Author: kamys

My Obi is My Jewelry

When and how I chose my obi

Ever since I met her for the first time in the spring of 2016, it became my routine to see Reiko-san, the CEO of Rakufulin 洛風林, whenever I went back to Japan.  For a couple of years, I never had a chance to be in Japan during Rakufulin’s annual exhibition.  In the spring of 2019, I finally was able to visit Kyoto in time for their annual exhibition.

The theme of that year’s exhibition was “kissako喫茶去.”  Like all the other Zen phrases, it’s not easy to translate it into English.  A literal translation is “Why don’t you have a bowl of tea?” 

Dressed in that matcha color kimono that I had selected at Katsuyama-san’s studio, I went to the annex building of the Kyoto City Internation Foundation, where the exhibition was held.

The venue was a Japanese-style building.  At the entrance, I took off my shoes, placed them on the large shelf on the wall, and stepped up onto the raised floor.  I saw an old wood sign with the company name 洛風林(Rakufulin) hand-carved into it together with a vegetable or flower design with vines.  

Then I turned right and followed the narrow, hardwood-floor hall.  At the end of the hall were two rooms with tatami mats.

On the right side of the corridor, half of the room was staged as the study of Mr. Takeshi Horie, the founder of Rakufulin and Reiko-san’s grandfather.  The very low desk and the round low table that Horie-san used to sit at were brought in.  Several sample books and fabrics that Horie-san had collected from his trips were displayed alongside the desk, as if he were still working there.

According to Reiko-san, Horie-san used to sit at the round table with his partner weaver, and discuss the design details of the Obi.  Katsuyama-san’s father or grandfather would have sat around this table as well. 

I asked Reiko-san and Aiko-san, Reiko-san’s younger sister and Rakufulin’s chief designer, to take seats in front of the table.  Reiko-san was wearing a dark-colored Kimono.  She told me that she had her father’s kimono remade. 

I noticed that when Reiko-san and Aiko-san talk about their grandfather, they mostly refer him as “Shodai初代,” which means “first generation.”  Likewise, they would most often refer to their father as “Sendai先代,” meaning “previous generation.”  Although biologically they are their grandfather and father, when it comes to talking about business, calling them Shodai and Sendai sounds more appropriate and professional.

When Reiko-san uses the word Shodai, I see and feel the huge responsibility that she has chosen to carry on her shoulders.  I look at her not only as my friend Reiko-san but also as Todai当代, the current generation of Rakufulin.

When Reiko-san took over the family business, the kimono industry was no longer the same as when Sendai was running it.  Japan’s economic bubble had already burst, and Kimono’s glory days were in the past.  She had to make some major changes to the business operation.

Streamlining the sales channel was one thing.  She had to review the existing retailers and sever relationships when necessary.  She also had to deal with copycats sold as Rakufulin’s products in the market.  Reiko-san must have gone through difficult situations, but her smile and soft-speaking voice made it hard for me to imagine her tough negotiation battles.

On the opposite corner of the toom, older Obi that Shodai and Sendai designed were displayed.  Some of them must be half a century old.  They were all gorgeous, with so many different colors and complex patterns.  Some of them can no longer be replicated because no weavers with such high skills are remaining.

Two sides of the other tatami-mat room were filled with the newer Obi.  Some formal; some casual.  Some with design patterns all through; some with designs only on the spot.  Each Obi design had its own name.  Some were typical Japanese names like “Ancient Flowers.” Some had  exotic names like “Silk Road” or “Sarasen Circle.”

I looked at each Obi closely with the intention of selecting one to get.  The Obi should match very well with the matcha-color kimono I was wearing, but it should also be versatile enough to match some of my other kimonos as well. 

In order to match as many different colors as possible, I thought the base color of Obi should be white or a very light, neutral color.  Why only one, you may ask.  Of course I wish I could get many more!  But my wallet was saying no.

My choice was a whitish obi, called Sarasen Circle.  It has a big spot design on the back, and a smaller circle is placed on the front.  Blue is rather dominant, but there is a little yellow in the middle of the circle.  The shape of Obi, called a fukuro obi, is formal enough to be able to wear on different occasions including tea gatherings.

After I kind of made up my mind, I asked Reiko-san her opinion.  As an all-purpose obi, which one would she recommend for me?

Reiko-san’s answer was far from my choice.  She took me to the one I most overlooked.

Called Ichimatsu, this obi’s base color is black.  Gold and silver squares are placed alternately. This design is not a new one, but one of Shodai’s original designs inspired by a fusuma painting in Katsura Imperial Palace in Kyoto.

Such a simple design, with timeless beauty.

Reiko-san also told me that this obi was a collaboration of Katsuyama-san and Saito-san. The real gold and silver. How can I say no to this obi?

…

I’m glad that I followed Reiko-san’s advice!  Here in Seattle, I now wear this Ichimatsu obi most often.  Thank you, Reiko-san! Now I’m convinced. My kimono and obi are my jewelry.

My Two Moms Taught Me Most Important Lessons in Life

In response to Dancing Elephants Press prompt week 46 of 52 — Positive Impact

I have two Moms, one in Japan and one in the US. 

The one in Japan is my biological mother who gave me birth.  The one in the US is my host mother when I was an exchange student in the US for a year. 

Both Moms have taught me the most important lessons in life.

My mother in Japan taught me to think by myself, to be independent, not to rely on anybody else. 

I was in the first grade then.  One day I asked my mother one of the questions I was to answer in my homework.  She gave me the answer, and I wrote it down as she said. 

The next day at school, I found out the answer was wrong.  Furious and shameful, I swore to myself that I would never ask my mother to help me do my homework again.  Nor would I depend on anybody for any answer blindly. 

If I thought it through, came up with the answer, and turned out to be wrong, I could take full responsibility for the outcome.  But the answer was not mine, but somebody else’s.  I just couldn’t take that humility. 

My mother in the US taught me that there is more than one yardstick to evaluate myself, and I can define my own yardstick.

I was 16, just arrived in the US from Japan as an exchange student.  One day my host mother mentioned a girl as being smart, although she was not good at math. 

A student can be smart although not good at math? The concept was totally foreign to me.  In Japan, a student was not considered as “smart” unless s/he was good at math and all the other subjects. 

That’s when I learned that there is more than one yardstick to evaluate a person.  Or ultimately, I can create my own yardstick to evaluate myself. 

Two important lessons that positively, profoundly impacted my life, one from each Mom.    

I Am Programmed to Love Blue

Dancing Elephants Press Prompt week 43 of 52 — The color of my life

Out of all the colors surrounding me, which color dominates my vision?  Blue, by far!

When I look up, the vast sky is filled with blue.  When I look down the cliff, the calm water surface of the sea is filled with blue color.

For me, blue is the color that best depicts my life.  It’s the most soothing color, which gives me balance, happiness, joy, and hope.  For me, blue is the color that I wish to fill my life with as much as possible!

Yes, the burning orange of the sunset is beautiful, but we appreciate that color because it fills our vision only for a short moment.   Imagine how different the world would look like if the sky and the ocean were filled with bloody red all the time.

Since this color is so dominant in our living environment, what good would it be if all living creatures were depressed or adversely affected by this dominant color?

I believe that I was born to love blue.  I believe I’ve been programmed to feel good when I look at this color as a living creature. 

The Only Problem with My Favorite Obi

Why I couldn’t choose one

Several days after we visited Katsuyama-san’s studio, I paid a visit to Rakufulin’s office in the center of Kyoto.  Reiko-san greeted me with a warm smile and led me to the tatami-mat room where some of Rakufulin’s Obi were displayed and many more stacked. 

She first told me a story about her family business, then began spreading Obi one by one. 

Many of the Obi designs were traces of the fabrics that Reiko-san’s father and grandfather gathered from all over the world, especially in central Asia.  Aiko-san, Reiko-san’s younger sister and the chief design officer of Rakufulin, adds her own interpretation to the original designs and creates new Obi. 

Let me share with you some photos I took!

Below are examples of color magic.  The two Obi shown side-by-side are the same design.  By applying different colors, each Obi gives you quite different impressions.

The following two Obi employ the fukure ori ふくれ織 technique.  The flower part is a little puffier than the rest, giving you a three-dimensional impression. 

Aiko-san also designed these Obi.  Her color selection reflects the contemporary trend.

Among more than 30 Obi that Reiko-san showed me on that day, this one was my favorite. 

The orange flower looks like Dahlia, is it?  Is the flower with the purple outline Iris? How about the bluish flower with five petals? You can’t make out which flowers exactly, but each gives you a whimsical impression.  Various shapes of leaves and vines are dancing all over.  And the background has also various patterns including large horizontal stripes and smaller vertical stripes. 

How many colors are used in total?  So many.  Each color is inviting, looking so sweet. I almost want to put it in my mouth like candy.  I can’t find any dominant color or pattern, but this Obi definitely gives you a sophisticated, overall harmony.

The problem I had, however, was I couldn’t think of any of my kimono that would match this Obi.

You know, Obi is only one component for dressing.  It’s rather an accent.  You need the main foundation, which is Kimono.  What kind of Kimono will have enough significance that can treat this Obi as a mere accent?  I couldn’t find any in my humble Kimono collection.  A big sigh.

 After spreading the Obi to show it to me, Reiko-san kept laying one on top of the other.  By the time she showed me close to thirty, the pile of Obi fabrics formed a beautiful pyramid.  At Rakufulin, even how Obi are shown on the tatami-mat floor becomes artistic!

“A Truly Beautiful Thing is Always New”

A story of Rakufulin 洛風林

I was intrigued by Reiko-san, the CEO of Rakufulin.  For me, “Nishijin” was equivalent to “tradition.”  My image of CEO of a Nishijin Obi company was a serious-looking, older man.  Reiko-san is far from it, must be at least 15 or 20 years younger than I am.   Why is such a young, beautiful woman running a Nishijin company?

Here is her family history that Reiko-san told me when I visited the Rakufulin office for the first time.  It started with her grandfather.

Reiko-san’s grandfather, Takeshi Horie, was born in 1907 in Fukui Prefecture, which borders Kyoto to its south and faces the Japan Sea.  Horie-san’s family was a kimono retailer, so it was a natural career path for him to be apprenticed to a prominent Obi maker in Kyoto when young. 

He was well-trained there, and when he became independent in 1952, he named his own company Rakufulin 洛風林. His former employer as well as his mentor had a nickname Rakuen-o 洛園翁, and allowed Takeshi-san to use one of the characters for his new company name.

When he started Rakufulin, Takeshi-san introduced two unique aspects to his business.

First was his Obi designs. 

When very few Japanese traveled abroad, Takeshi-san visited so many countries, especially Asian countries such as Iran and Afghanistan, retracing the ancient Silk Road.  He collected various old textiles made in those regions.  Inspired by the patterns of those ancient textiles, he created new designs for Obi.

Takeshi-san was also involved in the Mingei Movement with people like Kawai Kanjiro and Yanagi Soetsu.  The Mingei Movement found beauty in ordinary crafts and functional utensils. 

Most Nishijin Obi makers in those days had constant orders from the Imperial Court and other upper-class customers for traditional designs.  Although Takeshi-san was considered an outlier in Nishijin, he never hesitated to pursue new designs.  His motto was “A truly beautiful thing is always new.” 

Second was how he collaborated with weavers.

Takeshi-san chose not to hire weavers as his employees, but carefully selected a handful of weavers with different skills, and formed a team of what he called Dojin 同人. 

Takeshi-san played a role of a designer and a producer.  Depending on the Obi design, he collaborated with the weaver on a certain technique that would best fit that particular design. 

Takeshi-san as a producer and the weavers were equals.  This horizontal relationship made it easier for both parties to bounce off their ideas and create new things.

When Tetsuo-san, Takeshi-san’s son and Reiko-san’s father, took over Rakufulin, he founded a private museum called Orient 織園都 to archive all the textiles that both his father and himself collected over time. 

When her father’s health deteriorated and passed, Reiko-san succeeded as CEO.  Her younger sister, Aiko-san, also joined the family business as a designer.  The middle sister, Mayuko-san, takes care of the back office including accounting. 

The three sisters take pride in keeping the business philosophy of Rakufulin, “a truly beautiful thing is always new.”

How Gold Film Made into Gold Thread

Craftsperson’s passion and skill are applied with Urushi

Katsuyama-san’s Obi uses ultra-thin gold threads. How are the gold threads made?  Who makes them?

Katsuyama-san’s van left his studio in Shuzan 周山, the countryside of the northern part of Kyoto City.  Those questions were answered at the next destination, a little closer to the city center.

A man whose name was Saito-san, with a large apron, greeted us with a big smile.  Saito-san’s workplace was a low desk.  He sat in front of the desk, and we sat on the other side as he started working.

At first, Saito-san placed a sheet of red washi paper made from Oriental paper bush, on the desk.  On the washi paper, he spread urushi evenly.  He seemed to have already got immune to urushi, because he was not wearing gloves.

Then he opened a package covered with white paper.  Inside there were sheets of square, ultrathin gold film.  He picked up one sheet using a tong made of bamboo and held it up in the light.  The film was so thin that you could almost see through it.

Saito-san spreads Urushi on washi paper – Photo by Author Akemi Sagawa

Saito-san swiftly placed the gold film at the edge of the red paper.  He pressed it evenly, picked up another gold film, placed it right next to the first one, pressed it evenly, picked up another one, placed it right next to the second one, pressed it evenly, picked up another one…

While answering our random questions, he continued his work.  Five sheets in one row, and five rows on one sheet of paper. In total, he placed twenty-five sheets of ultra-thin gold film onto washi paper so effortlessly.  There was no gap in-between the films, nor any overlap. 

After he finished placing the gold film, he rubbed the surface with a special tool, creating a rustic look.

“The task is quite simple.  What makes our work different from those of amateurs is the speed and consistency.  After repeating it so many times, I can do it quickly, yet there is very little difference in how each sheet looks.  That’s the work of a craftsman like me,” said Saito-san.

He showed us the sheet cut into thin thread, with sample of red fabric that was woven together with the gold thread. (See the first photo above.)

“How many people are working for you?” I asked. 

Saito-san said, “Are you kidding me? No young people want to do such tedious work.  When I retire, there is nobody that would take over my job here. I’m more than sixty years old.  I will try to continue as long as I can.”

I hope Saito-san is not the only hikihaku (引箔) craftsman in Kyoto, but he is the only one whose work Katsuyama-san can fully trust.

And My Ultimate Wish List Is…

In response to Dancing Elephants Press Prompt 42 of 52

vivi14216によるPixabayからの画像

Here is a list of places/ countries I wish to visit:

  • Yellow Stone
  • Israel
  • Istanbul
  • Casablanca
  • Sidney
  • New Zealand

Here is a list of things I wish to experience:

  • Horseback riding
  • Scuba diving
  • Hang riding
  • Sailing through South Pacific
  • Driving across the continent from Seattle to Boston via I-90
  • Driving along East Coast from Portland, Main to Miami, Florida

But, do you know my ultimate wish list is?

To encounter what I have never even imagined to wish for!

Because the world is way larger and greater than what I can wish for with my limited knowledge and experience…

Weaving by Hands with Love and Passion

The veteran weaver incorporated gold thread one by one

Adjacent to the Tatami-mat room where Katsuyama-san showed me his silk yarn and Reiko-san showed me the kimono fabrics, was a studio where several veteran weavers were working on making Obis.

In this quiet countryside surrounded by rice fields, Katsuyama-san’s father, the fourth-generation Obi maker, opened this hand-weaving studio about 50 years ago.  While machine weaving became mainstream even in Nishijin, the father’s move seemed against the tide.

In the studio, several veteran weavers were working.  The studio had a hardwood floor, but directly underneath the loom where the weaver sat and worked, the earth was exposed. When asked, one of the Obi weavers explained to me that having enough humidity coming from the earth helps maintain a favorable silk condition when weaving.

The punctual sound of the loom’s movement was soothing.

One of the weavers opened a flat sheet of paper.  Inside were gold threads, ready to be woven into the Obi.  How can these thin threads be made into Obi fabrics, I wondered.

Back in the Tatami-mat room, Reiko-san showed me several Obi woven by those ladies.　　These Obi were all designed by Katsuyama-san.  Some of Shimura-san’s silk yarn was brought here from Nagano to be made into Obi.  The gold threads were meticulously woven together with the silk weft, one by one. 

　　

Inspired by the Bamboo Container

My Ikebana arrangement with the theme of weaving

The jasmine vine in my backyard shows healthy growth in the summer.  Too healthy that it almost overwhelms the spiderwort flowers blossoming nearby. One of my summer garden chores, therefore, is to trim the excessively long jasmine vines once in a while.

The vines don’t go to the compost bin right away.  They are usually parked in one of my bamboo basket containers for a week or two.

This bamboo container has a small round opening on the top and a rectangular bottom. The handle is rather long, with two rods twisted into one.  Meticulously hand-woven, this bamboo basket container is a regular that accompanies my jasmine vines every summer.

Inspired by the impeccably woven surface of the container, I try to weave the jasmine vines on and around the basket.  Sometimes I successfully create beautiful curved lines that look like they are almost floating.  Sometimes the lines end up sloppily dangling from the basket. 

I try to replicate the most successful curved lines I can remember, but none of the vines are exactly the same.  That’s the wonder of nature, and I have no choice but to accept the different lines each time.

So here is the Ikebana arrangement I did this summer.  I accompanied lisianthus and lysimachia flowers, both of which have graceful curved lines.  Hopefully the jasmine vines are happy with the company. 

Happy Birthday, My Dear Mother!

In response to Dancing Elephants Press Prompt week 40 of 52 — Love

My mother turned 85, and my cousin’s family celebrated her birthday while I was sound asleep.

That’s because I live Ocean’s away from my mom and there is 16 hours of time difference between us.

My cousin chose a day when everybody in her family (her husband, her children, and her son-in-law) was free from work.  Before taking my mother to dinner, she and her family decorated their living room with balloons. 

It has become customary for my cousin to take my mother for lunch or dinner once a month, so my mother had no second thoughts when my cousin suggested they stop by my cousin’s house for tea after the meal. 

Then my mother saw the sea of balloons, even the number “85” displayed in the living room!

It was my mother’s first surprise birthday party.

I had never celebrated my mother’s birthday before.  The only thing I could do in the last 29 years since I moved to the US was to call her on the phone or send her a short text message. 

My cousin lives only a 15-minute drive away from my mother.  Everyone in her family loves my mother and treats her as their own mother.  Maybe 100 times more love than my love for my mother.

All I can do is fill my heart with gratitude and lots of love for my cousin and her family.

Thank you so much, Eri-chan.