The Fascination of Creating Things
One day, not long after entering his studio, I was told to pick a leaf from a pothos plant and sketch it. Being a cheeky youth who had briefly studied drawing at prep school, I dashed off a sketch and handed it to him. “Look well and draw it” he commanded. I tried sketching it again and again, but his answer was always the same—“Sharpen your pencil and draw it with lines only and no shading” and “Draw it better. Spend time on it, even if it’s just a leaf.” Shibazaki himself, when studying with the great artist Yukihiko Yasuda at Tama Art University, had been told by Yasuda to observe and sketch his subject until he knew it intimately. If a flower, then touch it, smell it, and cut its stem and study its section. I learned this more than a year after becoming Shibazaki’s apprentice.
The master liked hardwoods for carving, such as rosewood, zebrawood, ebony, and teak. His way was to carve a graceful shape from a block of hardwood and apply an oil finish to bring out its beauty. Using chisels and a small plane to create the basic form, he would next shave it down with a fragment of glass, broken in a particular way to have a curved edge. Finally, he would sand it down, using successively finer sandpapers, and polish it. His work was distinguished by the profound qualities of the hardwood and striking beauty of form. He was a sculptor who disliked ostentation and worked in silence.
My three years of training were an immersion. I knew only the methods I was learning and had no leeway to observe what was happening elsewhere. When my training ended and I became acquainted with other kinds of wood sculpting, I realized for the first time how special the style was at Shibazaki’s studio.
Taking a large block of wood, we would begin by drilling holes in the portion to be carved out, using an electric drill. Then, after saturating the wood with hot water, we would carve it down using a gouge or small plane. As already mentioned, the surface would be refined to a near finish using a piece of glass—a method I have never seen anywhere else. Shibazaki’s master had been Shigemichi Aomine, a proud, distinguished sculptor who rose to prominence in Japan’s woodcraft world from the 1950s to ‘80s with works of highly distinctive form. Shibazaki was his only apprentice.
My own thinking on creating things is deeply influenced by my years of studying with Hajime Shibazaki. He taught me many things, but foremost was this: “Always ask yourself why you want to create something. Don’t be blinded by the accepted norms of technique or construction.”
This means, your sketch will be your working base, so draw it well, and also richen your heart and sensibilities. How does one richen oneself? By attending the lacquerware shows of friends? This is also valuable, but much more important, especially for young people, is seeing good paintings and hearing good music.
Many young people who enter this field, hoping to become artists, yearn to do creative work. But, creative work does not emerge from technique; the artist’s inner richness is what counts. That richness is what speaks to us from a work, touches our emotions, and imparts a tranquil impression so that we want to own and keep the work nearby.
The master liked hardwoods for carving, such as rosewood, zebrawood, ebony, and teak. His way was to carve a graceful shape from a block of hardwood and apply an oil finish to bring out its beauty. Using chisels and a small plane to create the basic form, he would next shave it down with a fragment of glass, broken in a particular way to have a curved edge. Finally, he would sand it down, using successively finer sandpapers, and polish it. His work was distinguished by the profound qualities of the hardwood and striking beauty of form. He was a sculptor who disliked ostentation and worked in silence.
My three years of training were an immersion. I knew only the methods I was learning and had no leeway to observe what was happening elsewhere. When my training ended and I became acquainted with other kinds of wood sculpting, I realized for the first time how special the style was at Shibazaki’s studio.
Taking a large block of wood, we would begin by drilling holes in the portion to be carved out, using an electric drill. Then, after saturating the wood with hot water, we would carve it down using a gouge or small plane. As already mentioned, the surface would be refined to a near finish using a piece of glass—a method I have never seen anywhere else. Shibazaki’s master had been Shigemichi Aomine, a proud, distinguished sculptor who rose to prominence in Japan’s woodcraft world from the 1950s to ‘80s with works of highly distinctive form. Shibazaki was his only apprentice.
My own thinking on creating things is deeply influenced by my years of studying with Hajime Shibazaki. He taught me many things, but foremost was this: “Always ask yourself why you want to create something. Don’t be blinded by the accepted norms of technique or construction.”
This means, your sketch will be your working base, so draw it well, and also richen your heart and sensibilities. How does one richen oneself? By attending the lacquerware shows of friends? This is also valuable, but much more important, especially for young people, is seeing good paintings and hearing good music.
Many young people who enter this field, hoping to become artists, yearn to do creative work. But, creative work does not emerge from technique; the artist’s inner richness is what counts. That richness is what speaks to us from a work, touches our emotions, and imparts a tranquil impression so that we want to own and keep the work nearby.
“UTSUROI” YUKIO HOMMA’S URUSHI WORKS