My Plasterer Father and the World of Picture Books

[Scene 1] The Beginning Red

It all began with a casual remark from my mother.

"Make me a miniature tree stump."

In response to that request, my father crafted for the first time

a slightly clumsy, yet warm, red tree stump.

It was the moment when my father's fingertips, which had worked as a plasterer for 46 years,

transformed a family wish into a "tangible object."

That is the origin of NoelHatch.

Norio Takeuchi, recipient of the Yellow Ribbon Medal, a first-class plasterer.
He works with inorganic cement.

Yet, what emerges from his hands is

the sensation of frozen bark and the breath of stones aged over time.

He taps, carves, and refines.

His creations, so captivating they were once stolen,

are not mere pots, but "forest relics" that age with their owners.

"A craftsman who has received the Yellow Ribbon Medal must be able to create perfectly from the start."

That's often assumed, but the reality is quite different.

Before this one piece we hold in our hands came into being, the craftsman created over 100 prototypes.

Even my father, who has worked with cement for 46 years,

says that until the moment it's removed from the mold, he doesn't know what expression it will show or what color it will turn out to be.

It is this uncontrollable imperfection, and the fact that no two expressions are ever the same, that fills us with affection.

The colors and shapes are subtly different each time—.

This means that a unique, miraculous presence, unlike any mass-produced item, will arrive in your space.

"NoelHatch."
This place, coincidentally named after both my parents,

is my quiet declaration to them and to society.

At 17, confronted with the "disability" that defined me, I decided.

Instead of adapting to an organization, I would pursue a path of bringing the "authentic" things my father protected to the world.

A forest from a picture book that won't break even after 10 years

To those who have read this far, an invitation to forest living