The Pair of Shoes

BY TOSHIO ODATE

PHOTOS: LAURE OLENDER

Toshio Odate apprenticed as a young woodworker in Japan during the 1940s. He moved to New York in 1958, became a renowned sculptor, and was instrumental in introducing America and Europe to the Japanese craft tradition, publishing the seminal work Japanese Woodworking Tools: Their Tradition, Spirit, and Use in 1984.

This article is a loose transcript of a lecture given at the 2008 Furniture Society Conference, in Purchase, New York. Toshio’s subject was “The Morality of the Craftsman.” To begin the talk, Toshio took a pair of shoes from a box and put the right shoe on the table.

I

Let me tell you a simple story about two shoes.

An art teacher had a very special class, consisting of six brilliant, skillful students selected from all over the country. One day, the teacher took off his right shoe and placed it on a high platform in the middle of the room. “Draw this shoe with pencil on paper as realistically as possible,” he commanded the class.

When the teacher entered the classroom the following week, the students had finished their drawings. The teacher said that he was very satisfied. But he pointed once again to the shoe on the platform. “Now you are going to make this shoe as realistically as possible. You can use any material you wish.”

One student asked the teacher, “Can I make the left shoe instead of the right shoe?” The teacher thought the question a bit irregular, but permitted the student to do so. He gave the class two months to finish the project.

The time passed quickly, and on the appointed day everybody returned to the classroom. Five students had made their shoes in all kinds of materials: wood, stone, tin, copper, paper–you name it.

One student held back–the young man who asked to make a left shoe. The teacher asked him, “Where is your shoe?” The student pulled it out of a cardboard shoebox. His shoe was made of the same leather, had the same sole, featured the same stitching pattern, and was exactly the same size as the teacher’s right shoe. His father was a shoemaker! Both shoes were now a perfect pair.

II

I think this story reveals the status of Craft and Fine Art. The right shoe, the one that belonged to the teacher, was made by a shoemaker for people to wear. As a craftsman, he could not make his shoes three or four feet long. This wouldn’t serve society.

Fundamentally, crafts exist because society demands a craftsman’s products. If society does not want them, then the craft, the craftsman and craftsmanship will die out. For this reason, the craftsman’s social responsibility is to deliver a service, 100%.

Now, the left shoe, the one made by the student, that’s different. It may look identical to the right shoe, but it’s Art. It’s not made to wear. If the artist desired, he could have made his shoe any size, even 100 feet long. An artist finds his or her own point of view of life and creates objects that reflect it. Therefore, an artist’s social responsibility and obligation is to find a valid concept, execute it, then share it with society.

Often you cannot tell just by looking at an object if it is Art or Craft. You have to understand the maker’s intent. Before I told you the story about the art class, if I had said that the right shoe on the table in front of me is Craft, and the left shoe in my hand is Art, I’m sure you would have been confused, and laughed. Now, I hope that this statement makes sense.

III

I came to America in 1958. In 1961 I became an art instructor at the Brooklyn Museum Art School. The museum neighborhood was then quite safe; there was some degree of social order. But in the early or middle 60s, one of the museum staff was mugged nearby. The next day, small groups gathered at the museum, whispering about the episode. The same disturbed talking took place the next day, and day after day; the scene did not fade out for a week. It was a great shock to every one.

During this period, social order rapidly deteriorated, not only around the museum, but also in the whole city. Sometime in the late 60s, someone was murdered on the Eastern Parkway, near our museum. I think he was killed because he didn’t have a cigarette. However, this time people stopped talking about it after four or five days. Neither muggings nor killings were unusual, shocking episodes any longer.

IV

My father was a Shokunin, a craftsman, and I was one, too. I grew up in a country that respects and cares for Shokunin. After I came to the United States I changed professions to become a teacher and sculptor, but I still maintained the pride of a Shokunin.

I’ve built most of my studio and worked on my house, but recently I required some carpenters to build a second-story floor in my studio. I asked a good friend to do the work, but he was too busy and instead sent two carpenters and one young man (an assistant or just a gofer? I never figured that out). They arrived in a pickup truck, coffee cup in one hand and cigarette in the other. I showed them the materials and the place to build the floor. The floor was 3/4″ thick, with 4×8 tongue-and-groove plywood on 2×8 joists. They knew what had to be done.

It was the first time in my life that I watched other craftsmen do work for me. When I was a Shokunin in Japan, I remember how much we valued having tea and a little snack at 10 in the morning and 3 in the afternoon. I enjoyed the little rests in the day. So, I did my best in serving the craftsmen. I made coffee, provided snacks and showed them my respect and appreciation. They stayed three days and finished the job. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart.

After the carpenters finished, the room below the new floor was very dark. Four weeks later I laid the first electric line and turned on one small light to lay more lines. I was very excited and happy. However, I looked up at the ceiling and noticed that a few nails had missed a joist. I thought to myself, “The carpenter just missed a couple, not a big deal. I can push them out later and re-nail them.”

But as I continued to look at the plywood ceiling, I noticed more missed nails! I checked the whole ceiling, and found to my surprise that most nails had missed, joist after joist. I was getting angry, then became furious. I could not control my emotions. My sincerity was betrayed.

I called up my good friend, but instead of providing sympathy, he laughed at me and said, “Why are you so angry? Everybody does it. It’s not a big deal! Call the carpenters, and they will return and fix the floor for you.”

However, I did not want to talk with them, did not want to see them, and did not want them to touch anything. It was not about money or time; it was their abuse of my trust.

I called another friend, a woodworker in Long Island, and told him about the episode. Much to my astonishment, he laughed at me–even more than my other friend. “Where have you been?” he said, “That’s nothing! I’ll tell you another story.”

He continued, “I know someone who recently hired a roofer. A couple of guys went to the job site, did their work, finished the roof and left. A week or so later, the fellow found a few loose shingles. He looked closer at the roof and found that many layers of shingles hadn’t been nailed, but the shingles all had nail-gun marks. The gun had been empty! Of course, the guys came back and re-nailed the roof. Their excuse was that an assistant did not know the nail gun well.”

My friend also suggested that I should call the carpenters and let them fix my floor. I didn’t. Instead, I pounded out each nail, one by one, went upstairs and pulled out all the nails. I re-nailed the entire floor by hand.

V

Starting in the early 60s, Craft became very popular in society. Woodworking clubs, craft schools and museums devoted to the crafts emerged all over this country. They were well supported, both financially and politically. We were proud to say, “I am a craftsman.”

I believe that the popularity of Craft waned rather hastily between the 70s and 80s. Crafts centers, even very well-known Crafts schools, faced financial difficulties and inevitably closed.

In the 90s, organizations and sponsors of Craft shifted their interest toward the Fine Arts. Surviving craft centers, schools and museums were forced to lean toward the Fine Arts. Some of them even changed their names. At the same time, have craftsmen lost social trust and respect?

Yes, we have.

VI

Too often I have heard craftsmen say, “Trustworthy, beautiful materials and work are useless when customers do not understand or appreciate them. And they won’t pay!”

I understand their dilemma, but these craftsmen do not know that their social responsibility and obligation is 100% of social service. We have to provide our best to society, with sincerity. We must build on a strong, true foundation and morality. Perhaps then we will regain social trust and respect.