Any work, whatever it may be, must absolutely begin with a preface. It’s a stylistic exercise that allows the author to lay a solid foundation for what follows. Here, I’ll obviously be talking about the Japanese blades you can find at Stay Sharp, but I’ll regularly step outside this framework to address topics I consider important.
This first column will therefore explore the whys and wherefores—the reasons why we are drawn to use and cherish modern Japanese knives (and antique ones, for those fortunate enough to own them).
There is something profound about everything related, directly or indirectly, to Japanese blades. We live in a modern age filled with countless technologies. AI (Artificial Intelligence) is playing an increasingly prominent role in our lives, and it’s clear that many people are undergoing a real reevaluation of their personal and professional lives—a process that often leads to a career shift toward the arts and crafts. These are stories that many specialized magazines like to romanticize, and even if reality isn’t all rosy, it’s significant to see people leave behind everything they’ve spent a lifetime building to take a leap into the unknown.
Japanese kitchen knives have a direct lineage to the world of Japanese swords. When the Haitōrei Edict (廃刀令, “Sword Prohibition Edict”) was enacted in Japan on March 28, 1876, the Japanese people were prohibited from carrying weapons in public places. Naturally, katanas were at the forefront of this ban, and this brought a sudden halt to the production of these blades in blacksmiths’ workshops. The blacksmiths therefore had to face the facts: they needed to find new things to forge in order to avoid a slow decline. Tools for working the land and wood were among the first items to emerge during this large-scale shift, but kitchen knives were also part of it.
For me, there’s a fundamental difference between a sword and a kitchen knife, namely the object’s purpose, its ultimate goal:
Katana = instruments of death
Knife = feeding others There’s
No need to spell this out for you, as this comparison speaks for itself, but I find it very interesting to pause for a few minutes on this point:
In Buddhist philosophy, feeding others (“Dana,” the gift of food) is the first fundamental step on the spiritual path. Everyone knows how to cut things up to prepare a meal with varying degrees of skill, and the best tool for the job is the kitchen knife. It is therefore deeply connected to our way of life, whether it’s made in the East or the West. It is, therefore, a precious object, both for its aesthetics (form) and its utility (function): what I like to call “the Pinnacle of Applied Art.”
With this thought, I conclude this preface. I hope you enjoyed this stylistic exercise; I look forward to seeing you again very soon.
Photo Credits:
- Stay Sharp
- Benjamin Paldacci
- Japan Travel
