You hear the lathe before you see the shop. Naruko's hot spring town runs uphill for a long way, and along the slope, between the bathhouses and the inns, sit the workshops of the kokeshi makers, one every few doors. The turning of the wood and the brushwork that follows are both visible from the street, and neither is performed for an audience; the doors are open because the light and the air are better that way.

In September the town holds its national kokeshi festival, with makers invited to demonstrate and a corner where visitors can try the painting themselves, which is harder than it looks and easier than it sounds. Naruko dolls are made with the head fitted into the body rather than glued, and some of them squeak when you turn it, which nobody set out to achieve and everybody tests. Ōsaki's town centre is forty minutes away by car, far enough that the town runs on its own rhythm through the week. The makers are ageing, and notices asking for successors appear from time to time in the windows.

A workshop on a spa slope is not an accident. Guests who stayed for weeks created a demand for something to take home, and the mountains that supplied the wood were close enough to make the supply cheap. Remove either half and the craft would not have lasted here, which is worth remembering while you are turning a doll's head to see whether it makes a sound. The slope helps too: everything is arranged along one climb, so the walk between two workshops is short enough that you keep going, and long enough to hear the next lathe start up.