Sashimono is the craft of shaping wood into boards or rods to create furniture and tools. Craftsman Daisuke Masuda specializes in the making and repair of traditional Japanese furniture. Using sashimono techniques, he creates and restores items ranging from kabuki stage props and tea utensils to everyday goods suited to modern life.

After graduating from a technical college in industrial design and working at a furniture manufacturing company, Masuda left with the desire to be involved in the entire process—from design to production. He apprenticed under Edo Sashimono Watanabe, beginning his journey as a sashimono craftsman.

Although work was scarce immediately after becoming independent, he carved out his own path by collaborating with designers, gaining access to Kabuki’s Heisei Nakamuraza, and being introduced to antique dealers—all through encounters and introductions in the neighborhood. “In Edo style, the whole town looks out for you. I was often scolded more by strangers who gave me work than by my own master,” he laughs. The closeness with kabuki actors and antique dealers in Ginza—where a casual “Can you come today?” could lead to work—is unique to such a warm-hearted town.

Sashimono involves making a hōzo (tenon) on one piece of wood and a hōzo-ana (mortise) on another, fitting them together to form chests, desks, shelves, boxes, dressing tables, and tea utensils. The subtle adjustments—almost invisible to the eye—are possible only through handwork. Because the required adjustments vary depending on the type and density of the wood, the process cannot be quantified or mechanized.

Since sashimono items are relatively small, strength must be ensured by maximizing the surface area of the joints, while also preventing breakage from over-shaving. Blades are chosen based on the hardness of the wood and the angle of sharpening. The length of a blade shortens with sharpening, affecting the work; in fact, using a new blade can even be disorienting.

Ultimately, sashimono is finely finished by the craftsman’s hands and experience, reading the conditions of both wood and tools.

“In the Edo period, sashimono artisans made all kinds of furnishings and tools—basically, they made everything,” Masuda explains. Over time, craftsmen specialized in tea utensils, kabuki, and other niches. Today, however, the craft is once again converging into generalist work.

Currently, most of his work is made-to-order, often taking on projects he has never produced before. “There are no fixed rules, which makes it creative and fun—but also difficult. I listen carefully, but since everyone has their own tastes, there’s no single correct answer,” he says.

Masuda sketches ideas casually while carefully hearing clients’ concerns, drawing out their inner visions and taking time to create. Sometimes he repairs heirlooms; sometimes he crafts items meant to last for generations. Each piece carries its own story, and he approaches them with care and responsibility. Repairs can be challenging, especially when faced with hidden nails or adhesives from poor past fixes.

On the other hand, well-maintained pieces teach him much. “Sashimono isn’t an art object—it’s something to use. It’s only natural that it gets repaired whenever needed, and I’m glad when it does.” He sometimes incorporates techniques beyond sashimono. For example, for an order of a portable tea room that a tea master could carry to events, he taught himself temple carpenter techniques through books and videos, then applied sashimono skills to complete it. After many prototypes, he reduced the weight from 30kg to 20kg while maintaining strength. Today, this tea room is used worldwide—from in front of the Eiffel Tower to Central Park in New York and even remote mountains in China.

After the pandemic, many elder artisans around Masuda retired, and traditional techniques once passed down to a single successor began to fade. “If a skill is about to vanish, I ask to learn it. Not knowing and being unable, and knowing but being unable, are different things,” Masuda says. He actively embraces learning from others to carry forward techniques.

He advocates for creating successors not through hierarchical master-disciple ties but through horizontal networks—gathering and nurturing young peers together.

“What matters is customer satisfaction, so it’s good that there are many different kinds of craftsmen,” he says. “Maybe my sashimono is freer than most. While I take pride in being a sashimono artisan, more than that, I find myself respecting Japanese culture as a whole. I don’t decide my future path—I just want to do interesting things as I encounter them.”

Always putting clients first, Masuda continues to engage not only with sashimono but also with Japanese culture at large.