Junichi
Arai – August
“What he gained here
was the reflection of what he brought.”
The ten weeks have flown. Tim has now
returned to the UK. I watched him leave. His journey to Japan
had ended. This means his new journey has begun. I met Tim
almost at the end of my fifty-year career in Textile Design.
He is a newborn star. I wonder how he
has changed through meeting me. I cannot imagine.
I asked him some questions but I never
demanded an answer. And I showed him some of my work, only
a small percentage of all that I have done and achieved in
my career. It is impossible to guess what made the most impression
on him.
I showed him everything I could. What
did he get out of me? I prepared a new digital recorder that
I left with Tim. He took several recorded minidisks back home
with him. He will puzzle out his answer and create his work
out of it, no matter how long it will take.
I also brought him with me to the factory
where I have produced my most recent works. This factory is
at the cutting edge of my project. And everything that has
happened here is very important to the world textile industry.
It is the place where I develop my project. I brought him
there. I thought that this was the strongest way to show him
my work.
Other than seeing my project at close
hand, Tim became acquainted with my friends and colleagues.
His network of people spread rapidly. In the future, it will
grow even bigger.
What could he get out of the journey
he has made?
What was the answer he received from
his experience?
He spent ten weeks with me. He met my
friends. I won’t be able to see the consequence of the
trip in the future. I’ve done all that I could have
done. He saw my work; he listened to my advice and sometimes
tried my techniques.
He was very humble and never disturbed
my work. Everyone liked him, which made his journey even more
meaningful.
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Tim
Parry-Williams - August
Once again time has passed very quickly
and my period in Japan, shorter than other participants due
to teaching commitments, is nearly over. I feel things have
only just begun, and I find myself wishing I had longer than
my nine weeks.
The weekend over the beginning of August
was one of the fullest since my arrival, as Kiryu showed its
true colours in its yearly ‘Gion Matsuri’ festival,
an event centered on the parading of a ‘Mikoshi’
shrine and the dancing and festivities similar to those of
the Kyoto Gion Matsuri from which it takes its name. For us
at the Murinkan, or artists’ workshop community of which
my host father is director, the festival began on the Friday
evening when we all dressed in ‘Yukata’, informal
cotton kimono, and joined the crowds in the heavily decorated
streets.
The sense of occasion filled us all and
it felt wonderful to be enjoying the sights, sounds and smells
of the evening, with people who have so quickly become very
good friends.
The next day I took up an honorary place in the local men’s
festival society, the northern most group along the main street
which hosts the festival, appropriately named ‘Hokutoukai’
or ‘Northern constellation’. I had earlier bought
the essential personal items of ‘Sarumata’, a
shorts like outer-under garment and outdoor ‘Tabi’,
white kimono socks with a rubber sole, and my ‘bean-spot’
or polka dot scarf/headband. The ‘Hapi’, or festival
jacket, was borrowed for the afternoon, the back of which
was attractively printed with large characters spelling the
name of our group. Numbers bolstered by a large group of young
men from the local engineering university meant we were a
record party of 76, and as I was to quickly realize a welcome
figure. The mikoshi is carried from one group point to the
next along the main street, a total of five changes, and our
group being the final one we had an important job to do.
The mikoshi must be ‘quietly’
carried north to the main shrine where its fine decorations
are safely removed. Then it begins its return journey south,
where it must be vigorously paraded round the local vicinity
with vertical raising and lowering of the frame holding the
Mikoshi, in seesaw or rocking horse motion. Each group tries
to outdo the others with feats of strength and energetic chanting
etc, and as such, the 30 minutes or so parading meant a trip
to the gym would be unnecessary, if not impossible for some
time. The event was followed by beer and laughter at the local
public baths, and two separate thank you parties. Two evenings
of dancing the Yagibushi in the streets with the university
students and hundreds of others completed the seasonal festivities.
I had never considered taking part in such an event other
than as an interested onlooker, and I feel enriched by the
genuine experience of the festival and all its passion and
emotions personifying the pride and value in local cultural
identity and traditional values. The many different boldly
patterned textiles and ‘casual’ garment shapes
usually unappealing to my tastes now have a special value,
their place in the rich visual play of Japanese culture confidently
secure.
A monthly kimono class hosted by my ‘parents’
was an opportunity to learn a little more about the national
garment of Japan which I have known about for so long, but
not in any real detail. My timing was good since the sensei
who runs numerous workshops etc with the attending group,
was lecturing on the wearing of men’s summer kimono,
relevant to both gender and season. She described the various
hierarchies of kimono material and design in relation to the
season, styles of wearing both kimono and obi and even included
some fairly humorous descriptions of various under garments.
The focus of the session was putting on a Yukata, or summer
kimono, and it was my first opportunity to learn the correct
process which is somewhat complicated even for the simpler
men’s versions. I was very surprised by how involved
I became in the tying of the obi, the feel of wearing it and
the weight and texture of the cloth itself. I found myself
thrilled by the idea of exploring the weaving of obi, something
I have never considered before despite being surrounded by
kimono culture whilst living and working here previously.
We were shown two methods of tying, one a seasonal favorite,
the other a simpler but attractive variation. Both of these,
I picked up sufficiently quickly enough for the sensei to
praise my efficiency, I assumed as a first timer. However,
it seemed I wasn’t going to go away with the class experience
only as I was quickly signed up to join the kimono class display
group in the festival parade. The idea amused me, since I
had only just learnt the basics, but I read sensei’s
game plan quickly in realizing that I would be the token foreign
male, unusually distinctive with my western stature. With
this is mind, and my new found passion for kimono, I took
advantage of a ‘student discount’ and purchased
a yukata to my tastes as designer, simple and sufficiently
formal enough to crossover to ‘Kimono’.
This month has also provided the opportunity
to experience Kendo, a martial art I had never observed before,
and I was pleased to visit a local ‘Dojo’ with
the Father and son neighbours from the Murinkan, despite the
fact practice began at the rather unearthly time of 6am. I
was seated in the side room of the Dojo from where I had a
very good view of the suitably warp-like, up and down drill
practice and fight sequences. I was quickly drawn in by the
organized nature of the training and the wonderful colour
and movement of the Indigo blue ‘armour’, carefully
layered and tied round, and front and back of the body. The
children’s garments very particularly appealing, with
the younger students wearing Sashiko quilted jackets in White
and blue, beautifully contrasted with the deep blue ‘Hakama’
trousers and ties, and the faded colours of the dojo building
itself. I don’t know if I will be able to bring any
of these things into my work, but they are another special
layer in my understanding of the visual culture I’m
privileged to be enjoying.
August has certainly felt more productive
in terms of practical work, and I’ve enjoyed working
on the loom with materials new to my own experiences. Since
Arai has worked extensively with numerous ‘new’
yarns, I felt I wanted to explore some for myself, with a
view to taking them into production work later for the project.
It has felt a little like breaking unwritten rules, since
my interest in the properties of natural materials has kept
me busy for so long, I have never tried synthetics before,
and have some inner dislike for the manmade. It makes it a
very interesting challenge, treading on new ground, since
I have the skills but not the ‘language’ for ‘dialogue’
with the materials. Arai was surprised and somewhat amused
that I chose to work with Polyester and Slit-film yarns in
the same warp, but in handling them I felt confident they
were similar enough to cope with being alternately combined
on the same warp beam, especially as I have used end and end
warps on many occasions within the natural yarns group. I
have been very pleased with some of the results, and even
surprised by some of the surface texture and cloth qualities,
and Arai has been delighted with the quality of my hand weaving,
surprised I think by the standards I set myself. (Image 4)
We conducted some interesting tests on an aluminium cloth
he developed some years ago, I think by way of introduction
to a ‘Shibori’-like process to which he thought
I might like to apply to my cloth. A further test on a small
cutting of one of my samples revealed the materials true identity,
and a subtle but exciting surface quality. It was here that
I was able to demonstrate my own confidence in the direction
the work might go in.
I see the cloth work completed this
month as starting points for further development, as each
interesting sample hints at greater potential. Exhibition
and research plans for the remaining time here in Japan mean
this will be difficult to pursue in any depth before I return
to England, but I feel we are making sufficient progress for
the ideas to develop satisfactorily into finished pieces fairly
quickly once selected. Arai is also keen that I enter one
or two ideas into up coming textile design competitions, stressing
they have sufficient potential for commercial production,
recognition which is very flattering indeed.
The ever increasing circle of friends
and contacts has continued to grow and the preparation for
an upcoming two-man show of work by Arai and a former student
of his, and longtime idol of mine, Chiaki Maki, meant I was
finally able to meet her in person at Arai’s place.
I cautiously took along my box of portfolio samples, fortunately
much admired and so enjoyed the conversation we were able
to have as a group of weavers delighting in so many similar
passions of cloth and material. It amused us just how many
network crossovers we had, our weaver’s world getting
smaller as the conversation went on.
Supplementary work, or visual research
and commercial familiarization have continued alongside sporadic
weaving sessions throughout this month. The summer weather,
now firmly recognized as ‘unusual’, has played
havoc with the normally clockwork like Japanese seasons, and
my plans to explore the visual qualities of rice paddy planting
have been delayed by a typhoon and heavy rain, keeping me
inside away from the fields. The plants have meanwhile grown
so thick that the rows are quite different to the images I
had swimming around in my mind. But a visit to a lovely exhibition
of pieces from the permanent collection at the City Art Museum
in Kyoto, allowed me to see some beautiful representations
of farmed and natural landscape and traditional rural life,
exercised with perfect confidence in pigment on silk and paper.
I was frustrated in not having the sketchbook or time to record
some of these images, and the lack of appropriate post cards,
but the striking clarity of line and simple use of subtle
colour made a lasting impression.
Although visits to industry etc have
been less prolific than July, I have continued to take advantage
of local textile industry culture. A small obi and furnishing
fabric workshop five minutes walk from home provided further
insight into power loom production.
The tour around the miniature but labyrinth
like factory by the two disturbingly similar spinster sisters
who ran the looms, and who might have just stepped out of
a Studio Gibili animation, made it all the more interesting.
I also had the chance to practice my Japanese language textile
teaching skills as I helped to explain some of what we saw
to my semi-knowledgeable host parents. On the auspices of
borrowing an ‘Ara-osa’, or Japanese raddle for
the furtherance of my weaving work, a return visit to the
Orijuku workshop meant I also got some more time with some
of the sample books I had seen on an earlier visit. I had
made mental images of two in particular, the cover titles
of which I had fortunately made notes of, meaning Mutoh sensei
was able to deliver them from the phenomenal heap of such
books stored upstairs. I made digital images of favourite
pages and was pleased to discover they represented the ‘summer’
and ‘winter’ collections of one particular workshop.
I loved the simplicity of the cloth samples, their understated
beauty in colour and pattern detail and couldn’t help
wonder how they might appeal to the contemporary consumer.
The majority of this journal entry was
written aboard the bullet trains of the Northern JR train
system, wonderfully efficient in making sure I could stick
to a tight one-week travel schedule. Following a brief return
to old stamping grounds in Kyoto, I headed for Tokyo for a
meeting on a forthcoming exhibition in September. The pure
metropolis of the Japanese capital never ceases to impress
me, and I lapped up the visual cocktail of the hotchpotch
buildings and multifaceted shop fronts alive with neon. One
nights rest and a few more high speed hours later and I was
meeting the Arais in Iwate prefecture, where we attended the
opening day of a outdoor textile art exhibition focusing on
the use of wool. Although I follow a designer/maker path in
my own work, I was inevitably interested in what the various
artists were doing, and particularly the use of colour, evidently
so important in outdoor work with the unlimited ceiling space
of the changing sky above. A weekend in Akita and Aomori in
the very north of Honshu provided more distinctive use of
colour, in particular the yellow layered wooden roofing and
pigment red of the Buddhist temples in Hirosaki.
Travel here reminds one of just how varied
and yet uniform the culture can be; subtle differences in
style or detail as intricate as the spoken dialects of the
areas in which they are found. I hope that some of these special
elements will filter through to my work, and that these many
observations will be reflected in cloth and paper.
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