Techniques

Roots as a Kirikane Artist

A Traditional Technique Passed Down Since Ancient Times

The history of kirikane can be traced back to the ancient Mediterranean world before the Common Era.

The “Gold Sandwich Glass Bowl” which I have extensively researched, was created during the Hellenistic period around the 3rd century BCE. It features intricate gold-leaf decoration that represents the origin of kirikane.

This technique, born in the Mediterranean, is believed to have traveled to Japan via the Silk Road. From the Asuka period to the Kamakura period, it underwent a distinctive development alongside the flourishing of Buddhist art.

Today, kirikane is primarily preserved as a technique used to adorn Buddhist statues and paintings. However, the roots of my own practice as a kirikane artist lie much further back—in pre-Christian Europe.

Through the study and restoration of gold-leaf decorations from before the Common Era, I discovered a sense of freedom and expressiveness rarely seen in traditional Japanese kirikane ornamentation.

By fusing these qualities with traditional Japanese painting techniques, such as coloration using mineral pigments, I pursue a unique mode of expression that transcends time and national boundaries.

Replica of the Gold Sandwich Glass Bowl in the Collection of the British Museum

  • 12.5 × 23.0 cm (diameter)
  • Glass by Takeomi Sakoda
  • Kirikane by Hidetoshi Namiki

The Process of Kirikane

01. Laminate gold leaves

Because gold leaf is extremely thin—approximately one ten-thousandth of a millimeter—it cannot be worked in its original state.

Therefore, the process begins with the preparation of laminated gold leaf (awase-haku).

First, a piece of heated binchōtan charcoal is buried in ash. Layers of gold leaf are then carefully moved over it, as if gliding across the surface, and fused together by heat.

When both sides are exposed to the charcoal, the heat bonds the layers. At the same time, fine crepe-like wrinkles (chirimen-jiwa) appear on the surface.

This process is repeated until these delicate wrinkles form evenly across the entire sheet.

After two sheets have been fused, a third and fourth are added in the same manner, gradually building up to the desired thickness.

Through this heating process, the gold leaf gains cohesion and flexibility. The crepe-like wrinkles also act as a cushion, allowing the leaf to be shaped and applied along curved surfaces.

02. Cut gold leaf

The laminated gold leaf is placed on a board covered with deerskin and cut by eye into linear strips, diamonds, and triangles.

Because metal blades generate static electricity that causes the leaf to cling and prevents clean cuts, a bamboo knife is used instead. The leaf is cut by sliding the blade smoothly across the surface.

The bamboo knife is shaped like a ruler, with its side carefully sharpened to form a keen edge.

The entire side of the blade is aligned with the desired width, pressed against the gold leaf, and gently slid forward to separate it cleanly.

03. Apply gold leaf

Holding a brush in each hand, I apply a solution of funori (seaweed glue) and nikawa (animal glue) to the brush in my dominant hand, while wrapping a strip of gold leaf around the other brush so that it hangs freely.

Using the brush in my dominant hand, I pick up the tip of the suspended leaf and, skillfully manipulating both brushes, carefully place it along the design.

Fusing, cutting, and applying the gold leaf—these are the essential steps of kirikane.

Though simple when expressed in words, the process demands intense concentration, patience, and a mastery attained through persistent trial and error.

Sunago / Kirihaku / Noge

Rhythm and accents created by irregularities

In contrast to kirikane, which creates precise yet graceful curves, techniques such as sunago, kirihaku, and noge introduce rhythm and accents to a work through irregularity.

Sunago is a technique in which crumpled gold leaf is placed into a tool called a sunago-zutsu —a bamboo tube covered with a fine metal mesh. While stirring it with a small bamboo whisk -like implement known as a sasara, powdered fragments of gold leaf are gently scattered onto a surface coated with animal glue. Sunago can be used to express spatial depth and the radiance of overflowing light.

Kirihaku involves scattering small pieces of gold leaf, cut into squares or diamonds, across a surface thinly coated with glue. Unlike sunago, it produces a crisp, sharp rhythm. The spacing and cadence of the leaf—imbued with an element of chance—breathe vitality into the work.

Noge is a technique in which delicate, downy strands of gold leaf, measuring approximately 0.1–0.2 millimeters, are dispersed at random. At first glance, it may be mistaken for kirikane; however, unlike the precise patterns of kirikane, its irregular accents create a deeper and more nuanced sense of spatial dimension.

By combining kirikane with these techniques, the seemingly opposing elements of precision and irregularity come together, enabling the work to achieve greater depth and an expanded sense of space.

Tools

Tools crafted from natural materials, refined over time

Few of the tools I use in my daily practice are commercially available; in particular, all of my kirikane tools are handmade.

One example is the hakubashi (gold-leaf tweezers). Although ready-made versions exist, most are too large and unsuitable for grasping delicate gold leaf with precision. For this reason, I carve them myself so they fit comfortably in my hand, preparing them in various sizes according to their specific uses.

Another tool I make is the bamboo knife, used to cut the gold leaf. It is crafted from shinodake bamboo that has been dried for three to five years, with the blade carefully shaped using a small knife. Even the slightest scratch on the cutting edge can ruin the fragile leaf, so no compromise is permitted in its making.

In pursuit of my ideal form of expression, I continually explore the nature of my tools —making them ever more functional and more beautiful. My craftsmanship begins with the refinement of the tools themselves.

Entsuke Gold Leaf

Pure gold leaf created by skilled craftsmanship spanning 1,200 years

Today, there are two types of gold leaf in circulation in Japan: Entsuke gold leaf and Tachikiri gold leaf.

These two differ significantly in every respect, including their history, manufacturing methods, production time, and cost.

Entsuke gold leaf is pure gold leaf produced using a technique that has been practiced in Japan for over 1,200 years. Handmade ganpi-shi paper (*1) is infused with persimmon tannin, lye, and egg white, and carefully prepared over a period of approximately six months. This paper is then used as hakuuchi-shi paper (*2), and the gold is painstakingly beaten into leaf over more than ten hours.

In contrast, Tachikiri gold leaf is also pure gold leaf but is made using sulfuric acid paper (glassine paper) coated with special carbon (*3) as the hakuuchi paper. Compared with Entsuke gold leaf, it can be produced in far less time and in much greater quantities, and has therefore become the mainstream option in recent years.

Although both are classified as “pure gold leaf,” there is a remarkable difference in their final quality.

In extremely delicate work such as kirikane, even the smallest hole in the leaf can affect the finished result. For this reason, Entsuke gold leaf —meticulously inspected and controlled sheet by sheet—is the most suitable material for kirikane.

For these reasons, Entsuke gold leaf is an indispensable material in my kirikane practice.

  • *1

    A deciduous shrub of the Daphne family (Thymelaeaceae), ganpi provides the raw material for one of the finest types of traditional Japanese paper. Made from its bark, ganpishi is renowned for its exceptionally smooth texture and elegant natural luster. Its fibers are fine yet remarkably strong, resistant to insect damage, and characterized by a silky surface. It is often referred to as the “King of Paper” and the “Parchment of the East.”

    Since the Heian period, it has been widely used for high-quality calligraphy manuscripts, shoji screens, fine art prints, and the restoration of historical documents.

  • *2

    A specialized type of traditional Japanese paper used in the gold-leaf manufacturing process. It serves to sandwich sheets of gold alloy (zumi) as they are hammered and extended to an extraordinary thinness—down to mere tens of thousandths of a millimeter. Owing to its exceptional oil-absorbing properties, paper that has completed this role is repurposed as furuya-gami, becoming the finest grade of oil-blotting paper.

  • *3

    An ultra-thin, semi-transparent, high-density paper with oil- and water-resistant properties. It is produced by treating the fibers with sulfuric acid to bond and render them translucent, and then compressing them with high-pressure rollers.

Iwa Enogu

Natural mineral pigments the world has forgotten

Unlike oil and watercolor painting, traditional Japanese painting employs iwa-enogu—pigments made from natural materials such as minerals, earth, coral, and seashells.

Because these mineral pigments do not adhere to the surface on their own, they are mixed with animal glue (nikawa), a gelatinous binder extracted from animal bones and hides, which serves as an adhesive.

This technique has been used continuously in Japanese pictorial expression since the time of ancient murals.

Although paintings that form the roots of Nihonga can be found throughout East Asia and along the Silk Road, it is only in Japan that this method has been preserved and transmitted uninterrupted to the present day.

Perhaps it is precisely because we Japanese, whose cultural roots lie in the spirit of animism, have maintained a deep reverence for nature that this technique has endured without fading.

In the past, Western artists also used pigments made by grinding minerals; however, they employed oil as a binder, resulting in a visual effect distinct from pigments mixed with animal glue.

Pigments mixed with oil become semi-transparent as their particles are coated with oil, producing a lustrous sheen. In contrast, pigments bound with animal glue remain uncoated, allowing the particles to appear on the surface. This creates a matte texture that subtly shimmers and shifts in color depending on the angle of light.

In other words, Nihonga is a technique that preserves and reveals the inherent beauty of the pigments themselves.

孔雀七彩

Kirikane × Nihonga

The Fusion of Kirikane and Traditional Japanese Painting

Kirikane radiates a strength and presence that cannot be achieved through painted lines alone.
Iwa Enogu, mineral pigments, have been nurtured through Japan’s animistic spirit and its enduring relationship with nature.

When the fine, resilient lines of kirikane blend with the textured surfaces of iwa enogu, whose particles are naturally coarse, an even deeper beauty emerges.

My aim is to employ kirikane —traditionally used in a decorative, craft-based context for patterns —in a free and painterly manner, and to fuse it with Nihonga.

Through this synthesis, I seek to create a new mode of pictorial expression unlike any that has existed before.

A New Challenge

By applying kirikane to three-dimensional forms created with the latest technologies, it becomes possible to express multifaceted reflections of light that differ from those of two-dimensional works.

These shaping techniques, widely used in contemporary product design, stand in striking contrast to kirikane, a traditional craft with ancient origins.

By fusing the two, I challenge myself to explore and pioneer new realms of artistic expression.