![](../pics/logo.gif)
Yataiki
In 1992 Yataiki came to the Midwest
to teach traditional tool making. It was his third visit to America, and
in 6 weeks, he demonstrated his blacksmithing skills for 2 dozen or more
woodworkers and metal workers. Many of the friends he met in America have
since visited his home in Miki City, and I spent 3 months there learning
saw sharpening. Blacksmithing and saw sharpening are only 2 of the arts
he has mastered; he also a collected calligrapher. As a young man he trained
as a runner, studied Noh theater, and later bonsai and also cha - no -
yu. The notebook of Kanji he made while studying calligraphy contains many
Haiku and folksongs.
Since retiring in February '98, at the age of 70,
he enjoys mushroom hunting, and continues his studies of mycology - when
he isn't climbing mountains - the kind where ropes are required. Spending
time with him in his shop was such an unusual experience, I would like
to share some of it with you.
He had just started making 108 kiri presentation
boxes for a Buddhist temple to give to graduating monks when I arrived.
These were 2"x 4 1/2" x 10", and would hold 2 padouk clappers, and 2 padouk
rings for the priest's aprons. This woodworking was the focus of his workday,
and between stages, or when I made really wrong sounds, he did demonstrations.
He knew what I was doing by listening. He didn't have to watch me; and
while generally he was happy with the way things came out, the thing he
really felt to be most important was rhythm: if the thing had rhythm, it
was bound to look good. No matter how good it looked, if it didn't have
rhythm, he wasn't interested. [In Iowa, I asked,"how do you make aesthetic
decisions?" He referred to the great Masters of the Japanese Arts, Basho;
Ryokyu; and he said that it is possible to make tools that are alive. I
quoted e. e. cummings - " the world of made is not the world of born".
His reply was that you have to learn one step at a time.] A friend has
since told me that when visiting a temple, the monks used such clappers,
at the rate of 54 beats to the minute - all day long!
Mr. Matsumoto, a temple builder, said the same thing
- they were discussing the difficulties I was having with setting teeth,
which is done with a small hammer on the edge of an anvil. Mr. Matsumoto
went on to explain, the rhythm comes from the belly, from the area of the
navel, holding his hand over that area of his body.
Making nokogiri (hand saws) isn't something one individual
man could figure out in one lifetime. To remove distortion (hizumi), from
the saw, which is hardened and annealed steel, requires: a set of
various hammers, a 250 lb. Anvil, and a wood anvil. The working surfaces
of these tools are smooth to polished, and shaped for specific effects.
After annealing, the blade is anything but flat. Machines would fracture,
or have little effect on such hard steel. If you have to use a machine,
you have to anneal (soften) the steel more, or use softer steel right off.
Using the hardest possible steel however, allows for a subtle balance of
stiffness and flexibility, of thinness and strength, and of acute cutting
geometry and lasting cutting edges.
Only over generations could this material be pushed this close to its limit;
and only by the cooperation of related crafts and arts as embodied in dedicated
human beings, could culture go so deep. Various Crafts and materials required
various saw shapes and tooth profiles and angles for optimal performance.
The standards of work were limited only by pride; the best work received
the most attention; all work was ranked. (Everything is ranked in Japan
like Sumo) Yet some work was hidden in obscure places. Greg Succop told
me of this amazing work in Kyoto.
{photo to come}
Yataiki took me to see Himeji Castle, and Todaiji
to impress upon me the important place the Metate had in the past. It's
awe inspiring indeed to remember how much wood was milled by hand before
there were machines. Everything was done by hand. Moving giant boulders
was a valid option. And for hundreds of years, the idea of the transitory
world flourished, and Zen was the benchmark of fashion. We were drinking
15yr. old Suntory Whisky in Coca-Cola one afternoon when it hit me - What
would you do if the world you lived in, the world your father lived in,
back to the 17th Century all had lived in a world understood
to be transitory, and the Law of Karma was understood, and the pervasive
nature of Mind was understood, and Nature was a part of humanity - what
would you do?
When Yataiki sat down to work, there was a sense
of confidence and enthusiasm, engaging knowledge, and weightlessness. Occasionally
during the day, the neighborhood Shrine bell would sound. Trucks and traffic
would go by, a class of school kids, women walking and talking, or crows
cawing. Hours would pass, working and listening, and Yataiki never struggled
or pushed, he just opened the tap a little more.
Another important task is thicknessing the nokogiri
by shaving 0.001" at a time using a 2 handed tool called Sen. The verb
form means here "to plow". This is where the tap is opened all the way.
But you can't make any gouges now, or ripples or waves; the sen stand must
be smooth, and flat. Both sides of the nokogiri are worked, and it's flexed
to indicate thickness. When it flexes to the right shape, and its different
for various kinds of nokogiri, it's the right thickness - so it has to
be smooth at that point. Sen are made by forge laminating hard steel to
the strong steel body. They are about 18" long, with two pine - with -
bark handles on each end, and the cutting edge in the center, about 4"
long, slightly curved.
Once while demonstrating sen, Yataiki was working
on some blades he had annealed the day before. Some were harder and others
not; you could see the heat move through the steel, as the colors changed,
so that the backs were more annealed than the cutting side. One blade was
extremely hard. It dulled all 12 sen, and then he picked out 4 sen and
sharpened them. Using them on the blade, they cut much more easily; he
tossed over his shoulder to me "Tamahagane" and turned back to work without
missing a beat.
Each time the blade is flipped over, the handle is
bent off center so that it flexes some pressure on to the sen stand, Otherwise
the blade might bounce enough to let bitsy metal shavings underneath which
would telegraph through where the sen would cut out a dimple under the
pressure of the cut. The handle being bent back and fourth off center requires
a low carbon steel, hence the required weld.
After sen comes burnishing. This is 2 hours of rapid,
high pressure arm/elbow grease. The result is a surface that resists rust,
and has less drag.
Then comes filing the teeth, then setting, which together are "Metate".
One day's metate work is 12 saws. Once, when young, Yataiki did 32
saws in one day, but he wasn't awake the whole time. He liked to say while
miming, that a good sharp saw, once started in the cut, should go straight
while the carpenter goes to sleep. He also told me, 5 or 6 times, to forget
about the money, don't worry about the time, do every saw right, test them
all several times, make them all look good, make them all cut straight.
His wife also requested me once before I left, to put my heart into my
work.
Last Updated on September 14, 1998 by Matsu
Taro