Sharing Sensations in Wood Carving Teaching
When I teach sculpture to students, one of the biggest challenges I face is sharing the subtle sensations involved.
Even when I explain things clearly while demonstrating the carving process, students sometimes freeze up, unsure of what to do.
Looking back, I was the same way. When I first received guidance from my master, I could only vaguely grasp what he was trying to convey. Watching him carve, I tried to imitate his movements, but it never quite worked. The same was true when sharpening chisel—no matter how closely I followed his method, I couldn’t achieve the same sharpness.
Now, when I discuss technical matters with my master, misunderstandings like that rarely happen.
What changed between then and now? One key factor comes to mind: a difference in sensory perception.
Because we are all unique individuals, our five senses—sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste—naturally differ. So even when a carving technique is described in words or demonstrated visually, your senses won’t perfectly overlap with your master’s. This “sensory gap” makes it difficult to fully understand or replicate what’s being conveyed.
Bridging this gap is challenging.It’s like arriving in a foreign country where you don’t understand the language or customs. But since it’s a foreign place, it’s okay not to understand everything immediately. What matters most is remembering the explanations given and the context in which they were offered. Then, with patience and continued practice, you start to imagine what those sensations mean.
As you keep carving, there will come a moment when the meaning suddenly clicks—when the words and feelings align in your mind.
When I teach, I always look forward to witnessing that moment in my students.
Of course, I also learn new things from them. Whenever I see a student carve with a sensibility different from mine, it excites me. I think, “Ah, so there are other ways to approach this.”
In society, we often talk about “sharing information,” but this is something deeper—a form of communication I’d call “sensory sharing.” It’s not easy, but it’s a connection I want to treasure.