[Artisan Name] works in Anji — the bamboo heartland of China. His workshop is a converted barn, open on three sides, where the wind carries the smell of fresh-cut bamboo.
Bamboo is not a material that can be rushed. After harvesting in winter, it must dry for three years before it is stable enough to work. [Artisan Name] has a rack of bamboo at every stage — one year, two years, three years — each batch marked with the date it was cut.
'I tried to speed it up once,' he says. 'Used a kiln. The bamboo cracked within six months. Never again.'
His pieces are simple — trays, holders, boxes. No decoration, no stain. The bamboo speaks for itself. The colour deepens over time, from pale green to warm honey, and the surface develops a sheen that cannot be replicated with polish.
'The beauty of bamboo is that it changes,' he says. 'A plastic tray looks the same on day one and day one thousand. Bamboo tells you where it has been.'