In other words you have to let your intuition be a guide. When you’re swinging a sharp piece of steel that is wedged onto a bent wood handle, chipping away at wood inches from your feet, you must develop a sense of control and fluidity with the tool. But more than other tools, I think using a chouna really embodies that statement. You often hear woodworkers and carpenters talking about tools becoming an extension of their body, and I don’t disagree. ![]() After a bit of cleaning and sharpening I got the blade back in shape, but my first attempts at using the tool were pretty crude. ![]() The handle was split and wrapped in some kind of tape to keep the splitting at bay, and it was rusty as can be. My first chouna was a gift from a retired carpenter who we just happened to meet on our second trip to Japan around 2017. That does seem to be changing though, with a trickle of information slowing making it’s way to the internet and youtube. I’ve been fascinated with chouna and the finishes they can produce for a long time, but there’s really very little information about how to use them. ![]() As carpentry tools go, adzes are certainly not unique to Japan but the level of refinement and variety of finishes that carpenters in Japan have developed using these tools, is something I’ve never seen anywhere else. One of the more unique tools used in Japanese carpentry is the chouna (adze).
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