Kesurokai

Traditional craft apprenticeship

As a great admirer of traditional craftsmanship, I am saddened when craftsmen come to the end of their working practice without having passed their unique skills on. However, the more I read about traditional apprenticeship, the more I can see why this has happened and cannot wish for a return to the old ways of teaching.

I just finished reading "Edo Craftsmen, master artisans of old Tokyo" and of the twelve featured craftsmen only two appear both to have long-term viable businesses and trained apprentices to pass on their skills. Part of the problem is the increasing accessibility of cheaper, mass-produced alternatives to whatever they make. However, many craftsmen manage to market their produce in such conditions by selling a small volume at higher prices to more discerning customers. The failure is in part caused by a lack of younger people coming into the crafts with the vision to exploit such markets.

The descriptions in the book of the craftsmen's experience of traditional apprenticeship reveals both the rigour and the modern-day drawbacks of the system. They would start very young and spend several years doing menial tasks whilst observing the breadth of the practice, then gradually take on small tasks followed by increasingly complex ones as they grew older and more able. The emphasis was not on teaching, but learning; observing and imitating, rather than being shown how.

With a good master and a willing student this clearly works well. In her study of the Japanese ceramicist Shoji Hamada, Susan Peterson describes the relationship between deshi (apprentice) and master: “To learn as a deshi means to submit one’s self to the master, to leave one’s own self, to become ‘in’ the master. This ‘surrender’ to the master does not mean just blind imitation, but gives a spiritual discipline and the opportunity to absorb a skill into one’s bones.”

However, it is a system that relies on a huge amount of trust and non-verbal communication between master and apprentice, and that is not always going to work well. Whilst a very strict master might ensure that very high standards of craft skills are passed from one generation to the next, it might well be at the cost of creativity and the ability of the younger person to see new opportunities and develop new markets. Given also that young people stay in school much longer nowadays, I cannot see a traditional craft apprenticeship being a very appealing option.

The future, however is not all bleak, I think there are craftsmen who have adapted to new ways of teaching and also multimedia offers huge potential to record and transmit quite complex skills. In my last research project I worked with traditional Sheffield knife makers and made an online resource which was successfully used by a variety of learners. The wonders of the internet mean information travels fast and those who wish to learn in this way can readily access such resources and conduct their own apprenticeships in their own way.

Barefoot woodwork

People often comment on the Japanese carpenters' preference for working barefoot ... and they question the safety of it. Clearly it is standard practice in Japan and winter pictures on Amemiya san's site show them wearing soft-soled, flexible shoes so I suspect that having a firm foothold on the log underneath them is of prime importance.

So, what if the axe slipped? Well, their axes are so sharp and heavy you would definitely need a substantial steel toecap to deflect them (and then you would probably damage your precious blade!) I suspect behind it is techniques that mean their feet would be out of the way if the blade travelled further than planned. Bare feet give you the incentive to make sure they will be.

We have been asked on carving courses about whether new students should not wear a protective glove to guard against slips with the knife. Our decision has been that our whole ethos is to teach techniques to ensure this does not happen, and having bare hands gives the best grip and keeps the students mind focused on safety. We get very few injuries so it pays off for us too!

Planing together

Kesurokai in Japanese means 'planing together' and at the centre of Kesurokai meetings in Japan are planing competitions. In these the craftsmen compete to produce long, perfectly even, paper-thin shavings from blocks of wood with a plane. This is not just a test of their skills with the tool, but also their sharpening skills. 

The Japanese craftsmen take great pride in their sharpening, spending many hours keeping their tools in perfect condition. This time is not wasted because the perfect, silky smooth finish left behind by a well-sharpened plane needs no further finishing. There is no need to spend time sanding as other carpenters would.

Japanese waterstones are renowned for their quick-working qualities and we use them to sharpen the many tools we have for our carving courses. Ours however are the cheaper, synthetic stones and we were quite astonished by the difference when Hannes gave us a natural stone brought back from Japan. The speed with which it cuts is quite remarkable.

Sharing more than skills ...

One important aspect of Kesurokai is that the craftsmen also spend social time together, sharing accommodation, food and conversation. This aspect of the project gives real insight into each others cultures, far more than they would gain by just working together.

Food (and drink!) is particularly important given the hard physical work these craftsmen undertake. When Hannes and Michail built our little barn I felt as if I was constantly shopping and cooking, but thankfully they were good at washing up!

On-site in Japan they have constructed a very fine kitchen/dining area with a traditional central fire and are already putting it to good use:

 

 

I am very much looking forwards to experiencing real Japanese food, but must brush up on my chopstick skills.

Pavilion model making

I have some new photos of Hannes and Markus making a scale model of the pavilion which is a really important part of the making process.

This is their first try-out of the plans they have drawn, a first physical check that their measurements are correct and the jigsaw puzzle will go together. I suspect that for such experienced craftsmen it will also highlight any parts of the construction which are likely to be problematic when they make the real thing.

 

 

 

It is not quite, but very nearly finished - more photos in the photo album.

In modern architectural practice this physical model-making is gradually being replaced by computer modeling which in some ways could be seen to be faster and more accurate. However, I regularly do research training at Sint Lucas School of Architecture, Brussels, and equally regularly the lecturers who I teach speak out against it. They feel you learn much more about the building you are planning through the physical making of a model. Once you have that experience, you can then transfer that knowledge to using computer-aided design, but if you start with the computer you can easily create problems.

On the news this morning I heard that Virgin are having to redesign their Formula 1 racing car because the fuel tank is too small to get the car to the end of races. This is the first F1 car to have been completely designed on a computer to save money on the making and testing of physical prototypes.

Japanese vs European saws

Another striking difference between the tools of the Japanese and European carpenters is the large saws they use for rip sawing the beams, that is cutting along rather than across the grain. In a previous post I showed pictures of the most common Japanese saw for this purpose, which is a remarkable-looking tool:

 

The saw most often used by the European carpenters for this job is a two-man saw like this, although sizes and designs do vary greatly:

In both cases they often use a long, thin wooden wedge to keep the cut open and prevent the blade from becoming trapped as they work:

 

There are also a huge variety of cross cut saws too...

Video ethnography

When things go wrong the instinctive reaction is to run away, however it is rarely the best policy. As we always say to people who cut themselves on our carving courses, you need to understand what happened so it doesn’t happen again.

I just had a bad experience where some folk I had filmed for randomly asked for all the footage I had shot when our agreement was that I was just to provide sound-bites for a website. I responded instinctively by saying “no way”, but I initially struggled to explain why, which caused some upset.

However, now I am a little wiser about what is special about the way I film, which has developed because much of the recording I do is as research observation rather than for broadcast. I use very low-key (but hi-tech) equipment, I have developed non-intrusive techniques for filming, I work hard at, and am very successful at, integrating myself with the people I am filming. So I get up close and personal, and tend to capture really authentic action rather than a performance for the camera.

This means I also tend to capture things that shouldn’t be recorded; stuff that is maybe too personal, or impolite, or might make whoever I am recording look unprofessional. So, I am exceedingly careful about the footage I use, I never use anything that I feel would betray the position of trust I have been placed in. If it is borderline, I might ask, but only if I know the person well, if not I wouldn’t even risk asking. I do not feel I could hand over that responsibility to someone else, so there is no way I could part with unedited footage.

Whilst the incident was unpleasant, I now understand what I do a little better … and I will make sure that others do to when I film for them! So to finish with a little video about the work I did for my Phd research:

German vs Japanese hewing

The most common way the German carpenters hew a beam is to start by cutting a series of v-shaped notches along its length. They do this by working in a pair, taking alternate cuts at each side of the notch, which is very efficient and quite remarkable to watch (video here). Then the wood between the notches is removed, leaving a flat surface:

 

The Japanese method is to do a series of relief-cuts into the log in just one direction, rather than removing a notch, then slice off the surface by swinging a large axe like a pendulum. This is achieved by standing bare-foot on top of the log which is equally as remarkable to watch (video here).

 

Both methods seem to be equally efficient, and clearly the regional axes have developed according to the way in which they are used ... or maybe the way the axes are used dictates their style!

Hewing and sawing

Yesterday I mentioned the initial timber preparation which, for the European pavilion, is expected to take around two days. This preparation is necessary because the buildings are being made from trees felled on site.

Here are some images taken in Japan in 2008 when Hannes was helping out with some of the early preparations, firstly felling a tree using axes to cut the "gob" and a crosscut saw for the felling cut:

 

Then hewing, which involves squaring the timber using a different type of axe:

 

Finally sawing some of the larger timbers down to a smaller size:

 

This is just a taster of what happens - these images are all taken from Amemiya san's web site and there are many more here.

The tools being used are particular to Japan, European ones are quite different, and during Kesurokai the craftsmen will get the opportunity to experience both. There is a list showing the range of tools being taken by the European group here and these tools will be given to the Japanese carpenters at the end of the event.

Work plans for the Pavilion

The amount of work behind the timber frame buildings that will be constructed in Japan during Kesurokai is awe-inspiring! The latest email from Hannes explains the work plan for the European pavilion...

The carpenters will work in 7 groups of 7 people, mixed Europeans and Japanese with a European head-carpenter for every group. The project will probably take 9 days with 8 hours work per day. [That's a total of just over 3,500 man hours work!]

A little of the wood will be prepared in advance by the Japanese carpenters, but most will be processed during the first two days when everyone will work together, firstly hewing then sawing the timbers. During this time Cornelius and Hannes will prepare the elevation from which the groups will get the measurements they need for the elements they will build.

The groups will then spend around six days, each preparing an element of the building; the walls that run the length of the building, the gables that run across the building, the rafters for the roof ... and the framework for the barbecue! Once all the elements are made the whole building will be put together on the last day like a gigantic wooden puzzle.

And of course whilst this is all happening there will be a parallel project running with the remainder of the carpenters, again mixed Japanese and European groups, working together on the tea house: