With every return to Witch Hat Atelier, it is a rush and a comfort to again be guided by Kamome Shirahama’s skillful hands, her ability to lead the eye across visual compositions with such grace that the trick becomes invisible, only noticed by those who spend too much time thinking about things like panel blocking and negative space. As the apprentice witch Agate steps up to a bluff’s edge and then leaps off, briefly falling and then soaring into the distance, the effect provoked by each carefully chosen shape offers guidance for visually navigating this experience: the triangle of the bluff in the first panel leading the eye up towards Agate’s shock of dark hair, the way that curving bluff and Agate’s arched form guide us up, over, and down through the following two panels, the effortless way geography and panel lines combine to show motion across stable, inviting landscapes.
In her mastery of visual manga storytelling, Shirahama exhibits the joy of study and practice in action that are Witch Hat Atelier’s great passions; in our ability to appreciate that skill, we reflect the further satisfaction of seeing such labor not as “effortless,” but indeed the end result of copious effort, the “magic” of what human hands can do when dedicated to a worthy passion. Witch Hat Atelier’s form is proof of its philosophy. With every page it demonstrates how wonderful it is to master an art or craft, and how rewarding it is to understand the skill and effort informing that mastery. Though some might say a certain ineffability is lost through understanding the finer mechanics informing an artist’s seemingly holistic end result, Witch Hat Atelier attests that understanding the mechanical process of magic only further enhances its beauty. After all, is it more impressive to simply draw on forces beyond our understanding, or to conjure such wonders through our own study and imagination?
Of course, some artists do find a certain satisfaction in the idea of being uniquely positioned above the common rabble. What could the blinkered masses know about the beauty of art, or the sacred practice of mastering magic? So Agate finds herself, as she begrudgingly admits that if Coco were to properly learn the principles of magic, there would truly be no difference between herself and this earnest outsider. “Magic is honest,” we have learned – it cares not for your birth or your station, but only for the effort you put in.
To Agate, who we have seen is still haunted by the expectations of her family lineage, such indifference to status is practically unthinkable. But there is also a freedom in that thought: if she can learn to let go of the expectations attending her family name, she too might find joy in discovering herself through the process, rather than simply racing to prove her suitability as an heir. Studying merely for the purpose of validating your self-image tends to be a hollow, alienating process. But if you let it, study can also teach you about yourself, what inspires your passion, and where your dreams might eventually lead. Study is merely scaffolding; it is up to you to decide where you set your foundation, and what you intend to build.
So it goes for Coco, whose careful practice leads her and Qifrey to a mutual discovery: she specializes in simple yet cleverly employable spells, relying on the same straight lines she mastered while working as a junior seamstress. Rather than using study as a cudgel to prove her preconceptions, Coco remains open to new experiences, and thereby learns something about herself through the natural progression of her runic practice. Earnest commitment to mastery for its own sake will undoubtedly lead you to an understanding of which pursuits come naturally, and which strain against your own proclivities. By following such inherent forms of guidance, your own style and specialties will naturally emerge.
Qifrey is quick to note a further advantage of this process: by identifying the things you are good at, you gain a source of confidence in times of uncertainty. It’s a welcome reminder; though Witch Hat Atelier is insistent on the “magic” of practice and study, it is also well aware that such pursuits can often be an exhausting, seemingly thankless process. Whatever tricks we can embrace to lessen the hardship of this process are welcome, as essential as our study and duplication of proper runic form. Only diligence can lead us to mastery, and diligence must be properly fed with rest, validation, and general self-care.
In the context of Witch Hat Atelier, where dedication to the true labor of mastery is the only path to success, Coco’s ability to find joy in this process is perhaps the closest thing to a genuine superpower. She is quick to articulate the unique wonder of coming to understand the craft informing the end result, reflecting that “I’m starting to realize that seals look even more incredible than they did before. Ever since I learned about how they’re constructed, it feels like I’m able to understand the incredibly difficult things being done.”
Coco’s words speak to the joy experienced by any true craftsman admiring the work of a master. Understanding does not lessen our sense of wonder in admiring the end result – in fact, it only furnishes that wonder with a further astonishment at the remarkable acts of skill informing that result. If understanding cancels the magic, then what we were admiring was never all that miraculous in the first place. But when craftsmen or artists produce objects reflecting genuine mastery, then an understanding of the process will only make those objects seem all the more incredible. The same admiration holds true for criticism: art critics might like different things, but they are fundamentally seeking that same sense of wonder. Even if a magic trick is no more than sleight of hand, well, sleight of hand is itself a result of careful practice, impressive even if you know how the trick is produced.
Unfortunately, Richeh lacks Coco’s natural sense of amazement at seeing all the mountains of study and mastery awaiting her. She is what you might call a “natural” or “savant,” and while such talents can lend themselves to prodigious displays of precocious early skill, they can also become a cage, trapping you in repetition of the processes that come naturally to you. True study requires humility, and humility demands vulnerability, a willingness to be uncertain and to fail. By sticking only to executing the skills that appeal to her, Richeh is denying herself the ability to grow beyond her natural talents.
Productive study with an eye for improvement demands challenging yourself, and embracing the things that are foreign to you – this is why many artists or writers of all stripes can work for decades and never get meaningfully better, because they limit themselves to the genres, forms, and results with which they feel most comfortable. True improvement demands allowing yourself the room to get lost and afraid in your dislocation from that which comes easily, and thereby discover you are capable of more than the limits you have assigned yourself. As the blunt Olruggio reflects, you simply cannot progress if you shut yourself off from friction and guidance.
Frustrated by her teachers’ demands, Richeh retreats to her private cauldron-sanctuary, a visual wonder that seems to embody her fatal flaw: her perpetual flight from the challenging or new into her comfortable, static nest. Determined to maintain her own style, she cannot yet appreciate how studying and mastering the spells of others can actually inform that style – that even if you ultimately want to create works of your own design, studying broadly is the only way to give yourself a fully furnished toolset for crafting your own works.
Amateurs often believe formal study will limit your horizons to what already exists, but the precise opposite is true. Genuine craftsmen and artists understand that mastering the essentials is the only way to pursue meaningful innovation, and to create works that are not just true to your experience and desires, but built to genuinely fulfill their duties, whether that’s working as a piece of furniture or emotionally connecting with an audience. It is a seductive prospect to simply skip all the steps between conjuring an idea and expressing your final result to an audience, but all true craftsmen and artists know ideas are the easy part, and that it is the hard-earned ability to skillfully express that idea which makes your creation meaningful.
Richeh expresses this novice perspective precisely, saying that “I don’t need anyone else’s magic. I refuse to let mine be tainted.” It is a great yet common hubris to believe we come into this world with a pure ability and vision, and that study can only muddle our intentions with expectations inherited from other sources. But whatever inspires us, mastery of craft will only enhance the power of our vision – and if it leads us to discard that vision in pursuit of another, well, that’s simply the master in us realizing the limitations that vision always had in the first place. Ideas are cheap: without the skills to realize them, they are no more than daydreams. Any concept can be made unique and glorious through a skilled artist or artisan; no concept is so compelling that it can stand proudly in their absence.
As the date of the apprentices’ second test approaches, a dream informs us of why Richeh is so insistent on sticking with her own way of doing things. Her spells were a source of connection with her brother Rili, who stated that he “hopes she’ll never change.” Doing things the same way you’ve always done them can indeed be a way of maintaining a connection with the past – cooking a departed relative’s favorite meal, playing a song someone always loved to hear, and so on. But though our loved ones would surely want us to maintain our closeness to them, they would not want us to stagnate, to hold onto what is comforting and familiar at the expense of what could be transformative and enriching. As human beings, we cannot subsist on memory alone; as artists and artisans, we cannot mine only our familiar experiences and hope to create something remarkable and new.
And it is not just loyalty to the past that can foster such stagnation. Arriving at the cave that will be the site of this second test, we are introduced to our first bad teacher, one who blames his student Ueini for things he cannot control, and openly fantasizes about replacing his apprentice’s failing limbs with more effective appendages. He seems to have no interest in discovering what Ueini is actually good at, only in his ability to gain prestige through the graduation of a successful heir. Even at the highest levels of any discipline, you will still find people who refuse to accept the humility necessary for true scholarship, who are driven by a desire to enhance their own prestige rather than create works of use and beauty to others. The work is a byproduct of their selfishness; they have put the cart before the horse, seeking the renown that comes with meaningful labor, rather than the excellence in that labor that might warrant such renown.
The bond between master and student is a sacred trust, and that trust must extend in both directions. In order to embrace the vulnerability necessary to improve, a student must believe they will not be punished for failure, in fact understand that persistent failure is a necessary prerequisite to any sort of eventual success. While Qifrey gently guides Richeh past her own fear of failure, or of becoming “unlike herself” in some way, he has nothing but disdain for this fellow teacher’s lack of faith in his own student. This man does not deserve students – there are few duties more meaningful or essential than guiding the next generation towards first curiosity and then engagement with the manifold challenges of their pursuit, and those “teachers” who shame their students for embarking on that path have no right to call themselves such.
Appropriately for both Richeh and this new master, the second test, “The Sincerity of the Shield,” is a test of humility – not one where you are supposed to shine, but one where you act as a guardian, carefully shepherding your charge from one end of a cave to the other. It is a test that is presumably designed to weed out those who pursue magic only for their own glory – it is a test that embodies this world’s philosophy of magic, that it should be a tool used strictly to help others, and that your own ego should never inform your performances.
Even the precise nature of their task, to shepherd myrphon (penguin-gryphon) fledglings through a cave that’s been made treacherous via magical intervention, reflects the philosophy and danger of magic. This task must be completed because mages of prior eras made this crucial passage treacherous to its natural inhabitants – because they broke the fundamental rules of magic, and stirred repercussions that would echo across time. Care of use is paramount; far more important than “can I accomplish this task” is the prior asking of “should I attempt this task,” is its completion truly worth the inherent cost of conjuring more magic into the world.
Gorgeous panels like the illustrations of an illuminated manuscript bring a sense of grandeur and tragedy to the telling of this cavern-city’s ruin. It is a familiar tale told with utmost visual splendor: the articulation of an idea’s inherent worth versus the care of its execution in action. These fables illustrate Richeh’s limitations in contrast, emphasizing how careful study of all the masters who came before you will lend far more beauty and meaning to your work than simply hewing to the immediate thoughts and limitations of your untrained mind. Witch Hat Atelier is brimming with thoughtful ideas, but it would not be half of the story it is, nor would those ideas be so well-honed and neatly integrated into its ongoing drama, if Shirahama were not such a diligent student of traditional tapestries, gifted comic panelists, and fantasy literature.
The importance of these fundamental studies is swiftly made clear on the test’s winding snake path, as Agate employs a simple water spell to reveal which of the serpent’s tiles have maintained their gravity runes. Rather than astonishing acts of world-reorienting spellcasting, Agate’s solution here came from mastery of the basics combined with logical thinking, thereby using a simple, practical spell for a totally unexpected purpose. This is one of the fruits of mastery outside of your immediate preferences: equipped with all of the tools that could theoretically be at your disposal, you are far more likely to find solutions to emergent problems than if you simply stuck to the tools that feel comfortable to you. This is why writers are always seeking out new words and stories, why artists seek out new tools and styles, why anyone who seeks true mastery is forever restless, forever on the hunt for what new gifts might further burnish their ever-imperfect abilities.
Richeh, of course, chafes at the thought of being asked to complete this task “the one correct way.” And we see that, beyond her brother’s influence, her previous master was quick to shame her for her allegedly “useless” spells. Just as a great teacher can help foster our curiosity regarding the path to mastery, and quell our inherent shame at not doing things correctly the first time, so too can a terrible master burn out our curiosity and passion, making the natural process of discovery into the traversal of a field replete with pitfalls. If our only guidance is punishment, why would we ever seek new and uncertain horizons? So it goes for their new compatriot Ueini, who is so terrified of displeasing his tyrannical master that he fears any experimentation beyond the expected, allegedly “correct” answers.
Thankfully, neither of these students are so committed to their insular ways that this test is truly beyond them. Richeh soon finds a way to cross this cavern while employing her own preferred spells, and then turns back to Ueini, telling him “if you can only draw when you’re alone, then find a way to be alone.” It is a perfectly Richeh piece of advice, informing Ueini that there must be a way to succeed without abandoning his sense of self.
Sometimes you don’t need to gain new skills to gain a new perspective; if it is only your mindset holding you back, then you can discover strengths you never realized just by changing your way of thinking. Richeh takes pride in her independent way of thinking, and that is indeed something worth being proud of. So long as you don’t let pride and independence wander into obstinance or arrogance, they can indeed be mighty allies, steering you beyond conventional thinking.
Unfortunately, while Richeh and Ueini’s discoveries are more than sufficient to overcome this test, they are no match for a malicious Brimhat. With their teacher stolen away and a terrifying opponent pursuing them, Richeh soon feels the full weight of her decisions, the limitations that only studying her own magic have created. If you only study what you want to, you will be caught without a response when unexpected situations develop. Studying broadly might mean learning things you can’t immediately recognize as helpful, but which will nonetheless enrich your overall understanding of your craft, offering you answers to situations you couldn’t have even imagined. To put it simply, studying broadly is investing in the potential variability of your own future.
As Ueini is captured and transformed by this reckless mage, Richeh turns to save him, but is held back by Agate. Though Richeh wants nothing more than to help, Agate cannot allow her, and states frankly that because she has only studied what she wanted to study, she lacks the flexibility to assist her friend. At last, what she wants to do is now inhibited by her refusal to embrace the practice that did not seem satisfying to her. It is only through studying the fundamentals, through learning all that we can possibly take in, that we can begin to understand where our desires, skills, and ambitions might potentially lead us.
Limiting yourself merely to the tasks that are immediately satisfying isn’t just a poor route to mastery – it will also prevent you from realizing what else you might desire, given a greater understanding of all the possibilities and routes to mastery that exist. You are not just refusing to learn the skills of others, you are denying the possibility of realizing your own unconsidered dreams. Though she has come a great distance in a short time, the end of Witch Hat Atelier’s fourth volume sees Richeh standing alone, left only with the painful understanding of all that her narrow pursuits have denied her.
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