Defying Convention: A New Horizon for Wooden Buckets

You're active not only in traditional crafts but in many other fields. Could you tell us what sparked this and how it came about?

I established my own studio at the foot of the Hira Mountains in Shiga Prefecture in 2003. After going independent, I was quietly carrying on the cooperage trade, but a major turning point was just around the corner. In 2008, the head of Link up, Inc.—a company that develops products by merging Kyoto's traditional industries with international brands—happened to own one of my buckets. This led to a proposal to create an unprecedented type of wooden bucket.

In my quest for a sharp silhouette that would shatter the conventional image of a wooden bucket, I started by making one with a steep curve. When I pushed the curve to its sharpest angle, I almost gave up, convinced it would be impossible to fit the hoops. But then, inspiration struck: a design with a gentle curve up to where the hoops would sit, with only the upper section near the rim tapering to a sharp point. For two years, I redrafted the blueprints and wielded my chisels and planes (Kanna), creating prototype after prototype. Finally, after a long process of trial and error, the "Konoha" wooden bucket—with its rim pointed like a rugby ball—was born. And in 2010, it was adopted as the official cooler for a luxury French champagne brand.

We use Bishu cypress over 200 years old for Konoha. The perfectly straight grain, known as Masame, can only be sourced from the heartwood of ancient trees. The wood's straw-like fibers swell with water, creating a natural watertight seal. Furthermore, by using the principle of leverage, even the upper, hoop-less section tightens securely.

As Konoha began appearing in sophisticated bars and hotel lounges, it started to capture the attention of a demographic that had never given wooden buckets a second thought. By breaking free from the preconceived notion of a simple cylinder with a round bottom and infusing traditional techniques with modern design, we opened up a whole new market. It was a moment that revealed the vast new possibilities for wooden buckets.

Could you briefly walk us through the production process? And are there any steps that are technically challenging or that you are particularly meticulous about?

First, we split the logs and cut out the planks. The thickness of the original logs varies, so the resulting planks are all different widths. These planks become the staves (Gawaita) that form the sides of the bucket, and each one has its own distinct personality.

Using a selection from the roughly 200 planes in our workshop, we shave the staves, giving them a gentle curve. The goal is to create a surface so smooth that you can't even feel the seams with your hand.

The joining edge of each stave is called the Shojiki, and we plane this edge at a precise angle. The process of fitting these edges together is called "Shojiki-awase." If the angles aren't perfect—so precise that you can't slip a piece of paper between them—the bucket will leak or lose its shape.

We then arrange the staves in a circle, tighten them with hoops, and hammer the bottom plate into place. Forming a circle creates a balance between the internal and external pressures, which results in an incredibly sturdy wooden bucket.

Are there any special tools you're particular about when creating your work?

My father was once featured as a woodworker on an NHK program for a project to create a box using tools from the Yayoi period. For the show, NHK commissioned a blacksmith to recreate iron tools based on artifacts excavated from Yayoi period ruins. These were based on Yayoi period iron tools excavated from the Aoyakamijichi archaeological site, where the soil had blocked oxygen, preserving these precious artifacts.

After the program ended, I was given the recreated tools. I now keep them and use them not for my usual Kioke making, but for prototyping things I've never made before. I feel that these primitive tools, dating back some 2,000 years, draw out the very essence of human craftsmanship.

I am now also active as a researcher at the National Museum of Ethnology's Oke-Daru (bucket and barrel) Study Group, which has led me to study history more. In the Yayoi period, ornate tools for rituals introduced from the Korean Peninsula were made from deciduous trees, while everyday tools were simply made from cedar, carrying on the tradition from the Jomon period. Kioke have existed since the Yayoi period, but the technique of tightening the hoops was developed in the Muromachi period.

Looking back at the history of tools used by humankind, I imagine there might have been a "Wood Age" that preceded the Pottery, Stone, and Iron Ages.

A Future Where Traditional Crafts Cross Borders to Enrich Daily Life

Starting with "Konoha," you've collaborated with designers from around the world. In 2015, your "KI-OKE Stool," made from Jindai Sugi (cedar that was buried in the earth for about 2,000 years), was acquired for the V&A's permanent collection, and you were also invited to a seminar in Ireland. Through these wide-ranging international activities, what new insights or discoveries have you made?

Around the year 2000, traditional Kioke in Japan were seen as a nostalgic part of the past—something from the "good old days" that needed to be protected from disappearing. But when I exhibited them at an international trade fair, people overseas welcomed Kioke positively as something innovative and new from Japan that they had never seen before. I was so refreshed and happy with their reaction that I started traveling abroad three to four times a year.

I used to avoid taking Kioke overseas because they can shrink and crack, but I was once invited by Kaikado to exhibit at Maison&Objet in Paris. There, just as I had feared, the dry climate caused the exhibited Kioke to shrink, and the hoops fell off every single one.

However, a collector specializing in prototype products came up and said he wanted to buy the Kioke with the fallen hoops. I was astonished to find that there are avid collectors who embrace the "unfinished"—even a leaky wooden bucket.

That experience also ignited my innate competitive spirit, and I immediately built a drying room in my workshop. After much trial and error, I successfully improved the Kioke to withstand dry overseas climates.

Could you tell us about your activities in different fields that are centered on Kioke, such as exhibitions featuring only Kioke or cutting-edge projects in collaboration with companies?

At The Terminal Kyoto, a large Machiya event space in Kyoto, we held an annual exhibition on Kioke called "室礼展 SHITSURAI -Offerings-" for ten consecutive years from 2014. In recent years, I curated exhibitions featuring only Kioke, defining them as "objects made of rectangular strips of wood bound together by a hoop." This allowed artisans and artists who studied at the Hira Studio to express themselves freely. When we held a tea ceremony in a Kioke tea room set up on the Doma (earthen floor), the piece was lauded as a fascinating work of architecture in which the interior, exterior, and structure are all one. It was featured in the magazine "Shinkenchiku" (新建築) and was also exhibited at the Craft Biennale in Cheongju, South Korea, and at GO FOR KOGEI in Kanazawa.

Additionally, at the 2017 Salone del Mobile.Milano, we unveiled an IH-compatible standing tea ceremony table and Kioke, completed after about a year of study sessions with Panasonic Design. When considering the future of home appliances, our concept was not to flaunt the technology but to highlight its sophistication by concealing it, with craftsmanship supporting advanced technology. It was a memorable sight to see the audience staring in wide-eyed wonder as we boiled water in a Kioke set on a wooden table decorated using my father’s techniques.

I continue to explore and expand the unprecedented possibilities of Kioke by merging them with other fields like design, art, technology, and architecture. I believe that by linking the stylistic beauty of traditional Japanese life with new technology, traditional crafts can enrich the daily lives of the future.

Sharing the Allure of Wood & Wooden Buckets, Uniting the World Through Craft

What are some of the challenges facing your industry? And what do you think is needed to overcome them?

When I set up my workshop in Hira, I was convinced it was only a matter of time before Okeya (coopers) would vanish. About 80 years ago, in my grandfather's time, there were 250 Okeya in Kyoto City alone, but by the time I moved to Hira, there were just three. The entire industry was on the brink of collapse.

Today, there are five Okeya in Kyoto. Since the launch of our brand "Konoha," the demand for wooden buckets has grown, allowing us to hire artisans in their 20s. I hope to keep expanding the world of wooden buckets and increase the number of Okeya. At our Hira Studio, we give our young artisans the freedom to create what they want. Some go on to open their own independent workshops, others learn the skills here before taking over their family businesses, and some even launch careers as artists. We all push each other to improve, inspired by a friendly sense of competition with those who have moved on.

Looking at the bigger picture, there's the issue of sourcing materials. In the market, natural wood is overwhelmingly popular. In the mountains of Yoshino, you can find 300-year-old timber from cultivated forests that people have been tending to for 500 years. Yet, the market value of natural wood is more than five times that of wood from these plantations. Once you cut down natural wood, it's gone—it’s simply not sustainable. The number of forestry workers maintaining these cultivated forests is also in constant decline. If this continues, the cultivated forests that supply high-quality timber could disappear within a few hundred years. Through my work, I want to enhance the value of cultivated wood to ensure the forestry tradition in Yoshino doesn't die out.

What are your future goals, visions, or dreams?

I want to continue my work to help more people feel a connection to wood and wooden buckets. Seventy-five percent of my Instagram followers are from outside Japan. And while I'm not actively recruiting, I receive so many passionate inquiries that I now host a diverse group of international interns from places like Iran, France, and Belgium. I even collaborated with a Belgian artisan for an exhibition at last year's Nuit Blanche.

I'm not very good with foreign languages, so when I'm abroad, I focus on presentations that appeal directly to the five senses. For instance, I might hold up a wood shaving from a plane to someone's nose. The refreshing, calming aroma, like a walk in the forest, often captures their interest in the wooden buckets. Engaging the senses can be more eloquent than words, leaving a lasting memory rather than just a fleeting impression. I was incredibly touched when an intern from abroad once showed me some wood shavings I had given them years ago, which they had carefully unwrapped from a piece of paper.

I believe that craft, born from dialogue and ethical creation, can transcend ideological and religious walls to foster peaceful conversation and unite the world. Life is full of unanswerable questions, and we are shaped by the sum of our encounters. These encounters, in turn, change the way we create. I hope to continue cherishing every single encounter, living in a way where this accumulation of change ultimately reveals itself in the results of my work.