Compelling textures, mysterious forms and incredible skill: These are the vivid impressions of a visit to the exhibition "50 Masters of Contemporary Japanese Crafts," at Mitsukoshi's Nihonbashi store. Here are a hundred works in ceramics, textiles, lacquer, metal, wood, bamboo and the newer field of glass, all by established and rising stars, old enough to have mastered their skills, young enough to represent the here and now. This exhibition was originally organized for Mitsukoshi's Etoile gallery in Paris, where it attracted considerable attention. Two senior museum curators selected the artists, many of whom created items especially for the exhibition. From the gossamer fabric of Naomi Nakashima to the solid warmth of Akira Murayama's superb woodcarving, here are works that appeal to the senses, as well as the imagination.

Japanese crafts are justly renowned, but they have been in crisis for at least a century. In the midst of the Industrial Revolution, the poet Wordsworth warned that "getting and spending, we lay waste our powers." As we rush to the next big thing, can we still appreciate items made with hand, heart and mind?

Lacquerware is a good example. Many of us marvel at the antique writing boxes, sword stands and so on in museums, but this historical view may blind us to the fine work still being created. For modern lacquer artists, Japan's rich tradition presents a different problem. "One of the most difficult things is to move on from the wonderful things of each era, and find a new way," said exhibitor Kazumi Murose, at his recent one-man show. This ran for the first week of the "50 Masters" exhibition, and was an impressive display of about 40 items that had taken 10 years to create.

Murose specializes in maki-e, the decorative use of gold and silver, a technique that dates back to the Nara Period (8th century). He is known for his meticulous work, often applying gold speck by speck to achieve the desired result.

The son of a famous artisan, Murose studied for six years at the Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music. The following decade, he says, "was an extension of being a student. I tried everything!" But a turning point came when he was commissioned to create an exact replica of an Important Cultural Property, a Kamakura Period jewel box owned by the Great Shrine of Mishima. Only four or five specialists in the country could have undertaken such a project, and Murose devoted three years to the work. He had to rediscover lost skills and, for authenticity, re-create the precise materials used over six centuries ago. He said, "It opened my eyes to the art and techniques of the past and inspired new work." Although he is an innovator, his quiet, elegant designs build a floating bridge between past and present.

A complex piece, such as the small chest kodansu suisen (jonquil tansu) in the "50 Masters" exhibition, can take three years to make. Look closely at the decorative panels and you will see a rare depth and delicate shadowing to the masses of flowers. This is one of the distinctive skills that he has developed over many years.

His second piece for the main exhibition is a water vessel for the tea ceremony, with a flowing, abstract pattern of pampas grass, picked out in mother of pearl and gold. Instead of using wood, Murose molded the shape from linen. Picking up a sake cup, he showed me how the kanshitsu linen technique can create more malleable shapes than wood. Each cup in the set was slightly different, decorated simply with gold dust, which lay gleaming under many layers of rich lacquer, like treasure at the bottom of a mysterious well. Put on the table, the cup skittered playfully. "I like that," said Murose, "it has movement."

Perhaps potters have proved most resilient in our world of mass production. In this exhibition, ceramics range from the almost functional to the sculptural, from the rich fired earth colors of Hyoe Imai's broken-egg forms, to the exquisite slices of blue-white porcelain by Sueharu Fukami. The latter's work is most distinctive: great sweeps of duck-egg blue that glide like a manta ray or pause like a sword in mid-flight. Once seen, never forgotten, his work is entering museum collections round the world, and can be found on sale in galleries and top department stores.

The textile section includes wall hangings, fabrics and complete kimono. Michiko Kasugai's wall hangings reflect her training as a nihonga artist; they are exuberant, colorful semiabstract images inspired by flowers. In contrast, Shihoko Fukumoto's work reflects Japan's other great tradition: minimalist restraint. Her "shooting star" textile is very effective: a long slit of light breaking through deepest indigo blue. A summer kimono woven by Yoshinori Tsuchiya is as delicate as a dragonfly's wing. Such complex, repetitive patterns can induce vertigo, but here the effect is tempered by a calm blend of colors, and smudges as soft as pussy willows. Reminiscent of Mondrian paintings, Ryoko Murakami's kimono are canvases for asymmetrical, flat planes of color. The balance and muted colors of a kimono called "Toko (Winter Lake)" are very fine, reflecting the aesthetics of the tea ceremony.

The variety of metal work is impressive. Kyu Suzuki's smooth and glowing "Fruits Becoming Seeds" are timeless, delectable, tranquil sculptures that would create a pool of peace in home or garden. Hopefully, these and all the other pieces will one day escape from the display cabinet to enter life!

Unfortunately, bamboo work is in decline, and there are just two artists represented in the exhibition. Ceramics have a much stronger following than bamboo, although both crafts are fragile. Is it because we crave permanence, and bamboo reminds us of life's frailty? It could be a simpler reason: that less people value this marvelous work enough to pay the price.

Among the glass, Toshio Iezumi's satisfyingly solid, smooth pools of aqua are a fine contrast to Yuko Nakao's shattered "Spheres," which gleam like molten, brittle jewels. A friend joked about wanting to "break off a piece like a rice cracker!" Maybe that's why these particular items are displayed behind glass!

Recently, I met a French curator who insisted that mastery of technique is "irrelevant to producing contemporary art." This opinion is all too popular at art schools, and these days there are many "artists" who have never learned to draw or paint. If only more art students would master their pencils as well as these craftsmen and women have mastered their clay, metal or thread, modern art might be more rewarding.

Remembering how Murose cradled the sake cup in his hand, it made me appreciate how much these artists love their materials and work, despite all the difficulties. The lacquer trees that he has planted in the north will be ready for tapping in 15 years, and perhaps one of his sons will decide to follow in his footsteps. But whoever takes the sap from the trees, let us hope they use it with as much skill, respect and heart as these "modern masters of Japan."