At our atelier, around 200 craftspeople of all ages work side by side—each with a different background, but all sharing the same dedication to true artisanal craft. Some bring decades of experience and mentor the next generation, while others contribute fresh perspectives and new ideas.

Craftsperson Fukuda, a skilled master in his 50s with 44 years of experience, began his career in bag making upon graduating junior high school. Discover his journey, and what he's come to value ​​most as a craftsperson today.

My family lived on the second floor of my uncle's workshop, so from a young age, I saw him work almost every day and developed an interest in his craft. The bag industry was thriving back then, and my uncle was doing very well, with a big house and a nice car. I considered continuing my education, but I decided instead to learn a trade early … which is what led me to ask my uncle to take me on as an apprentice.

I had known my uncle as a gentle person, but once I was his apprentice, he became exceptionally strict. I think he was harder on me because we were family. After just one week, I told him “I want to quit.” He accepted this without argument—but somehow, the very next day I went back to the workshop and pleaded with him to take me back in (chuckling).

My master wasn't the type to teach things step by step. I think that was true of most craftsmen back then; they believed skills should be acquired through observation. He would suddenly tell me to do a task I had no experience with, and when I struggled, he would scold me: “What have you been watching all this time?”

So for a while I was in over my head, but I gradually learned by constantly watching my master and colleagues out of the corner of my eye. But the work ethic and eagerness I developed during that time is something I cherish to this day.

When I turned 20, my brother decided to go independent, and I left the workshop with him. After some years of refining my skills, I established my own practice in my late twenties. When I returned to thank my former master, he said in a gentle voice; “it’s a good thing you didn’t quit back then.” I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I burst into tears.

But that wasn't all; he also told me,
"The real challenge is yet to come. You can never become average at everything. You have to become the craftsman that people choose, saying 'This bag has to be made by Fukuda.'"
My master was someone who actually received such requests—so these words rung true. Even now, I keep them in my heart as a reminder to myself.

Once I became independent, he started explaining things to me carefully in words, wherever I went to him for advice. I felt acknowledged as an independent craftsperson, which made me happy. But once, my master scolded me severely for accidentally stepping over a bag.
"Don't you feel anything about stepping over a bag you made yourself? If you make things with such a careless attitude, the results will only be shoddy!" he said.

This is just one example of how he continued to instill me with the principles and attitudes that are essential for a craftsperson. What I learned from my master wasn't just the technical skills, but also a sincere and honorable approach to the craft.

Being independent was difficult in new ways. Apprenticing was challenging too, but all I had to do was follow instructions. As newly independent craftsperson, I suddenly had to think for myself and take responsibility for everything. I had bought a house and built a workshop, so I had a lot of debt, and there was a great deal of pressure.

Back then, my priority was efficient production. Quality was a given, of course, but anyone can achieve quality if they take their time. The ability to deliver large quantities is the mark of a truly skilled craftsman. I was constantly thinking about efficiency and experimenting with my methods—and the skills I acquired then have become foundational to how I approach my work today.

After 13 years of working independently, I joined a well-known overseas brand doing authorized repairs. It was only for a year, but the repair expertise I gained there led me to my job here as a repair master. The first thing I noticed when I joined Tsuchiya Kaban was the presence of young craftspeople, and the energetic atmosphere of the atelier. Today, it's become more common to see younger craftspeople in a workshop environment, but back then, people still said things like “a craftsperson in their 60s is still green,” so the age diversity really intrigued me.

I worked on Randoseru for the first two years, which was a refreshing experience for me after mainly working on handbags and purses. Technique-wise, handbags typically belong to a category of items that are constructed and then turned inside out at the end. Randoseru however, are crafted using a method similar to that of luggage trunks, attaché cases, and other box-shaped items. It was unknown territory and a challenge, but thanks to that experience, my skills and process have evolved greatly.

After working at various stations here, I'm now back to doing repair work. What stands out about repairs is that everything I work on is a one-of-a-kind piece, personally entrusted to me by our customers. These are irreplaceable items filled with sentimental value. In other words, if I make a mistake, that's it; so I have to handle everything with extreme care.

This also means that each item requires an individualized approach. In addition to the unique characteristics and wear and tear, every piece comes with the customer's personal preferences. Some people want new parts, while others don't, because they prefer the worn-in look. All this to say flexibility and innovation is an essential part of repair.

Repair work is unique in that it requires both careful disassembly and reassembly. Stitching cannot be undone all at once—doing so could damage the leather or widen the holes—so each thread must be removed one stitch at a time. Reassembly is even more demanding. Because the leather already has existing stitch holes, the needle must pass through each one precisely; even a slight misalignment can cause tearing. It’s work that requires intense focus and precision.

Despite the challenge, it feels deeply meaningful. The pieces that come in for repair are clearly loved. They're well-used and well-maintained, and for some bags, it's not the first time they're coming in for repair. I think of them as “happy bags,” and working on them brings me great joy and motivation. I hope to continue caring for these cherished pieces and meeting our customers’ expectations to the best of my abilities.