Typhoon and urushi

A typhoon is raging outside.

 I am working about my wood finish.  I have 3 things made, shrines?  objects?  Caves?
Anyway, the next step is the finish.  I love Japanese urushi.

 Urushi is a hard subject to speak about.  Americans translate it to the word, lacquer.  But lacquer in American English means any hard shiny paint.  Urushi in Japan is much older.  It is a natural tree sap, from a tree similar to poison ivy.  Anyway the sap can have a similar effect on people, the raw sap.  For me it used to be ok, but now can give me a heck of a rash.  I only use it in a well ventilated area and with rubber gloves.  It is dangerous, and quite expensive, but I can't resist using it.  The finish is like no other, hard and strong, but rich and deep in a way that varnish, oils and waxes are not.

The darkness of this urushi surprised me. When it reacts with air, and water It darkens.  Water is important.  Lacquer can not harden with out humidity in the air.  It is one reason it so well fits Japan.  Lacquer is unique in the way that it goes on, very light and milky, but quickly darkening  I have used it before, but previous times it had turned out a bit lighter, more of a honey tone.  I wonder if it is the wood, or a different lacquer supplier?

With a little rubbing it is becoming interesting.  Lacquer is volatile and dangerous in its raw form, but when it hardens it is a strong, nonreactive, safe and natural finish.  More safe than a usual substitute, cashew nut oil, which turns out to be carcinogenic, something that lacquer is not.  Lacquer is safe, has been for 1000 years.

rainy season

Rainy season has begun.  Tonight I had no evening classes.  Instead of beer I decided on a little tea and cutting in the studio.  Urushi soon.

Butterfly OK

The butterfly worked OK, now to the next challenge...

Butterflies

Yesterday I put in my first butterfly.   I will go back to the studio and trim it today.

And I started to work on my second piece of the old kiri tree.  The ideas evolve with each piece.  I am forced to have time during the week away from it.  The work seems to be going on somewhere in the back of my brain while I am away from it.  The whole concept seems to have changed.

Kiri Tree





My Japanese English dictionary translates kiri ki as Paulownia wood,  named in honour of Queen Anna Pavlovna of The Netherlands (1795–1865), daughter of Tsar Paul I of Russia. But as I had never heard of paulownia, the translation was not of major use to me.

Kiri is a fast growing very soft hardwood tree, used in older days for boxes and dressers, as it is good against humidity, and supposedly even fire. It is light weight and works easily into simple fine boxes that are still used today for fine ceramics and painted scrolls.  Japanese put the provenance of an object on the box.  Americans threw these boxes away.  Metropolitan Museum, Boston Museum of Fine Arts, provenances lost.



last remainig root of our now gone tree

There was a big kiri tree in our back yard, but last year it got into trouble.  Roots like this were to blame.

 It started to take apart the house so the landlord decided it had to go.  When the tree people were cutting I asked if I could have a little of the wood.  They said it was OK, and asked what part I wanted.  I said, "All the big straight parts."

It was OK, and except for some amazing back pains from moving it to cover for the winter, it was OK.

I was not certain why I wanted it, but it was a beautiful tree, and I wasn't ready to yet say good by.  I had an idea of cutting a banjo or two out of some of it, but as people around here can tell you, I have enough banjos already.

Last week I got my real idea, and since then I have been using my big chisel and my little ax to work on the kiri tree.

Next week I will go out and buy some new urushi.  But I will have to use it outside and with gloves on as I have developed a strong reaction to the stuff over the years, but like some other things in my life, I just can't leave it along.

With any luck I will have something in time for October's exhibition in Yanaka.

Japanese Bump

Shitaya Jinja Festival 2012

I have been puzzling over the problem of bumping in Japan for years. 

 

Why is it that Japanese in stations in Tokyo can bounce off each other like Pachinko balls?  This is a culture famous for not touching. Shaking hands is still a novelty, yet on trains, in stations, even on crowded streets people think nothing of bumping into person after person as they progress along.  If you bumped into someone in New York, which can be every bit as crouded as Tokyo, it would run into strong talk or perhaps even blood.

 Why?  It is religion.

Ueno Station May 12, 2012

If you have ever attended a Tokyo matsuri, a Shinto religious festival, you will notice that an integral part of the thing is bumping and bouncing off each other. Not only do people think nothing of it, it is a central to the activity. It is part of the feeling, part of the fun. No excuses made, no surprises, or dirty looks, 200 people hauling a heavy mikoshi down a narrow alley requires, encourages, even embraces bumping. Even passers-by, innocent bystanders, expect bumping.

 

Fusuma Time

I arrived in Japan 23 years ago today.  To celebrate I decided to repair the fusuma.