The Sumo table

Sumo bout between Shiranui Dakuemon (Kumamoto Pref.) and Koyanagi Jokichi (Chiba Pref.), by Kunisada (c. 1840)

Here’s the story of a simple table Project that became something more.

Up to this point, all of my Asian table Projects had been based on a Korean desk design, so, for diversity’s sake, I decided that my next table was going to be Japanese-inspired. Traditional Korean desks have rectilinear leg boards, whereas, many Edo period (1600-1868) Japanese writing desks display attractive, curved edges. That was the inspiration. In design, I could extend the height to accommodate a shelf and this would then become a coffee table Project. Cutting the curves would also let me use my father’s old Rockwell 14 inch bandsaw, recently transplanted into the workshop. This sturdy machine dates to the 1980s and, now fitted with a 1/4 inch band for shaped cuts, its use will allow me to keep my 17 inch Grizzly version dedicated to a bigger blade for re-sawing and other hefty tasks.

Aside from the finished dimensions, the only remaining design decisions would be the actual leg pattern and the wood. Mulberry is a hardwood that was used in Japan for desks and was prized for its beautiful grain that would darken over time. Today, mulberry lumber is difficult to source, but African mahogany is not and it would be the alternative used. The leg pattern is what defines this piece. The challenge, as I saw it, was to incorporate flowing curves that would still look appropriate for a piece that would be twice the height of the few original reference drawings at my disposal.

Edo period writing desks, from: Koizumi K. Traditional Japanese Furniture, A Definitive Guide, K. Koizumi, Kodansha International: Tokyo, 1986.

Three other alterations would be made: the addition of a shelf; the consequent removal of the two “navel” openings; and omission of the bottom, tatami-zuri (Jp.) board. The tatami-zuri element, affixed beneath leg pieces, are commonly found in East Asian furniture where they served to protect the floor coverings from wear by otherwise narrower, weight-bearing contact points. They are, in fact, vestiges of much earlier East Asian furniture, where their presence was vital for carcass stability and to protect the legs from damp stone floors. I have incorporated tatami-zuri into some of my cabinets, but their use today on hardwood can be problematic, often serving only to highlight the humps in our floors. Without this feature, then, it would make sense to define individual “feet” into the sides. Introduction of a shelf might also necessitate enlarging the mid-section “waist” so that, in use, stored magazines or books would not protrude out of the sides and ruin the profile. (Did I mention that my Projects are inspired by Asian aesthetics and are not replicates?) To decide on the final form I sketched chimeras comprised of varied anatomical parts, and then mixed-and-matched from there to select a harmonious set of curves defining the shoulder, waist and foot. In the end, it would be 18 inches in height and quite a departure from the original inspiration, but (to me) still Japanese in form.

The rest of the Project consisted of prepping the lumber, cutting to final length and shape, mortising, chiseling, fitting, glueing, sanding and finishing. In sum, all of the woodworking enjoyment spared from this narrative. However, something notable happened as the leg pieces were taking shape that transformed the meaning of this piece. In practice, the curved edge of each leg board is sawed as two halves that have been previously stacked and taped together. This allows the profile to be cut on both sides of a leg simultaneously so that when glued together a perfectly symmetrical shape will result. (Imagine trimming a pattern along the edge of a book and then opening it to reveal a butterfly.) The half-profile outline of this piece resembled a noble urn, but when cut and paired together, my shoulder/waist/foot patterns formed the likeness of an actual person - a stout, muscular Sumo! To my eye there was no other way to see it. Further, as I began sanding and finishing the legs (a very intimate experience for woodworkers where they closely inspect the texture, grain and colors of the wood) I found that each leg/wrestler had their own personality. One wrestler appeared wholesome and friendly with the characteristic tuxedo striping of quarter sawn mahogany. The other wrestler was dark with patches of wildly figured grain that revealed a troubled upbringing. This revelation created a new obligation. If I were to mount these two combatants 28 inches apart - for the rest of their lives - I must also provide a wrestling ring (dohyō) and somehow capture the essence of their perpetual bout. The shelf and table top might serve this purpose and, fortuitously, I had yet to procure the wood for these features that now had something to represent. At the lumber yard I looked for wide boards that would furnish a complete shelf and only require a single glued seam down the middle to make the top. I picked through the pile of a dozen such boards until I uncovered the most quarrelsome looking plank of the lot. It’s grain pattern was dark and turbulent - gnarled, gouged, perfect! In the end, these same qualities would make it a challenge to smooth and finish, but this also seemed fitting.

The conjoined top of the completed Project now looms above the wooden dohyō. It grapples in opposed chatoyance, and the bout continues.