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THE STORY 25 SPRING SUMMER

Threading Landscape

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When I first conceived the idea of creating a collection inspired by "form," Okinawa was the very first place that came to mind.

Perhaps it was because a story I had once heard lingered in the recesses of my memory—a tale of fabric adorned with crescent-moon-shaped claw motifs. The everyday becomes design, which in turn transforms into textiles, dyed fabrics, and exquisite crafts. This seamless evolution felt so profoundly natural that I longed to witness it once more. And so, after several years, I returned to that land, only to find myself once again utterly captivated.

Among the many expressions of beauty that flourished in the Ryukyu Kingdom, lacquerware holds a special place. Adorned with radiant mother-of-pearl inlays, meticulously cut and set into the surface, or embellished with the intricate, raised patterns of tsuikin (moulded decoration), Ryukyuan lacquerware thrived as a treasured artefact of deplomacy. As commerce flourished, so too did its artistry. Yet, history did not let it thrive. The Meiji Restoration and the devastation of the pacific war cast their shadows upon these crafts, forcing even art itself to endure hardship.

In an Okinawa’s museum, wartime lacquerware—created as souvenirs during the conflict—serves as a poignant reminder of those turbulent times. And yet, through the passage of countless seasons, Ryukyuan lacquerware continues to weave itself into the fabric of modern life, its luminous beauty quietly standing the test of time.

On a page in The Shape of Japan, covered with sticky notes, there rests a lacquerware piece adorned with delicate flowers. The ancient Ryukyu lacquerware I encountered in the museum was painted with flowing rivers and still flowers, holding within it the memory of the rich land of Ryukyu. Drawn into the glossy, jet-black lacquer, I found myself yearning to imprint my own vision of the Four Seasons in that same black.

The weaver from Kiryu City in Gunma Prefecture, who expressed the deep, unfathomable black of lacquer through fabric, is typically known for their expertise in necktie fabrics. On the high-density weave, with nearly 100 threads per centimetre in both the warp and weft, little birds flit gracefully, and beside the ripples of a babbling brook, flowers bloom in an elegant dance.

After experimenting with various foil threads and numerous prototypes, I carefully selected the threads that best captured the light in both white and black fabrics. These threads were woven into the fabric, their colours shimmering like the luminous iridescence of mother-of-pearl, breathing life into the shape of my vision. On the reverse side of the fabric, countless rainbow threads flow in a delicate stream, carrying light and becoming even more beautiful. Though hidden once made into garments, not all beauty is visible in what can be seen.

The intricate designs were drawn with ink. I repeatedly revisited the empty spaces, taking up the brush, then setting it down again. To bring out the true beauty of the lacquer black, the spacing between elements was everything.

Those who helped digitise the fabric designs also carefully studied the subtle wavering of my hand-drawn lines, ensuring that no unintentional strokes were lost, preserving even the tiniest distortion. This was an endlessly meticulous process, adjusting pixel by pixel. The digitised version of my landscape was then refined through repeated sample weavings, gradually nurtured over time.

The inspiration to scatter small butterflies across the fabric came from a story I heard from a Bingata artisan in Okinawa. When the finished fabric is hung out to dry, butterflies sometimes land on it, dropping pollen. As a result, the fabric is deemed defective. However, one customer, upon witnessing this, desired the fabric, saying, "It's one of a kind in the world."

When I heard this story, I imagined the butterflies fluttering against Okinawa's vibrant blue sky. I wanted to capture that scene, preserving it here as a memory.