[Lacquerware Craftsman Nozomi Takagi] Refining a technique that has remained unchanged for a thousand years, living as a craftsman. A lacquerware craftsman talks about creating lacquerware that will continue to be loved.

—Could you tell us what inspired you to become a lacquer craftsman?

Ever since I was young, I've always had this feeling that I wanted to become a bearer of culture. That's why I entered a craft school, and that's how I encountered lacquerware.

Since it was a craft school, there were various majors such as ceramics, bamboo crafts, sculpture, and woodworking, but I found lacquerware to be the most appealing.

I thought lacquer was highly versatile compared to other crafts. Many Buddhist statues, Buddhist implements, woodworking, and bamboo crafts are coated with lacquer, and I felt it was a material that would always be needed. That was one of the reasons I chose to major in lacquerware.

—What do you find appealing about working with lacquerware?

It's definitely the moist texture and the deep, lustrous richness. It has a unique charm that other materials don't possess.

However, it takes a very long time and a great deal of care to bring out this beauty.

The most nerve-wracking part is the final coat of paint. It's absolutely crucial that no dust gets in, and applying it too thickly will cause "shrinkage," creating wrinkles in the paint film on the surface. Applying it too thinly will make the imperfections noticeable. I concentrate especially hard on this step.

The process is incredibly long and involves a lot of painstaking work.

For example, in the case of a bowl, the woodworker first carves the wood on a lathe. Then we, the lacquerers, come in and reinforce it by applying hemp cloth with lacquer, then applying a base coat of lacquer mixed with ground powder and polishing powder, sanding it, and applying another coat repeatedly to create strength and a beautiful form.

Finally, the piece is finished with a brush, and if necessary, a maki-e artist will add decorations such as maki-e. Because the process involves drying and hardening in stages, it can take up to a year and a half to complete even a single bowl.

However, every single step is absolutely essential and cannot be skipped. If you cut corners, you might not notice any problems immediately after completion, but they can surface decades later.

That's why this accumulation of time is so important, and we take responsibility for our work even 50 or 100 years from now.

—What was your reason for choosing the path of a craftsman rather than a writer?

I think artists express themselves through their work, but we craftsmen are in the business of fulfilling our customers' orders.

I may not be someone who receives much attention, but I believe I am an indispensable presence in preserving the culture of lacquerware, and that's why I was drawn to this kind of work.

Also, I don't have the talent to be a writer, so in that sense, I felt that being a craftsman suited me better. So, I feel like I inevitably ended up on this path.

Incidentally, during my apprenticeship, I only painted tea ceremony utensils, but since becoming independent, the range of requests has expanded to include painting lacquer on floats used in the Gion Festival, tableware used in restaurants, chess pieces, aluminum materials, and repairing works of art.

The technique itself hasn't changed much in a thousand years, but the materials being painted have constantly changed, which makes it very rewarding and enjoyable work for me as a craftsman.

—Are there any memorable events from your training period?

It was definitely meeting my mentor.

About one or two months into my apprenticeship, I was suddenly given the task of painting around 100 boxes, but I failed at almost all of them, and the paint dripped down.

But my mentor didn't say anything; he just silently fixed it, repainted it himself, and delivered it.

Normally, I think most people would get angry, but they handled it without saying a word. Seeing that, I thought they were an incredibly magnanimous person.

I think I'm still able to continue working with lacquerware today because I was fortunate enough to have respected seniors and mentors.

—By the way, you built your own tea room. What was the reason for that?

The fact that I myself practice the tea ceremony and make tea ceremony utensils is a major factor.

Many tea ceremony utensils and lacquerware are made to fit the space of a tea room, so actually arranging and using them to check if they look out of place is, in a sense, like a laboratory.

Also, while tea rooms traditionally have earthen walls, since I work with lacquer, I thought it would be interesting to use lacquer for the walls as well. Pottery, hanging scrolls, and flowers would look great against them.

Another appealing aspect of lacquerware is that its color slowly changes over time.

Actually, someone who came back recently after a year was surprised and said, "Was it this color before?" It's hard to notice when you see it every day, but it definitely changes. That's one of the charms of lacquerware.

—What are your thoughts on the future of lacquerware?

To be honest, I don't think this job absolutely *has* to exist. If it's no longer needed, it will naturally disappear, and I think that's fine.

The important thing is to keep creating what is needed.

There are many traditional crafts that are hardly made anymore. But lacquer has the advantage of being able to be applied to anything. If bowls stop being used, I think it would be fine to apply it to smartphones or cameras, to put it in extreme terms.

I believe it's something that will continue on, changing its form to suit the times.

That's why we need to promote the texture and appeal of lacquer more, and we also value giving the next generation, like children, the opportunity to touch authentic lacquerware.

You can't truly appreciate the charm of lacquer unless you actually touch it.

But first and foremost, we believe the most important thing for us craftsmen is to continue creating things that will always be needed.