Edo Kiriko Glass: What Makes This 200-Year-Old Craft So Special?

このページを日本語で読む

When pitcher Roki Sasaki joined the Los Angeles Dodgers, he welcomed his new teammates with a gift of gleaming blue Edo Kiriko glasses.

Named after "Edo," the former name of Tokyo, these glasses are a traditional craft, handmade with precision in the city's historic downtown area — now lined with towering skyscrapers. The intricate patterns etched into the glass catch and reflect light, creating a dazzling, almost fleeting sparkle. This brilliance comes from countless fine cuts carved with meticulous care.

At the Sumida Edo Kiriko Museum workshop, tucked away on a street corner in Sumida Ward with a view of the Tokyo Skytree, Edo Kiriko pieces glitter like jewels on display.

*Craftspeople cut the glass solely relying on their eyes and hands. (©Sankei by Shunsuke Sakamaki)*

Timeless Patterns

Edo Kiriko features traditional patterns such as kiku-tsunagi (linked chrysanthemums), asanoha (hemp leaves), and shippo (seven treasures), etched into glass in colors like indigo and copper red. This craft began in the late Edo period and has a history spanning nearly 200 years.

To be considered genuine Edo Kiriko, each piece must be handmade in designated areas, such as eastern Tokyo. Setsuko Hirota, 76, of Hirota Glass Craft, the company that runs the workshop, proudly explains, "Every step of the process is done by hand." Even the final polishing, one of the most labor-intensive stages, is performed manually. This hands-on approach results in a sharper, more brilliant finish.

A Kaleidoscope of Light

When you hold a glass etched with the finely cut asanoha (hemp leaf) pattern, it sparkles in the morning sunlight like a gemstone. Viewed from above or from the side, each change in angle reveals a new expression. Depending on the weather, time of day, lighting, or viewing angle, the same glass can look completely different — like a kaleidoscope — endlessly captivating.

*A glass of Edo Kiriko engraved with traditional patterns at the Sumida Edo Kiriko Museum in Sumida, Tokyo. (©Sankei by Shunsuke Sakamaki)*

"Even if two glasses have the same shape, a different cut gives each a completely different character. And the same glass can change dramatically with just a slight shift in light or reflection," says Hirota.

Edo Kiriko in Many Forms

While sake-related items like drinking glasses, guinomi (small sake cups), and tumblers remain core products, there's growing interest in other pieces: vases, plates, accessories, and even interior panels and lighting fixtures.

At the back of the workshop stands a polishing machine fitted with a disc edged in diamond dust. Edo Kiriko artisan Kozo Kawai, 55, works with a firm expression, his eyes sharp with concentration as he shapes a piece of glass.

With 35 years of experience and the title of Sumida Meister, even Kawai says, "If I'm doing every step myself, I might only finish six pieces a day."

*Kozo Kawai explains, "I pay attention to the pressure, how I hold the tool, and the lighting to ensure the lines are of the same thickness." (©Sankei by Shunsuke Sakamaki)*

The Art of Precision

The cutting stages including ara-zuri (rough grinding) and ishi-kake (fine grinding) rely entirely on the artisan's eyes and hands. A deviation as small as one-hundredth of a millimeter can alter how the light refracts, changing the glass's entire appearance.

The thickness and depth of each line must be perfectly consistent, with just the right amount of pressure. Too much or too little, and the effect is lost. The artisan must focus every nerve in their fingertips, translating the design they envision in their mind onto the glass using only their eyes and hands. It's a process that feels almost magical.

A Life of Discipline

"Eight hours a day, five days a week, cutting glass with the same pressure and precision," Kawai says. "Even though everything is done by hand, the lines have to be consistent day after day. It's a really demanding job."

These days, artisans are often referred to as "artists," but Kawai sees himself differently. "I chose to be a craftsman, not an artist," he says. That's why he focuses on making everyday items like drinking glasses and sake cups. Even when the designs are ornate, his pieces are meant to blend naturally into daily life — beautiful but also functional.

"Rather than creating expensive pieces that cost tens of thousands of yen and end up treated like art objects, I want to make things that regular people can afford and actually use. Something you don't have to put away for special occasions — just use it every day without a second thought. That's the best," he says with a smile.

Author: Maki Tanaka, The Sankei Shimbun

このページを日本語で読む