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Mottainai The Fabric of Life: Lessons in Frugality from Traditional Japan

Stephen — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 19:58:17 +0000

The exhibition at the Portland Japanese Garden, Mottainai, The Fabric of Life: Lessons in Frugality from Traditional Japan opened on 4 November. Here are some installation shots.
I’m exhibiting with my friend, Kei Kawasaki of Gallery Kei in Kyoto. Kei and I decided that I would show indigo dyed cotton boro pieces and she would show bast fiber and paper pieces. The items I have contributed to the show can be seen below.Above and below is a large, woven cotton boro mosquito netting or kaya.

Above and below are sashiko stitched pieces. Centrally place above is a large, sashiko stitched kotatugake. To the left and right are garments from Yamagata prefecture.Stitched aprons and zokin can be seen above.

Above and below are sakiori garments.

Above is pictured a boro yogi or sleeping kimono, while below you can see noragi or work coats.Below is a fantastic boro futonji or futon cover.This piece, below, a shinafu or linden fiber tsunobukuro or horn bag is filled with balls of shredded indigo dyed cotton yarn and twisted paper yarn. Kei brought this to the show to act as a transition between her bast fiber textiles and my indigo dyed cotton ones. It’s an amazing object. Kei’s other textiles can be seen in the images below.

Above and below are some woven paper garments. On the photo, above, situated on the right is an okuso zakkuri or a coat made of woven hemp waste. Below, seen in the middle, is a fujifu or woven wisteria garment and a shinafu or linden fiber garment to its left.

Below are two elm fiber garments: to the right is a traditional Ainu attush, to the left is an unusual dochugi or traveling coat, made from ohyo or elm fiber. Since this dochugi is made from traditional Ainu cloth, we can assume that the cloth was traded with the Ainu by a merchant from Honsu island.

A marvelous, resist dyed ramie kazuki from Yamagata prefecture can be seen above and below. A kazuki is a kimono-shaped veil which was worn on the head by upper class women.Below are repurposed paper items. A splendid bashofu or banana fiber kimono from Okinawa can be seen below.All of the pieces are for sale through the Portland Japanese Garden. If any are interesting to you, please let me know and I will put you in touch with the Garden.

An Unmade Resist Dyed Noren

Stephen — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 14:30:41 +0000

The graphic quality of Japanese design–and its impact on Western design and Modern art–is well known. This unmade, stencil resist dyed noren, a traditional curtain which often is displayed outside a shop or restaurant, has a strong modernist appeal.
You can see how the noren was dyed in one, continuous piece. It would have been cut and arranged in order for it to display a cohesive design or motif. This one has been cut, but not entirely, and it hasn’t yet been formed into a noren.I really love the strong geometry and the way that the design has been broken. Visually this is really interesting. I also really like the contrast of white against inky, deep, indigo blue. The blue color is so deep it reads black.In trying to mentally construct what the noren will look like when it is stitched and finished, it seems to me that I may be missing a piece or two. Through time as this unmade noren has changed hands before it arrived to me, it’s quite understandable that a piece or two could have fallen by the wayside.The cotton is hand woven very tightly. As the noren was probably going to hang outside, the cotton was woven with the intention for it to hold up against the elements.These pieces probably date to the early twentieth century. In time I will be offering them for sale on my webshop.

Beautifully Intricate and Elaborate Katazome Dyed Cloth

Stephen — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 21:34:29 +0000

It’s nice to see graceful, floral pattens in summer–somehow they seem cooling to the eye. Today I’m showing a fabulously elaborate example of katazome dyeing that incorporates indigo, bengara, an iron oxide based dye material and a grey/black dye.
The motif is a familiar one in old Japan, that of the arabesque, or karakusa as it is called. Often this karakusa motif is highly stylized as can be seen here, but in this case its rendered quite naturalistically.The design is beautifully delicate and luxurious in its details. This is a small textile–it measures 38″ x 25″ or 96.5 cm x 63.5 cm. It is probably recycled from a larger piece, most likely a futon cover.As it is shown here, this wonderful katazome futonji was repurposed and is now a cotton zabuton, or seating cushion. It is backed with a subtle, zanshi-ori cotton or a fabric woven from leftover yarns and its original cotton wadding has been removed.The pattern and design of this cloth has a kind of delicate intensity that reminds me of batik, the wax-resist cloth from Indonesia.This piece dates from the mid to late nineteenth century.Notice the marvelous tooth to the cotton fibers: clearly the cotton yarns were hand spun and the cloth was hand woven.A sensational old katazome textile–still fresh and beautiful.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Stephen — Sat, 14 May 2011 19:03:47 +0000

A paulownia tree, that is. Coincidentally, Betty Smith’s famous novel from 1943 is set in my neighborhood, the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, just where this tree is blooming.
Paulownia, or kiri as it is known in Japan, is one of that country’s most popular family crests and it is a well-used motif in textile and lacquer design, among others. It is loaded with historical and legendary significance–and the actual tree shows beautiful blooms, as can be seen here.The kiri motif is borrowed from China. In Chinese lore it is believed that the mythical phoenix (called Hoo-oo in Japan), when it comes to earth, will alight only on the branches of this tree–and it will only eat the seeds of bamboo.

During the late Heian Period, the kiri motif became fashionable among the aristocracy and it is often associated with this class of Japanese society. The world’s first psychological novel, The Tale of Genji, written by Murasaki Shikibu in the early 11th century, opens at the aristocratic Paulownia Court. And here’s more, quoted from this wonderful website:

According to legend (mostly from China), the Hō-ō appears very rarely, and only to mark the beginning of a new era — the birth of a virtuous ruler, for example. In other traditions, the Hō-ō appears only in peaceful and prosperous times (nesting, it is said, in paulownia trees), and hides itself when there is trouble.

As the herald of a new age, the Hō-ō decends from heaven to earth to do good deeds, and then it returns to its celestial abode to await a new era. It is both a symbol of peace (when the bird appears) and a symbol of disharmony (when the bird disappears).

In China, early artifacts show the Phoenix (female) as intimately associated with the Dragon (male) — the two are portrayed either as mortal enemies or as blissful lovers. When shown together, the two symbolize both conflict and wedded bliss, and are a common design motif even today in many parts of Asia.Above is a kiri-karakusa or paulownia-arabesque pattern done in the katazome method; this cloth is from a futon cover.And these images, above and below, show the kiri motif on a boro futon cover, rendered in the tsutsugaki method.

A Sashiko Stitched Vest from Tohoku

Stephen — Sat, 07 May 2011 14:22:34 +0000

This sleeveless garment–referred to as sodenashi or dogi–is from Aomori Prefecture in the far northeastern region of Honshu, which is a remote and rural area.
It is made of repurposed cotton katazome cloth which has been heavily sashiko stitched, the stitching creating a blurred effect to the figured, resist dyed base cloth.Although Aomori Prefecture is very rural, it is this region which produced some of Japan’s most intricately sashiko stitched textiles, such as kogin, the famous stitching from Aomori’s Tsugaru region, which is the origin of this garment. Aomori can receive a great deal of snow in winter and some historians have conjectured that the heavy, white sashiko stitching of this area is a visual allusion to snowfall.This particular vest is made of repurposed parts as can be seen in the the photo above, and below: sometimes the body of such vests from Aomori are sewn from one type of figured cloth, not of two as is the case here.Amazingly tight stitching.Notice that the collar and the side panels are sewn from kasuri or ikat cloth–the inclusion of kasuri cloth on these sodenashi is typical of this form of garment.This kind of vest is said to come from Hirosaki in the Tsugaru region of Aomori. It dates to the late nineteenth, early twentieth century.This kind of vest could have been worn layered over a coat, or directly over an undergarment. See a similar example in Beyond the Tanabata Bridge: Traditional Japanese Textiles, pp. 113-114.

A Large, Magnificently Dyed Noren: Stylized Wisteria Crest

Stephen — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 12:55:10 +0000

What a marvelous design, an over sized family crest or kamon, depicting stylized wisteria, or fuji, beautifully centered on a four panel indigo dyed cotton noren, or traditional door covering.
Of course I am showing this hand spun, hand woven indigo cotton noren now: in just a few weeks we will be seeing wisteria in full bloom.The crest is resist dyed–the Japanese resist method uses rice paste to cover and protect an area of cloth from dye. In the case of this noren, I am not so sure the mon was drawn by hand using the tsutsugaki method as is often the case: a very large stencil may have been used to guide the rice paste onto the cloth–but maybe not.The circular forms are so perfectly circular. To me this is really impressive. And the resist dyeing on this is clean, clear and very elegant.I love the way the stylized wisteria flowers cascade downward in a gentle curve and become incrementally smaller as they bend; there is almost a fractal-like quality to this traditional design motif.The cotton is beautiful. The selvedges are rough and wonderful. The size proportion of the mon in relation to the size of the noren is just right. Most likely this noren dates to the late nineteenth century.This beauty measures 65″ x 55″ or 165 cm x 139.5 cm.

A Boro Hemp Edo Komon Kimono: Pattern upon Pattern, Patches and Holes

Stephen — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 16:32:39 +0000

This boro kimono, as it is, with its great distress, its heavy wear and its large, missing pieces of cloth, is evocative of a life of poverty in old Japan.

The original kimono, before the damage from heavy use, was a fine one: it is a 19th century hemp Edo komon kimono, or a kimono that has been stencil resist dyed with a very tiny, all-over pattern, like this one here.The inside of the kimono, glimpsed here, is rich in patches and mending: the use of the word “rich” carrying with it a profound irony as the owner of this heavily worn coat of recycled cloth was anything but rich.On the sleeve, below, we can see the original kimono’s komon pattern–and we can see that it was patched with other komon cloth of different patterns.

A closer view onto the pattern-on-pattern komon layering can be seen in these two photos, above and below.The photographs, below, show the kimono inside-out, for a better view onto the patches which are attached to the interior. The patches are of hand spun cotton and hand plied hemp fragments.

Some boro garments and textiles can take a visual detour from being something wonderful to look to being something that gives one pause. This kimono, which is such a stark reminder of poverty in old Japan, carries with it a feeling of the burden of an indigent life, and from this, we can think much more broadly about the human condition.

A Superb Boro Yogi: Part Two

Stephen — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 00:02:42 +0000

Just before the new year, I posted photos of a fantastic, boro yogi–but I just showed its front. Today, I’m showing its other side, which some of you may prefer to the front. For me it’s a toss-up.The layers of hand loomed cotton patches are delicious–as is the variety of cottons used in the mending and reinforcement of this sleeping kimono.

Look at all the different patterns of katazome or stencil resist dyed cloth used in constructing this yogi: clearly whoever made this took delight in applying these patterned patches to this yogi.

I thought this magnificent thing needed a second look. I hope you enjoyed it.

An Indigo Dyed Ramie Kumanozome Yukata

Stephen — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 14:08:19 +0000

Last October, I published a post that showed a three-panel Kumanozome futon cover. Today, I am showing another Kumanozome textile, this time it is a yukata, or unlined casual kimono, woven from ramie.The trademark feature of a Kumanozome textile is the dizzying optics produced by a technique of dyeing cloth using an overlay of striped stencils to create a moire effect.In the case of the futon cover mentioned above, the stripes are wide and bold; in the case of this yukata, the stripes are very narrow and give a subtle, overall moire pattern, sort of like an undulating mist. If the moire pattern on this garment were any bolder, it would probably be visually unsettling, both for the wearer and for those around her.I love Kumanozome textiles because they are daring and strange: they’re not beautiful in the conventional sense. Unlike most Japanese textiles whose patterns evoke the natural world and the changing of the seasons, or are based on a repeat of highly stylized everyday objects, Kumanozome cloth is full-out, untethered visual trickery and does not call up any recognizable reference.The Japanese love their shima, or striped fabrics, and although you could say that Kumanozome textiles riff on stripes, I think that they are really all about optics and don’t have much to do with any conventional textile. My hunch is that this kind of moire was the result of dyers playing with striped stencils, and discovering this effect as they worked.As I said, my theory about Kumanozome cloth is a hunch; there’s not much written in English about the development and production of this type of cloth. This yukata probably dates to the early twentieth century and is in very good condition.

A Complex and Beautiful, Mid-19th Century Katazome Dyed Han Juban made of Samples

Stephen — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 20:58:27 +0000

This intricately stencil resist dyed han juban is a feast for the eyes: what variety is there in the many, very complex patterns dyed in exquisitely clear, blue indigo.The color is beautiful: the powdery, rich, sky-blue color is called asagi. And the delicacy of the rendering of the many patterns shown is poetic.Each of the patterns is based on a design concept wherein a patterned motif is seen through a mist of vertical bars; this “screening” of the motif adds air and light to the design.This han juban, or half-under kimono, is cotton and was made in the mid nineteenth century, during the last years of the Edo Period (1603-1868). The katazome dyeing seen on this example is masterful.Can you see bats flying in the image above? Swallows, or tsubame, are seen below, among other traditional motives.Peonies and geese are seen below.Within the swirling arabesques, below, is the mokume or woodgrain pattern.These patterns are cooling to the eye. The reason for so many patterns is that this han juban was sewn from a dyer’s sampler, a length of cloth from which special orders would be taken.The lyricism of these patterns is not quite cloying; the designer was too smart for something saccharine, and delivered images that are ethereal and structured at the same time.

I could admire this piece for hours. It’s peaceful, inventive and beautiful. And its age adds something mysterious to its beauty.