70 Years of Handwoven Tradition Without Machines

The sound of the loom echoes in the quiet workshop. Colorful threads are arranged on the shelves. A single craftsman works with focused hands. Why does a single obi command a price of 500,000 yen? In a modern age overflowing with efficient machinery, why do they deliberately continue to weave by hand? This craftsman, who has spent over 50 years in the world of Nishijin Ori, is now undertaking an innovation poised to make waves in the textile industry. It was 1954, in an era when going to high school wasn't a given. A boy was born in Nishijin, Kyoto, into an environment where his life's path was already set. I was born into a family of craftsmen. When I was little, I had a strong desire to become a craftsman. When I grew up, I was told that I would become a craftsman one day. I didn't have any resistance, and that's how I became a craftsman. It was an era when joining the family business right after middle school graduation was a given. Nearby, there was a shopping street, and he had classmates who were also inheriting their family trades. No one questioned it. Inheriting the family business was the natural flow. However, in the boy's heart, there was a strong impulse, separate from any sense of obligation to his family's trade. He was a boy fascinated by all manufacturing sites, a carpenter's work, road construction, the production scene at the neighborhood manju shop, his pure love for craftsmanship. That became the driving force behind his 70-year career as an artisan. However, before this passion could unleash its true power, a path of unimaginable conflict awaited him. The boy who had graduated from middle school entered the family business as promised. Under his strict father, his life became an endless cycle of work from morning till night. At home, he spent all day winding threads and performing various tasks, with his only outings being trips to the bathhouse. As he repeated the same work day after day, a small question began to form in his mind. This question would eventually lead him to a decision that would dramatically alter his life. The turning point came when his father was called to school due to his poor grades, and he was advised to attend cram school. At a small cram school where he studied math and Japanese, he awakened to the joy of learning. He continued to attend cram school even though he had no plans for high school. There, he chose a path that neither his family nor those around him had ever expected. After working in the family business for three years, he attended a night high school, paying his tuition with his own earnings. There, he found hardworking students who, like him, were studying while working. Having experienced the outside world, he was no longer satisfied with simply inheriting the family business. This experience would later become the foundation for his innovative ideas regarding weaving. The broad perspective he gained at night high school pushed him to further challenges. Doubting the current situation where there was no progress despite doing the same work for nearly 10 years, he made a big decision to change jobs to a large company. That became a major turning point. His father, despite yearning for business, couldn't escape a life of poverty due to his artisan temperament. Having grown up watching this, he keenly felt the need for a business acumen. As the eldest son of five siblings and the family of seven, he needed to choose a more stable path. For 50 long years, he continued to work as an office worker, married and raising children. But deep in his heart, the flame of passion for weaving continued to smolder. At the company, he was required to faithfully reproduce existing designs. It was an environment where strict adherence to specifications was paramount, especially for products like those sold through catalogs. It was like mechanical work. His creativity was suppressed daily. Even when he suggested that changing just one color would make a dramatic improvement, his ideas were often not accepted. Still, he continued without giving up. Then, a fateful turning point arrived. The company closed due to the Great East Japan Earthquake. Over 60 years old, he found himself at a new stage in his life. The sense of liberation he felt when he was offered a position just before retirement and told, you can do whatever you want freely, was immense. Now liberated from 50 years of being confined to prescribed patterns, he was finally able to face himself. What he realized then was the infinite possibilities of weaving. The basic work of passing threads according to the weaving diagram. This is, so to speak, the script. However, to this, he adds subtle color adjustments, variations in the strength of the curves, and ingenuity to create a three-dimensional effect. When the improvisation of the craftsman's sensibility is added, the same design can show completely different expressions. This realization led to the greatest discovery of his life. It was the moment when 50 years of accumulated skill and suppressed creativity were finally unleashed. The sensibility of the person who draws the picture, and the sensibility of the craftsman who expresses it through weaving. Just as a baton is passed to the next runner, sensibility is inherited. This was his idea of the relay of sensibility. However, to realize this innovative idea, he had to confront a serious problem plaguing the entire industry. The reality that stood in the way of his challenge to innovate was there. The severe decline of the Nishijin Ori industry. Due to changes in lifestyles and global circumstances, the demand for traditional textiles had drastically decreased. In the past, there was a wage gap for artisans ranging from 1,000 yen to 20,000 yen per day. Skill and experience were properly evaluated, and there was a culture where the artisans themselves estimated their wages. It was an era where exhibiting a piece would lead to 10 or 20 additional orders. It was a vibrant industry where the craftsman's skill and estimation abilities were tested. Currently, the rate is a flat 5,000 yen per day. The skill and effort of craftsmen are no longer properly evaluated. This reality has also had a serious impact on training successors. If you don't do that kind of work, that's fine. These were the cold words from a public employment office staff member, a moment that starkly revealed society's lack of understanding towards traditional crafts. In this seemingly desperate situation, he had solidified one resolve. He didn't give up. Instead, this critical situation would present him with new possibilities. Ironically, the decline of Nishijin brought an unexpected boon. He acquired looms and threads at a bargain price from weaving houses that were going out of business. The industry's decline created an ironic inheritance. It was precisely the ideal environment for him to realize his relay of sensibility. With such a variety of thicknesses and countless colors, the possibilities for expression expand infinitely. What he aims for isn't merely the inheritance of technique. It's the pursuit of perfect expression, imbuing every aspect of his work with meaning. No matter what people say, I want to be able to give a clear answer to why things are the way they are. Perfectionism. That was the manifestation of an uncompromising artisan spirit, and it was precisely how he approached weaving. I look at the pattern and the flow. For example, if I do this, it goes up and down and up again. I look at the pattern and feel it as I weave. Not weaving unconsciously, but imbuing everything with reason and meaning, creating works that can be explained to the viewer. Currently, he runs workshops at his studio. With the difficulty of training successors, he chose a different form of inheritance. He aimed to convey the joy of handcraft to as many people as possible, even if the direct inheritance of technical skill was difficult, the passion for craftsmanship itself could be passed on. This was his unique way of relaying his legacy. In a corner of Nishijin, the sound of looms resonates today. The hands of the man who has been weaving for 70 years still hasn't stopped. What began as a childhood question finally reached an answer after a long journey. Now I am able to get rid of all of that. It is my own responsibility. I am able to make people wonder, why I was able to do this. The surprise of the viewer is my energy now. Tradition continues to be re-energized by the passion of those living in the present. His vision, through the people who visit his studio, will be passed down to the next generation. In the silence, the craftsman faces the loom, his back embodying 70 years of dedication and passion. The passion for craftsmanship is passed from person to person, and today, new hands begin to spin threads, moving the relay of completion to inspire someone new.