Author: kamys

Why Hana Has Chosen to Work for This Small Studio in the Mountains

The magic of Oigawa Mempa

Hana picked me up at the Shizuoka Station and we headed north.  After about an hour’s drive, we reached Oiya 大井屋, the shop and the studio where Hana chose to work after graduating from the Traditional Arts Super College of Kyoto (TASK).

The shop looked far from fashionable boutiques in Tokyo or Kyoto.  Why a young woman like Hana had chosen this place as her workplace, I wondered.

Mr. Maeda, Hana’s boss, greeted me with a big smile.  “Let’s have lunch together.”  Hana had already prepared lunch for three of us, neatly packed in, nothing else, their own Oigawa Mempa. 

Hana’s bento in their Oigawa Mempa – photo by Author

    What is Mempa

    A thinly-sliced wood is bent to form the side of the container… While similar types of this woodworking technique are found throughout Japan, it varies depending on the regions as to which wood is used, how the coating is done, and what people call them. In the Oigawa region, the mountainside of Shizuoka Prefecture, people call such wood containers “Mempa.”

    Hinoki cypress trees that grow locally are used for the body. Strips made of the local cherry tree bark are used to stitch together the edges. Kakishibu is used for the undercoat, and Urushi sap for the overcoat.

    Oiya is the only place remaining to make this type of wooden lunch boxes exactly the same way as has historically been made, using only natural materials.   

    Shaping, Bending, Stitching, and Gluing

    After lunch, Hana and Mr. Maeda led me to the workspace to walk me through the process of making their Mempa. 

    Hinoki Cypress wood board is first boiled in hot water so that it becomes soft enough to bend.  By rolling it with a cylinder-shaped tool several times, the boiled board is gradually bent. 

    Hana is making the side board bent – photo by Hana with permission

    By holding the edges of the board together with a special tool, they cut out slits and stitch together the edges with the cherry bark strip.

    Stitching the edges of the bent wood with the strip of cherry bark – photo by Author

    The side body is made by bending thinly sliced hinoki cypress.  The edges are stitched together with a strip of cherry bark – photo by Author

    Once the side of the container is formed, they put it together with the bottom part. 

    The bottom of the lunch box is also made of hinoki cypress– photo by Author

    Mugi Urushi 麦漆, paste made by mixing Urushi sap and flour, is used to glue together the bottom and the side of the container.  The gluten of flour mixed with Urushi creates a strong bond once the paste dries.

    Next Sabi Urushi 錆漆is applied on top of the stitches and the gap between the bottom and the side of the container.  Sabi Urushi is a mixture of Urushi sap and diatomite.  With finer particles, Sabi Urushi gives a smoother texture than Mugi Urushi, as well as filling the tiny gaps. 

    Hana applies Mugi Urushi麦漆  to glue together the bottom and the side of the container – photo by Author

    Hana applies Sabi Urushi錆漆  onto the threaded bark to smooth out – Photo by Author

    Both Mugi Urushi and Sabi Urushi are applied, now drying – photo by Author

    Mugi Urushi hardens after a day or so, but it takes at least 3 in the summer and almost 2 weeks in the winter for Sabi Urushi to completely harden.

    Undercoating, Overcoating, and Decorating the Surface

    The next step is to undercoat the body with Kakishibu.

    Kakishibu 柿渋 is the fermented juice of unripe persimmons.  For centuries in Japan, Kakishibu has been used to protect wood, fabrics, and paper from moisture, insects, and fungi.  Its antiseptic and antibacterial properties have now been scientifically proven. 

    For Oigawa Mempa, they apply kakishibu undercoating 4 or 5 times. Why apply kakishibu so many times?

    Hinoki cypress is a comparatively soft wood, therefore, it is easy to bend.  “Soft” also means it is easily scratched.  By applying kakishibu 4 or 5 times, the wood becomes harder and more resilient to scratches, as well as lighter, because the moisture in the wood is eliminated.

    “We apply Kakishibu on a sunny day, in a workspace outside in the shade.  After each time we apply Kakishibu, we place it under the sun.  When the layer is dried, we apply another layer.  We repeat this process 5 or 6 times.  Interestingly, I can feel the wood gets noticeably tighter and lighter after the third or fourth layer,” says Hana.

    Oigawa Mempa after Kakishibu is applied and dried – photo by Hana with permission

    Once the Kakishibu undercoat is applied, now it’s time to apply Urushi overcoat.

    The beautiful, shiny surface is the signature characteristic of Urushi.  Also, it adds water resilience, strength, and durability to the surface.  It also has antibacterial properties.  No wonder Urushi has been used for bowls, plates, and almost every form of food and drink containers in Japan for centuries. 

    Hana is applying Urushi overcoat – photo by Hana with permission

    Urushi is an interesting material.  Although people call the process “drying Urushi,” it’s actually a chemical reaction of hardening the substance, which requires high humidity. Once the overcoat is applied, the containers are kept in the “muro, ” the cabinet full of shelves.  Mr. Maeda opened the sliding door of the muro, where the containers were dried.  Before closing the door, he sprayed water onto the shelves to make sure to keep the humidity in the muro at about 80%. 

    Mr. Maeda is spraying water onto the shelves – Photo by Author

    The surface hardens in about a day in the muro.  Urushi may still irritate the skin until it completely hardens. Oiya waits at least a week before moving the containers to the storefront. 

    Each Mempa displayed in the showcase has a tag that tells when it was taken out from the muro.  Oiya suggests that customers wait for two months in the summer or three months in the winter before they start using the Mempa they purchased. 

    Completed Mempa on display – photo by Author

    Oiya’s Mempa used to have just a plain surface.  For Hana, who learned Makie 蒔絵 design at TASK, the plain surface has become a new canvas to try new designs. She first added Japan’s traditional designs.  Now she takes orders for custom designs. 

    Hana is applying Makie designs on the lid – photo by Hana with permission

    Mempa with Hana’s Makie designs – photos by Hana with permission

    So how long does it take to make a Mempa?  About how many Mempa does Oiya make in one batch? 

    From the start, when they cut the wooden boards, to finish, when they put them on the storefront, it takes about 3 months.  For each batch, they make 80 to 90 Mempa.  With two of them, they are making roughly one Mempa a day.

    ***

    Every summer, they make their own Kakishibu from organic persimmons that are locally harvested.  They purchase rough Urushi生漆 from a wholesaler, but they don’t depend on a third party to refine it.  They don’t mix any thinning solution to Urushi.  Rather, they make Urushi softer by painstakingly mixing it in the sunlight.   

    Mr. Maeda shows no compromise when it comes to the materials they use and the process they use to make their Mempa. 

    “Mempa is used to store our food, which is indispensable for our body and health.   How can we compromise its quality?” says Mr. Maeda. 

    Beside him, Hana was nodding each time Mr. Maeda made his comments.  I remembered that Hana had mentioned in her essay that her dream job would be to make lacquerware that are used by people every day.  Kudos to Hana for making her dream come true. 

    Mr. Maeda, Hana, and me with Mempa in our hands – photo by Author

    Hana will be coming to Seattle this summer.  For the Mempa I ordered, I asked her to design something that depicts Seattle.  What kind of design will she come up with?  I look forward to finding out!

    Her Obituary

    A long-time friend passed away

    Yesterday I found out that a long-time friend of mine passed away almost a year ago. She was the very person that introduced me and my husband.

    We two couples used to get together often, like going to plays, celebrating New Year’s and the Fourth of July.

    But over time we drifted apart… They had three kids while we stayed childless. After they got divorced we tried to see them separately but it was not easy.

    She was later diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. She may not have been even fifty at that time, quite a rare case. Once I made an appointment to get together with her, but when I visited her room in an assisted living facility, she was doing something with somebody else. She looked surprised to see me. Maybe she didn’t remember our appointment.

    That was the last time I saw her. Now I regret, why I didn’t make another effort to see her…

    I searched and found her obituary on the internet. She was four years younger. Her smile on the photo looked so lively.

    Do I miss her? Very much. Do I feel sad? Not much. Her photo on the obituary has hit me with this truth. She went earlier, but I will follow her eventually. When exactly, I don’t know, but the day will certainly come. And I’m getting closer and closer to that moment each day.

    After drifting apart for so long, now I feel so close to her. Her life and my life are not that different.

    I Bought Flowers for 24 People with A Little Hope to Change Their Lives

    Just like it changed mine 30 years ago

    This morning I went to the wholesaler to buy flowers for 24 people. Twenty-four people who will try Ikebana, the Japanese flower arrangement, for the first time tomorrow!

    Each person will use only two kinds of materials: one kind of green branches and one kind of flowers.  With the minimum sort of materials, can you make something beautiful?  That’s the challenge.

    The people who will take my workshop tomorrow all work for a large high-tech company.  I myself was working for a big IT company when I took my first Ikebana lesson, working hard every day, stressed every day.

    On the day when I first walked into the Ikebana class, my teacher, who must have been younger than I am now, welcomed me with a warm smile.  She taught me how to hold scissors, how to bend a branch, and on which angle to place it onto the Kenzan, a pin frog. 

    For my teacher, I was merely one of her many students.  She must have given the same instruction many times previously. 

    But for me, it was an eye-opener.  My life has never been the same ever since I learned the joy of creating something beautiful with natural materials. 

    Almost thirty years later, I no longer work in the IT industry, but I still continue learning Ikebana, now I’m on the teaching side. 

    When picking flowers, I just wondered… Among the twenty-four people who will come to my workshop tomorrow, would there be one who might encounter Ikebana the same way as I did?  Who knows!

    For that possibility, I continue to teach Ikebana.  Just like my teacher has changed my life, I might change some youngster’s life. Or not. All I do is to do my best to share the joy of creating something beautiful.   

    Ghost of Tomoe: Lover and a Woman Samurai Warrior

    Another ghost story from Noh plays

    When a Buddhist monk from Kiso came across a field near Lake Biwa, he saw a woman crying in front of a little shrine.

    When asked why she was crying, the woman told the monk that a famous samurai warrior Yoshinaka, also from Kiso, was enshrined there.  The woman asked the monk to pray for the spirit of Yoshinaka, and left.

    That night, when the monk was praying for Yoshinaka, a woman warrior in a fighting attire appeared. 

    “I’m Tomoe.  Yoshinaka’s lover as well as his vassal. Here Yoshinaka died on a battlefield.  I was ready to die with him as his lover, but couldn’t.”

    “Yoshinaka was deeply wounded.  No hope to survive this battle.  Rather than enduring the shame of being caught by the enemy, it was time to end our lives ourselves, an ultimate way to preserve our honor as samurai warriors.    I was ready to die together with Yoshinaka.”

    “But Yoshinaka wouldn’t permit me to die here.  He ordered me to leave him behind and return to our homeland Kiso.  If I refuse his order, Yoshinaka would deny me as his vassal for as long as the next three generations.  It would be the last thing a vassal could bear as a punishment by the master.  What other choice could I have…”

    “As his vassal and a samurai warrior, I returned to the battlefield.”

    And Tomoe was a fierce, mighty samurai warrior indeed.

    She tricked the enemy by stumbling upon a rock in front of her.  When the enemy saw her losing balance and tried to attack her, Tomoe quickly thrust her Naginata (long-handled sword) into the enemy.  No enemies could move forward without falling down and being attacked by her.

    “By the time I rushed back to Yoshinaka, he had already killed himself.    I took Yoshinaka’s robe and put it on, hid Yoshinaka’s small sword inside the robe, and fled back to Kiso.” 

    Nobody knew what happened to Tomoe afterward.

    “My spirit is still here.  I can’t get over the regret that I couldn’t die together with Yoshinaka.  Please pray for me, so that I can rest in peace…”

    Kiso Yoshinaka (1154 – 1184) is a real figure in history.  Tomoe, on the other hand, appears only in The Tale of the Heike and Genpei Seisuiki.  Did she really exist?  We have no way of knowing. 

    But we can be sure that many samurai warriors both in the Heike clan and the Genji clan must have had their own lovers who felt the same sorrow and regret like Tomoe.  To those spirits, please rest in peace. 

    Halloween is coming up.  I haven’t figured out yet why, but there are a lot of ghost stories in Noh, a major form of classical Japanese dance-drama that has been performed since the 14th century.  This month I would like to share with you some of my favorite ghost stories from the Noh plays.

    How did you like this Tomoe’s story?

    The Terracotta Walrus Faces Once Marvelled Now Look Like Ghosts

    Can we no longer build things beautiful?

    This unique 8-story building has been standing on the northwest corner of 3rd Avenue and Cherry Street in downtown Seattle for 118 years.

    It was originally built as a home to the Arctic Club, a social institution formed by those men who returned to Seattle after “striking it rich” at Klondike Gold Rush.

    It is unique because sculptured walrus heads are lined up on the third-floor exterior.

    The tusks are long, the creature’s faces look real, and the intricate ornamental decorations are beautiful. “The building was one of the first in Seattle to use off-white terracotta panels over reinforced steel concrete frames as well as colored terracotta in submarine blue and ochre.” (The Arctic Club Hotel website)  When completed, people must have marveled the artistry of the building.    

    Over a century later, what do we see?  Neighboring newer buildings are all much much taller, and have shining glass exterior walls, but none has such complex terracotta surfaces anymore. People focus on maximizing the profit of the buildings, asking how efficiently or how cost-effectively they can build it.  Not how beautiful it should be. 

    Now these sculptured walrus faces look like ghosts – forgotten, abandoned by us human beings, in the name of progress. 

    I wish not to call this progress…    

    Ghost of Atsumori

    Noh Plays are full of Ghosts

    Photo:  “Ichi-no-Tani Battle Map Screen” held by Eisei Bunko, Noh Mask

    Story of Noh Play “Atsumori” （敦盛）

    Atsumori was only 16 years old when he was killed by Kumagai at the battlefield of Ichi no tani. 

    It was not easy even for a fierce samurai worrier of Genji Clan like Kumagai to take the life of a young man who was about the same age as his own son.  Atsumori’s face was so beautiful, and he even had a slight makeup. 

    Only after the war was over did Kumagai find out that the boy was Atsumori, Heike’s prominent family member, famous for his talent as a flute player. 

    Kumagai, who renounced the world and became a Buddhist priest now called Rensei, was traveling through Ichi no Tani.  One day he heard the beautiful sound of a flute.  It turned out that one of the three grass-cutters was playing it. The guy asked Rensei to recite the prayer of Amitabha Buddha ten times.  To the suspicious Rensei, the guy hinted that he had some connection to Atsumori, and left.

    That night, when Rensei was praying for the peace of Atsumori’s spirit, Atsumori’s ghost appeared in his battle attire.  Thanking Rensei for his kind gesture, Atsumori the ghost began dancing, depicting his last day, the battle with Kumagai (now Rensei), and how he had fallen.

    After the dance, Atsumori’s ghost addressed Rensei as his close friend, not an enemy, asked Rensei to pray for his soul, and disappeared…

    Both Atsumori (Taira no Atsumori 平敦盛 1169 – 1184) and Kumagai (Kumagai Jiro Naozane 熊谷次郎直実 1141 – 1207) are real historical figures.  The battle of Ichi no tani also really happened, and is one of the most famous that is depicted in the Tale of Heike. 

    In junior high, the excerpt of this battle was included in our textbook as “Atsumori no Saigo” (The Last Moment of Atsumori).  I used to hate reading classic Japanese because it was so different from the modern spoken Japanese and painfully difficult to understand.  But somehow this tragic story resonated with me, and I can still recite the phrase “Naku naku kubiwo zo kaiten geru (with tears (he) cut the neck). 

    Resurrecting Atsumori as a ghost, the playwright Zeami Motokiyo (1363 – 1443) took up this tragedy and turned it to a beautiful Noh play of friendship.  Even though the character is no longer alive and it’s only a play,  I’m somewhat relieved that Kumagai and Atsumori were able to forgo their hatred and make peace with each other. 

    Halloween is coming up this year.  I haven’t figured out yet why, but there are a lot of ghost stories in Noh, a major form of classical Japanese dance-drama that has been performed since the 14th century.  This month would like to share with you some of my favorite ghost stories from the Noh plays.

    How did you like this Atsumori story?

    Enjoy Present Moment

    Before all the lives fade

    Today I made an ikebana flower arrangement using whatever is left in my tiny backyard.

    Sedum… The cluster of pink flowers is at its peak, enjoying the full attention.  In a month or so the cheerful pink will all turn to dull brown.

    Lacy hydrangea… The once blue petals are now curled down, showing their backside.  The color once faded away to dull off-white and now has resurrected to dark pink.  Thick leave are still full vivid green.  In a month or so, both flowers and leaves will be shed.

    A long lilac branch… Named as “Miss Kim,” this dwarf lilac blooms slightly pinkish flowers in the spring.  Today, all it has are leaves turning the color of almost deep purple.  In a month or so, the leaves will all fall to the ground.

    Some are enjoying their youth, some are dwindling, and Some are barely alive.  Which one resembles me?  Definitely not the first.  I must be between the second and the third. 

    This arrangement has made me melancholy.  It makes me realize that my time left is limited.  Cherish this moment.

    Friendship through Flowers

    The Northwest Flower and Garden Festival ended on February 18.  My forsythia, at first had only a couple of flowers blooming, ended up with more blossoms by the time I took it down.  This year the timing was just right!

    On Sunday at 6 pm.  The show was over, and it was time to take down the arrangement.  All the Ikebana International members who made arrangements showed up at the booth to take down their own work. 

    When I was disassembling my branches, one of the new members, a young man, came up to me. It was his first time to display his arrangement.  I complimented his work.  He thanked me for my words.  Then he said, “What is your yellow flower called?” 

    “Forthythia.” I replied. 

     “In Vietnam, where I’m originally from, it’s called ‘xxx’ ( I couldn’t quite catch the name), literally meaning  ‘yellow flower’.  Such a popular flower in Vietnam, but I never knew it also grows around here.”

    “You want one?  Take these branches with you.  Forthysia is so easy to propagate.”

    “Really? Thank you so much!  I will definitely try that at home!”

    This simple conversation made my day.  Now I know which country he is from.  Even a young guy like him from a country I have never visited fully enjoys Ikebana.  And my forsythia, rather than being thrown away, will start a new life under his care.

    Why do I continue practicing Ikebana?  Because I would like to encounter more of these nice surprises. 

    Excitement of Transformation

    How this hard bud of forsythia will turn out next week

    It’s cold here in Seattle.  My forsythia in the backyard doesn’t have a slight hint of blooming anytime soon.  The Northwest Flower and Garden Festival is coming up in a week, and I’m supposed to make an Ikebana arrangement for the Ikebana International Seattle Chapter booth.  Will I be able to use this branch for my arrangement?

    Why not try it!  I will pick a few branches with interesting lines and shapes, cut them, put them in a large bucket filled with water, and bring them inside.  With warmer temperatures in the house, the hard buds may begin to open in a few days.

    You cut out branches and flowers from nature, and you transform them into something different from their original conditions, shapes, and forms.  You add sprinkles of your imagination and creativity.  Sometimes it turns out to be beautiful, but sometimes it doesn’t. 

    You move your point of view.  You improvise.  You do your best.  Yet you will never know what the outcome will look like. 

    What is fun about Ikebana is the excitement of transformation. 

    I will report to you how my arrangement will turn out.  Chances are that these forsythia will not blossom in time for the show.  In such a case, I will rush to the local florist to get alternative materials. That’s OK. It’s part of the game.

    Underneath the bare forsythia, these tiny white flowers are already in full bloom.  So gentle… I don’t think I can create any more beautiful arrangement than this.  I simply bow down to nature!    

    This is my arrangement from last year.

    An example of how to create an Ikebana flower arrangement

    How to Make Miso at Home

    Can it be that simple?

    Miso is an ingredient I grew up with, but I never saw my mother making miso at home.  When one of my tea ceremony friends told me she makes miso at home from scratch once a year, I said, ”Oh, please let me join you when you make it next time!”  The day has finally come!

    There only three ingredients needed to make miso: Soybeans, rice koji, and salt.  Koji is fermented rice, and you can buy one even in the US.  My friend was kind enough to purchase all three for me so all I needed to bring was my pressure cooker and containers.

    My friend soaked soybeans in water overnight.  One kilogram of soybean were swollen up with water!  Even after draining excess water, it weighed over 2 kg. 

    I put the soybean into the pressure cooker, added water, and cooked for 20-30 minutes, until the beans became so soft that I could squeeze it easily with my fingers. 

    Once the soybean was cooked, I drained the water (but kept it in case I needed to use it later), and put it into the food processor.  You can also mash it with your hands.  For how long?  Well, I like my miso to have a little crunchiness, so I mashed it not too fine. 

    In a large bowl,  I mixed 1 kg of Koji and 400g of sea salt well by hand.  Then I added the mashed soybean and mixed it all together.  You can add the water you put aside at this point if the dough is too dry. 

    The containers used for storing miso should be sterilized.  We used vodka and sprayed it inside the containers. 

    The dough is ready to be stored in the containers.  The key point is to pack the dough so tightly that there is no air pocket in the dough.  With too much air pocket, black, unwanted mold will grow.  You don’t want that.   

    Seal the top with a wrap to avoid contacting the surface with air.  Once sealed tight, store it in a dark and cool place for 4 months.  After 4 months, mix it from the bottom and pack it tight again.  I can start enjoying the miso after 6 months.

    The process was simple, but a big question is if it will turn out well in 6 months… Let’s see!

    After making miso, my friend treated me with this wonderful lunch.  The miso soup is, of course, made from her own home-made miso! Many thanks to my dear friend!