Woodworker's bowls yearn to tell stories and secrets of life

By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Staff Writer

It sounds weird if you've never seen his work, but it's true: Bob Hamada's wood bowls talk to you.

Bob Hamada's wood bowls are sanded with more than 15 grains of sandpaper and polished with kukui nut oil. Photo courtesy of Bob Hamada

Hamada himself is something of a talker. Catch him in a good mood at his Kaua'i studio and he'll tell the story of each work of art: where he got the wood, how he discovered its secret, how the piece almost shaped itself under his hands.

Of course, he won't sit still during the story. He'll be working his hands across a piece he's polishing. Or he'll be moving things around his work area. More likely, he'll be carrying a 200-pound log across the yard.

Pretty impressive for a man who turned 80 yesterday.

The secret of Hamada's art and longevity, according to his daughter Ann, is more than clean living and a healthy philosophy. It's duct tape.

"He purchases the tape in bulk, and, I believe, has forged a special relationship with the manufacturer," Ann writes from Yale, where she is doing graduate work in theater.

"Bowls are held together with the sticky silver strips. It mends broken slippers. It holds together broken tools. The challenge of creating a new use for (duct tape) has been a major source of inspiration for getting out of bed each morning."

Once you see Bob Hamada's work, you'll never look at a wood bowl the same again. Put aside any picture in your mind of a clunky monkey pod calabash. Hamada's bowls are wild and free, brimming with life, full of secrets to tell. Some of the pieces are so thin you can see light through the grain. All are painstakingly hand-polished with more than 15 grains of sandpaper and brought to a sheen with kukui nut oil, never varnish.

Ask to see Hamada's hands. His fingerprints have been worn away with the years of work. He'll tell you, "I'd make a good crook!" and his rascal eyes will shine.

Hamada's home and the home base for his art is at the base of the Kaua'i mountain known as "Sleeping Giant," tucked away at the end of a winding road and overgrown forest.

"I always said our house is just like the movie 'Field of Dreams,' " Ann says. "He makes the bowls; people come. Our house is not convenient to visit. Tourists usually get worried once they start seeing the fields of cows. But people always find us."

It's a idyllic setting, with chickens, dogs, horses, even a pig keeping Hamada company in the lush Kaua'i greenery. It's a peaceful place. Usually.

"Inevitably, the artwork literally explodes during the process of creation," Ann says. "When a bowl shattered on the lathe, my mother used to always tell me, 'If you don't hear him swearing in five minutes, he's dead.' "

The Kaua'i Museum is holding a special showing of Hamada's work through July 17. It's a retrospective of his lifetime's worth of art, including not-for-sale pieces that have never been shown publicly.

Hamada's work is in Boston's Museum of Fine Arts, the Detroit Institute of Fine Arts, in private collections around the world and in shows across the state. Still, his favorites he keeps for himself and for his three children.

Ann says the bowls ARE his children: "Each bowl is a creation that he has breathed life into and that is a being worthy of its own identity. Some children are loved more than others. Don't talk to him about the hau pig board that he accidentally sold years ago. His face will get wrinkly, his voice will become pained. He might even need to sit down. Then, when he's collected himself, he'll say with a chuckle, 'Don't mention that bowl.' (I mean it. Don't mention that bowl.)"

But do make an effort to meet Bob Hamada. Listen to his stories, listen to his bowls. They have a lot to say.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Her e-mail address is lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.