Today, however, I am showing two distinctly Japanese items: instep guards called kougake and a very heavily stitched. small pad of indigo dyed cotton.  Both of these old Japanese things are stitched using hemp thread.  Very often we think of sashiko stitching being done in white cotton thread against a blue ground: this is quite typical, but hemp thread was also used for mending and reinforcement.

Below is a heavily sashiko stitched pad: it seems the chevron shapes or the “arrow feather” pattern was stitched by counting threads.  At first I thought this was a zokin or dustcloth, then I realized it was probably created to be used as a gusset to reinforce a vest or jacket, as can be seen on an example here. In and of itself it is really beautiful.

Seen close up, in detail, and out of context like the photo above, you’d almost think this was Op Art from the 1960s.

Each piece in the group that I am showing today is made from scraps of old, indigo dyed cotton and is stitched in hemp thread.  These beauties are all from my personal collection.The stitched pattern on the zokin pictured left, above is called “persimmon flower.”Zokin are used for housekeeping, for cleaning and for dusting: each Japanese child makes one in first grade to help tidy up their desk and classroom.  Very often each child will stitch their name onto the zokin.The hand plied, hemp thread used for stitching is quite raw, very thick and is barely pliant.   These zokin are rustic and are very scratchy.  Imagine stitching with this wiry, harsh thread?The results, though, are indeed beautiful.

Here is a neat little stack of some hemp and ramie textiles in my showroom: they are piled atop a small. antique Korean tray table or soban.Under the soban is a very heavily stitched, layered and patched cotton kotatsugake which I use as an area rug.The pieces on the bottom of the stack are dyed in kaki shibu or green persimmon tannin.  Just above them are undyed pieces; above the natural ones are a few pieces of indigo dyed hemp cloth and just above the indigo dyed pieces are those which are first dyed in indigo and then overdyed in a natural yellow dye, either kihada a kind of philodendron or possibly turmeric.

They’re cotton, and just like the adult’s pair, the children’s version are also worn hard and reinforced with sashiko stitching and patches.

I don’t think that I need to supply much commentary here.  The photos say it all.

Centrally placed is the large, mon, or  family crest, in this case it is an unusual, stylized rendering of kashiwa or oak.  Beneath the mon in stepped formation is the wonderfully zigzag matsukawa bishi or pine bark motif.This noren probably dates to the early twentieth century–perhaps just a bit earlier.  Its size indicates that it was probably meant to hang in front of a building; also indicative of this is the very tightly woven, heavy cotton which would have been strong enough to withstand the elements, street traffic and its dust and dirt.Notice how the matsukawa bishi pattern interlocks and creates another iteration of itself in the negative spaces?  Notice, too, how the selvedge edge of each panel is finished: each edge is back stitched in contrasting, white thread.This is a beautifully designed, beautifully executed old noren.

Within the cities of Arimatsu and Narumi, countless families were engaged in all aspects of shibori making and finishing, and within this hotbed of shape resist dyeing, amazing technical innovations flourished during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.Pictured on the left in the photo above is a bolt of indigo dyed cotton showing the shirokage or white shadow technique, the pattern being that of the tortoise shell or kikko.The bolt on the right, above, seems to be  a vertical, fine wood grain (tate komokume) type of arashi or pole-wrapped shibori. A similar example is shown in Shibori: The Inventive Art of Japanese Shape Resist Dyeing on page 176, figure 245.

The cotton is both hand spun and hand woven, and is gorgeous to the touch.

Shown is a long section of recycled paper twine cradled by an antique Korean grain measure.If you look closely, you can see blips of black and grey in the paper cord: this, of course, is the charcoal-based ink calligraphy on the repuporsed mulberry paper.Because the fibers of paper mulberry (kozo in Japanese) are so long, the paper made from this plant is almost like unwoven cloth: it is extremely pliable, unlike the cellulose paper we use every day.I believe this paper cord was made sometime mid-to-late last century.

These two seate are a mid-twentieth century types; each is made of shredded cotton cloth that has been braided, twined and woven along with some hemp fibers.  Other seate–ones that pre-date these as well as ones that are contemporary to these shown here–are woven of rush, bast fibers or rice straw.   I posted an earlier entry on similar pieces with these two shown here visible in the photos, but they are not featured.   Have a look here.

The “festive” look of these fringed, brightly colored objects is a strange, visual irony when you consider that these pieces were used in heavy labor, on an ongoing basis.

It seems that most of the rags used to weave these seate are commercially produced cottons: by the mid twentieth century when these seate were woven, mass produced cotton fabrics were ubiquitous in Japan.

Note the presence of some hemp twine in the construction of these seate.I find this pair fascinating, compelling and really beautiful.