With My Grandfather

Hanada: How did you come to do the work you do today?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: My grandfather, who lived next door to my family home, was an oil painter.
He was a quiet man, so I don’t remember talking much with him, but he would sometimes take me to fireworks shows, and afterward we would draw the fireworks together. Those moments were quite frequent.
In school, I liked arts and crafts, home economics, and physical education.

Hanada: I see. Your current work seems to be a mix of those three areas.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Exactly. Naturally, I went on to an art-focused high school.
Around that time, I realized I was more suited to three-dimensional work than to flat, two-dimensional art.

Encounters

Hanada: What did you major in at university?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Architecture—but I found drawing blueprints painful (laughs).
During my third-year internship, while my classmates went to architectural firms, I chose to stay and work with a miyadaiku (traditional Japanese temple carpenter) in Niigata.

Hanada: How was that experience?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Usually, temple carpenters don’t do residential work, but this man was different.
He first took me to a factory that produced mass-market homes and said, “Think for yourself what you make of this.”
I didn’t understand the meaning of that at the time, but now I think I do.
Even within carpentry, there are many types of work, and I think he wanted to show me both extremes from the start—even areas outside his own field.
In the end, I worked in custom furniture, in industrial manufacturing, and now as a craftsman-artist.
I think the reason I’ve been able to adapt to changing environments without hesitation is thanks to that early experience. It taught me to always consider what role I should play in each situation.

Hanada: So that experience became a turning point that led to your current work.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Yes. He used to keep me up drinking at night (laughs).
He was apparently one of the craftsmen involved in restoring Yakushiji Temple in Nara, and his stories from that time were fascinating.
That was also when I started to be drawn more to craftsmanship itself rather than to architecture.

The Information in a Drawing

Hanada: After graduating, you joined a custom furniture company.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: I stayed there for seven years. I really enjoyed thinking about how to approach each order.
The information contained in the drawings we received was usually quite limited.
How you handle the rest makes a huge difference in the final quality.
To me, it felt like playing shogi (Japanese chess)—a matter of how efficiently you can reach checkmate.
The simpler the moves, the stronger the result.

To Milan, Italy

Hanada: And then you went to Milan.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Yes, I spent seven years there.

Hanada: Why did you choose Milan?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: At the time, Scandinavian furniture was also flourishing, but Italy had a glamorous image that didn’t seem to suit my character (laughs).
I thought it would be better to go somewhere that had what I lacked.

Hanada: That was about 20 years ago, wasn’t it? What was Italy like back then?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Many of the postwar “maestro” designers were still active then.
Before the war, being close to the Mediterranean, Italy was known for luxurious interior design—like ship interiors.
Anyway, not understanding the language and being surrounded by people with such different temperaments was a big surprise.

Hanada: The temperament was really different, wasn’t it?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Completely laid-back—or maybe just kind of loose (laughs).
The hardest part was mediating between people like that and Japanese companies. The vibes were totally different.
At one furniture fair, I wrote down every detail on the drawings to avoid any misunderstanding. But they said, “You don’t need such detailed instructions—leave it to me.” And then, on the day, nothing was ready. When I asked why, they said, “You never told me that.” (laughs)
Even after the fair started, they were still painting the walls.

Hanada: Weren’t they at least worried and trying to hurry internally?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: If they were, they wouldn’t be taking coffee breaks so often while working (laughs).

Italy, Scandinavia, Japan…

Hanada: How would you compare the quality of work?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: On average, the Japanese are far more consistent. But Italy has that 1% of absolute geniuses.
The truly great ones have extraordinary the skill of “Thinking”

Hanada: The Skill of “Thinking”…

Hitoshi Fujisaki: The designer I assisted, Enzo Mari, believed that “a designer’s role is to add value to the worker’s labor and thereby elevate their lives.” That was his philosophy.

Hanada: What was your relationship with Enzo Mari like?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: My job was to listen to his requests and make prototypes beside him.
But halfway through, he would often take the saw from me himself (laughs).

Hanada: Even among designers, national character really shows.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: For example, in Scandinavia—where I visited several times—people are serious and remind me of Japan.
Designers there must fully understand how things are made. Many have actually worked in furniture factories before becoming designers. I think that’s a very sincere way of making things.
In Italy, on the other hand, they start designing without worrying too much about the process.
But that, too, leads to a dialogue between designer and maker that results in something good. In that sense, perhaps it’s a country that nurtures genius.
Italian designers also love to debate.
Every night they’d talk endlessly about their philosophies—about the essence of design itself.
Sometimes it went as far as, “Not designing is the ultimate form of design.”

Technique, Materials, and Gratitude

Hanada: What do you value most in your work?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: I want to keep pursuing technique.
I’m always looking for both new technologies and forgotten traditional ones—for my own skills as well as for tools.
Today, tools and materials that used to be hard to find—even from overseas—are easily accessible.
It’s a good time to be working.

Hanada: New technologies and tools often add new dimensions to existing work, don’t they?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: The forms we can make fundamentally depend on the tools we use.
When new technologies emerge, even the details change.
As a result, the nature of the work itself evolves.

Hanada: You also regularly look for various types of wood.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: The materials available on the market are stable, but they’re also uniform—nothing really stands out.
For my work, the individuality of the wood matters a lot, so I sometimes cut my own or source entire logs.
I’m very grateful to the local forestry workers who support me in this.

For the Next Generation

Hanada: What are your thoughts for the future?

Hitoshi Fujisaki: I’ll keep creating as I always have.
But I’ve started to think about the next generation too.
If woodworking relies only on perseverance and spirit, it will keep shrinking.
We need a sustainable system where valuable work is properly compensated, customers are satisfied, and everyone benefits—otherwise, it won’t last.
In that sense, I might be close to Enzo’s philosophy.
Maybe I really was influenced by him (laughs).

Hanada: Thank you very much.
We’re looking forward to the exhibition.

Hitoshi Fujisaki: Likewise, thank you.

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