— Everything Began With That Ring, Ten Years Ago —
When morning light filters down onto the quiet cobblestone paths, and the echo of the anvil rings out, I find myself thinking of one particular family.
It was a spring day, exactly twelve years ago.
The Beginning: A Daughter’s Simple Wish
That day, a young woman in her mid-twenties entered my workshop, accompanied by her father.
“Hello. I’ve come with my dad. I was hoping to ask you to make our wedding rings.”
She spoke shyly, while her father gave a reserved, somewhat awkward bow behind her.
Later, I learned that she had asked him many times to come with her that day.
“Ever since my mother passed, I hadn’t really spent time facing my father properly.
But now that I’m getting married, I wanted to reconnect with him.”
There was a quiet warmth in her eyes as she spoke.
Choosing Patterns as a Father and Daughter
Mokume Gane rings come in many patterns—straight-grained masame, swirling uzumoku, or irregular tamamoku, like speckles or knots in wood.
The two of them sat side by side on a bench, studying each pattern in silence.
The daughter picked up a tamamoku piece.
“This one’s a little irregular… but I think that’s what makes it interesting.”
Her father, looking at a swirling uzumoku pattern, said:
“This one looks just like tree rings.”
In the end, they chose different patterns—a combination of contrasts.
It’s not unusual for a bride and groom to choose different patterns,
but in that moment, I felt that their choices mirrored the very history between them.
“I Want My Father to Give the Ring”
I crafted the rings layer by layer, heating, hammering, shaping—just as I always do.
But then, the daughter made a request that took me by surprise:
“On our wedding day, I don’t want to give him the ring myself.
I want my father to hand it to him—
and say, ‘Please take care of my daughter.’
That would mean the world to me.”
And so it was.
They sent me a video of the ceremony later.
The father, slightly embarrassed but looking him straight in the eye, said “Take care of her” and passed the ring.
The groom, holding back tears, accepted it solemnly.
And the daughter, watching them both, placed her hand gently over her heart.
It was in that moment that I knew—
This was the reason I make rings.
A Decade Later, They Returned
One spring morning, ten years later, I received an email.
Subject: “May I ask you again?”
“This is [Name]—ten years ago, my father and I came to your studio to make my wedding ring.
I’m expecting a baby next month.
I was wondering if I could order a necklace with the same pattern,
as a keepsake.
My father said he’d come with me again.”
For an artisan, there’s no greater joy than this.
When they visited the studio again, they sat quietly, just like before, gazing at the patterns—saying little, but speaking of the future.
They chose the same combination: uzumoku and tamamoku.
This time, not for themselves—but for a new life.
Watching them, I discreetly wiped the corner of my eye.
Mokume Gane: The Art of Preserving Time
Mokume Gane rings bear patterns.
But I believe they’re more than just decoration.
They are shapes that encapsulate the time shared between people.
Two lives overlapping, wavering, changing—
Becoming one.
To record that transformation in metal, layer by layer—
That is my craft.
And that’s why nothing brings me greater happiness than to see Mokume Gane quietly accompany the turning points of a family’s life.
In Closing
The pattern chosen by a father and daughter ten years ago still connects them today.
That ring, its shine deepened by time, is now ready to embrace a new story.
If you, too, are searching for a shape that can reflect memories with your family or the path ahead—
Please, come visit this quiet little workshop.
A small ring, forged by fire, hammer, and hand,
might one day become the proof of a great and lasting bond.
✍️ Written & Crafted by Kunio Takada
(Mokume Gane Artisan, Kyoto Higashiyama)