SOICHIRO SEKIBA
EDO KIRIKO
"WHERE THE LIGHT FRACTURES"
Where centuries-old Japanese glasscutting meets contemporary imagination, an artist redefines its craft and philosophy. With quiet humility and razor-sharp precision, he breathes new life into historic motifs, merging regional techniques with modern expression. What emerges is not just cut glass, but a meditation on light, patience, and the enduring dialogue between past and present. There is a moment in every Edo Kiriko glass when light stops behaving like itself. It fractures. It dances. It reveals lines that are both ornamental and elemental—etched with a precision that seems almost impossible by hand.
Prologue
Edo Kiriko is a meticulous craft born from centuries of refinement and restraint. Emerging during the Edo period, this art form fuses precision with poetry, transforming utilitarian glass into faceted prisms of light and shadow. Artisans carve intricate patterns by hand, each incision a meditation on impermanence, symmetry, and stillness. Far from decorative excess, Edo Kiriko embraces negative space and tactile subtlety, elevating everyday vessels into quiet expressions of discipline, tradition, and ephemeral beauty.
In the storied tradition of Edo Kiriko, that moment of transformation is the beginning of everything.
The Craft of Edo Kiriko: 19th-Century Tokyo & the Precision of Cut Glass
Edo Kiriko, a technique born in 19th-century Tokyo, is defined by its intricate geometric patterns cut into colored glass. It is a craft of exactitude, requiring steady hands, trained eyes, and years of repetition. But for this artist, it is not about merely continuing tradition—it’s about bringing it forward.
“The process is actually quite simple,” Sekiba states with modesty that belies the complexity of his work. “We don’t blow the glass ourselves. We begin with the blank vessel. And then, using hand tools and old machinery... we begin to cut."
His approach draws not only from Edo Kiriko, but from other regional styles like Satsuma Kiriko and the lesser-known traditions of Osaka’s Tenma glassmaking. This layered lineage, he says, is essential. “We can’t separate Edo Kiriko from the full history of Japanese glass. The tradition is not static. It evolves through inheritance.”
Satsuma Kiriko, originating in the Satsuma region of southern Japan during the late 19th century, presents a striking contrast to Edo Kiriko with its bold, colorful overlays and intricate cut patterns. Unlike the typically clear or lightly tinted Edo style, Satsuma Kiriko often features deep reds, blues, and purples, creating a vivid interplay of color and light when cut.
The technique involves layering colored glass over a clear base and then carefully carving geometric or floral patterns to reveal the underlying transparency, producing a jewel-like effect. This vibrant approach sits alongside the more understated but equally meticulous Tenma glass tradition of Osaka, where artisans focus on precision, delicate textures, and subtle forms, highlighting the diverse regional expressions that together shape the full tapestry of Japanese glassmaking.
PATTERNS IN TIME
Exploring Kiriko’s Craft and Symbolism
Kiriko patterns ripple through space and time, geometric whispers etched into fabric, glass, and form. Each line and angle hums with hidden meaning—nature, fortune, protection—casting shadows and light in a silent, enduring dialogue between past and present. Motifs like Asanoha and Seigaiha breathe across centuries, folding the essence of hemp leaves and ocean waves into everyday objects, into the gleam of Edo glass, where cuts reveal both structure and brilliance. Born in the Edo period, these patterns are not relics but living echoes, shaping the modern while carrying the heartbeat of artisans long gone.
Across the spectrum of Japanese glass, Kiriko finds new expression in the bold overlays of Satsuma Kiriko and the subtle textures of Tenma. In Satsuma, color dances through carved geometry, a jewel-like interplay that expands the language of line and form, while Tenma’s delicate precision distills patterns into quiet, almost imperceptible textures. Together with Edo Kiriko, these regional forms form a continuum—a layered dialogue of shadow, light, and history—where tradition is refracted and renewed through every cut and curve.
Yet Kiriko patterns do not exist in isolation. Their geometry converses with the brushstrokes of ukiyo-e, the curves of lacquerware, and the folds of kimono textiles, reflecting the same pursuit of balance, rhythm, and intention. Across glass, cloth, and wood, these patterns echo a disciplined elegance, a language of refinement that whispers through every corner of Edo-era craftsmanship, uniting disparate mediums under a shared pulse of artistry, imagination, and legacy.
The Art of Kiriko
Edo Kiriko
Edo Region (Tokyo)
During the Edo Period (1603–1868), Edo Kiriko emerged, featuring intricate geometric patterns cut into clear or colored glass, known for its precision and elegance. Symmetrical starburst and diamond motifs showcase delicate craftsmanship, with sparkling light refraction and refined, timeless beauty.
Satsuma Kiriko
Satsuma Region (Kagoshima)
In the 1850s, Satsuma Kiriko was created, a luxurious style with layered colored glass and deep cuts revealing gradations. Celebrated for its vibrant colors and royal heritage, it includes bold, layered cuts with vivid overlays, emphasizing luxury, dramatic contrast, and tactile visual impact.
Tenma Kiriko
Osaka Region (Osaka)
Between 1850 and 1880, in Osaka, Tenma Kiriko developed by blending traditional cutting techniques with merchant-class aesthetics. Vertical geometric cuts with optional crosshatching highlight height, elegance, and light refraction, creating a structured, architectural feel with refined sophistication.
Inheritance & Evolution: How Edo, Satsuma, and Tenma Traditions Intertwine
Satsuma Kiriko’s popularity in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was closely tied to Japan’s growing engagement with Western markets, as the intricate and colorful designs appealed to collectors abroad. Artisans often drew inspiration from both traditional Japanese aesthetics and Western tastes, experimenting with new color combinations and more elaborate cut patterns. Today, Satsuma Kiriko pieces are highly prized for their craftsmanship and historical significance, with contemporary glassmakers continuing to study and revive these techniques, blending innovation with centuries-old traditions. This ongoing dialogue between past and present ensures that Satsuma Kiriko remains a vibrant and evolving art form within the broader legacy of Japanese glassmaking.
Edo Kiriko, emerging earlier in 19th-century Tokyo, offers a contrasting yet complementary expression of Japanese glass artistry. Characterized by precise, intricate geometric cuts, Edo Kiriko emphasizes clarity, symmetry, and refined elegance. While Satsuma dazzles with color and complexity, Edo Kiriko is a study in restraint and meticulous craftsmanship, reflecting the disciplined sensibilities of Edo-period artisans. Together, these two styles demonstrate how regional techniques can diverge yet remain connected through shared values of patience, precision, and cultural symbolism.
The lesser-known Tenma glass of Osaka further enriches this continuum, highlighting subtler textures and delicate forms that invite quiet contemplation. Where Edo Kiriko structures the pattern with sharp clarity and Satsuma Kiriko revels in vibrant overlays, Tenma emphasizes understated refinement and tactile nuance. By studying these three traditions side by side, one sees not only the diversity of Japanese glassmaking but also a living conversation across time and region, where each approach informs and invigorates the others, sustaining a legacy of innovation rooted in deep cultural heritage.
“We don’t blow the glass ourselves. We begin with the blank vessel. And then, using hand tools and old machinery... we begin to cut.”
Reinterpreting Tradition: Where Precision Meets Poetry
What makes his work distinct is the way he reinterprets hanakiriko—a floral motif popular during the Taishō era—infusing it with contemporary sensibilities. Rather than treating the design as fixed, he uses it as a foundation for invention, rearranging the cuts with a sense of rhythm and individuality. “Design is still where the craftsman can show originality,” he says. “Even when using traditional patterns, the placement, the scale, the balance—those choices are ours.”
And that choice, that subtle rebalancing of past and present, is what keeps the work alive. The process begins with marking—called wari-dashi—a method of dividing the surface with pencil lines to establish symmetry. From there, the artist cuts vertical and horizontal lines using specialized wheels, each with a different edge, like a calligrapher choosing from a drawer of brushes. The room is filled with the fine hum of machinery and the sound of glass surrendering to edge. Dust settles like mist. Nothing about the work is rushed.
Each cut deepens the dialogue between light and form, revealing hidden patterns that shift with every angle, every movement. Color refracts and folds into itself, teasing the eye with glimpses of depth and brilliance, while the surface carries the memory of hands that have shaped it for generations. There is a rhythm to the work, a quiet cadence that mirrors the pulse of time itself—both disciplined and meditative, a conversation between patience, precision, and the fleeting sparkle of a single moment captured in glass.
“Design is where the craftsman can show originality, even when using traditional patterns, the placement, the scale, the balance; those choices are ours.”
“Precision isn't about speed, it's about care."
This devotion to care, patience, and humility is what bridges the past and present, connecting Edo, Satsuma, and Tenma traditions through a single, thoughtful hand. By honoring the rules of precision while gently bending them with personal vision, Sekibae transforms centuries-old motifs into living forms that speak anew.
His care is evident not only in the pattern, but in the way the finished glass feels in the hand. The weight is deliberate. The edges never too sharp, never too soft. Light finds its way through every groove. The object—whether a tumbler, a bowl, or a vase—becomes a quiet spectacle.
Each piece becomes a testament not only to the enduring beauty of Kiriko patterns but also to the persistence required to keep a tradition vital—an intimate dialogue in which innovation emerges naturally from respect, observation, and relentless dedication.
In this quiet yet radical practice, we see the essence of craftsmanship: a balance of reverence and creativity, of heritage and invention, perfectly embodied in every groove, every cut, every play of light. What’s most striking, though, is the artist’s insistence on humility. He doesn’t frame his work in terms of mastery or genius. “This isn’t innovation for innovation’s sake,” he says. “It’s about deepening the conversation with tradition.”
In an era when craftsmanship is often marketed as novelty, his approach feels radical in its restraint. His glasses do not scream for attention. They wait. They reward intimacy. And in that intimacy, they remind us that the beauty of Edo Kiriko lies not only in its precision, but in its patience. In the way each cut catches light—not to dazzle, but to invite us to look a little closer.
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