Kōgei Ring

Shaped From 999 Fine Silver

Hand-hammered using the traditional tsuchime technique, each piece is shaped one strike at a time.

We say shaped rather than made, because the hammer does more than give form. It teaches the silver how to endure. Each strike compresses it, strengthens it, gives it a kind of memory.

Rhythm and restraint

Tsuchime is guided by rhythm.

Too much force and the surface becomes restless.

Too little and it feels lifeless.

When done well, light moves gently across it, never harsh, never still. As the ring is worn, it grows more expressive, more settled. Eventually, it stops feeling like something you put on, and starts feeling like something that belongs to you — aging alongside your hand, without resistance.

Origins: Strength Before Beauty

This way of working has very old roots.

Long before silver was admired for its beauty, it was valued for its strength. As early as the Kofun and Asuka periods, metalworkers relied on hammering to shape and reinforce tools, ritual objects, and fittings. Surface marks were incidental then. What mattered was integrity. What mattered was survival.

Beauty came later, when craftsmen began to notice that these marks carried something more — evidence of judgment, patience, and care.

The Rise of Tsuchime (槌目) - A Language Of Restraint

By the Heian period, hammer marks were no longer hidden. They were composed. Balanced. Left visible on purpose.

Tsuchime became a language of restraint — shaping light without polish, strengthening silver without alloying, allowing the hand of the maker to remain present.

Edo Period: Living With History

During the Edo period, this way of thinking spread into daily life. Hammered silver appeared in tea utensils, incense containers, personal adornments.

Objects meant to be used, touched, and lived with. They aged well. They hid wear. Patina was not decay — it was completion.

Modern Era: A Practice That Requires A Human Touch

Even now, in a time of machines and repetition, tsuchime survives because it cannot be convincingly copied. A machine can repeat a pattern, but it cannot know when to stop. It cannot feel when the surface is complete.

That judgment — that restraint — is what we’re trying to preserve.

We want you to know this because these tsuchime pieces are not meant to impress quickly. They’re meant to stay. To quiet themselves into your life. To grow more beautiful the longer they’re worn.