Mr. Katsuyama and Mr. Shimura don't use machines for reeling the thread. When degumming the silk they only use straw ash solution. They use natural dye. The weaving is done with hands, not by machines. Beaten with a wood block called Kinuta, the fabric assumes rich texture just like the ancient fabric that Mr. Katsuyama once saw.
The fabrics made through this process are called "Usuhaginu". Only 4 kimonos and 100 obis are made through the process every year. Mr. Katsuyama sells his kimono and obis mainly at his exhibitions.
People who have tried his Usuhaginu kimono and obi are first amazed at its light weight, and impressed with its graceful look. The obi only weighs half as the normal ones, yet it keeps good shape after being tied. It has been 6 years since Mr. Katsuyama started marketing Usuhaginu obis. One of his clients loves them so much that she has over 20 of them!
Understandably, the Usuhaginu kimono and obi are pricey. Mr. Katsuyama hopes that a person who wears them really enjoys the experience.
Usuhaginu fabric for obi
Usuhaginu fabric for kimono
A silkworm changes to a pupa in the cocoon, and about 10 days later it comes out of the cocoon as a moth, tearing the silk thread into pieces. In order to secure the long silk thread intact, it is necessary to keep the pupa inside cocoon. The most common method to store cocoons is to dry them with hot air. Other methods include steaming, sun drying, and cooling cocoons. People also used to salt cocoons to store them, but this method has long been abandoned.
Takeshi Katsuyama is the 5th generation obi maker in Nishijin, Kyoto. He once had a chance to see a piece of centuries old silk fabric, and was fascinated by its beautiful texture. He tried to replicate the fabric using any and all the silk yarn available in Nishijin, but this was in vain.
While he was pursuing his ultimate silk, he met Akira Shimura, who had been pursuing the same goal. Their collaboration started with opening a sericulture farm together in Nagano Prefecture. They selected a specific kind of mulberry tree, which had ceased to be grown for over 100 years. They also picked old species of silkworms.
Mr. Katsuyama and Mr. Shimura agreed to the method of storing cocoons, too. They chose salting cocoons, because this method gave the silk thread shinier, softer texture.
Mr. Katsuyama
Believing that the distribution system needed to be changed in order for Japan's domestic sericulture to survive, Mr. Nishio patiently talked to local administration and to cooperatives. Finally Mr. Matsui agreed to sell all the spring and late fall cocoons to Mr. Nishio.
Mr. Nishio also formed an association with 25 kimono artists, and provides raw silk reeled from Mr. Matsui's cocoons to these artists. Mr. Nishio sells the kimonos madly these artits in his shop. The brand of the cocoon is "Gunma 200," as it was developed in the Gunma Sericultural Technology Center.
Silk shawl with vegetable dye by Kyoko Nagamine
Obi fabric by Soh Yanagi
Noriko Kiyota is a publisher, editor, writer and photographer. Above all she loves kimono. For almost 50 years, her magazine, "Japanese Kimono +", has been educating Kimono enthusiasts and advising the kimono industry how to adapt their business to lifestyle changes in Japan.
To insure that it never diverges from a consumer's point of view, her magazine has no advertising pages from kimono makers or retailers. The articles are insightful and based on thorough research.
Noriko has generously given me a permission to introduce her magazine articles in my blog. It is my hope that her wealth of knowledge, deep love and concern for kimono and its industry is shared here.
The photo above is the front cover of the magazine "Japanese Kimono + Vol. II/No. 55 (No. 125)". The textile is "Tatenishiki Maruobi Sho-Chiku-Bai (Pine-Bamboo-Plum)" by Takeshi Kitamura, a Living National Treasure.
Soon after becoming a living National Treasure in 1995, Mr. Kitamura started a study group "Usuhata no Kai" with the purpose of nurturing young weavers. Now those people have grown to be new leaders in kimono weaving.
Washi paper has also been one of the important materials for making clothes in Japan. Thinly severed, Washi paper is woven into textile.
On Washi paper, shippaku (漆箔) master craftsman Mr. Saito spreads Urushi sap very thin, and places also very thin gold films one by one evenly. He does it so effortlessly, a technique that can be mastered only after years of years of practice.
Used as part of weft, the paper thread is woven to create a beautiful Obi.
Many thanks to Mr. Saito, Mr. Katsuyama, and Ms. Horie for giving me an opportunity to see the whole process of obi making.
Mass produced pulp-based paper and cheaper foreign-based paper now dominate the market.
According to All Japan Handmade Washi Association, in the year 1901 there were over 68,562 households whose profession was handmade papermaking. As of 2001, the number had shrunk to 392.
It's critical that we take steps to keep this number from falling down to zero.
Number of households whose whole business is hand-making Washi paper.
Source: All Japan Handmade Washi Association
Rembrandt, Self-portrait, circa 1668-1669, oil on canvas, Uffizi Gallery
Rembrandt (1606-1669) is generally considered one of the greatest painters and printmakers in European art and the most important in Dutch history. Which paper did he like for his print work?
You guessed it right... Washi paper.
Museum Het Rembrandthuis in the Netherlands held an exhibition in 2015 titled "Rembrandt's Etchings and Japanese Echizen Paper." According to its website, "Rembrandt was a pioneer in the use of Japanese paper. From approximately 1647 to 1665, he printed most of his copper plates regularly on Japanese paper, and he also used the paper for drawings."
I wonder if the paper maker in Japan ever imagined that his work was used to create a masterpiece thousand miles away.
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Rembrandt (1606-1669) Christ Preaching (The Hundred Guilder Print) circa 1646-1650, etching, drypoint and burin on Japanese paper, National Gallery of Art
In 2011, Yuri Kinoshita created a tea house and named it Shinpu (新風: Fresh Breeze).
Apparently Shinpu looks nothing like a traditional tea house as you would see in Japanese temples. Sitting inside to serve tea, however, I felt the same tranquility. Many thanks to Yuri for creating such a wonderful space!
Shinpu (新風: Fresh Breeze) by Yuri Kinoshita
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