From the Heart of the Craft Series: Washi Paper Blog Post #1

By in Blog with 0 Comments

Taryn H. is an avid crafter and world traveler. Taryn loves spending time outdoors backpacking, learning about different people and cultures, and making a difference in the world through crafting.

In my journey exploring traditional Japanese crafts this summer, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the artisans and teachers who have preserved these techniques over centuries. Their devotion and artistry was evident not only in the beautiful physical artifacts but also in the stories they shared. Learning about and practicing these crafts connected me to something timeless – a bridge to the past but also grounded in the present. The elegance and soul embodied in each craft inspires me to approach each moment with the same care and attention, and for that, I am truly thankful.

I would love to share with you my craft journey in Japan through a series of posts, each about a traditional Japanese craft, starting first with my experience with washi paper making.

***

Tucked away in the rolling hills of the Japanese countryside, about a two hour drive from Kyoto, is the small town of Echizen, known for the ancient craft of Washi paper making. As we drove up, small village homes and cracked cobblestone paths extended down small alleys and into the hills. We were greeted by Saori and Isao San, who ushered us in to learn the centuries-old process for making washi paper.

Saori described how the pulp was made from harvested kozo (mulberry) branches through a painstaking process. We poured the pulp into the suki-bune, a large wooden basin, and added a scoop of neri, a natural glue from the tororo aoi flower. My arms ached as I vigorously mixed the concoction, slashing around the water with a long wooden stick. Once this mixture was ready, we started the paper-making process. I placed the su, a thin bamboo mat that allows water to drain, over a suspended wooden frame above the basin and scooped the water, pulp, and neri mixture from the basin, gently oscillated the frame from front to back until all of the excess water drained. We repeated this process of scooping and panning about six to nine times to build up the fiber on the bamboo sheet. Eventually, the sheets are pressed to drain out any remaining water, placed on a board made from a Ginkgo tree, and left to dry in the sun.

Washi paper making was introduced to Japan over 1,300 years ago from China. However, the Japanese found traditional Chinese paper to be too thin and developed the mixture of kozo and neri. This technique was passed down from one generation to the next, allowing each washi paper to be a unique reflection of the soul of its paper maker and their lineage. As the washi paper making technique spread throughout the country, it became an integrated aspect of Japanese culture and society. It could be seen in fans, screens, room dividers, book covers, and wallpaper. While the making of washi paper declined during the Meiji period in the 19th century with the advent of industrialization, its rich history was preserved. It was magical to be immersed in this ancient craft, and it taught me about the importance of patience and practice.

The tororo aoi flower, known scientifically as Hibiscus mutabliis, is a species of hibiscus used to make traditional Japanese washi paper.

Kozo fibers that have been boiled are now ready for the purification process. I spent two hours over the basins of water, picking out by hand the impurities that were embedded among the fine strands.

Isao San is helping me refine my technique as I hold the suketa, the large bamboo frame over which a thinner bamboo screen is stretched taut. You can see a thin sheet of washi paper starting to form.

I am about to gently place the sheet of newly made washi paper down. After it is placed on the stack, I slowly remove the bamboo screen before the drying process begins.

Share This

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *