What does it do to you when you help create a blade, and when does your feeling tell you when something is in your eyes a good piece?

This is a very interesting question. Actually, Kawachi Kunihira’s book, The Art of the Japanese Sword, starts with this sentence: “When you look at a japanese sword, what do you feel?”   It is exactly the same thing. The swords are always the same, but each viewer will have a different reaction. Some people find them scary, others cool, others yet powerful, some people think of discipline, the way of the warrior in life, others yet think of killing and cutting people down, others see pure art.

I cannot really pretend that I help create a blade. The work that I do on some swords is purely technical and all the aspects that actually influence the quality of the blade are done by the (my) master. Imagine a chef, and he needs to make a great sauce. He might ask you to cut carrots and another guy to pour water (and these guys will become very good at cutting carrots and pouring water, among other things all necessary to make a sauce), but only the chef will make the sauce. When the apprentices become chefs, they make their own sauce!

As for my feeling… hmm veeeeery tough question! I am so intimate with swords that my feeling is complex and always changing. If I stick to your question, that is, what I feel when I see a really good sword, well I can say it is something etheral, like the sword was not made my a human. Perfection in anything always inspires this feeling, I think. I want to produce this kind of work, but maybe I never will!
The more I advance, the more picky I become. Less than divine perfection is not enough. I enjoy every sword, though, but my observation becomes more rethoric, less emotional. Swords that really move me, I always feel that I want to meet the guy who made it!

What would be a simple coposition to make the hardening clay and what type of commercial steel is better to try to forge our “first sword” (or folded knife or some just for starters)?

The first part of the question : 3 parts clay, 2 parts pulverized polishing stone, one part charcoal.

Hmm.. I don’t know western steels at all! If you can find them, Hitachi Materials’ Yasuki steels are the best (those commonly called “white paper” and “blue paper” and “yellow paper”). If you can find some Yasuki white #2, it’s a very very good cutlery steel. Otherwise, you can shop for Sweden steels, they have been famous for a long time.

But you know what? They are still expensive. Steel is expensive. There are so many old steels lying every where, please recycle and practice! Your best bet is to find old files and work from there. Many people make great knives from files. Go to flea markets and buy old rusty files for cheap!

In any case I suggest you start working with carbon steels. Forget alloys or stainless for now.

What is the real purpose of the habaki and why is it such an important part of the blade. How about the placement of the mune and  ha machi. I see lot of swords where they don’t line up, is that a normal thing ?

That is a very important question. The habaki is indeed critical. Well, a very simple and practical answer is: What happens if you remove the habaki and put the sword in its scabbard? The sword will not hold! The habaki’s purpose is to keep the blade secure in the scabbard, that’s it! That’s why it’s tapered: it wedges against the four carved out corners inside the scabbard.

Otherwise, there are many types of habaki and many approaches to their use. Most traditional swords have their machi in line, but it is true that I have see some swords with the ha-machi a bit higher. I  don’t know exactly why, but I feel it might be to allow to fit a cheaper habaki    It’s easier to fit the habaki if it doesn’t have to wrap around the edge, so maybe only cheaper swords have their machi not in line?!
I will ask around!

Obviously a fine sword has a fine feeling in hand. Some swords are made only for their look, and feel terrible in the hand. It’s up to each swordsmith to put more or less consideration into the actual practicality of a sword. Of course, there were many fencing styles and schools of sword making over the past 1000 years, and not all swords were fine tools either! As for myself, I’m hoping to make fine fencing tools as well as fine works of art, all in the same sword. Bear with me!

In order to be allowed to make swords in Japan, you need a licence. But how can you learn how to make a proper sword and pass your test if you are not allowed to make any during your apprenticeship ?!

You work on your master’s swords! That’s why it’s important to have a great master, and a proper training situation. Your master will be making swords, and then he will delegate work to you. He will ask you to actually make that or this part of the sword. That means he trusts you enough, and that trust has to be built. Because there is no such things as practice: we’re always working for real, from the start. We never “just practice”. Not much room for mistakes. I often hear of apprentices making terrible mistakes, and wrecking swords that were almost finished. It’s very scary. One way we practice, though, is by making our own tools, but we make them for real too!

You’ve got to be learning all the time. Your teacher will do something many times in front of you, and then once he will just say “do it!” and you have to do it well and perfect right there, or you just lost your chance to step up. This is stressful, but it’s very good to keep the standards and learning attitude very finely tuned. I once heard that traditionally, potters in Japan would train their son by making him stand in front the throwing wheel for hours while their father was working. At some point, when the father would say “do it!” after many weeks or months, the son would just know what do to.

I experienced that myself many times. I watched my master work for so long, by cutting charcoal next to him or assisting him directly, that I know intuitively what to do. The other day I surprised myself again, because I had to do something I had never done, and I couldn’t remember how to do it at all. But when I sat at the forge, my hands knew what to do! I knew every step and I just did it. It was a proof that japanese apprenticeship is the best way to learn. You don’t need to fill your brain with theories and explanations. Just observe very attentively a competent craftsman, and then do it. Observe again, and do it again. No need to talk, no need to explain.

Traditionally, apprentices lived with their master’s family, being part of the family. That meant they also participated in daily chores. Newcomers would help the wife cook and clean around. Not much forging for the first year. Nowadays there are many different situation, including the classical one, because japanese swordsmiths are not rich, and cannot always take charge of additional family members.

In my case, for the first three years of my apprenticeship, I was teaching English on week-ends, and visited my master daily on weekdays. That meant no day off for a year or so, and then only Sundays. From the fourth year, however, I’m lucky enough to have a mixture of much support from my wife, and then a tiny bit of English teaching (a couple of hours per month) and some side business (I act as a broker for western sword owners who want to purchase a sword, or get one restored or appraised).

I also spent three weeks at my master’s own master, the traditional way. Like my master used to say, the only free time you have is on the toilet and in the bath! Otherwise, every minute is controlled and directed by your master, and there’s no procrastinating around. From 5h25 in the morning to 23h00 at night, it was work, with a total of 1h40m for three meals and one tea break. It’s good to develop one’s skills. It’s very bad for one’s social skills

I read that you didn’t practice any fencing martial art. How can you know or understand the requirements of certain practitioners who use a katana?

When you seriously get into making something, very often you understand more than those who use it. I’m sure that F1 engineers understand what happens during a race than the pilots. The pilots are more intuitive, and they have experience. The engineers understand problems of gravity, g-force, rubber against pavement friction, engine combustion, engine power transfered to wheels, direction, aerodynamics, etc.. A fine swordsmith understands very well what a fine sword should be. We get so intimate with each blade we know them by heart.

For example, we understand how well a sword can cut, without actually cutting something, by feeling the nature (hardness, brittleness, “tightness”, etc) of the steel when we forge it, by feeling its reaction when we quench it, and by feeling its nature while shaping it with drawknives, files and polishing stones. Moreover, when a polisher works on a sword, he understands just as much how good the sword is.

Cutting power is just, after all, determined by blade geometry and the hardness-toughness of a steel.

And yes, it works: we agree with sword users and they agree with us!

This being said, I practiced Aikido – will practice again when I get near a dojo again! – and I practice kenjutsu katas with a bokken sometimes. It doesn’t have much to do with my work, it’s just to keep me in shape

Why did you choose to become a smith rather than a polisher or fittings maker ?

It’s really the environment of the swordsmith that reached me. Working in the forge, by the live fire, pumping the bellows, shaping steel into such beauty and elegance.. I can’t get enough! Beside, it’s the one main element of creation: all other trades revolve around swords, but we swordsmiths make the swords. It’s a little bit like comparing the trade of a painter with a frame maker and an oil paint manufacturer..

They’re all equally important, but they all revolve around the painter. I’m not saying I want the world to revolve around me (actually it’s the opposite, if I had a choice), but the swordsmith is the creator and creating is my breathing. I need it to live. So it’s the freedom to create and the context of work.

A special trade is polishing, though. I have infinite respect for the polisher’s work. It’s tedious and very very very difficult! People who think they can polish without training are usually very wrong. It’s infinitely complex, and without the polisher’s work the swordsmith’s work would be invisible. I could never do it myself, though!

The very idea of working alone, at peace, retired in a workshop set in the countryside, nearby a fire, with steel only for raw material, doing a work that never ceases to bring renewal and wonder, delighted him very much and In December 2005 he decided to chase his dreams and took of to Japan to start his Smith apprenticeship.

Now, anno 2009, he is still living and studying there and his aim is to become a licensed (westerner) swordsmith in Japan.
To quote Pierre :

“I’m at this point where I have touched everything, tried every technique but haven’t mastered anything! It’s very challenging and stimulating at the same time.”

I’m not sure about you but I’m very curious in such a way of living and Pierre is willing to accept questions and doing an interview..so…
Wondering how it is to chase an living your dream, this is your chance !!

Put your questions (regarding Japanese Swords) in the comment box below, or in the box on the right side of  this video and we make sure they got included in the interview. If there’s enough interest, we might plan to do some other things as well

So what would you like to ask to PIERRE ?