The Unexpected Story Behind Kitagawa Bisen’s Chopstick Rests

I have always loved using chopstick rests in my table settings and collecting different ones throughout the years. They may be small, but they are an easy way to add a little personality to the table, and our guests often notice and ask about them.

They may not be the first thing you think of with Arita ware (有田焼, Arita-yaki). At Kitagawa Bisen kiln, though, they've turned everyday objects into tiny porcelain chopstick rests (箸置き, hashioki) full of personality.

When I visited their workshop in Arita, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. At first, I thought they were simply a fun take on traditional Japanese ceramics. But as we sat down and talked, I learned that there was much more behind them. Their story is about a family of ceramic makers, an unexpected period of experimentation, and the many people working behind the scenes to keep Arita ware alive.

Kitagawa Bisen kiln’s story spans several generations of porcelain craftsmanship:

• 1951 (Post-War Origins): Kitagawa Ihee (北川伊平) establishes Kitagawa Togei kiln. The workshop gains popularity producing small porcelain animal figurines—like dogs, cats, and rabbits—as souvenirs for American military personnel stationed near Sasebo.
• 1987 (Independent Workshop): Ihee’s son-in-law, Minoru, and his son establish Kitagawa Bisen kiln independently. For their first decade, they operate out of a kiln yard behind the family home before moving to their current workshop.
• Focus on Carving over Painting: Unlike traditional Arita ware known primarily for painted tableware, Kitagawa Bisen focuses almost exclusively on carved porcelain—creating detailed figurines, lidded vessels, small dishes, and a vast variety of chopstick rests.

“We have almost nothing in tableware,” I was told.

“Our strength is in carving more than painting. So we make as much as we can of what can be expressed through carving.”

That difference helps explain Kitagawa Bisen’s playful style.

Like many businesses, Kitagawa Bisen faced real uncertainty during the COVID-19 pandemic. Much of its work was connected to restaurants and the hospitality industry, and as they struggled, the kiln did too.

“The food service work was gone, and there was nothing to do. The reason chopstick rests multiplied so much was because of COVID.”

With fewer orders to fill, the brothers suddenly had something they rarely had before: time. They began using the unexpected downtime to experiment with new ideas. Chopstick rests were particularly suited to this period because their small size meant the brothers could create the master models and molds themselves.

One of the first ideas came from a pantry staple. 

"The very first one was mayonnaise, which we started at the beginning of COVID." 

More ideas followed quickly, including oden (おでん), dango (団子), a manta ray, and even a polar bear. One design soon became dozens.

With so much uncertainty, the brothers weren't sure where these designs would lead. No customer was necessarily waiting for each new one. I asked if this had been the plan, and the answer was an immediate no. 

"Really, there was just nothing to do."

Then, something surprising happened. 

“We kept making whatever we found interesting, and when we started releasing them bit by bit after COVID, the response was pretty good.” 

Customers loved them. What started as a way to experiment during a quiet period had unexpectedly become one of Kitagawa Bisen’s signatures.

Despite their small size, these chopstick rests take a lot more work than I first thought. 

The brothers carve the original forms by hand. What matters is that each design can be reproduced in porcelain at scale. 

"First, we think about something no one else has done," they explained.

Once they have a master model, they make molds to streamline production. They can form small batches of molds in-house, while a specialist handles larger-scale production. 

That distinction was important. During our talk, they emphasized that while the kiln handles original designs and carving, it is also part of a much larger network of specialists that have supported ceramic production in Arita for generations.

One detail really surprised me: a mold can only be used about 100 times before its fine details begin to fade and it needs to be replaced.

Now, when I see the little mayonnaise chopstick rest on our table, I think about the original carving, the mold, the porcelain, and all the people involved in making something so small.