In December 2020, UNESCO added an ancient art form to its list of humanity’s intangible cultural heritage—“the traditional skills, techniques and knowledge for the conservation and transmission of wooden architecture in Japan.” The move was a response to a crisis facing the hallowed culture of Japanese woodworking. A quarter-century had passed since the country mourned the death of its greatest miyadaiku, or master carpenter of temples and shrines.
Born in 1908, Tsunekazu Nishioka—nicknamed “Oni,” meaning “Devil,” because he was so stern—was the last generation in his bloodline to assume the highest office of his profession: chief carpenter of Hōryū-ji, a seventh-century Buddhist temple in Nara Prefecture that also happens to be the oldest wooden structure in the world.
Nishioka dedicated his life to making sure the thousand-year-old timbers could withstand the wind, rain, and earthquakes of a thousand more. He worked in accordance with a set of commands that had been passed down from father to son.
Some stated that temple carpentry was a divine craft and its artisans required a deep understanding of religious thought. Others offered more practical advice: orient each piece of wood in the direction it once grew, for instance; and instead of purchasing timber, buy a forest.
For posterity, Nishioka wrote these edicts down, and now they greet visitors to the exhibition “The Craft of Carpentry: Drawing Life from Japan’s Forests,” opening next Wednesday at Japan House London.
Harmony and respect are paramount when connecting the material world of wood to the sentient realm of spirits. Rejecting the nail—viewed as a tool of violence—Japanese master carpenters instead employ a range of complex joinery techniques, called kigumi, that fit wooden pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. A display of examples, dazzling in their exactitude and sculptural quality, is a highlight of the show.
Elsewhere are hand tools thought to embody the character of their owners and that act as extensions of their soul. Ritual garments worn when communing with forest spirits are complemented by scents of cedar and cypress. Also on view is a selection of original temple plans by Nishioka, drawn on wooden boards and destined to far outlive paper blueprints.
To celebrate the work of sukiya-daiku, or teahouse carpenters, the exhibition culminates with a life-size reconstruction of the 18th-century Sa-an Teahouse, which resides inside the Daitoku-ji temple complex, in Kyoto. A masterpiece of rustic wabi-sabi architecture, the structure was designed to evoke a monk’s spiritual searching in the wilderness.
The show’s version of the Sa-an Teahouse was painstakingly hand-built by Akinori Abo, a master carpenter who is able to plane a wood shaving thinner than the thickness of a human hair. Usually working to a tolerance of absolute zero, for this project he took the unusual step of creating each joint with a small gap, almost invisible to the human eye, so that every piece could slide apart and then be re-assembled over the course of three weeks.
“It takes a great deal of wisdom to pass on the life of these precious trees received from the gods of the mountains,” says Marcelo Nishiyama, the associate director of Kobe’s Takenaka Carpentry Tools Museum—a center dedicated to preserving Japan’s daiku heritage—and the exhibition’s curator. “Ultimately, I believe that the tradition of Japanese carpentry is created by always considering the very essence of what is to be inherited.”
“The Craft of Carpentry: Drawing Life from Japan’s Forests” is on at Japan House London from March 12 to July 6
Harry Seymour is a London-based art historian and writer
