I first discovered Hiroyuki Shindo’s work about 2 years ago. I can’t quite remember what led me to his work, but i was immediately taken with it. His art is very different to traditional “Arimatsu” shibori, and it is awe inspiring. If you google image search his name you will find so much to love and wonder at.

Shindo-san now lives and works in the small town of Kita, in Miyama, just outside of Kyoto. I say just because technically it’s not very far, but realistically it took us a good 1.5 – 2hrs to drive there. Those tiny narrow mountain roads are scary!

I had emailed Shindo-san before we left for Japan, to make sure his Little Indigo Museum would be open and that he would be there. It’s a good idea to do this if you want to visit, and it meant he was expecting us on that day.

So, on the most perfect summer’s day of our entire trip, we arrived at the Little Indigo Museum and met Hiroyuki Shindo, his wife and his apprentice.

We were welcomed in, and shown around his dye studio, we talked about the vats, his process, and he demonstrated his Arashi shibori technique. We talked about all the marvellous contraptions he had in his dye house to make tying and dyeing easier, and he was just incredibly open and generous with his knowledge.

Sitting in Shindo-san’s dye studio, I felt immensely calm, relaxed and grateful for the opportunity to be there. I’ve wanted to travel to meet Shindo-san for what feels like such a long time, and it felt like a sweet mixture of relief, gratitude and good luck to have finally made it. His generosity with knowledge and welcoming spirit was truly wonderful, and it might sound silly, but revitalising. His love of his craft and sharing it was very welcoming and refreshing.

Upstairs in the house (which is an old edo house, it’s amazing!) was his collection of Indigo pieces from around the world. The collection is small but well curated, and some pieces were so old they were beginning to crumble, and were kept under glass. I’ve purposefully left out pictures from the museum, because it is worth the trip to see in person.

We took a short break from our visit and went for a stroll around Kita. Nearly all the houses in the village are Edo houses, and it is just the cutest place to visit. So beautiful! We had a snack at a local cafe and also visited a folk craft museum. The town is very small, you can walk the whole area in around 20 mins.  Then we went back to say good bye to everyone at the Little Indigo Museum.

I was lucky that on the day we visited; Shindo-san’s apprentice Naoko Omae was setting up her first vat in his studio, so I got to see what the sakumo looks like before the lye is added and talk about how they set up their vats. They start new ones each summer and use it all summer long. If they use it well by the end of summer they will only be getting pale shades of blue from the vat.

Each vat uses over 20kg of sakumo (composted indigo) and over 200L of lye, which they make by boiling ash in water. Vats are fed only using sake, bran and more lye when necessary.

While speaking with Naoko-san and Shindo-san, I heard a little of her back story and about how she came to be Shindo-san’s apprentice, which was very interesting! She has also studied in the US and exhibited alongside Rowland Ricketts (a fantastic dyer!). I can’t wait to see what she starts to produce under Shindo-san’s teaching.

Walking away from the museum, I was so happy that I shed a few tears like a big soppy sook! It’s not often you get to go and do something you’ve dreamt about, and have it be more wonderful than you could have hoped for. I hope that I get the chance to visit again.

On my first day in Kyoto, I visited Aizen Kobo –  an old indigo dye house / shop. It is situated at the front of the family home, and the master dyer still works and lives there.
Aizen Kobo is the kind of store indigo dyers wished they owned. It is full of beautifully dyed textiles, and I would guess that around 25% of the textile bases used, are handwoven.

On entering the store I was shown around by an older man who I took to be the master dyer, whose English was reasonably good, and he showed me a few different fabrics, some ikat woven, some plain indigo dyed and some shibori dyed. We discussed the shibori dyed pieces the most, and he explained that each different design is stitched by a different family. Most designs are unique to each family, however some will do a few variations of one technique. Some of the cottons were priced at around $45 per metre (if memory serves) and I think the silks began somewhere round the $110 per metre mark. Which to be honest considering the intricacies of the designs, and the effort involved in dyeing each piece made the price very affordable.

It was a wonderful and interesting conversation and he talked about the difference in price not being just related to the different fibres, but also to how many dips in the indigo vat were required depending on the fibre. He said that cotton received around 80 – 100 dips, whereas some silk pieces were dipped over 200 times.

Naturally I was incredibly fascinated by this point, but unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to take photos of the work, which was a shame but it is obvious that they want to protect their family business, and seemed fair.

While walking around the shop we discussed dyes, and some of the work was not naturally dyed, however most was. It was easy to pick out the stuff that wasn’t naturally dyed. There was a large rack of sashiko thread however, and they were all naturally dyed. Despite my frustration with hand stitching anything, I was unable to suppress my desire to pick some up, so I grabbed more than any non hand sewer could ever need!

The older dyer vanished after awhile as I looked at the threads so then I spoke with his son, whose English was very good, and he named all the dyes used for me, and looked them up when he couldn’t find the right translation. He was an incredibly fascinating person to talk with and we discussed the indigo dye process a little as well as the “biz” in general. He did tell me his name, but I didn’t write it down quickly enough to remember!

He said there are only 5 indigo farmers left in Japan, and 5 dye houses. While from my perspective this is a bit of a fib, I am certain he is referring to the dye houses that have been around for numerous generations, that have passed their knowledge only within their families. From what I understand, knowledge isn’t typically shared outside a family or on a wider scale – the village, and taking on an outside apprentice doesn’t seem to happen lightly.

He told me about their vat, they use fermentation vats, and it is a very old vat that they have kept going for a very long time. I can only assume longer than his life time and I’m guessing he was in his 40’s. He has always been an indigo dyer, and he talked about how if their vat died their business would too, because their specific recipe, their vat bacteria is what gives them the shades of indigo specific to their dye house. It instantly made me think of sour dough breads, and that even if you have a starter all the way from paris, if you take it into a new environment, the bacteria in that new place changes it, and then its not longer a french sourdough.

Since it was around 5pm and I knew they would be closing soon, I asked if it would be possible to come back and see their vat the next day. I think we had a small language barrier here, as he began to tell me about how they don’t dye in the rainy season and he’d need to check the weather. (It was going to rain!) I asked why they don’t dye in the rain (thinking about my adventures of dyeing under a tarp last Spring!) and he said it is because they cannot gauge the final colour without the sun. This is something I have experienced myself, and it has always peeved me. I may from now on, no longer dye in the rain!

We spent a little further time chatting, and he told me that he liked my questions. I asked what he meant and he said ” Your questions have a point, you have a reason to ask them and you aren’t just asking how we do everything. Some people come here and they just ask “what is this design? what is it called? how do you do it? We are not a school, this is our life, it is not an artform it is our trade”.

I feel like perhaps my obvious delight with their work helped to grease the wheel. I didn’t visit the shop to try and steal designs, or copy them, I went to see REAL shibori. Real indigo dyed products, which after my disappointment in Arimatsu, was a very welcome sight.

All in all my visit to Aizen Kobo was inspiring, eye opening, interesting and definitely worth a visit if you happen to be traveling to Kyoto. Even if you aren’t a dyer, the shop was a delight to visit, and anyone interested in hand crafts would find something there to enjoy.

When booking our holiday I was so convinced that the shibori festival was going to be full of things to see and do that I allowed for the whole weekend to visit it.  After spending a whole day there I came to the realisation that I did not need to go back on the Sunday to see the same market stalls again. I kicked myself a bit because I could have moved on the Kyoto a day earlier if i had known and had more time there.

Nevertheless, we looked up things to do in Nagoya and found a car museum. Traveling with our 4 year old son we thought “yes! lets go do something he will love”. On further reading, we discovered that Toyota (Toyoda) had originally been involved in textiles, and that the museum also housed all their old weaving machines!!

Entering the museum you are greeted by an enormous weaving machine – the first of it’s kind to do circular / tube weaving. So amazing!

As you walk through the museum you see the history of weaving at Toyoda, you can touch some of the raw fibres they worked with, the resulting cloth, the different cloth weights and refinements, and view over 100 different weaving machines. Some also have buttons you can push to make them do stuff. We pushed ALL the buttons.

If you’re in Nagoya I would not miss visiting this museum. Not for anything. It was SO INTERESTING and we all loved it. I thought the car part was less exciting, but motor enthusiasts would love it. It also had lots of buttons you can push :)

Oh and as an extra bonus, it was free day at the museum! Textile heaven for the price of nothing! I’m not sure if they do that every Sunday, but it’s possible.

Arimatsu is a small town in the Aichi prefecture, near Nagoya. It is considered a birthplace for shibori, and is where the Itajime and Arashi techniques I practice originated. The festival is held annually around the first weekend in June. I’d love to be more specific with dates, but that is all the info I could find on it via the web, so I booked my tickets and crossed my fingers!

On arriving at the festival I was giddy with anticipation of all the amazing shibori I was going to see. I’ve not found a great deal of information on the web about the festival, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I was of a mind that I was going to be swept off my feet by amazingness.

Let me pause my story now and say, Arimatsu Shibori Festival was actually a huge let down for me. I know, it’s not what you are expecting me to say, and it hurts me to say it. But here is why I feel this way.

As I walked around the festival, I saw the same thing over and over – second rate dye work. The majority of the work that I saw was not indigo dyed, or naturally dyed, it had been dyed with what I suspect is Rit dyes. I wandered into a “workshop” at one point and they had cooking pots of it on the stove. Yes, it was blue, but it’s not indigo. My disappointment was really exacerbated by the fact that I had looked forward to this for so long, and then to find it other than what I had dreamed of – I felt shattered.

My husband, son and I wandered through the festival, which was decorated with beautiful shibori banners, they flew in the hot breeze and made really wonderful examples of traditional techniques. Again they were dyed a dark blue, but I don’t think were indigo dyed.

We walked in and out of kimono houses, where kimono lengths of fabric were on display, and could be purchased by the roll to have sewn into yukata or kimono. There was a lot of stitched shibori, and a little Arashi shibori. Only a few places had Itajime “sekka” shibori. It’s possible there were a few indigo pieces tucked away in these houses, the lighting was quite dark and often the “good” fabric was kept away from grubby hands.

I spent an entire day thoroughly moving in and out of all the shops, and I also visited the Tie Dye Museum.  There was a few excellent pieces of indigo dyed shibori on the walls, but I think most of the exhibits had been cleared out, because the whole museum had been turned into a shop where you could buy more of the same commercially dyed shibori as outside.  I can’t help wondering if visiting the museum when the festival is not on would have been better.

I’ve chatted with a few people about the festival, and my disappointment over it. I have in the past once seen Arimatsu shibori referred to as “fast food shibori” and i dismissed it, but i am sad to say, the label is fitting in many ways. There is no denying the skill displayed in the techniques on show, but it is all the same. It felt very mass produced – I wonder if this is because they’ve been sitting on the same piles of fabric for a few years, and slowly adding to them. It makes sense because one person or family masters a single technique – and they just produce this design their whole lives. They aren’t able to produce a lot of different work, they just make the same thing again and again. It’s not considered art, it’s considered a trade. I suspect it’s sort of like needlepoint – something for idle hands.

Despite my disappointment with the festival, I am glad I got to go. The history of the town is important to shibori and I hope that Arimatsu shibori returns to the greatness that it could once again so easily be. The skill and know how is already there.

I know I sound down on the festival, but it really had some great moments too. One of the best parts of the festival was watching 4 old ladies sit and tie their shibori. While watching them, a man standing near me told me that one of them was 95 years old! She had deft fingers, and the speed with which they all did their work was astonishing. A lifetime of practice paid off! There was no sign of any apprentices learning from the women, I truly hope they do in fact have some so their knowledge is passed on to the next generation.

I did have one huge spot of luck though, out of the corner of my eye I spotted through the doorway of an extremely busy shop a beautiful wall hanging – and it was indigo dyed. At first I thought it was a noren for sale, and I went in to look at it. It was actually two wall hangings, mirror images of each other. I now own one of them. I couldn’t resist it. I used google translate to speak with proprietor, who turned out to also be the dyer! Finding this one piece made the festival worth the visit for me, and I feel lucky to own such a lovely work. It also gives me hope – the dyer was a young woman named Neoko Koyabu, who clearly loved her craft and was so happy to have sold one of her works. It’s work like hers that will give Arimatsu the future it deserves.

On our first rainy day in Japan we planned to spend as much time in doors as we could, and our first port of call on my textile tour of Japan was to visit the Amuse Museum and see the Boro collection that is housed within.

I’ll be honest and say I never understood people’s obsession with boro cloth. It has spawned what seems to me to be a craft movement all of its own, and one that is not necessarily about mending and making do.  There is a lot of work out there that is boro inspired, but –  its new. It’s not made because if you don’t patch that elbow your arm might freeze off in the cold, its made purely for aesthetics. I can’t decide how I really feel about it. On one hand I can admire its beauty, on the other hand it seems to almost belittle the roots of boro. The new rise of visible mending I think is entirely different, and one I wholeheartedly stand behind – just to ensure the two are not confused.

So with the thought in mind that I cared not much for boro (having never experienced the real thing), the museum was a wonderful surprise to me.

Looking around the museum I saw a room full of clothes and bedding that were reduced to tatty rags with age.  They are stitched together again and again, randomly yet with great care. They are not beautiful in themselves. They are worn out and sad. But as you walk around reading the history of the different pieces, they change right before your eyes. They become imbued with the hardship, the struggle, the love and the care with which they were made and repaired, and beauty of their story shines through.

Each piece is a map of a life, sometimes many lives and generations. There were two pieces whose story I loved so completely. One was the Donja which looks like an extra large kimono, and is many layers of cloth, wadding and stitching. It was used as the family sleeping coat, and the whole family would get naked, and curl up inside it to keep warm.  It was beautiful to behold its many layers, but also to consider the closeness families would come to have in their lives. Even if there were squabbles, once the sun went down, they needed each other to stay warm and to stay alive.  I wonder if they would reach a point where they had such a synergy that there was never any conflict, and each person became an extension of the other.

The other was the Bodo or Bodoko which translates to being “life cloth”. The bodo is a sheet used to sleep on patched together from hemp and cotton. It was also often used as the cloth that babies were born upon, and was pieced together from clothes worn by the families ancestors.  It is a monument to the love of the family, and of welcoming new life into the family. I wont write here everything the sign in the museum says, but reading the story of this piece brought tears to my eyes. It truly embodied my feelings about my own family, and the love I have for them.

Visiting the museum gave me a new sense of why textiles are important, why the cloth, the fibre and even the fashion of it mean something.  We cover ourselves every day, we wear clothes for a multitude of reasons – to keep warm, to alert others to our sense of style, and also to display the kind of person we are, what our socio economic status is, and in many cases to show others what we care about. The clothes on our backs become us.

The gallery was empty the entire time we visited. Outside thousands of people were visiting a temple*, and exclaiming over it, spending money to write down wishes on cards, and throwing coins into prayer boxes in the hope that they might find what they were looking for. They were spending money in the museum gift shop, without bothering to enter the museum. It was such a stark juxtaposition that I was shocked, but then of course, was not. If only they would climb the gallery stairs they might find within themselves what they were looking for.

*We visited it too, and wandered around Asakusa a little. It’s very touristy but worth a side visit if you go to the museum. Visiting the temple is free.

Hello! It’s been 48 hours since I arrived back home in Melbourne from my work / play holiday in Japan. I’m slowly sifting through my photos and writing a series of blog posts about some of the places I visited and the experiences I had while there.

If you’ve been following me on instagram  then you will have seen a preview of the amazing places I visited that relate to textiles, shibori and indigo dyeing. Well, you’re in luck if you also want to see the extended story of my trip. Over the next few weeks I’ll share info and images from my journey which I hope will help anyone out there in internet land who is planning a trip to Japan to explore traditional Japanese textile crafts.

If you haven’t been following me on instagram, check it out via the sidebar for a preview of what I have coming up, or just follow along here! I’ll be posting bi-weekly until I’ve covered all the places I’ve visited that i think you’ll find interesting.