Vanishing Japan. Elizabeth Kiritani

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Vanishing Japan - Elizabeth Kiritani

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living quarters in Tsukishima, an old island community in Tokyo Bay. There are large machines along the periphery and one entire wall is hung with wooden-handled tools, the majority of which are planes of all sizes. An old potbellied stove squats near the doors, unused. Other than this, wooden shavings and stacks of spruce and other woods, the room is an open space. It's the end of March, a chilly rainy day. As the brothers talk in their mild, quiet tones, large puffs of breath evaporate in midair.

      They are ambivalent about progress. The new machines are great—manual planing had been back-breaking. Yet, before, customers had made more special orders and were particular about the woods to be used. Many would come to select wood personally. Also, handmade products have a particular sheen that cannot be reproduced by machine. Now that most things are ordered by large construction companies and sizes are uniform, about half of their business involves working as wholesalers of factory-made units. Special orders are falling off, but there are more than enough orders for ready-made doors and windows. So their work is now easier and more lucrative.

      A third-generation tateguya, Masaji was trained before the war from the age of fifteen and worked every day from morning to night except on the first and fifteenth of the month, his days off. After the war, their working time (previously about eleven hours a day) was stretched to fourteen hours because they were so busy. Even after aluminum windows first came into use in the early 1960s the Maejimas were constantly busy because the variety of door and window sizes required their custom services. But once measurements became standardized, special factories took over.

      What about the fourth generation? Both Masaji and Yasuji smile bashfully. Of Masaji's three sons, one is a technician, one sells fish at Tsukiji, and the youngest works for Fuji-Xerox. Yasuji's son is a draftsman of government bonds. Shoulders are shrugged. There's a perfectly good business selling pre-made materials, but the skill and finesse of their profession are rarely called into practice these days. Both are adamant, though, that although changes in their business are fine by them, the old two-story wooden homes—the product of their traditional work—offer a far better lifestyle than that of the new buildings that are fast destroying the old neighborhood of Tsukishima.

      Bamboo Blinds

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