The Japanese proverb “Kōbō fude o erabazu” (弘法筆を選ばず), often translated as “A master does not choose his tools,” is widely known in Japan. It implies that a true expert can produce excellent results regardless of the tools they are given. This saying is frequently cited in fields beyond calligraphy—such as business, sports, and the arts—as a reminder to focus on skill rather than equipment.
However, when we take a closer look at the historical figure behind this proverb—Kūkai (known posthumously as Kōbō Daishi)—we discover that the phrase may not reflect reality. In fact, the man himself was quite particular about his tools, especially his writing brushes.
This article delves into the deeper cultural and historical meanings of the saying, examining Kūkai’s actual approach to calligraphy and the role of brushes in Japanese writing culture.
The Surface Meaning of the Proverb
The phrase “Kōbō fude o erabazu” is usually interpreted to mean that a true master can perform well under any conditions and doesn’t complain about inferior tools. It’s often used as a kind of tough-love reminder: “Don’t blame your tools—hone your skills.”
In the world of calligraphy, for instance, if someone struggles with a brush, they might be told, “Even Kōbō Daishi didn’t choose his brush.” But this usage may distort the original context and Kūkai’s real philosophy.
Did Kūkai Actually Choose His Brushes?
Kūkai (774–835) was a monk, scholar, and artist who traveled to Tang-dynasty China and brought back esoteric Buddhism (Mikkyō), along with advanced knowledge in arts and culture. His contributions to Japanese calligraphy are immense.
Choosing Brushes According to Purpose
Historical records and traditions suggest that Kūkai carefully selected his brushes depending on the style and function of the writing:
- For kaisho (standard script): a firm, short brush
- For gyōsho (semi-cursive script): a more flexible, longer brush
- For sōsho (cursive script): a soft, flowing brush
- For sutra copying: a thin, sharp brush for precision
He even experimented with brush-making techniques and is said to have created custom brushes using various types of animal hair—such as raccoon or rabbit—each selected for their unique writing qualities.
Why Did the Saying “Kōbō Does Not Choose His Brush” Spread?
Given Kūkai’s careful attention to his brushes, why did the opposite image become so widespread?
Proverbs often take on a life of their own, detaching from historical accuracy in favor of utility. Imagine this common situation: someone is asked to write calligraphy at a guest’s request but is handed a subpar brush. The host, apologizing, says, “Sorry the brush is poor,” to which someone quips, “But Kōbō didn’t choose his brush!” Over time, this kind of casual usage gave rise to a public perception that Kūkai worked with whatever tools he had—regardless of the truth.
Selecting Tools Is a Sign of Mastery
For professional calligraphers and brushmakers today, choosing the right brush is a serious matter. Traditional Chinese criteria for a fine brush—sen, sei, en, ken (sharpness, uniformity, roundness, resilience)—are still valued.
Thus, just like Kūkai, modern experts insist that choosing the proper tools is not a sign of weakness or fussiness, but a hallmark of a true professional.
Conclusion: In Truth, Kūkai Did Choose His Brush
Rather than accepting the proverb at face value, we might interpret “Kōbō fude o erabazu” as a kind of ironic statement—because the real Kūkai was deeply engaged in the careful selection, design, and use of brushes.
His attention to detail, deep understanding of materials, and ability to match tools with writing style are precisely what made him a calligraphic master. That’s why his works still resonate with us centuries later.
Kūkai was Kūkai because he chose his brush.
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