The masks are hugely symbolic in the region and not limited to use in kagura performances. Customarily, local residents have presented them as housewarming and other celebratory gifts. They are also employed as gargoyles to ward off evil spirits and can be found hanging outside homes and in a number of public locations, including railway and service stations.

The Nagahama district has a craft-making tradition dating back almost 1,000 years, Kakita says. The best known of them are terracotta dolls, which he says as a child he remembers seeing being made by dozens of craftsmen, who also made kagura masks as a side business. This made such an impression on Kakita as a child that he decided to teach himself how to make the masks. Today, he is one of just a handful of craftsmen in the area who continue that tradition.

Even fewer in number are those making another decorative device commonly seen in Iwami-kagura performances.

A short drive away from the Kakitas’ atelier, Rinkichi Ueda constructs 17-meter-long jado serpent-dragons, which are a vital feature of plays such as “Orochi.”

Ueda, 86, explains that it was his grandfather, Kikuichi, who invented jado (literally “snake torso”) for the dances over a century ago, inspired, he says, by traditional paper lanterns.

“Until the Meiji Era, the creatures were represented by little more than a serpent-like headdress and white clothing onto which scales were drawn,” says Ueda, 86. “These lacked charm and realism.”

To form the frame of the jado, Ueda bends lengths of bamboo into hoops of about 1 meter in diameter — a total of 99 of them that are spread out at roughly 17-centimeter intervals.

With assistance from his wife, Tokue, he then pastes three layers of Sekishu-banshi paper over the top to form a 17-meter-long concertina-like structure before painting the striking designs on top.

Like the Kakitas, Ueda, has also modified his creations over the years, developing paints from pigments that are more permanent and durable. And as troupes have increased the number of jado used in an attempt to increase the dynamism of performances, Ueda has added subtle color variations to make his inventions even more arresting.

Ueda says he’s often asked why Iwami-kagura is thought of as the real deal when legends such as “Orochi” actually originated in another region of Shimane, called Izumo — home to one of Japan’s most ancient and important  shrines, Izumo-taisha.

“I think the answer’s in the jado and the dynamism they add to the performances,” he says. “They have become a representative and indispensable feature of Iwami-kagura.”

So, too, the garments, each of which is meticulously hand-stitched to ensure authenticity, says Kyoji Goto, who has been making the resplendent kagura costumes for almost 20 years.

“Until around the Meiji Era, costumes were produced by dyeing fabric, but became increasingly gorgeous thereafter,” says Goto, whose atelier in Hamada produces more than 20 costumes a year.

Many of the outfits take months to produce, some carrying a price tag of up to ¥2 million, he says.

“In the past, there was a finite number of characters represented in kagura and, therefore, only a finite number of costumes required. In recent years, however, troupes request unique designs that reflect their identity,” says Goto, who works alongside a local welfare group providing employment for people with disabilities, who he also helps to train. “This, plus ensuring durability, are the two biggest tests of (a craftsman’s) skill.”

In addition to making the clothing, Goto has also been part of a Hamada kagura troupe for more than 40 years.

“Kagura is my life, but you’ll find many people in these parts love and know their kagura,” he says. “Without that, such traditions would not continue to thrive. Despite the issues of aging and depopulating communities, there are still young people wanting to continue traditions such as kagura.”

Mask maker Kakita agrees, saying that local troupes made up of young members — including the Tsuchie children’s kagura group in Oda — are making increasing efforts to introduce the tradition throughout Japan and even overseas.

In addition to the obligatory baseball, soccer and other clubs, the local technical high school also has a kagura club, probably the only one in Japan, he says.

“That’s a huge characteristic of Iwami-kagura,” he says. “In many places, it’s the younger people who are not just keeping the tradition alive, but also driving it forward.”

Among them is Miyuki Oya, 24, who is one of an increasing number of women performing in what has traditionally been a male-dominant art form.

“Kagura has captivated me from when I was a child,” Oya says during a kagura all-nighter at Tashiro Shrine in Hamada, where she was performing as a member of Nishimura troupe. “I used to dress up in my grandma’s kimono and dance about, mimicking the plays and when I was a little older I’d sneak off as far as Hiroshima to watch performances there. There’s something irresistible about kagura. Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps.”

According to Hitoshi Hidaka, the Nishimura troupe’s leader, this is a feeling instilled deep in the psyche of all people in the region.

“When children hear the sound of the bamboo flute and drums, their heads turn instinctively," he says, adding that, like Oya, many also mimic the dances. “Kagura is in our DNA.”