Design Hunts track down unique, regional designs all around Japan.

Today, we're in Tochigi prefecture.

100 kilometers north of Tokyo, Tochigi is home to the famous Nikko Toshogu Shrine.

Its history and culture have deep roots in the natural landscape.

Thanks to its proximity to the capital, Tochigi has also long been a popular resort location.

Its towns prospered through the crafting of simple, everyday items.

Local history and extraordinary craftsmanship - join us on a hunt for Tochigi designs from a new generation.

Stretching across the mountains of Nasu is the Nasu Plateau.

A forest was cut down to make fields and rice paddies.

The region was also developed as a high-altitude resort.

Presenter Andy is visiting in search of an interesting landscape design.

- Good morning!
- Good morning.

You're Ishigami-san?

He's met by architect Ishigami Junya.

Ishigami has drawn global attention for his experimental works exploring the relationships between people and the environments that architecture creates.

- So this is it.
- Yes.

The garden you designed.

Fascinating...

A rather fantastical but very soothing space.

Botanical artwork, "Water Garden" was created in the Nasu Plateau in 2018.

Geometric pools and countless trees create a landscape that feels both natural and manmade - and entirely new.

The layers of trees are carefully calculated to create depth and breadth.

So I want to know, how did you land on this design?

How did it come about?

What led you here?

Well, it's actually a rather interesting story.

The client wanted to see a garden designed not by a landscape designer, but by an architect.

How many trees are there?

318 altogether.

318 trees...

Originally, there was a similar grove on the site of a nearby hotel.

But all of the trees there had to be removed during the hotel's construction.

So I thought, "why not bring them all over here instead?"

You moved them?

That's right.

Using existing trees allowed me to plan out the garden as if I were making an architectural model.

The key to this extraordinary, not-quite natural landscape lies in Ishigami's architectural techniques.

His model includes a faithful recreation of all 318 trees.

Along with the 160 small pools, the 3D model includes every branch.

The trees were replanted over four years until his vision was complete.

All of the plants and water in the garden are native to the area.

This was an important element of Ishigami's design.

I didn't want the garden to feel as though it had just appeared out of nowhere.

So I did some research into the area.

What I found out was that this part of Nasu actually used to be a planted forest.

It was planted, not natural?

That's right. It was managed.

And 50 years ago, this area was all rice paddies.

Rice paddies.

- You can probably hear the river?
- I can.

There are old water locks further up that were used to draw and control water.

All 160 pools are still connected.

- If you look closely, you can see the water flowing.
- Oh yes.

It's a rice paddy style system.

But it flows instead of holding water.

After passing through all 160 pools, it returns to the river.

I see, so the water is constantly in motion.

- You can see it coming out here.
- Oh yes, I see it!

So it stays clear, and unmuddied.

A garden shouldn't be a separate object.

I wanted this place to be in conversation with the surrounding environment.

The concept behind this garden was for it to be part of the long history that people have with this region.

To faithfully represent the area's history of forests and rice paddies, Ishigami paid close attention to the distance between the trees and water.

Broad-leaf trees like these usually don't grow near water, as it can rot their roots.

So Ishigami hardened the bottom of the pools with clay.

This prevents the water from leaking into the surrounding soil, maintaining this extraordinary landscape.

The Water Garden is now nearly four years old.

There are other signs of human intervention.

Some trees didn't survive being transplanted, of course.

We left seedlings beside those trees.

You can see baby trees next to the stumps.

I see it.

That sapling grew naturally.

Acorns all sprout at once every two or three years.

We leave them next to trees that aren't doing well, so they can take its place.

I see, you leave that up to nature.

Right, and that's a decision we humans have made.

A cyclical relationship.

There are other architectural ideas that Ishigami has brought into the garden.

This is an unusual space as well.

May I sit?

That's okay, right?

Yes, it's a little private corner.

A private space.

More like a private view.

It feels a little like sitting in your own home.

A place to relax, a little apart from the rest of the garden.

I wanted it to feel natural.

But at the same time, I also wanted to offer visitors a sense of belonging.

That's what I was trying to achieve.

- It feels personal.
- I think so.

I feel like the more you visit the garden, the more you find that you have your favorite routes, or favorite spots that speak to you in a special way.

I wanted to create a space that felt like a living room.

That's exactly what this is.

- Sitting on the couch.
- Exactly.

I think that the whole garden succeeds in really bringing our relationship with nature into focus.

From my perspective, I see gardens as a sort of mirror, reflecting an area's culture, or even a certain era.

They show us how we as humans relate to the natural world.

And thinking about our relationship with nature also prompts us to think about our relationships with other humans as well.

So I hope this can become a place for all of us to come together and reexamine each of those connections.

A revelatory space that taps into the deep-rooted history of the region.

Next, we visit the city of Kanuma in central Tochigi.

It lies on the path to Nikko Toshogu Shrine, which honors Edo period herald Tokugawa Ieyasu.

The town is said to have flourished as the home of artisans who worked on the shrine.

These historic skills are also put to use in making brooms.

Kanuma was once a major grower of kochia.

There were so many broom makers that it was said there were one thousand broom stores in the town.

Shaula is visiting an artisan who still wields these historical skills.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- I'm Shaula.
- I'm Masugata, welcome.

She's met by broom artisan Masugata Sanae.

They head to her workshop.

So this is a Kanuma broom?

- It's lovely.
- Thank you.

I really love the colors here.

These patterns around here are all unique, right?

They are. Kanuma brooms have this very distinctive clam shape.

And is this design part of the traditional shape?

It is. Kanuma brooms were known for their beauty as well as their sturdiness.

Hard-wearing and beautiful, hence the decoration.

I see. How long would one last, typically?

- It's said to be around 50 years.
- 50 years?

My mother uses this broom, which she brought with her when she married.

- Her father made it.
- Oh!

It slowly loses bristles over the years.

Wow!

When they're new, use them to sweep "tatami" mats.

As they grow shorter, you sweep wooden floors, then finally use them in entrances and earthen floors.

I see, so you used them for different tasks.

Because they get stiffer over time.

How are they different from a regular broom?

Well, this here is a standard broom.

It's made by creating several bundles of straw.

These are then tied together and a bamboo handle is added.

A Kanuma broom, meanwhile, is sturdier because it's a single large bundle that's shaped around the bamboo.

This creates a much stronger broom.

I can see that this part in particular is bound together much tighter.

Yes, it's very tightly woven.

This is one reason why it lasts so long.

Is there a particular technique to use?

There is. A lot of people who aren't used to brooms, or people from abroad tend to press down quite hard as they sweep.

- Right, that's how I would normally sweep.
- Definitely!

But with a Kanuma brush, the tips of the brush are very soft.

You only sweep very lightly to dust the surface.

Interesting!

As a child, Masugata spent a lot of time with her grandparents, who were both broom artisans.

When her grandmother passed, she took up the craft to cheer up her grandfather, Aoki Yukio.

At the time, he was the only person still making traditional Kanuma brooms.

Masugata realized that these traditional skills might die out.

She chose to follow in his footsteps, training as his successor.

The large clamshell design is a key feature of the Kanuma broom.

Most brooms weave the stems as they are but Kanuma brooms shave each piece down even further, making a closer weave.

Clams are two halves that make a perfect whole.

This is seen as a good omen in Japan, and the shape was common in trousseaux.

The broom's design draws on techniques for sturdiness that also add beauty.

Soon, vacuum cleaners became more common, and today, few people sweep.

Yet many people in Kanuma still make use of the local brooms.

Yamaichi Atsuko has loved Kanuma brooms since childhood.

She recently bought a new one from Masugata.

I've never used anything
but a Kanuma broom.

Supple, light, and balanced.
They make the work easy.

I would get compliments on my
sweeping after school.

It's a lovely memory for me.

They're a treasure.
And each one is unique.

Practical and beautiful.

Kanuma brooms are a living craft.

Masugata's quality Kanuma brooms require excellent materials.

This is kochia, or "hoki-gusa."

That means 'broom grass' in Japanese?

Yes, it has a lot of different names, but we often use the term 'broom grass.' After I inherited my grandfather's business, the last person growing it also passed away.

So, nobody grew it?

I was desperate for quality grass from the local area.

Eventually I reached out to some local farmers.

Now I have two of them growing it for me.

Kanuma brooms require very straight stems, like these ones.

However, only around 20% of the grown plant meets those requirements.

- 20%?
- Yes.

Why? That's not much.

Sometimes it's insect damage.

But it's also because we can't use anything that's bent, as the broom won't sweep properly.

It really limits my options to 20% of the plant.

20%. So what happens to the remaining 80%?

Well, I don't want to waste it after the farmers grew it for me.

I'm sure.

So I make mini brooms.

- So cute!
- It's a transformation.

Just look at this!

Cute, right?

It's a perfect miniature broom.

What can you use it for? Desks?

- Yes, and keyboards as well.
- Oh, for sure!

I also make small dolls known as "kibigara" work.

Oh! How lovely!

Are these... a horse and a tiger?

I love the horse's tail.

Made from the leftover 80%.

Leftovers that were a little bent or crooked.

Exactly.

But that actually works well for this new shape, doesn't it?

They're lovely.

"Kibigara" work ensures none of the kochia harvest goes to waste.

Masugata uses it to make animals from the Chinese zodiac.

Her grandfather, Aoki Yukio began making them when the demand for brooms fell.

He drew on Kanuma broom techniques that split and wove the stems.

A design to keep traditional skills alive.

And to make charming animal figures.

The rabbit and chicken figures are especially popular for their comical charm, and Masugata can't always keep up with orders.

The craft also appeals to collectors who want to complete the zodiac set.

Grandpa's designs are just so cute.

Your grandfather designed them?

He did.

One thing my grandfather often said is that it's society that decides if these skills will survive.

The most important thing about a product is whether the user finds it useful or not.

So I feel that that's the key to keeping these techniques alive.

To create useful, appealing products.

Our final stop is the town of Mashiko in southeastern Tochigi.

Ceramic tableware became an everyday item for ordinary Japanese people from the mid-1800s.

Many such items made their way to the capital from Mashiko.

The town became famous across Japan thanks to potter Hamada Shoji.

In the 1930s, he set up the 'Mingei Movement,' a folk-craft group which argued that true beauty lay in everyday tools.

It elevated Mashiko ware into an art form.

Ever since, the area has drawn artists from across Japan, and people visit Mashiko from afar to buy ceramics.

Andy is visiting a local potter who's exploring new potential in Mashiko ware.

- Otsuka-san?
- Hello.

- Hi, I'm Andy!
- It's a pleasure.

He's met by potter Otsuka Kazuhiro who is listed as a traditional artisan of Mashiko ware.

This gallery displays Otsuka's work.

They begin by examining his traditional pieces.

Classic Mashiko ware has this "kakiyu" glaze.

We have inherited this traditional technique which we use to make our ceramics.

I see.

I do think of Mashiko ware as having a powerful heft to it.

It has real substance.

Mashiko ware is made from local clay which has quite a lot of sand.

That weakens it a little, so potters made their wares quite thick.

- On purpose?
- To strengthen it.

That makes sense, I see.

And then there's a thick glaze which goes on top of that.

A thick layer.

And this is the traditional result.

- May I hold your work?
- It's heavy.

Oh yes, it's got a real weight to it.

And the surface has a lot of shine to it as well.

Yes, I fire my work at a high temperature, which also works best with thick clay.

Right.

So these here are also your work.

But they have a very different feel.

- They do.
- A modern collection?

I'm making these in order to create something lighter and more supple than what we expect from traditional Mashiko ware.

A coffee cup.

Do you come up with the designs as well?

In general, yes.

But that cup is from a collaboration around eleven years ago, with a designer called Baba Koshi.

Baba Koshi.

My work with him inspired me to make these thinner, lighter pieces.

Baba Koshi passed away in 2013.

He was the fashion director of a famous Tokyo brand but left the industry over his concerns regarding globalization.

He brought his design flair to traditional hand-crafted Mashiko items, and organized regional events.

Baba brought new designs and ideas to the town.

Despite the difference from classical Mashiko-ware, he influenced many of the area's potters.

It sounds like meeting Baba-san was a major turning point in your career.

The first thing he said was, 'Let's make light ceramics.' But Mashiko ware isn't light.

As I explained, Mashiko's clay is weak so the wares are simple and sturdy.

That very simple sturdiness is one of its main characteristics.

It's become an inescapable stereotype.

Baba wasn't interested in the way it's always been done.

He wanted to make clean, light, elegant pieces.

But I kept insisting that wasn't Mashiko ware.

So you explained your views to him.

Eventually I responded by pouring everything I had into a single firing of the kiln.

And when I opened the kiln, it was perfect.

Thin ceramic with a thick glaze.

Nobody had done that before.

- On your first try?
- Exactly.

And I realized I didn't need to cling to my stereotypes.

Otsuka and Baba overturned preconceptions about Mashiko ware.

One of their collaborative works was this coffee cup.

The thin lip and black and white colors inspired other Mashiko ware potters.

The design was a huge hit, attracting those previously unfamiliar with the area's work.

Otsuka's work is made in this studio.

After Baba's death, Otsuka has continued to work with other creators, exploring new potential for Mashiko ware.

One such project was BOTTE & SUTTO, the brainchild of three Mashiko potteries.

Designer Naoto Fukasawa directed the project, which combines traditional, heavy Mashiko ware with the new, slim style.

Otsuka was in charge of the plates.

This is a charmingly rounded BOTTE plate.

The SUTTO plates have sharper, cleaner lines.

Both have the distinctive warmth of Mashiko clay, and simple, beautiful designs that are also practical.

When you use the word 'tradition,' what does it mean to you?

Baba-san once said this to me when I was feeling lost about trying something new.

He said, 'Otsuka, some traditions we protect, others we create.' 'Anything that lasts a century is a tradition.'

'So let's do this for a century.' And I thought, he's right.

It took a lot of the pressure off, and made me a lot more eager to try new ideas.

That's wonderful.

This flexible, evolving approach may be the true beauty of Mashiko ware.

Preserving the history and memories of a region while also helping it move forward.

Based on what I've seen in Tochigi, I feel that this region will continue producing new designs long into the future.