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2026/06/12 15:59
Born in 1936, Nozomu Mori is the senior master of Mori Carving Studio and one of the most experienced woodcarvers in Japan. Even today, in his nineties, he continues to carve wood almost every day in his workshop. Buddhist statues. Temple carvings. Architectural ornamentation. Relief sculptures. Daikokuten figures. Animal carvings. Hand-carved signboards. If it can be made from wood, chances are Nozomu Mori knows how to carve it. His life is not only the story of an exceptional craftsman, but also the story of a disappearing generation of Japanese artisans whose skills were forged through patience, perseverance, and devotion to their craft. ──────────────── Nozomu Mori was born in Kaminyū, a mountain village in Shiga Prefecture renowned for its centuries-old woodcarving tradition. As a child, he was energetic, physically strong, and an accomplished sumo wrestler who won local tournaments. He was also said to possess an exceptionally high IQ, though academic study never interested him. The world outside the classroom seemed far more exciting. Years later, he recalled that he never feared walking alone through mountain trails at midnight. During his apprenticeship, while helping with charcoal production, he was often sent on errands from the mountains to villages below. There were almost no streetlights, and he walked through complete darkness without carrying a lantern. Guided only by instinct and familiarity with the terrain, he made his way down the mountain until the distant lights of the village appeared. Most people would have been frightened. Nozomu simply laughed and said: "I was perfectly fine." That fearlessness remained with him throughout his life. ──────────────── At the age of fifteen, Nozomu became an apprentice to his father, Hideo Mori. Expecting to learn woodcarving, he instead spent much of his time making charcoal. Japan was still recovering from the war, and carving commissions were scarce. Like many craftsmen of the era, Hideo supported his family through charcoal production. Day after day, Nozomu followed his father into the mountains. Eventually, his patience wore thin. One day he asked: "When are you actually going to teach me carving?" Only then did Hideo begin teaching him the family craft in earnest. The experience taught him a lesson he never forgot: Patience. It became one of the foundations of his life. ──────────────── At the age of twenty-six, Nozomu faced another great challenge. His father passed away. The loss was devastating, but it also revealed how much of the business Hideo had managed himself. Estimating projects. Creating designs. Meeting clients. Managing schedules. Preparing rough carvings. Until then, Nozomu had focused primarily on finishing work and refining details. Suddenly, all responsibility fell upon him. No one had taught him how to handle these tasks. The years that followed were filled with trial and error. Financially, they were difficult as well. Woodcarvers were poorly paid, and work often progressed slowly. On one occasion, frustrated by the situation, he became so angry that he threw a carving he was working on onto the floor. It was an unusual outburst for a man known for his calm temperament. But those were difficult years. ──────────────── At the time, most craftsmen specialized in a single field. Nozomu chose a different path. Partly out of necessity and partly out of curiosity. He bought books, collected reference materials, studied historical carvings, and taught himself techniques beyond his immediate specialty. Over time, he developed into a craftsman capable of carving almost anything. Years later, when training Tetsuo Mori, he repeatedly offered two pieces of advice: "Patience is important." And: "It's no good if you can only do one thing. Learn how to do everything." These words reflected the philosophy that guided his entire life. ──────────────── Among the many subjects he carved throughout his career, one stood above the rest. Daikokuten, the Japanese deity of prosperity and good fortune. Over the decades, he is believed to have carved nearly one hundred Daikokuten figures. He often joked proudly about how quickly he could complete one. After carving so many, every proportion, gesture, and expression had become second nature. Yet he never stopped striving to improve. Each figure received the same care and attention as the last. ──────────────── Among all of Nozomu's accomplishments, one project holds particular significance. In 1977, he was selected to participate in the restoration of the sacred Dadaiko ritual drums of Kasuga Taisha Grand Shrine in Nara. The opportunity came through Matsuura Gibee, who had known Nozomu's father, Hideo. Matsuura challenged him: "I want you to put the techniques inherited from your father to use. If you are Hideo Mori's son, you should be able to do this." Years earlier, Hideo had contributed carvings for ceremonial drums at Dalian Shrine, and that connection ultimately led to the commission. The restoration took five years. His younger brother Tessō Mori and one of Hideo's former apprentices also assisted in the work. The challenge was immense. The restored carvings had to match the originals as faithfully as possible. Nozomu gathered photographs, historical documents, and every available reference. The greatest difficulty lay in understanding the distinctive forms of Kamakura-period phoenixes and cloud dragons. Drawing upon the techniques inherited from his father, he successfully completed the restoration. The project became a source of tremendous pride and strengthened his confidence in the skills passed down through generations of the Mori family. ──────────────── Over the decades, Nozomu trained numerous apprentices, including Yasuichirou Mori and Tetsuo Mori. His teaching style was unusual. He rarely lectured. Rarely explained. Instead, he embodied an older philosophy: "Watch and learn." He believed true understanding came through observation and repetition. His younger brother Tessō preferred to explain important principles directly. Together, their contrasting styles created a uniquely balanced learning environment for the next generation. ──────────────── In his seventies, Nozomu began hiking during lunch breaks to maintain his health. One day, he slipped and fell, breaking his neck. When he failed to return to the workshop, worried family members sent an apprentice to search for him. He was eventually found injured on the mountainside and rushed to the hospital. Many people would have considered retirement after such an accident. Nozomu recovered. And returned to carving. Later, at the age of ninety, doctors discovered an aneurysm that required surgery. Even from his hospital bed, he repeatedly said: "I want to get back to work as soon as possible." Woodcarving was never merely a profession. It was his life. ──────────────── When asked about his philosophy after more than seventy-five years as a woodcarver, Nozomu looked slightly troubled. Then he replied: "I've never really thought about things like that." After a brief pause, he added: "If a job comes in, I do it. That's all." There was no grand theory. No elaborate philosophy. Just the work in front of him. One day at a time. One carving after another. Over the course of his life, Nozomu has loved many things—sake, antiques, orchid cultivation, and time spent with friends and fellow craftsmen. Yet as the years passed, one thing remained. Woodcarving. Even today, when there is no commission waiting, he still enters his workshop and carves works of his own. Not because he has to. Because he wants to.THE LAST OF THE ALL-ROUND MASTERS
Nozomu Mori — Seventy-Five Years at the Carving Bench

Grand Master Artisan of Mori Carving Studio | A Living Legend
A Fearless Boy from the Mountains
Apprenticeship in the Difficult Years After the War
The Death of His Father and Years of Struggle
Becoming a Craftsman Who Could Carve Anything
Master of Daikokuten
The Restoration of the Kasuga Taisha Dadaiko

A Teacher Who Led by Example
Still Carving Through Every Challenge
Still at Work Today
