When friends come over, KAGO turns into a holder for a wine bottle. I bend the square wire mesh a little at a time, and the flat tin gradually lifts into shape, letting out a faint crackling sound as it goes—what Nousaku calls "tin cry," the sound tin makes as its crystal structure shifts.
I first learned about Takaoka copperware, a traditional metalwork craft, during a trip to Toyama. It was at a Nousaku shop there that I bought this KAGO. It has remained in my room ever since.
In the kitchen, it becomes a wine holder. On my bookshelf, it props up a photo book I love. When I want to set out dried flowers, it takes the shape of a vase. It also can serve as a fruit basket. There is no fixed answer—I simply work it into whatever shape is needed, each time.
Made of 100% pure tin, the KAGO bends with gentle pressure. The mesh pattern looks almost like a maze—something a little grown-up and a little delicate at once. The soft, dull shine of the tin feels warmer than you would expect from metal.
Every time I reshape it, I catch myself listening for that small sound. Hearing it makes me feel like I am doing a bit of grown-up crafting—shaping something out of my own head using nothing but my hands. It is simply enjoyable. Over time, listening for that sound with every adjustment became a quiet habit.
Nousaku is a metal foundry founded in 1916 in Takaoka, Toyama Prefecture. It originally manufactured Buddhist altar fittings, tea ceremony tools, and flower vases. In 2003, the company began developing tableware made from 100% pure tin, designing modern cast pieces suited to changing daily lives.
The KAGO series grew out of that work. While most commercial tin items blend in other metals to add hardness, Nousaku's KAGO uses 100% pure tin—leaning into that natural softness so a flat frame can be pulled and bent into a basket shape by hand.
A room that feels like my own often brings matching furniture or a single consistent style to mind. But giving an object you already own whatever shape it needs, moment to moment, may be another way of relating to your space.
Whether it holds up a wine bottle, a photo book, or dried flowers, I am the one who decides, every time.
Reshaping it has quietly become a way of thinking about what makes a room feel like my own. Once I've settled on one shape, I'm already wondering what the next one could be.
Every time I bend it, I find myself listening for that small sound. And even now, imagining what shape comes next still gives me a little thrill.