on different shapes and functions and fetching different market prices than their white counterparts.
By scraping off its skin, white bamboo reveals a slightly darker, caramel colored layer with obvious fiber lines. Polished bamboo is sometimes used as it is, but more often, and as is the case for this basket, it's dyed. In the general sense, white bamboo can't be dyed without polishing it, because its waxy outer layer repels dye. (The exception to this rule would be tanka-chiku and susudake;炭化竹; 煤竹.) At school we soaked our bamboo culms in water for a day to soften the outer skin and then scraped them with a curved, relatively dull plane called a migaki-sen (磨き銑; "polishing plane"). We then proceeded to make our strips the same way we made those for the previous baskets--by splitting the culms into strips of the desired width and thickness with our handheld knives (竹割り包丁).
Weaving
The title of this basket starts with "ajiro," which is a reference to the type of weave that this basket uses. In an ajiro weave the strips are pressed together to eliminating the spaces between them. As a matter of course the strips must be made rather thin, but exactly how thin depends on the type of ajiro. To construct the body of this basket we weaved strips less than 0.3 mm thick, and when weaving them each strip was made to pass over and under three perpendicular strips, hence the name of this particular ajiro, called san-bon-gen-ajiro (3本間網代; "three spaced ajiro") or san-bon-tobi-ajiro (3本飛び網代; "three jump ajiro"). You can probably imagine how this number effects how thick the strips should be. 2本間網代 would require thinner strips than 3本間網代, and 3thinner than 4.But it also depends on how wide the strips are, so we can only speak here in relative terms.
We weaved the strips into a big square, and then drew diagonal lines connecting the centers of each edge, marking the location where we would bend the weave to pull up what would become the walls of the basket. We used an electric iron with a flat pointed end, called a kote (コテ) in Japanese, to heat the bamboo and soften it, and then bent it upward past 90-degrees, and held it in that position till it cooled down. I supposed I held the kote on for too long, because I ended up burning the bamboo in some places, but this had no effect on the final product, which was to be dyed. The four walls were erected this way, and from there the basket's abdomen was constructed. Weaving from this point starts at the corners, where the same pattern--3 over 3 under--is continued without interruption. Once you get the hang of this weave it's very easy to get into a rhythm. You weave one circumference in one direction, completing one level, and then switch back and go in the opposite, working your way to the top as you go.
Allow me to finish describing the last stages of the Teppachi so we can move on to the next basket.
In the last post I closed by describing kata-jime, the step in which the strips are pressed together at the top to pinch the weave shut. From here the strips are interwoven to form a braided rim, called tomo-buchi (共縁), a name taken from the two characters meaning "together" and "rim." From the craftman's standpoint, the tomo-buchi is a brilliant way to make a rim because it doesn't require fashioning and attaching new bamboo material or tying such material with the more costly rattan--it's both time and cost effective (not to mention beautiful, as you will see).
The strips at this stage are comprised of two parts, those pointing leftward and those rightward. When braiding a tomo-buchi, strips pointing leftward are eventually arranged so that they overlap each other in proceeding order as the rightward-pointing strips are wrapped around them. The image above shows step 1 almost finished; the last five strips are to be wrapped around and inserted in holes in the lower weave so they stick outward. In step 2 (below), the strips are trimmed to an appropriate length and then tucked in the rim itself, ending the braid and creating a herringbone-like pattern.
With this, the body of the Teppachi is finished. All that remains is making and attaching a chikara-dake (力竹) to support the bottom side. The chikara-dake for this basket is a short, stubby piece whose material is taken from the thick-walled base-end of the madake culm. After splitting a tube into sticks, the sticks are soaked in water to soften them. The sticks are then whittled down to an appropriate thickness and their ends thinned with a kiri-dashi knife so they can fit snuggly between the wheel weave (rinko-ami, 輪弧編み) and the ajiro weave(網代編み).
History of the Teppachi Morikago It would be a waste to leave this section on the Teppachi without touching on the basket's history. The basket was originally designed by the first Living National Treasure to be designated in the bamboo arts (竹芸), Shono Shounsai, who grew up and lived in Beppu. Besides the more obvious aesthetic beauty of the basket's design, the basket is also a technically superb product because it uses all parts of the bamboo culm. Up to this point I haven't mentioned in any depth the structure of the bamboo culm and how its structure affects its application. In essence, however, two major elements greatly affect how each section of the madake culm is used in the Teppachi: 1) distance between the nodes, and 2) thickness of the walls between the nodes. (Girth, or culm diameter, is also an important factor in bamboo crafts, but because poles are categorized according girth from the point they are cut from the forest and through all steps of distribution, attaining the appropriate diameter pole is merely a matter of choosing the right diameter when purchasing; the Teppachi uses poles that are 6 to 7 centimeters in diameter.) Starting from the ground and moving skyward, the difference between nodes starts relatively short, expands towards the middle and gradually shortens again at the branches. Wall thickness follows a general and gradual change from thick (over a centimeter) at the base to thin (a few millimeters) at the branches. For the given size Teppachi we made at school, we were able to use any sections along the culm that, including one node, were greater than 52 centimeters in length for the body strips, and 80 centimeters for the hari-dowa (abdomen ring). This makes all of the culm usable except for the bottom 2 or 3 meters. This remaining section is applied to the bottom ajiro weave (底網代), which is made of short strips without nodes, and the chikara-dake, which utilizes the meatiest base area. Thus, from one whole madake pole one could make a couple Teppachi baskets (the number depending on the basket's intended size) and be left with only a small amount of extraneous material.
(Photo by David Ottinger)
The Teppachi experienced its heyday as a local product of Beppu in the two decades between the mid-1940s to the mid-1960s. It was made and sold as a souvenir gift for tourists who came to Beppu to bathe in its countless natural hotspring baths, often staying for weeks at a time to treat various bodily ailments in a form of medical treatment called toji (湯治). Sometimes the basket was sold containing the giant Zabon citrus, also a local product, or as a two- or three-piece set, called ireko (入れ子, "inserted child"), in which incrementally smaller sizes of the same basket nested in their larger counterparts. The type of weave for the basket bottom changed depending on its size; some consisted of a mutsume-ami adaptation called mutsume-kuzushi, or a simple square weave called yotsume-ami (四つ目編み). The size we learned to make at school, size 3, sold at the time for 100 yen. What was most surprising to me was learning that the quickest craftsmen were able to make 5 sets of three-piece ireko (a total of 15 baskets) all in one day! This is a sad fact to me considering I made 5 baskets in one month. From the 1960s onward, bamboo products were increasingly replaced by the plastic variety, putting out of business a lot of Beppu basket makers who had few other items in their repertoires with which to support themselves. The subversion of bamboo crafts by plastic products was a trend that occurred throughout Japan and is a theme that pops up in almost any account of the craft's recent history. It also seems to pose a huge barrier to any future expansion of the bamboo material and craft markets.
Here I share with English and Japanese speaking audiences my experiences as a 2009-2010 trainee of the Oita Prefectural Bamboo Craft and Training Support Center located in Beppu, Oita Prefecture, Japan. Feel free to post comments or questions!