I am constantly amazed at how my travels as an artist allow me to discover art under other guises, each just as wonderful as the more traditional artistic pathways. My latest discovery in Shikoku island in Japan’s Inland Sea is how wonderful Percheron horses and Japanese draft horses are helping revive traditional arts of logging and ploughing.

I was quietly drawing at my delicious temporary artist residency, a traditional Japanese house converted from an old sake brewery, in Kamiyama, in a lovely valley near Tokushima, a major town on the eastern side of the island. I had been made wonderfully welcome by two gracious Kamiyama residents, my hostess, Ikuko Saito, and by Keiko Kudo, who is in charge of the Kamiyama Artist in Residence programme. I had expected simply to draw, to learn of indigo dyeing, of washi paper making, traditional puppet-making, and other aspects of the visual arts world.

The unexpected bonus soon showed up - being part of a new endeavour by Ikuko, my dynamic and charming hostess, to demonstrate to the local rice farmers and forest owners that horses, once used in the past, are still a very viable way of respecting the environment, farming efficiently and not damaging the mountainsides clad in trees. Throughout Japan, the forests planted after World War II were almost exclusively of Japanese cedars (Cryptomeria japonica) or sugi or Japanese cypress (Chamaecyparis obtusa) or hinoki. This practice has led to forests of tall, slender, straight trees reaching for the light; however the understory is impoverished, plant diversity limited and the timber itself never reaches huge girth of trunk. So Ikuko has arranged, here in Kamiyama, for a pilot area of cedar to be felled so that next spring, gingko and paper mulberry tree seedlings can be planted instead.

The only problem is that these mountain slopes are nearly vertical and mechanical methods of taking out the felled trees are hugely destructive and very complicated, not to say frankly dangerous. Enter the horses! And their owner, trainer and friend, Takashi Iwama, of the Japan Horselogging Organisation.

The first I knew properly of what was happening was excited talk as Ikuko organised the welcome of a big horse van, driven by its owner, Takashi. This charming and manifestly capable young man, Ikuko and I raced off in the fast approaching evening light to go up into the mountains so that Takashi could see the half timbered area.

Next morning, the demonstration programme began. First, on the flat land - small rice paddies, bounded by terraced stone walls and water channels, which are taxing in effort, fuel consumption and mechanical prowess when it comes to their cultivation.

Enter Shuho, a sturdy smallish Japanese work horse, nine years old, pretty savvy and keen on every opportunity to have another mouthful of tender greens.

He was firmly led across a rice field, still green after harvest, to a hillside beyond and tethered, to his vocal disgust at times.

His companion, Tera, a mighty bay Percheron, was on duty for the time being.

He was to plough the rice field and show the assembled farmers the art of horsemanship for ploughing. Five years old and hugely in tune with Takashi, Tera was a fascinating example of the art of combining man and horse to achieve environmental art, in a sense.

A very simple light plough, wooden frame with stainless steel tine blades, was attached behind Tera’s mighty rump, and Takashi set off on the first slice of the field. It looked as effortless as cutting cheese, the blade biting down ten centimetres to throw up the dark grey soil to one side. The plan is that the ploughed soil remain rough and turned for the winter, and in the spring, it will be harrowed down prior to planting.

However, as Ikuko and her charming friend, Hiroyo Hasegawa, tried their hand at guiding Tera and ploughing the rows, it was clear that there is quite a lot to mastering the art of horse ploughing.

The humorous, delightful gentleman who owns the field, a highly esteemed organic rice farmer, took a turn and also ended up panting at the effort of balancing and guiding the plough.while Tera plodded his way along the previous furrow. Demonstration over, with Tera familiar with the field; it was time to break for lunch.

Soon afterwards, we were climbing the narrow roads winding up to the forest. Shuho proved nimble and sure-footed as he picked his way up snaking paths though the cedar trees, After a delicious drink in the clear-running stream, he was loaded with logs and led back down to the road. He too had learned about the area in which he was to demonstrate later how a horse can bring out lumber without damaging the forested mountainside.

Tera then took over again, with Takashi showing how skilled and close a connection he had to this horse. Dragging a log up a slope probably 75 degrees steep in places to balance him, scrambling and surging to scrabble up this rough and difficult terrain, Tera then turned around in a tightly constricted place, and with Takashi talking and cajoling, he eventually brought out a felled tree from an area so far above the road that no mechanical method would have worked.

Tera’s intelligent sure-footedness and responsiveness to Takashi showed clearly that “bahan” is an logging art that can work well again in Japanese forests in a wonderfully environmental fashion. I was so impressed at this demonstration.

As the end of the day, the horses’ reward was a drink and hedonistic wade in the swift clear waters of the Akui river. Even that became an art, with Shuho successfully ridding himself of his canvas log carriers and Tera cooling himself down almost to his haunches.

I loved this change of pace from metalpoint drawing - the rewards of learning of different arts. Takashi Iwama and his two wonderful horses, Shuho and Tera, are certainly a memorable artistic team. They brought delight to many people here in Kamiyama during their short stay, with every single person who saw them breaking out into huge smiles. That is the art of life!