Nothing is cut
until the line is drawn.
Sumitsuke 墨付け is the marking. Before a single joint is cut, the tōryō walks the stacked timber with a sumitsubo — an ink pot with a chalked cord — and snaps a dead-straight line onto every crooked log. The line decides the house. The cutting only obeys it.
Snap yours here. Four houses, the bay module they are built on, the weather the site actually gets, and how much of the ground stays earth. The section and plan below are drawn from those numbers and nothing else — at a real scale, which changes as the house does.
A house is a modular grid before it is a shape. Everything here is measured in the carpenter's units: the bay (ken 間), the foot (shaku 尺), the pitch stated as rise in sun 寸 per ten of run, and floor area in tsubo 坪 and mats (jō 畳).
When the drawing is right, send it. It arrives at the workshop as a written specification, not a picture.
