Akihisa Yamamoto introduces “magic mirrors” (The Asahi Shimbun)

Photo/Illutration Akihisa Yamamoto poses for the camera, with a “magic mirror” in his hands, in Kyoto’s Shimogyo Ward. An image of the Amitabha Buddha is seen in a spot of light by his side, reflected by another magic mirror carrying the same patterns. (Takaharu Yagi)

KYOTO--At first glance this mirror looks just like any other, but shining a light on it reflects an image of the Amitabha Buddha on the wall.

Another reveals an image of Jesus Christ on the cross.

These sort of “magic mirrors” were manufactured extensively in the Edo Period (1603-1867), during which time underground Christians used them to worship their faith in secret. Some have suggested that bronze mirrors of ancient times may have also had similar functions.

The age-old skills for making these magic mirrors are being preserved today at Yamamoto Gokin Seisakusho, a workshop in Kyoto’s Shimogyo Ward founded in the late Edo Period--the only remaining maker of magic mirrors in Japan, according to its representatives.

The late Shinji Yamamoto, a third-generation proprietor of the studio, revived the technology to make them in 1974, after it was lost for about half a century. He did so after a Western scholar showed interest in its manufacturing.

The skills to make them are currently maintained by 72-year-old Fujio, a fourth-generation master, and his son Akihisa, 46. The father-and-son pair made a magic mirror in the style of Japan’s hidden Christians that was presented to Pope Francis in 2014.

Magic mirrors have also appeared in works of fiction, including anime and video games, and Akihisa said his studio receives special commissions for them from overseas artists.

“I want to have this technology preserved,” he said. “What is not needed, however, will not survive. So, I hope to go on working to spread knowledge of this technology to the greatest extent possible.”

A DELICATE PROCESS

Akihisa explained that unevenness forms on a mirror surface in patterns embossed on the back side when it is ground down to a certain thinness.

The unevenness is too small to be discernible to the naked eye, but exposing it to light causes a diffuse reflection that picks up the patterns, according to the fifth-generation craftsman.

The manufacturing process requires a succession of delicate tasks.

Molten copper and tin are poured into a patterned mold to make a casting. The cast-metal object is then ground by using four sorts of files and three sorts of tools called “sen.”

It takes only half a day to grind an ordinary mirror, but the process requires a full month to make a magic mirror.

The more the surface is ground, the clearer the projected image. But the work necessitates the utmost attention because the mirror surface will break if it is ground too much.

“That means all your efforts over the past month are wasted, and you have to start all over from scratch,” Akihisa said. “Your mind goes completely blank. About the only thing you could do on a day that happens is to have a glassful and give yourself a change. So, too much ambition, and you’ll end up going the longer way around.”

Once a mirror has been ground to a satisfactory level of thinness, its surface still must be polished carefully with a whetstone and two sorts of charcoal. The whole process is finished off with nickel plating.

Akihisa said he sets aside somewhere between two to six months for finishing a magic mirror that measures 20 centimeters across, with time included in the event of mistakes.

Magic mirrors have captivated the hearts of many, including Takahiro Onishi, a 45-year-old vocalist who lives in Kyoto. He fell in love with the mirrors at first sight when he saw Akihisa show one off at an event about three years ago.

He asked to visit the Yamamoto workshop and bought a magic mirror that projects the image of a Sanskrit character. He said he rests the mirror on a Shinto altar at his home and he shines his smartphone light on it from time to time to project the pattern.

“Illuminate a mirror that is only showing your own face, and you suddenly see something that is quite different,” Onishi said. “That makes me feel as if I were seeing the joy and sorrow in a human being. That sort of allows me to face up to what I really am.”