Last spring, I ordered a ring. The design was left completely up to the author. "Can you give me a theme?" the author asked at the time of ordering, and I answered days later : "calm." It was with hope that my life full of winds and waves during the last couple of years since I moved back to Kurashiki from Tokyo would settle down like a calm. A little over a month later, I receive d notice that my ring was done.
The ring was delivered to my office in Kojima. I was handed a 10 cubic centimeter box made of paulownia wood. The ring inside was gracefully wrapped in denim cloth that reflected the locality of Kojima very well. Its blinding shininess and soft repeating curves hinted a profoundness that could not be described simply by the word "beautiful." I wore it on my left thumb which it was measured and made for. It fit gracefully, like nothing I have ever known. While fascinated by the comfortableness of its fit, I was also experiencing a tingling sensation. The ring that sat on my thumb was nothing but a "calm." Its high level of creativity made me feel something close to awe.
Masahiro Kawabe, Age 30. Born in Obatake, Shimotsui District. His father was a diver who specialized in underwater construction works like shore protection. His mother was a seamstress using the sewing machine at home. ( A typical home job in Kojima known for its textile industry.) After graduating from high school in 1998, he landed a job in a company that maintained industrial machines located in the Mizushima Coastal Industrial Zone. This job was to be a direct factor in determining his future.
Shortly after he started working, he noticed an unusual ring worn by a craftsman
in his mid 60s. He learned that it was handmade by the craftsman himself, carved
out of a stainless steel nut. In his teens, the craftsman told him, he made
four rings shaped of a heart, spade, diamond, and clubs to be worn by four friends
as a sign of friendship. The ring worn by the craftsman was shaped of a heart.
Kawabe, intrigued by the interesting story, found himself strongly attracted
to the ring. When he asked how it was made, an answer came back:"Where you file becomes filed, and where you polish becomes polished."
The craftsman said nothing more. After this conversation, his struggle with
a nut and file during lunch break began. Stainless steel is much harder than
silver . It was no easy task. However, what the craftsman had told him was true.
The filed spot became filed and the polished spot polished. He got his effort's
worth. He was entirely absorbed into this work. He used up his break time.
Soon he was filing at home, too. A month passed before his first ring was finished.
Kawabe's first work was shaped of a heart like the one worn by the elderly craftsman.
I met him exactly one year ago. As editor of this magazine, information such
as "there's an interesting artist" comes to me quite easily. Masahiro Kawabe was a name I often bump into in Kurashiki. There were many who mentioned his name and suggested that I meet him. To be honest, I found that bothersome. I had no interest in accessories to begin with. Being told about a nut or a material called stainless steel did not catch my attention. The reason I met him a year ago was only because he showed up at my regular cafe.
I remember quite clearly. His features gave a strange impression. A shaved
head and a long beard like an old man. However, his pale colored eyes piercing
through me had the power to attract people, and even with the beard he looked
young and youthful. When he spoke, his character was quite different from what
I had imagined from stories I had heard, "he simply files stainless steel." What he did may be steadfast, but he himself displayed flexibility apart from that steadfastness. His words had depth yet a refreshing tone. "What kind of work does this person make?" This was how my interest in his work began.
Kawabe continued creating after he finished his first ring, just filing and polishing
single-mindedly. It continued until midnight after he returned home. He had
never been caught up in anything like this before. He soon began to think, "How good it would be if I can continue filing all day," and dreamed of making a living out of it.
Keishi Narabayashi, owner of "ARAPAAP," a select shop in Ohjigatake, Kojima brought him to a great turning point. "Would you consider selling your work at my store?" he offered Kawabe, seeing the heart-shaped ring he wore. Kawabe visited his store with his rings the following day. His heart-shaped ring and a ring in another design he had come up with was put on display. It was roughly a year since he began carving nuts. "The price was set at 3,000 yen after consulting with Mr. Narabayashi. Pretty cheap, but I thought it was appropriate at the time. I was thrilled at the news that they were sold. I still keep in touch with the first customer that bought my work."
He left his job soon after. There was nothing guaranteed. Earnings from his
first sales were 3,600 yen. For half a year his month's earnings were a little
short of 10,000 yen. His parents and older brother whom he lived with disapproved
his way of life. However, Kawabe was more content than ever to be able to file
and polish from morning to evening.
From that point on, while there were naturally twists and turns on the way,
Masahiro Kawabe's work gained recognition. It extended beyond Okayama prefecture
and, today, there are stores in Tokyo, Kyoto, Nagoya, and Kobe that constantly
set his work on display. Orders come in one after another. When he's busy, it
may take a few months to deliver an item. Even so, his craftsmanship has not
changed from the time he made heart-shaped rings. No machines are used, and
two works per day is what could be handled at the most. He uses his own hands
only to file and polish the stainless steel nuts. He has no plans to change
the material or his style.
Kawabe's work can be categorized into two distinctive styles. One is ready-to-wear
accessories in his original designs. (The word "accessory" is used since there are also works such as bangles made of sliced stainless steel pipes.) The other is order-made accessories designed according to a given theme. The themes vary according to the person who orders. From "love" and "ocean" to those that cannot easily be pictured such as "blue" and "failure."
When working on a given theme, he does not begin for at least a month. He goes
on with his regular daily activity. However, the theme is constantly in his
mind, waiting for the moment when an obscure image suddenly appears. The image
can be visual, a tone, or in other forms. Once an image comes to mind, it is
put into concrete form. Everything is done inside his head, up to the final
design. He leaves nothing on paper. He faces the hexagonal nut with file in
hand, only when he can picture the final design in his head. "I only ask for a theme and not a visual image. I have created what I myself have imagined from that theme. It is a selfish way which I have no intention of changing. I am, therefore, grateful to the people who order based on that understanding."
Masahiro Kawabe proudly calls himself "a craftsman, not an artist." People may say he is being modest. However, it isn't exactly modesty. He believes a "craftsman" not tolerating ambiguity described by words such as "taste" and "tone" suits him appropriately. It is a sign of his confidence. It shows his determination. I believe that his way of thinking and attitude was nurtured by the locality of Kurashiki. There one finds all sorts of craftsmen who gather in Mizushima. In addition, the textile industry in Kojima penetrates the homes, particularly in Shimotsui. As was the case with his parents, people are evaluated by their skills. The honest yet harsh nature of the locality is, no doubt, at the root of his creativity.
Last autumn, he opened his studio in Obatake where he was born and raised. Until
then, he had been working under the eaves of his parents' house in Kojima. Snow
would pile up on his shoulders on a snowy day.
His studio is located at the end of countless turns down a narrow alley where
a bicycle could barely go through in a typical Shimotsui residential area.
A working table, numerous files, and minimum furniture occupy the space about
the size of six tatami mats. I have visited him several times at his studio
to watch him at work. Once inside his studio, I am met by the sound of a rough
scraping sound overlapping the sound of a radio. It is a very comfortable place
for me.
His work is simple. As I described repeatedly, it's simply filing and polishing.
He files a little, then removes his work from the vise, dips it in water to cool.
He then checks the surface using his fingers and eyes, and then sets his work
in the vise again for more filing. Watching him at work always makes me think.
There must be nothing besides his ring touched by its author so repeatedly. "Why don't you use a machine ?" I once asked by impulse. It probably was not the first time he was confronted with this question.
"I think it's self satisfaction," he answered. "I'm satisfied with the process where an object is created using me as its sole source of power. It's a satisfaction I've never experienced before. If I did use a machine and people praised my job, that wouldn't satisfy me. It's a question beyond efficiency or whether my work sells or not."
The "calm" on my thumb has, so far, not been able to calm my life. I cannot help but feel indifferent to a calm life. Even so, this ring shall stay with me throughout my life. I simply sense it.