Every time we go on a trip to a new country, we try to cover a bit of the local non-menswear craft alongside the usual tailoring, shirtmaking and shoemaking. 

When we were in Japan a couple of years ago, we visited the master blade-maker Sasuke in Sakai. That turned out to be one of our favourite ever experiences, and it set the rest of Japanese craft in some context – their traditional attitude to apprentices, for example.

In Korea last year we did the same, this time visiting Cheyul, the country’s biggest and most modern proponent of traditional lacquer work. 

Lacquer is important to Korean heritage: it’s the kind of thing foreign dignitaries are often given as a gift. US President Joe Biden was given a four-drawer chest with red lacquer recently; LVMH’s Bernard Arnault was also given a piece when he visited. 

And the work is held up as art – a floor vase made by Cheyul is held by the Met in New York in its Arts of Korea gallery.

The lacquer comes from local trees and is tapped in the same way as maple syrup. It’s clear, but traditionally was dyed black or red, building up to 10 layers in order to create a deep, shimmering effect. Today synthetic dyes are used to create every colour. 

The technique also often involves mother-of-pearl, either covering objects or being delicately sliced to create patterns and pictures. This makes some of the results quite feminine, and popular uses today are for a bride’s wedding chest or jewellery and jewellery boxes. 

The designs can also be quite floral, which contributes to the same impression – like the inserts and handles on a chest like this.  

But Cheyul’s mission is to make the craft relevant as well as protecting it, so they work with current artists to apply it to new objects, such as guitars and tube amps. These pieces, which usually forego mother of pearl, look more masculine as well as more modern. 

The big room vase above is similar to the piece at the Met. It has a layer of hemp applied to the surface to create a natural texture, which the millions of slices of mother-of-pearl are then applied to. 

Compare that to these lattice chests, which are a modern interpretation of the same design – with an aluminium frame, less organic shape and angular decoration. The same technique is used on a slightly more traditional box below. 

The surfaces of those pieces really were stunning in person, and I think more intriguing on a smaller scale as in these boxes. But often the pieces that attracted me most were wooden tables and stools, perhaps because I loved that rich brown of the wood – and pieces with more expressionistic designs, such as this one. 

I wasn’t really shopping, as those little boxes were £500 and the furniture is in the thousands (‘price on request’ is never a good sign). But it’s fun to think what you would buy if you could, and it gave us an appreciation of a craft we previously knew nothing about. 

That was deepened when Alex [Natt, photographer] and I were surprisingly given the opportunity to make a piece ourselves. 

The parameters were, thankfully, limited. We each had a tray and a set of mother-of-pearl cut outs to arrange. It was hard to go wrong. 

We did our best though, often dropping slivers of pearl into the wet lacquer, and then finding it hard to turn them the right way up, let alone position them. God knows how anyone could create something precise and on a large scale. 

Thankfully, again, Alex neglected to take any photos of the finished result, so you’ll have to imagine our attempts. 

There are other makers of lacquer in Korea, but they are generally one or two artisans, and pieces are made to order. Cheyul, which was established in 1988 with a mission to make this craft more widely known, is the only one of any size with stock. 

It’s only available in Korea – in their shop, a hotel and a department store – but they apparently plan to expand overseas. There was an exhibition of the work in the Saatchi Gallery in London in 2015. 

For now, this is about appreciation of a new craft, and a recommendation to visit the shop if you’re in Seoul – it’s enormous, seemingly small at ground level but then going down and down for four floors. 

cheyul.com

For more from that Korea trip, see articles here