An Encounter with His Master, Kenkichi Kuroda

The man who would become Miyamoto's master, Kenkichi Kuroda, was the son of Tatsuaki Kuroda—the very first person to be designated a Living National Treasure for woodcraft. So how did Miyamoto end up as his apprentice? As it turns out, it was a series of what can only be described as fateful encounters.

"I think it was around junior high. My father used to tell me, 'If you love woodworking so much, maybe you should become an apprentice under Kuroda.' My dad apparently knew Tatsuaki Kuroda from his work and they were well acquainted, but I had no idea who that was at the time.

"Then, long after I'd forgotten all about it, I was studying painting to prepare for art school entrance exams. The owner of that studio happened to know Kenkichi Kuroda and mentioned me to him, saying, 'You know, there's a young guy at my studio who's aiming to be a woodworker.' It wasn't until later that the dots connected, and I realized that these were the very Kurodas my father had been talking about."

It's almost as if Miyamoto was destined from birth to study under Kenkichi Kuroda.

A 10-year, Unpaid, Live-in Apprenticeship

After three years of studying to retake university entrance exams, Miyamoto gave up on higher education and accepted Kenkichi's invitation to become his apprentice. What can one imagine about training in the workshop of a man whose father was a Living National Treasure?

"There were several conditions for me to become his apprentice. I had to live in for 10 years and work without pay. The workshop was only a 20-minute bike ride from my family's home, so I could have commuted, but he insisted that wouldn't do."

It seems that being an apprentice meant living with the master 24/7 to learn his skills by observation. Moreover, spending ten years unpaid must have required incredible determination. However, Miyamoto says he was so absorbed in the tasks before him that he never stopped to think about whether he could endure it. Looking back now, he says with a laugh, "I suspect my master just wanted someone to talk to."

His Master's Teaching: "Do What Only Human Hands Can Do"

During his training, Miyamoto says he learned not just the technical skills, but the entire mindset behind creating woodcraft. Everything he was taught over that decade ultimately connected back to one central philosophy.

"My master always used to say, 'When you make something, you might feel the urge to plane the wood beautifully or assemble it with perfect precision, but machines can do that. The true craft of an artisan is in adding a human touch to that process, transforming it into something with genuine charm.' I still hold those words close to my heart.

"That said, back in my apprentice days, I was just trying my best to master the techniques. It takes an incredible amount of time to create a single piece. Naturally, many things went wrong. My days were a constant cycle of fail, fail again, and finally learn one small thing."

Getting Close to the Wood & Savoring the Creative Freedom

There are countless techniques and skills one can employ to create an "appealing piece of work" that resonates with people. But for Miyamoto, there's something far more crucial than technical artistry: enjoying the process.

"The real joy of making things, I believe, isn't in just following your master’s instructions to the letter. It’s in the process of asking yourself, ‘What would *I* do?’ or ‘How can I make this even better?’ It's about not just repeating the same process for the same piece, but the thrill of discovering superior methods or even crafting your own tools.

"Back in my apprenticeship days, and even up until my 40s, I used to create very precise blueprints. I was convinced I couldn't work without them. But the more I learned about wood, the more impossible it became to stick to a rigid drawing.

"For instance, let's say a rigid blueprint calls for a piece of wood 30cm wide, but the material you have is only 29cm. That would mean you either can't proceed or you have to go out and buy new material. But without a strict blueprint, you naturally start thinking, 'How can I make this work with what I have?' You find a way to be creative."

Having been a maker since childhood, Miyamoto always saw craftsmanship as an act of freedom, driven by personal curiosity and necessity. Underlying this philosophy was the belief that woodworking is fundamentally a dialogue with a natural material.

"Wood is a natural material. I don't believe it's right for us to impose our artificial standards on it. Woodcraft isn't about bending the material to our will; we have to think about how we can process the wood we have in a way that allows it to truly shine.

"I just can't bring myself to hack up a large piece of timber to fit some preconceived plan. These days, instead of starting with a rigid blueprint, I just create a rough idea sketch and then dive into the work."

Absorbing these countless lessons—about the unique charm that only a human touch can impart and the art of creating pieces that honor the natural wood—ten years flew by in the blink of an eye.

"Neither my master nor I ever said, ‘Well, it’s been ten years.’ But I knew I would have to strike out on my own eventually, so I built my own workshop early on, to be ready to leave his side whenever the time came."

And so, armed with the teachings of his master, Kenkichi Kuroda, Miyamoto set out on the path to independence. However, this path would present a whole new set of challenges.