THE STORY 24 FALL WINTER

Looking at the surface of a ceramic piece, no matter how long you look at it, it never gets boring. The more you observe it, you get drawn into its beauty and depth, becoming captivated by its universe.

Madara Karatsu is a type of Karatsu ware, characterised by its milky surface interspersed with blue or black spots, hence the name ‘madara’ (meaning ‘spotty’ or ‘mottled’). The random patterns created by these spots exude a beauty that could be described as having the allure of an aurora or rainbow. While holding a piece, I wondered if I could express this beautiful and mysterious texture through dyeing techniques.

Accompanied with extensive research, I visited Mr. Nishida in Kyoto, who continuously explores various dyeing techniques. I observed the cosmic-like texture on a piece of Madara Karatsu by Naoto Yano, which I cherish myself, pondering how to express this onto garments. Through our discussion, we considered various ideas, such as applying clay to the fabric as if making ceramics, or using persimmon tannin to create a texture similar to red clay. Experimenting with these techniques, it was challenging to achieve the expression with depth I was satisfied with. I aimed to incorporate the intricate cracks known as ‘kannyu’ found on the surface of ceramics into the base colours.

While experimenting, Mr. Nishida proposed a technique inspired by traditional wax-resist dyeing used for yukata and other garments, it was to apply mochi (rice cake) to the fabric. Wax-resist dyeing involves applying wax to the fabric, cracking it, and then dyeing it, but it usually requires volatile substances to be washed off. While considering how to implement this traditional technique with reduced environmental impact, he recalled observing cracks forming on the mochi prepared for New Year’s, kagami mochi (mirror rice cakes) over time, and thus came up with the idea of applying mochi to the fabric. We soon started working on various prototypes.

A mixture of mashed mochi rice and ink is applied thinly and evenly using a silk screen. While the rice alone lacks the ability to resist dye, mixing it with the highly absorbent ink allows the dye to be absorbed as well. As a result, the fabric turns completely black after dyeing.

Mr. Nishida finally arrived at the optimal formulation after numerous trials with the dye manufacturer. Finding the right amount of charcoal was challenging, as too much would absorb too much dye. After finding the right balance, the process involved applying the mochi rice mixture and letting it dry, repeating the process three times. This process created a thin, black layer on the silk-wool fabric. Through experimentation, we determined the best thickness of the layer.

Once thoroughly dried through repeated natural and gas dying process, the fabric was then cracked by hand. As if embracing the fabric, it was gathered and pressed, carefully cracked with a crisp sound to create the intricate cracks.

When the fabric is evenly cracked, it is then draped in a pleated manner over a stand with bamboo rollers, resembling a column. The dye was then applied into the cracks with a brush. One had to be careful not to press too hard, as it could cause the rice to peel off, so the number of brush strokes and pressure were adjusted by hand. In the factory where the sunset streamed in, fine black powders from the rice cracking and brush dyeing danced in the air.

After the base dyeing is completed, the fabric is steamed, mochi rice is taken off and the process moves on to dyeing its colours. Unlike conventional dyeing methods, each dye is hand-painted onto the fabric, much like creating a painting. The texture and appearance of ceramics are carefully represented by hand of skilled artisans, using the designs I drew in its actual size.

For the brown hues, I wanted to evoke the reddish-brown texture of Karatsu ware and the feeling of clay fired in a kiln. Using an orange resists dye to repel colours and three shades of brown, the brush is tapped, placed delicately, and painted with fine brush movements. To express the freckles and stains found on ceramics created by ash, the dye is rhythmically dabbed and flicked with the brush, as if a snowstorm of dye occuring.

The blue represents the Madara Karatsu as if it were a shooting star flowing through the aurora. The blue and brown dyes are applied with the brush in a swift, flowing motion. To achieve the ceramic texture, resin resembling aurora particles are added to the blue dye. Although it eventually disappears, it creates a glossy effect under the light, adding variation to the dye’s unevenness.
As the dye’s blend together like glaze merging, the colours mix creating a depth similar to an aurora.

The dyeing and steaming process is repeated twice, a dyeing process that takes twice as long compared to the usual process. The fabric, which is stretched out in a long vertical factory, is tightly secured with bamboo poles. This method of stretching the fabric is inspired by the traditional Yuzen dyeing from Kyoto. The progress for the fabric takes time, requiring immense patience.
The fabric, hand-painted in its entirety, gradually absorbs the dye, and as it dries, the colours continuously change. As I watched this process in daze, I savored the thought of this luxurious approach to fabric making.

The journey to create a single ceramic piece is endless. Rocks from the mountains are pounded with a millstone, ground into a powder, and then water-weighed to finally form clay, which is then shaped, glazed and fired. Only then, does it take shape, be coated with glaze and undergo firing.
The fabrics are beautiful and smooth, but are wearable ceramics. Everytime we go through the prototypes, Mr. Nishida says ‘Isn’t it cool?’ I am truly grateful to be able to collaborate on such heart-stirring craftsmanship.