Japanese Woodworking Tools: Their Tradition, Spirit and Use 0941936465

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Japanese Woodworking Tools: Their Tradition, Spirit and Use

Japanese Woodworking Tools: Their Tradition, Spirit and Use

Toshio Odate

JAPANESE WOODWORKING TOOLS: THEIR TRADITION, SPIRIT AND USE by

Toshio Odate Frontispiece: Wisteria flowers, the Odate family seal (woodcut by E. Marino III)

Dedication page: An iris, the English translation of the Japanese word shobu (woodcut by E. Marino III) Photographs by Brian Gulick, except where noted. Drawings by Toshio Odate Cover photographs: John Kelsey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying , recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in reviews.

© 1984 by T he Taunton Press Inc. © 1998 byToshio Odate

6789 ISBN 0-941936-46-5 ISBN 978-0-941936-46-0

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Odate, Toshio. Japanese woodworking tools: Their tradition, spirit, and use/ Toshio Odate. p.

cm.

Originally published: Newton, Conn.: Taunton Press, 1984. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Woodworking tools-Japan.

ISBN 0-941936-46-5 {trade paper) I. Tide.

684'.082'0952-dc2 l

TTI86.033

1998

98-9884 CIP

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

First Linden Publishing Edition 1998

LINDEN PUBLISHING

Linden Publishing Inc. Fresno, CA 93721 USA 2006 S. Mary

tel 800-345-4447

www.lindenpub.com

Table of Contents Dedication and Acknowledgments

vii

viii

Introduction

Chapter 1

The Workshop (Shigoto-Ba)

Chapter 2

Marking Tools (Sumitsuke-Dogu)

12

Chapter 3

Saws (Nokogiri)

34

Chapter 4

Chisels (Nomi)

58

Chapter S

Planes (Kanna)

80

Chapter 6

Sharpening Stones (Toishi)

128

Chapter 7

Sharpening (Togi)

140

Chapter 8

Adze and Axes (Chana and Ono)

1.58

Chapter 9

Hammers (1Suchi)

162

Chapter 1 0

Gimlets (Kiri)

166

Chapter 1 1

Knives and Other Tools (Kogatana and Kodogu)

170

Afterword

178

Notes

185

Index

187

I give this book to my son, Shobu O date, with love, and as part of his heritage.

Acknowledgments Many people gave me valuable support and assistance in the writing of this book. I would particularly like to thank Dr. Sandra Newton, director, Arts and Humanities, Mattatuck Community College, Waterbury, Conn., and Henry K. Lanz, vice president of Garrett Wade Company, New York, N.Y

vii

Introduction While returning home from a seminar in Atlanta, Georgia, recently, the word shokunin came to mind. This Japanese word is defined by both Japanese and

Japanese-English dictionaries as "craftsman" or "artisan," but such a literal de­ scription does not fully express the deeper meaning. The Japanese apprentice is taught that shokunin means not only having technical skill, but also implies an attitude and social consciousness. These qualities are encompassed in the word shokunin, but are seldom written down.

The shokunin demonstrates knowledge of tools and skill with them, the abil­ ity to create beauty and the capacity to work with incredible speed. The value of an object is dependent on a subtle combination of skill and speed; this is what the apprentice's master and his colleagues teach, and this is what the sho­ kunin believes. Such teaching is basic and continues to be significant from the

earliest stages of apprenticeship through mastery of the craft. In short, the pride of the shokunin is the simultaneous achievement of skill and speed . One with­ out the other is not shokunin. The shokunin has a social obligation to work his best for the general welfare of the people. This obligation is both spiritual and material, in that no matter what it is, if society requires it, the shokunin's responsibility is to fulfill the requirement. Society recognizes, for example, that it is the ability of the com­ mon tategu-shokunin (sliding-door maker) to make one shoji screen of high quality per day; society thus comes to expect this speed from the shokunin. Therefore, from the beginning, Japanese apprentices are taught that speed is critical-the worst insult to a craftsman in Japan is to be called a slow worker. I was once a shokunin. I worked with both skill and speed as my standards of creation. With the passing of time and after changing my profession, however, my understanding of craftsmen and their tools became more Important than anything else. In many ways, even my view of the skill itself changed. For example, at the seminar in Atlanta, I made a small shoji. I did not like how the work came out, so I destroyed it immediately after completion. If I were still a shokunin, that act would not be permitted. The shokunin's attitude would not have allowed me to contemplate such action, and the social con­ sciousness would have required me to retain the work in spite of my personal dissatisfaction. This means that each stroke of the saw, each shaving of the plane, and each cut of the chisel is vital . Great concentration is required for the shokunin, because each mark and each aspect of the work is permanent.

The relationship of a shokunin to his tools is therefore very close, for it is through the tools that the work of the shokunin is created. Each of the shoku­ n in 's tools is his life and pride. In the book Nippon No Tedogu by Yoshio

Akioka, there is a story that illustrates this relationship.1 I thought that the story was very good, so I will simplify it a little bit and tell it here. An old shrine carpenter lost his two sons in the war. The sons were carpen­ ters, and because he had no other relatives, the old man decided to sell his tools. Akioka purchased all 300 pieces, even the small box in which nails were stored. Before adding the tools to his collection, Akioka decided to clean and sharpen them. But when he picked up the first chisel, he saw the edge was beautifully sharpened. This was true of all the tools. The shrine carpenter was over 80 years old, and it must have taken him over two months to sharoen all the tools. While doing this job for the last time, he

must have had many memories. Akioka felt so badly that he didn't ever want to buy tools from a retiring shokunin again. Although he was confident he could preserve the tools themselves, he was not confident he could preserve the carpenter's love and sentiment for them. I can truly understand the feelings of the carpenter. It is the feeling of a parent whose children leave home for a distant place. He clothes them beauti­ fully and neatly in order to say good-bye meaningfully. Even if you are not a shokunin, this is easy to understand .

When I was a shokunin, we celebrated the tools every New Year's Day. We cleaned them and our toolboxes and put them in the tokonoma (a special, deco­ rated corner of the house or shop). We put a small piece of rice paper on each box , and then two rice cakes and a tangerine. This simple gesture is the tradi­ tional way of thanking the tools for their hard work and for the crucial part they play in the shokunin's life. As these examples illustrate, the tools of the shokunin enjoy a deep respect in Japanese society. The Japanese consider the shokunin's tools to be special, and not for the use of the ordinary person, who is nevertheless permitted to pur­ chase and use them. Among the most well known of these tools are the wood­

In the traditional celebration of the tools, here shown in a blacksmith's workshop, the toolbox is covered with a small piece of rice paper, two rice cakes and a tangerine. The paper ornamen ts sym­ bolize purity.

working tools of the carpenter (daiku) and the tategu-shi (sliding-door maker). In the last ten years, some of these tools, especially planes, chisels, saws and sharpening stones, have enjoyed a popularity among Western woodworkers, but problems exist in knowing how to acquire the best performance from them . Though Japanese tools often look simple when compared to Western tools, they are really very complicated to use, performing best through the shokunin's preparation, ability and experience. Though the shok unin's knowledge is usual­

ly acquired through long years of apprenticeship in Japan, in America especial­

ly, knowledge of new things is often gained through experimentation . In some

countries, this freedom to experiment is unknown, but in America, I realize it is

a natural outgrowth of interest in and respect for personal opinion, not reckless­

ness or carelessness. The ability to try new things without anxiety is a unique nationalistic quality. It is interesting to note that each year in Japan, there are fewer shokunin practicing their craft in traditional ways. In the Western world, however, many people recognize the value of the shokunin's tools and arc using

them in greater numbers. (I heard from a young person recently that among the

Japanese, there are also signs of increasing use of the shokunin's tools.)

I have a special set of tools that I use primarily for display and demonstra­

rion. At times I feel guilty for not using these tools as they were meant to be used. I feel sorrow for the blacksmith who, in forging the blades, gave part of his soul to the tool. Yet, while I am demonstrating with these tools, I sometimes forget the audience and become, once again, the shokunin I was. It is at such

times that I am most appreciative of my shokunin years, for although the work

I do with the tools now is different from the work I did then, there is also much that is not essentially different from a shokunin's manner and attitude. In my teaching and demonstrations, I still carry out the social obligation of the shoku­ nin-to work his best for the general welfare of the people. �ow I have the opportunity to write about the shokunin's tools. I will pre­ sent the information as simply and as directly as possible. Just as important, however, I will also share as much as I can of the philosophy and attitude that

are inseparable from the shokunin's craft. I will be very happy if you under­

stand not only the tools, but a little bit about the spiritual relationship a shoku­ nin has with them.

I

The Workshop

(Shigoto-Ba) Chapter 1

I decided to write about the workshop in this chapter because I believe it is appropriate to discuss the work place before discussing tools. But first I will tell you a little bit about how I came to be a tategu-shi (sliding-door maker), and the workshops of my apprenticeship. I met my stepfather for the first time in 1937, in Kobe, one of the larger cities of western Japan. I was seven years old. Japan was at war with China at the time, and the way my stepfather contributed to the war effort was by working as a bargeman; he also worked part-time building barges for a shipyard . He carried wonderful food like pineapples. dried bananas and many other dried fruits-these kinds of foods were usually unavailable because they were shipped directly to the front lines, so I felt lucky to have a stepfather who could bring them home to me. After I lived with my stepfather for a while. I came to know that he had apprenticed as a tategu-shi in Tokyo, where he eventually became a shokunin. Before the war, the Tokyo shakunin were w.ell knowR all across Japan for their beautiful, fast work . Both my mother and neighbors explained-to me that my stepfather was a master shokunin, with a widespread reputation for craftsman­ ship and speed . Near the end of the war, my stepfather and mother left Kobe for Chiba Pre­ fecture, which is a province outside of Tokyo and also my stepfather's birth­ place. By this time, all the cities were experiencing severe food shortages, and

The Workshop

the countryside, of course, was much richer in food and materials. Many people resisted leaving the cities as long as they could, however, day by day peeling off their clothes piece by piece to trade for food. This period was thus given the name "bamboo-shoot life." I was left behind in Kobe to continue my studies in electronics, but the school I was attending had been bombed out, and neither my teachers nor classmates returned. So three months after the departure of my parents, at the age of 1 4, I left for Chiba Prefecture. Before long, the war finished and the rebuilding of Japan was slowly begun. When my stepfather and mother arrived in Chiba Prefecture with their six children, there was no house to live in, and the countryside was flooded with refugees from the cities. My family stayed in a cave hollowed out from the side of a hill, which had originally been used as a bomb shelter. It was always damp and smelled of moss. Soon, my sister and I, the two oldest children, were moved to one room in a neighbor's house. There I sewed tabi (mittenlike socks) for the neighbors, receiving potatoes, vegetables and rice in return. Now, many years later, I still barter with my neighbors, exchanging my dozen chicken eggs for a jar of honey or a half gallon of milk. Now, however, the bartering is done with joy, almost as a luxury. After spending about six months in Chiba Prefecture, I moved to Kawasaki City, near Tokyo, where I sand-casted farm implements. I worked there one year, sending the little money I earned to my family. Back in Chiba Prefecture, my stepfather rented a small plot of land from the neighbors, on which he built a shack measuring 1 8 ft. by 1 2 ft. The whole family lived here. My stepfather managed to gather together tools-hammers, planes, saws and chisels-from the farmers, and he made the rest of the small tools he needed himself. He began working and building anything: kitchen utensils, cabinets, chicken coops, closets, barns, extensions on houses and even outhouses. Though some shokunin had enough room inside their houses for a small work space-in the corner of the kitchen area, for example-it was cus­ tomary for carpenters (daiku) and tategu-shi to work at the homes of their cus­ tomers. The customer served meals to the shokunin while he worked, an im­ portant benefit at a time when there was little food available. My stepfather's true profession was making intricate sliding doors, and at this work he was one of the best and fastest. Yet he had to work with tools of poor quality on whatever projects he could find. As I think back on this time, I realize that it must have been very hard for him to accept this situation emo­ tionally. But when I saw him working, I never saw even the faintest shadow of struggling or disappointment, only a very proud shokunin. After a year of sand-casting in Kawasaki City, I returned to my family's one­ room shack in Chiba Prefecture. Soon afterward, on the morning I was sup­ posed to begin work for a local sand-casting company, my parents told me that

I could not continue in sand-casting because of the poor salary; instead, I was to become apprenticed as a tategu-shi to my stepfather. This was unusual, because most woodworking apprentices started at age 1 3 or 1 4, and I was already 1 6. (Apprentices traditionally started their training when they were eight or nine, but this situation changed when a mandatory public-school system was intro­ duced in Japan.) Even more unusual was that my stepfather would be my mas­ ter, an uncommon practice during that time. Most apprentices were sent outside of the family, at least for the first two or three years, for technical as well as spiritual training.

3

4

Chapter 1

My parents believed that this decision was better for the family, because even though as an apprentice I would receive only one-third the pay of a sho­

kunin, it was still more than I could make in sand-casting. Moreover, I would be able to eat well. On the morning of the decision, my mother called me into our kitchen area and said to me, "Remember the Japanese saying that one's craft helps one's life. If you master the tategu-shts skill, you will never starve in your life, in any situation." I did not have the privilege of influence in the decision to apprentice me, but my mother's words have, through the years, proved true time and again. My stepfather was very strict and believed that a father could not teach his son his profession. Therefore, on the first day he said to me, "From this day on, we are total strangers. I will treat you like any other common apprentice, per­ haps harder; you shall call me master, not father." He did as he said. That day I became an apprentice, carrying my master's toolbox as I followed him to the houses of his customers. We worked in any place that was given by the customer-an empty cow shed, under an overhang, inside a barn, outside in the field or yard, or in a corner of the house. This was the workshop, about which the shokunin could and would never complain. We worked at a single job from as short a time as one week to as long as two or three months, working from dawn to dark. Rain or snow, summer or winter, we sharpened our tools. In the winter, when I bent my fingers to sharpen the tools with the icy cold water, I could not straighten them immediately afterward. Everywhere my master and I went, we made planing beams and horses, the essentials of the tategu-shts work place. When we completed our work, this equipment remained with the customer to keep somewhere in his house or on his property for our use .the next time we were called in to work. Under the working conditions that I have just described, the shokunin's man­ ner, speed and skill were always on display. In addition, the materials provided to us were often expensive-wood that had been drying for at least a genera­ tion, often special wood prized for its grain. Thus, most of the working day was tense and difficult. If we made mistakes, no matter how small, they were per­ manent reproaches to us, and they could never be truly forgiven or forgotten. Even if we apologized, it was not simply a matter of the customer shrugging off the error; the mistakes would remain, and nothing could be done about this. We carried the knowledge of our mistakes all the rest of our lives. Soon after the war, rebuilding began in earnest in the cities. Some shokunin, as well as apprentices no longer in service to their masters, left the countryside to work in the cities. These craftsmen, who were subcontracted by large lum­ beryards to do piece work, took not only their tools but their lunches with them every day, like any other factory workers. My master was offered such jobs several times, but he refused to participate, preferring to remain true to the independent shokunin's traditions and ways. He recognized and cherished his craft as it was taught to him and as he practiced it, for such work was infinitely more elegant and precious. Life in the villages was largely unaffected by the changes in customs that the cities were experiencing. People of the countryside adhered to many of the centuries-old traditions, not the least of which was to accord to the shokunin great respect. The shokunin, in turn, responded according to strict codes of manner and attitude. For example, in the winter, a customer would often kind­ ly build a fire in the yard for our warmth. But as an apprentice, I was not

The Workshop

permitted to go near it, and even my master would only stand briefly by the fire once or twice during the workday. He did this only to acknowledge the customer's kindness, because, even though he too felt the bitter cold, his sho­

kunin's pride would permit him no such frivolous luxury. As an apprentice, I could do nothing but stand at a distance, imagining the warmth of that fire. Now, when I think back to the time of my apprenticeship, I realize that the work my master (and other shokunin like him) did in people's front yards, un­ der overhangs and even in the corners of rooms on dirt floors, was work that he imbued with himself, work that stood as a gemstone of his soul and a manifes­ tation of his pride. Remembering such a past, I will begin by describing the kind of equipment a

tategu-shi usually has in his work space, regardless of whether it is in the shop or outside. A general layout of the equipment is shown in the drawing below. It is by no means a requirement that the space be arranged in this manner; it is simply my way. Recall that my master and I were primarily engaged in making sliding doors; the layout shown facilitates this type of work.

Work Space

Horse

Toolbo x

Tatami or mushiro

Planes

5

6

Chapter I

The Planing Beam Traditional tategu-shi do not use workbenches for planing. Planes are used either while standing at a planing beam (when working long material) or sitting at a planing board (for shorter material). We used only the planing beam when working at the customer's house, taking it down from its supports when neces­ sary to work in a sitting position. In the shop, we usually used one or two planing boards in addition to the beam. Once I saw a shokunin who used a workbench, but this is not customary among traditional craftsmen. The planing beam usually measures 5 in. or 6 in. square (a thinner beam is liable to warp) and about 10 ft. to 15 ft. long. Of course, if you work with longer or wider material, you must adjust these measurements accordingly. The beam may be made of any kind of wood. As you can see on the facing page, the front of the planing beam is elevated by a horse, and the back is elevated by a block of wood, which I call an elevat­ ing block. The block and lower end of the beam are stopped against a wall or side of the house, or the block is lashed to a stake in the ground. The angle of the beam facilitates the movement of the user's body-before the shokunin pulls the plane, he closes his legs; in pulling, the right leg steps back to lower the upper torso gradually. Rough-planing is done at a little steeper angle than finish-planing, because a steeper angle makes it easier to apply pressure.

Install the side piece for edge-planing with the beam laid on its side. Screws or nails go every 1Z in. to IS in. (top). The side piece should be posi­ tioned so that the center of the plane blade is aligned with the top face of the board to be planed (bottom).

When edge-planing, push the plane hard against the edge of the board as you pull. Note that the side piece overhangs the nail stop in order to sup­ pon the plane at the end of the cut. A little oil or wax on the surface of the side piece will make the plane slide easily.

Customary equipment for a tategu-shfs work space includes a planing beam, small horses and a toolbox.

The Workshop

The top of the planing beam must be as flat as possible and squared to the right side. This way, with the addition of a long piece of wood attached to the side of the beam, an edge of a board may be planed square to its face. (The top of the side piece must be parallel to the top of the beam; I screw the side piece to the beam to make it easy to replace, but nails are more commonly used.) The board to be planed is placed on top of the beam, and the plane run against the side of the beam, as shown on the facing page. The board should be no thicker than% in., because the edges of thicker boards are hard to plane evenly. (Natu­ rally, the side of the plane that slides on the side piece must be square to its sole, as I discuss in Chapter 5, p. 98.)

To hold the wood in position during planing, two nails are driven into the top surface of the beam. They shouldn't be so close to the back of the beam that they interfere with your movement. Sometimes the beam that a shokunin keeps in his workshop is mortised, and a piece of wood is used as a stop instead of the nails. The nails through the stop ensure that small, thin pieces of wood won't slip during the process of planing.

The Planing Beam

Horse for Planing Beam

Elevating block Side piece for edge-planing Elevating block sometimes bound to wall stud with rope.

/

I

N 'il "op

i 111

I

Nailed from inside

i

-­

Horse

'·�

'""-l

Nall

Nail stop Flat

tx2 to 2Y,x3

Stop mortised into beam

7

8

Chapter 1

The Horses The horse used to support the planing beam is made from three pieces of wood and three nails, as shown in the drawing on the previous page. The beam is held in place in the horse by its sharp corners and its weight rather than by nails. bolts or notches. In addition to the horse that supports the planing beam, a

shokunin

will

often have other, smaller horses in his shop. These small horses, which are usu­ ally used in pairs, are used frequently, particularly when the

shokunin is ready

to clamp pieces together or to mark pieces in preparation for assembly. They are also used in the cutting and elevating of materials, as you can see in many of the photos throughout the book.

Small Horse

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I

I-�

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I Y,

to2 --

15

to

18

6'071

Joper's

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bunma washi

Change radius by inserting points iO dlff