A Couple Preserving Local Craft Traditions:
A Sole Washi Papermaker and a Ceramic Artist Continuing a Pottery Tradition

“There were communal papermaking workshops in the rural villages of the Edo period (1603-1868),  and every household made their own washi. I want this workshop to be like one of those places. If there’s anyone seriously interested in making washi, I’d welcome them to use it,” says Takakuni Kawahara, a Birudan washi craftsman. 

Birudan washi is a traditional, hand-made paper from Asahi Town in Toyama Prefecture. Along with Yao washi and Gokayama washi, Birudan washi is designated as a national traditional craft. However, Kawahara-san is currently the sole successor to this paper-making tradition and is single-handedly preserving the region’s craft.

In his 80-year-old workshop, Kawahara-san simmers kōzo (paper mulberry) in a large cauldron, then pounds the fibres with a wooden mallet to break them down. The pulp is soaked in water and scooped with a screen to form sheets. He is committed to this simple, traditional method that has remained unchanged for generations.

“Here was this fascinating local place that no one was using, so I decided to take it on myself. It’s the kind of work that’s only possible when your lifestyle follows the rhythm of Japan’s seasons – growing mulberry in spring and summer, harvesting it in autumn, and making paper in winter. That way of life really intrigued me. That’s why I believe it’s meaningful to do it the old-fashioned way,” says Kawahara-san.

Prior to the Second World War, there were 120 washi workshops in the town of Asahi-chō, but almost all of them shut down at once. A local woman, alarmed at the loss of the craft, kept it alive on her own for 25 years. When she fell ill, her husband Torakichi Yoneoka took over. Twenty-five years after that, Kawahara-san became his apprentice.

“My master learned papermaking orally from his wife while she was bedridden. When I became his apprentice, he was already over 80 and basically retired, so I had to learn through verbal instruction, too — and a lot of trial and error!” Kawahara recalls.

It’s been several years since Mr. Yoneoka passed away. Even though Kawahara-san’s apprenticeship didn’t follow the traditional pattern, he has absorbed the spirit and style of Birudan washi, this unique craft that was carried forward by a single artisan for over 60 years. Nonetheless, he’s happy to listen to people’s ideas for the kind of paper they’d like to see – and in response, he experiments through trial and error, often blending traditional methods with new approaches. He also focuses on product development, hoping to share the appeal of washi and make it part of people’s everyday lives.

“By preserving the traditional style, I get to meet new people, and new ideas are born from those encounters. I find that kind of connection really exciting,” he says.

Kawahara-san grows the raw materials for washi himself, including the mulberry and tororo-aoi (Abelmoschus manihot – a plant whose roots are used to make neri, a sticky starch used in papermaking). He’s even expanded beyond Asahi-chō, having established fields near his home in Tateyama.

“Kozo and tororo-aoi can be grown anywhere in Japan. So maybe it would be interesting to expand the reach of Birudan washi across the country. In the past, there have been cases where craftsmen moved in search of better environments, which led to the development of their craft. I think we’ll see more ‘one-person production areas’ in the future, so I’d like to be a pioneer in that, trying out all sorts of new things.”

Etchū Seto-Yaki Ceramics: Shaped by the Land, Like the Tradition of Washi

Yō Shakuhara affectionately refers to husband Takakuni Kawahara as “an endangered species”, a reference to his rare craft. However, she too is an artisan with deep connections to this region. Etchū Seto-yaki, made from a fine white local clay, was so highly valued in feudal times that it was offered by the Kaga domain as tribute to the shogunate. Shakunaga-san sustains this tradition of fine ceramics.

“Like washi-making, Etchū Seto-yaki follows a seasonal rhythm. We gather and prepare our clay and glazes in spring and summer, then shape our pieces and fire them  in winter,” explains Shakunaga-san. “That’s the traditional life cycle of making things in this snowy region. We both work from raw materials we collect ourselves, and I think that shared approach helps us understand and support each other in what we do.”

The white clay used for Etchū Seto-yaki has excellent qualities: it can withstand high firing temperatures; allows for finely shaped, delicate forms, and produces beautiful glaze colours. Although production of Etchū Seto-yaki declined during the Meiji and Taishō periods (late 1800s and early 1900s), Shakunaga-san’s great-grandfather revived the tradition, naming the pottery studio Shōraku-gama. Her father then carried it on, and Shakunaga-san herself now follows in their footsteps. There are now four kilns, and five ceramic artists continue the tradition.

Shakunaga-san says that because she grew up watching her father work with such dedication, clay was never a toy to her – it was always something important. At 19, she began working alongside her father, starting with wedging (kneading) the clay, and was quickly drawn in. In modern-day Japan, clay and glaze preparation are often done by different specialists, and not many potters make their own materials. However, Shakunaga-san knew she wanted to work in the Etchū Seto-yaki style, starting from preparing the raw materials herself.

Raw material preparation is repetitive work and involves a lot of physical labour. The challenges that this entails, says Shakunaga, are often only truly understood by others who do such work themselves. But that hands-on experience has also deepened her appreciation for her husband’s washi making.

She said she knows firsthand how reassuring it is to feel truly understood by someone else. That, she believes, is why her parents – who know this better than anyone – continue to quietly support the work she and her husband are doing.

By respecting each other’s craft and preserving their region’s traditions, Takakuni Kawahara and Yō Shakunaga are safeguarding the future of local artisanal culture together. The support and understanding they share as a family will no doubt continue to be a powerful source of strength through the ups and downs of their creative journey.