Made with Love: Crafted with love and care by a skilled artist using traditional hand-made techniques. As a result, our production process is naturally slow-paced, which also means that the number of products we can offer is limited. We take pride in creating high-quality, unique pieces that stand out from the mass-produced market.
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Ralph W. Emerson's unique perspective on nature celebrates its ability to evoke a sense of joy in humans, despite their real sorrows. According to Emerson, nature reminds us that we are its creatures, and despite our impertinent griefs, we should find happiness in its presence.
Emerson believed that nature provides a precise clarity for expressing ideas and emotions, and language is most accurate when linked to the natural world. This is evident in traditional sayings, which often compare aspects of nature to convey their meaning.
Nature's ever-changing beauty is unmatched and impossible to replicate. Despite being silent spectators to this spectacle, humans rarely take the time to observe it. When we do, we are stunned by the magic dance of nature and the innocent desire to immortalize its infinite beauty arises.
From the earliest times, humans have attempted to immortalize nature's beauty through various mediums, such as cave paintings, photographs, and paintings. Although this may seem like a futile attempt, it brings immense happiness to those who try, with the childish ingenuity that some humans retain.
All of this brings me to my own experience of carving a stamp based on a photograph and using it to print fabric dyed with indigo shibori.
If you're curious about the story behind the stamp, it's a simple yet beautiful tale that nature gifted me.
While driving home with my dear friend Carmen, a Madrilenian whom I've been friends with for over two decades, we stopped at a red light. As we waited, a commotion caught my attention - hundreds of little birds perched on the electricity cable seemed to be having a discussion. They could have been planning where to spend the night or chatting about us humans stuck in our cars. Who knows? I couldn't resist capturing the moment and took a photo with my phone.
The urge to immortalize this fleeting moment arose within me, perhaps because I sensed the happiness of the moment would soon fade away. I was sitting next to my beloved friend who had flown across the ocean to see me, the day was perfect, and the symphony of little birds was enchanting. Together, we were all on the stage that the universe had set for us, and we were invited to enjoy it until the traffic light turned green.
Even in the concrete and inhospitable cities, nature always finds a way to marvel us with its beauty, reminding us that our sorrows are often insignificant.
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Discover the ancient art of Boro and Sashiko!
Inspired by the Japanese philosophy of Mottainai, I've been creating unique pieces using the traditional techniques of Boro and Sashiko. Each garment tells a story, woven into every patch and stitch, bringing new life to old textiles.
Boro, meaning "something tattered or repaired", was used by the peasant farming classes to mend their clothing with spare fabric scraps. Over time, these garments would be handed down over generations, eventually resembling a patchwork after decades of mending. Now, I've taken this practice and used it to create one-of-a-kind pieces of wearable art.
By embroidering with Sashiko, a form of running stitch, I breathe new life into the remains of my own indigo shibori fabrics. Each stitch is exposed, creating a sturdy method that is ideal for mending denim. The result is a distinctive look that cannot be replicated, as each piece is unique and takes many hours of labor to complete.
From denim jackets to bandanas, my latest creations are a labor of love that only makers and artists can execute. And with the added bonus of following the Mottainai philosophy of reducing, reusing, and recycling, you can wear these pieces with pride, knowing that you're making a conscious choice for both style and sustainability.
Join me on this journey of art and sustainability, and discover the beauty of Boro and Sashiko.
]]>I have lost count of the number of days in voluntary quarantine. I think that it's no longer worth counting them because unfortunately, this seems to be lasting for a long time.
In any case, we need to stay active, busy and in good spirits. Whether it's reading a good book, learning a new language, like my brother Marcelo does, painting, sewing, preparing delicious recipes or experimenting with new projects.
Most important, being responsible and staying at home limiting our interpersonal contact.
Fortunately, all this will pass and we'd grown and learned to appreciate the value of health and life.
I want to share with you my latest project on white cotton fabric.
Using Michel Garcia's recipe I prepared the resist clay paste to dye with indigo. The formula is quite simple, a mixture of 10 grams of magnesium salts, 20 grams of gum arabic, 30 grams of clay, all dissolved in 100 ml of water.
Once a consistent paste is achieved, the fabric is painted with it, wait to be dry and immerse into the indigo vat. In Japan, a resist paste is made from rice flour (katazome), in other regions like Bali clay paste is used to resist the indigo.
The resist clay paste could only be submerged a single time in the indigo vat because it begins to come off. You can only soak the fabric in the indigo vat for a minute, oxidize the indigo, and carefully wash the fabric to remove the resist clay and loose indigo pigments.
Before painting the fabric with clay, I drew by hand botanical motifs that I covered with the resist clay paste. Actually, it is not necessary to do this, since you can directly paint the desired design with the resist clay paste onto the fabric. This paste will prevent indigo from staining the fabric.
Final result, I hope you liked them.
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We have been in quarantine for several days, for most of us, it has meant a very important change in our routines. Some feel confused and even lost due to the lack of those schedules to which their lives are tied. Others feel bored and even claustrophobic.
For me, who always work from my workshop, I have practically not noticed the change, I keep creating and experimenting every day. The only thing I miss is my ability to present my products to the public, the interaction with my customers. Sometimes I think I should lower my production rate before I end up dying the entire planet in indigo color.
The adaptation process is always very hard, and yet, at the moment we do not have many alternatives. We have to learn to pause our hectic lives.
We usually complain of being exhausted from living in this crazy rhythm, of not having time to do pleasant things, reading that book that gets dusty on our nightstand, repairing broken stuff, organizing our desk, all those 101 things that languish hoping that someday we will pay attention to them.
Also, quarantine allows us to recover physically, sleep a little longer, and even hopefully sit down to meditate. Without realizing it we have become addicted, yes! addicted to run to nowhere.
And without intending to, we are giving the planet a break, its waters and skies are becoming transparent again.
In the midst of an emergency, there are glimpses of changes, opportunities and, above all, valuable time to return to being ourselves.
Let us not be so afraid of change, because we do not know when we will have an opportunity like this again.
Be safe.
Dream
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Today I was thinking about what could be the most appropriate theme to share with my audience on our weekly blog.
Especially in these times when we are all shocked to a greater or lesser extent with the terrible Coronavirus pandemic that threatens the entire planet and the preventive measures that many of the countries are taking to limit contagion.
Border closings, cancellation of shows, meetings, and events, flights, etc., etc.
We have to say that to the genuine concern of the people not only for their health and that of their loved ones, is added the devastating economic consequences that all this means for all of us.
I had a hard time finding a topic that might be appropriate in these circumstances and I thought maybe the best thing would be just to share photos and curiosities from my last trip to Japan and South Korea.
Images captured around the world to help distract the mind and relax, even for a few minutes in this kind of quarantine or semi-quarantine that we have to live.
I hope you like them. Be safe.
Bryan Whitehead's 150 years old house. Fujino. Japan.
Dry flowers and fruits in a market. Japan.
Ceramic shop. Japan.
Countryside. Japan.
Ceramic exhibition. Hachioji. Japan.
Modern and traditional architecture. Japan.
]]>Perhaps one of the most important challenges for those of us who work dyeing textiles is finding the perfect indigo recipe. There are many formulas, some that because of the ingredients they contain are short-lived and others, which only have to be fed with certain ingredients, are long-lasting.
Indigo seems to have a life of its own and you have to constantly take care of it, monitor its pH, excess oxygen and, stir it at least once a day. As you will see it is fragile and delicate.
When I was training in Fujino, Japan with Bryan Whitehead in his house in the mountains, I had the opportunity to see firsthand how he prepared his indigo in a pair of vessels of 130 liters each.
Bryan shared with us his infallible indigo recipe, as well as many other secrets to achieving the ideal indigo. His recipe basically consists of 3 ingredients: water, lime and indigo crystals. Hydrosulfite to remove oxygen after several uses of indigo.
Although it seems very simple, it contains more than 30 years of experience and observation where the color, smell and even sound that the indigo emits inside the vessel play a very important role.
Thanks, Bryan!
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Nui shibori is a technique that uses a resist method.
Like Kanoko, which requires some twine or rubber band, Nui Shibori instead of using a rubber band to create a variation on the textile, basting stitches are used.
A simple running stitch is used on the cloth then pulled tight to gather the cloth before submerging in an indigo dye pot. Stitching affords flexibility and control to create designs of great variety, delicate or bold, simple or complex, pictorial or abstract. This technique allows for greater control of the pattern and greater variety of design, but it is much more time-consuming.
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Last week, in our weekly Blog we were talking about Mokume, the shibori technique that resembles on the fabric of the wood grain design. Today I want to talk about another beautiful Shibori technique called Arashi.
Arashi is the Japanese term for “storm” and it's also known as the pole-wrapping technique.
It starts by wrapping the fabric around a plastic PVC pipe at a diagonal. When the fabric is wrapped, it necessary to tie a piece of twine into a double knot at the base of the pipe and wrap the twine around the fabric all the way. Once the fabric is very tightly wrapped is squeezes down.
Now the pole with the fabric wrapped around is submerged in water and, ready to be dip into the indigo vat many times allowing in between to oxidize.
When the indigo has reached the intensity we wanted, it is rinsed many times and the twine is cut to reveal the amazing Arashi design.
Here some variations of Arashi.
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One of the tasks I had to prepare to take to Fujino, Japan in November 2019 for my workshop, was a work of Mokume.
From Japan, they sent me a cardboard box with beautiful stamps containing several cuts of cloth, patterns, some special pencils with orchid ink (which disappears as soon as it comes into contact with water), threads and needles. The larger fabric was intended for us to make a design to our liking. It was a project that would end up being a huge scarf in Mokume.
The word Mokume means wood grain. That is, the idea is to imitate the drawing of the wood grain on a fabric. And, to achieve this, hundreds of parallel lines are sewn onto a piece of fabric.
It is a very laborious work that takes many hours of sewing by hand parallel lines.
Once finished, the fabric is moistened and it begins to gather by pulling the threads tightly one by one taking care not to cut it and, then knotted tightly. Generally during this process, the wet thread produces deep and painful cuts in the fingers.
When the fabric is all gathered, it is ready to dye.
The dyeing process can consist of submerging the fabric between seven to ten times in the indigo, depending on the intensity we are seeking in our indigo, with its oxidation time between each dive.
Once the dyeing process is finished, it is time to cut the threads of the Mokume one by one. It is a difficult task because the freshly dyed fabric is wet and the intense color of the indigo does not allow differentiating the threads to be cut from the fabric and, there is a serious risk of cutting the fabric unintentionally and, damaging all the work of several days. But, once all the threads have been cut and removed, the magical and long-awaited moment arrives ... the Mokume's fantastic work is finally revealed.
]]>When I was in Japan, one of the techniques we worked with was Katazome. We were privileged to do so in Mr. Noguchi's study and Bryan Whitehead's workshop.
Katazome is a Japanese method for dyeing fabrics using a resistant paste applied through a wooden spatula. To execute this dyeing resistance technique, a mixture of rice flour is applied on a stencil made with rice paper that has been previously dipped in persimmon juice, which makes it very resistant.
Katagami
Unfortunately, katazome pasta can only be purchased prepared in Japan. Therefore, when I want to use this technique to design my fabrics, I have to make my own rice paste, after finding the ingredients which are not very easy to find.
Katazome ingredients
Katazome paste
Sometimes pigment is added to the rice paste that gives it a hue that makes it easier to work with the stencil when there are several applications.
When the rice paste is dry, the fabric is painted by hand or dipped into the indigo vat.
Where the rice paste covers and impregnates the fabric, the indigo will not penetrate the material and will look white. If the fabric is very thin, the white pattern will be seen on both sides of the textile, but if the fabric is thick, the design will be seen only on one side, and the other will be solid indigo. To make the design look from both sides of the fabric, the stencil is matched on both sides, and the rice paste is applied to both sides of the fabric. A truly artistic work, because the stencil has to match on both sides of the fabric.
If the stencil is placed correctly, you could create a large pattern with this technique(several unbroken meters of fabric).
Last week I was working with katazome in my studio, creating ten pieces of fabric with different designs that I plan to use in my future boro projects, such as applique for clothes.
Here are some examples of my katazome works.
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During my stay in Japan, I heard for the first time the word "Mottainai."
I have to say that when I knew its meaning, I was fascinated by the concept and the philosophy that it contains.
Mottainai means: "Do not waste," "Even the smallest thing has its spirit."
Of course, its meaning is impregnated with Zen Buddhism and minimalism.
Mottainai is a philosophy that extends to virtually every aspect of our life, not just the use and waste of things. But also to the austere way of life that encompasses the manner we conduct ourselves with others, talk, think and feel.
Mottainai seems a rather strange concept in today's societies where we are used to wasting food, or buying more than we need, replacing instead of repairing and so on.
Many argue that the way to save our planet is to return to this philosophy of austerity and not waste.
Perhaps today it is almost entirely utopic to think about returning to that austere way of life of our ancestors. Probably the most successful approach is to cultivate an acute and responsible awareness of recycling.
Undoubtedly, encourage recycling to its fullest, where all participate without exception, actively, is be the best way to go. Maintaining the clear vision that this planet is our only home. A planet that is continuously renewing that sprouts and blooms even in the most inhospitable corners capable of generating life and also resolving the chaos and damage we cause. And, as if that were not enough, Earth is so beautiful that it is nearly impossible to describe with words.
It's a living organism full of intelligence ... where "even the smallest thing has its spirit."
Forest at Fujino, Japan
Tea Plantation, Fujino, Japan.
Gingko Trees, Seoul, South Korea.
Boro, written: ぼ ろ, is a kind of Japanese textile that has been repaired or patched using different textile pieces.
Boro derives from the term boroboro, which means something tattered or repaired.
During the Edo period, fabrics made of silk and cotton were reserved only for the upper class. But, since hemp was easier to acquire in Japan than cotton, they were often woven together to get more warm clothes. The use of hemp was necessary since cotton, a tropical plant, could not be grown in cold areas such as the Tohoku region, especially in the northernmost region of Aomori prefecture.
In this way, Boro came to mean predominantly the clothes worn by the class of the peasants, who repaired their garments with old cloth remains for economic necessity. In many cases, the use of a boro garment of this type would be transmitted from generation to generation, and would eventually resemble a mosaic after decades of repair.
(Boro kimono, Japan, late 19th-early 20th century)
Boro also exemplifies the Japanese aesthetics of wabi-sabi, which in textiles, reflects the beauty of natural wear and tear.
After the Meiji Period and the general increase in the economic level among the entire Japanese population, most of the boro pieces were discarded and replaced by newer clothing. For working-class Japanese, these boro garments were a shameful reminder of their previous poverty, and the government or cultural institutions put little effort into preserving boro garments. Many existing examples were only preserved due to the efforts of folklorist Chuzaburo Tanaka, who personally collected more than 20,000 pieces during his lifetime, including 786 items now designated as Important Tangible Cultural Properties. One thousand five hundred of these items are on permanent display at the Amuse Museum in Asakusa, Tokyo.
Currently, boro pieces are considered valuable museum works of art.
In traditional Japanese aesthetics, wabi-sabi (侘 寂) is a worldview focused on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. Beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete."
The characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and appreciation of the naive integrity of natural objects and processes.
Boro is made by hand and requires a lot of craftwork. It encloses the beauty of the artisanal work; with each stitch, the artist enters a meditative trance and impregnates each garment with his spiritual energy.
Boro is an austere and simple way to live, reuse, and recycle.
I hope you like it and appreciate the beauty of Boro in my new collection, "URBAN BORO."
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Going to wash clothes into the river I think it's one of the experiences that were never in my plans. Ironically it seems to be the best technique to make the white in the indigo-dyed textiles brighter and sharper.
Not only we had to wash the fabrics in the freshwater of the river, but we also had to hit them vigorously against the rocks. That way, the pigments that are not properly attached to the fibers come off.
We did it in the middle of November in the mountains, on the outskirts of Tokyo.
On a cold winter morning, a group of indigo shibori students went with Bryan Whitehead to the river. With our fabrics dyed and previously washed, we headed full of expectations towards the river.
The river runs deep encased between mountains. When we got there, we took off our shoes and went down using a precarious iron stair embedded in a concrete wall to the river bed. In that part of the river, there were some small walls that I supposed to function as speed-reducers of the current. There, we washed our fabrics and hit them vigorously against the concrete.
Although our fabrics had already been washed, when hitting them, large amounts of indigo began to come off. In a few minutes, the water of the river ran in an indigo blue color, which is not toxic or polluting.
With this method, we achieved our purpose to make the white whiter in our textiles.
After a while, my feet were cold, transparent, and insensitive, my back was sore, and my body was exhausted. Still, undoubtedly happy with such experience. My clothes were wet and dotted with indigo, my hair and face with blue freckles.
When we finished our task, we climbed the stairs with buckets full of wet cloths.
While we were on our way home, gunfire began to rumble throughout the mountains. Yes! Shots over our heads. It turns out that one of the neighbors was shooting to scare the monkeys that approach the plantations. Well, I wanted to think it was that, because all the time I was there I never saw any monkey. When Bryan finally managed to stop the neighbor shooting, we headed home with our freshly washed fabrics.
We managed to go to the river to wash our indigo shibori textiles two or three times more.
Eventually, we had to run to rescue our fabrics down the river, luckily some of us were always downstream willing to save them.
This is one of the many beautiful memories of my stay in Japan learning ancient techniques of Indigo Shibori.
Perhaps one of the most exciting moments of my travel to Japan was when we had the opportunity to visit Mr. Noguchi's study in Hachioji.
Despite being a sixth-generation dyer specializing in indigo katazome master, his studio lacks fancy or pretensions. It's located on a dirt road, and there is only a sign with large Japanese letters on its entrance door that marks the presence of his workshop.
The place is simple and austere, with a dirt floor. In the first room, there are about 14 vats (150 years old) buried one meter deep in the earth that contain the indigo, each with a different amount of indigo pigment. That allows a variation on indigo hues.
His dusty workshop is full of tools, bamboo sticks, brushes, buckets, sinks for washing textiles, an old washing machine, a machine for extracting soybeans milk, fabrics and an extensive collection of katagami or stencils. Katagami is "washi" (rice paper) coated with the juice of the persimmon fruit, which makes the paper almost indestructible.
There is a large patio that separates the second part of the workshop, a place that contains long boards on which 10 meters of fabric were stretched. That's where Mr. Noguchi, after preparing the woods, spread the fabrics with katazome (a paste made from rice flour) using the katagami or stencils.
Seeing Mr. Noguchi, a true master of the art of katazome in action, was something indescribable. With the skill that is achieved during decades of work he arranged the katagami over the fabric and began to cover it with katazome, then lifted the stencil and repeated the process over and over again, until covering the entire fabric with the katazome design.
When he finished, he lifted the long board on his shoulder and carried it out to the sun to dry.
Finally, we could create our own katazome design using Mr. Noguchi's tools.
Once the rice paste dried, the fabrics were separated from the boards that held them very tight and cut into sections. To keep the fabric stretched and, thus, avoid breaking or damaging the katazome paste, we put the shinshin (bamboo sticks with tiny metal tips) and began the process of immersing them in the indigo vat.
Some of the fabrics were dipped in very dark indigo, carefully to prevent the rice paste from loosening, others in lighter indigos. The fabrics were submerged 2 minutes and then hung on very long bamboo sticks for 4 to 5 minutes so the indigo could oxidate and produced the perfect blue.
Dyeing and oxidizing is a process that takes a long time because fabrics are usually submerged up to 10 times or more, and in between indigo need time for oxidation.
It is worth clarifying that when dyeing fabric with katazome paste, to prevent the rice paste from being diluted with the indigo, the baths are shorter, only 3 or 4 times.
When we were satisfied with the indigo color of our fabrics, it was time to wash them and gently release the katazome paste to reveal the white design underneath.
Our teacher, Bryan Whitehead, showed us how to remove the katazome paste from some fabrics with a hard brush, in that way the designs under the katazome were not completely white but slightly bled by indigo pigments.
Mr. Noguchi prepared soybeans milk, mixed them with soot, and with that, Bryan using a special brush painted 10 meters of unstained cloth over the katazome paste. That fabric ended up with a silvery color.
It is not my intention to bore you with too many technical details, just to share with you how was a day in a Japanese master's workshop. Mr. Noguchi is an older man, short of stature who walks a little hunched over and babbles phrases in Japanese somewhat moody and taciturn.
When the time to leave arrived, Mr. Noguchi greeted us with a pretty smile, probably happy to see that the foreign invaders finally left their sacred indigo temple.
We had spent an unforgettable day in his study, seeing in action one of the greatest Japanese masters. He showed us, with the typical humility of the masters, secrets that are not in any text.
We left there full of inspiration, and since it was time for dinner, we went to a tiny restaurant in the center of Hachioji. Two chefs prepared in front of our eyes a kind of open pancake in which ingredients were coming up to turn it into a delicious mountain of food.
I have to give all my gratitude to our teacher Bryan, who gave us a whole day learning experience with one of the greatest masters of Indigo Shibori and Katazome, Mr. Noguchi. A living treasure in Japan.
On November 11, we met all the people who would attend to the Indigo Shibori course at a hotel in the center of Tokyo. After dispatching our luggage to the mountains, we traveled by train to Fujino. A couple of hours to the south of Japan between forests and mountains.
Our residence in Fujino was in our teacher's house, Bryan Whitehead. His home, a typical Japanese house of more than 150 years old, was built on wood, with sliding doors and decorated with exquisite taste. From the windows of my room, I had an extraordinary view of the mountains, and the tea plantations, the sunrises from there were glorious.
Bryan was our guide in Tokyo in the textile museum and places we visited. He was our translator. With his more than 30 years of experience in Japan, we couldn't have a better teacher. He welcomed us in his home and made us felt comfortable and well-received. Our chef, Hiro, not only delighted us every day with tasty, colorful, and varied dishes but also with his floral arrangements that surprised us at every step.
There were so many beautiful details in Bryan's home that I couldn't describe.
Our days began very early with the tasty aroma of Hiro's coffee that permeated the entire house. At 9 am we started our classes with Bryan.
The first thing we had to do was to show Bryan our homework. Bryan sent each of his students from Japan a box with fabrics, threads, orchid ink pencils (which disappears as soon as the fabrics get wet) and persimmon paper (Katagami) to make templates or stencils.
Every day was intense, distributed among informative talks, cutting and folding fabrics, giving hundreds of stitches, learning to differentiate Japanese textiles, techniques and much more.
Bryan's teaching was rich in so many ways. Any question we asked him could lead us to unexpected surprises, like seeing his impressive collection of Japanese fabrics or, to be dressed up with his luxurious kimonos and obis.
Usually, very early in the morning or after lunch, we would go for a walk into the mountains, or simply take advantage of the time for completing our multiple tasks.
On November 15 we went to the river to wash our first indigo-dyed fabrics. Bryan has two humongous containers of 130 liters of an indigo vat, where we dipped our fabrics up to 10 times in groups, then we rinsed them with running water and, the last wash was in the river. Needless I have to tell you that the experience of the river was unique. We had to descend to the river by a metal ladder and remain barefoot in the icy winter waters of the mountains of Japan, hitting the textiles against the stones. The idea was to remove the loose indigo pigments from the textiles and thus achieve sharper whites.
Some days we traveled to see art galleries, visit pottery masters, artists specialized in jewelry, or simply to have dinner in different places.
On November 16 we went to Mr. Noguchi's workshop, a six-generation teacher, specialized in indigo Shibori and katazome, in Hachioji city.
Mr. Noguchi showed us the whole process of katazome (a paste based on rice flour that serves to block some parts of the fabrics before dipping into the indigo vat)also, allowed us to do our own katazome, using his tools, katagami, and dye in his underground indigo vats. What a luxury!
Our time in Fujino flew and we ended up with our hands colored blue and tons of new knowledge and experience. That's how November 21 came and was the time to return to Tokyo.
Our Indigo Shibori course had come to an end and, in our suitcases, we were carrying plenty of textiles (the result of incalculable hours of sewing, folding, dyeing, washing and, cutting threads).
This was an intense course where we could see first hand the millenary world of the Japanese Indigo Shibori and its many secrets.
Personally, despite my experience working with these techniques for more than a year and a half, I discovered new forms and styles that are not included in books, techniques, tricks, formulas, and secrets that were new for me.
Fujino classes, a fantastic experience that I would happily repeat!
View from my bedroom.
Green Tea Plantation. Fujino.
Mt. Fuji.
Fujino River.
Mr. Noguchi's workshop.
Having Luch.
Bryan Whitehead and his indigo vat.
Doing Katazome at Mr. Noguchi's studio.
Bryan's patio.
Bryan's outdoor shower and bath.
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Last night in Seoul, South Korea, I went to sleep at a hotel at Gimpo Airport. It turned out to be a very convenient decision because my flight to Tokyo was at dawn.
On the day of the flight, I left the hotel when it was still night and crossed walking with my suitcase to the airport. At 9 am. I was landing at Haneda airport on the outskirts of Tokyo.
It's very convenient before traveling to make certain arrangements to have some things solved beforehand, such as, for example, hired a bus service that transported me from the airport to the door of my hotel in Shinjuku. Also, I had bought online a SIM card that was sent to my hotel for my cell phone, that way I would have access to the internet, maps and communication.
As my room would just be ready at 2 pm, after leaving my suitcase, I went to explore Tokyo.
The first impression was the huge amount of people walking on the streets, with traffic lights that allow the crossing of pedestrians in all possible directions, horizontal, vertical and diagonal.
The first place that I wanted to find was a vegan restaurant. Luckily, I managed to find it on a third floor, entering through a door and a tiny staircase. There I was attended by two very nice young Japanese ladies. I was lucky that they still had food left, vegan restaurants usually open only for breakfast and lunch and, since they don't prepare a lot of food when they run out they usually close.
From the window on the third floor of the restaurant, I could listen to music and celebrations in the street. It was an exhibition in the nearby park. So after a delicious lunch and good company, I set out to visit Gyoen Park.
Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden is the largest park in Shibuya and Shinjuku, in Tokyo and was founded in the Edo period. It houses more than 20,000 trees on its 58 hectares. It consists of a beautiful lake and countless paths that form a maze between exotic plants, bamboo, orchids…. The day I went to visit the park there was an exhibition of chrysanthemums in all possible varieties and sizes. Even some plants had a metal structure that allowed all the chrysanthemum flowers to be exposed and visible.
I slowly walked back to my hotel for a different street, so I could see other places in Tokyo. In the middle of huge buildings, I found a shop where they sold the Rugby Championship shirts that had already finished in Tokyo.
That afternoon we meet for the first time in a hotel all those we were attending to the course of Indigo Shibori. It happens to be a group of ladies, mostly from England and a British man. After the presentations, we went for a walk on the pedestrian streets of Shinjuku to a tiny restaurant in the basement of a building for dinner.
Shinjuku is the largest commercial and administrative area of Tokyo, with a large population, but above all, the most striking is the number of night neon lights, so many and so powerful that it seems to be daylight. In its pedestrian streets, there are large pachinko centers, a kind of slot machine game, where music, noise, and lights are maddening.
A large train and subway station is located in Shinjuku, which connect the city in different directions.
That was my first day in Tokyo. A vibrant, bright and very interesting city.
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One of the places I had the opportunity to visit in Seoul, South Korea was Ewha University.
It is a private institution only for women founded in 1886, under Emperor Gojong, by Mary F. Scranton.
It is currently one of the largest women's universities in the world and the most prestigious in South Korea.
During our visit to the university, we were able to tour the museum where several collections are exhibited, some of them permanent, such as the ceramic one. And other transitory, such as the exhibition of traditional Korean textiles and folk hats.
Around Ewha University, there is a maze of alleys with hundreds of very elegant boutiques for women only. It should be noted that Korean women are very elegant and delicate, their clothes and designs are exquisite.
The university is not only very beautiful architecturally, but it impresses with its large size.
A place I recommend visiting in Seoul.
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On November 8, at 10 am, my dear friend Cole and I had a date at Jonginamoo Gallery in the city of Seoul, South Korea. This time our challenge was to take classes "in Korean" to learn how to build "hanji" (rice paper) lamps.
The gallery is truly hidden jewelry, which not only makes lamps but also exhibits a wonderful collection of recycled wood furniture and textiles.
Its lamps are far from conventional and, the use of "Hanji" (rice paper) as the main material is handled in such a way that the result is something exceptionally beautiful, delicate, artistic and innovative.
As soon as we entered the gallery they took us to a table where all the materials we were going to use were neatly arranged. Our teacher showed us step by step in Korean what we should be doing.
First, we had to cover a metal frame with adhesive, then paste transparent synthetic paper to the frame carefully not to exceed the edges. Once this task was finished, we begin to paint all the walls of the lamp with glue and delicately cover it with "Hanji" (rice paper).
Then, we proceeded to decorate it with strips of "Hanji" (rice paper) of different texture and thickness.
After this, we went to have lunch while our lamps dried. Of course, the chosen place to have lunch was again the restaurant of our Korean friend who delighted us with her great vegan food.
When we returned to the gallery our "Hanji" (rice paper) lamps were dry and ready to take them with us.
This is how we learned some of the many secrets of constructing a Korean "Hanji" (rice paper) lamp, something of unique beauty and delicacy.
But more than many words, the images I want to show you from this gallery speak for themselves. I hope you enjoy them.
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On November 7 after a delicious breakfast at the Conrad Hotel in the heart of Seoul, South Korea, we decided with my friend Cole to visit Changdeokgung Palace, located in a beautiful park dotted with autumn trees in Jogno-gu.
It is a palace built by the Joseon dynasty, in 1405. It is made up of a set of buildings with elaborated roofs that make up a kind of maze. An austere place that currently lacks furniture but that dazzles with its sophisticated architecture.
From there we walked to the Gyeongbokgung Palace, where we could witness the deployment of soldiers dressed in period with very colorful pennants.
The idea was to go walking to Tongui-dong in Jongno-gu for our stone carving class.
The class was at Hangeul Jeongak Gallery in the basement of a building. There, our Korean teacher would teach us "in Korean" how to carve stone seals.
The first thing we had to do was polish some irregular pieces of stone. Once the surface was very smooth, we painted it with orange ink. While the stone was drying, we painted the calligraphy we wished to carve on our stamp with Chinese ink on "hanji" (rice paper). Luckily, cell phones are a tiny assistant that can translate any word in the language we wanted. That's how I found the calligraphy in Korean of my business name, Shogo (which means noon). Once the word we wanted to carve was written on a piece of "hanji"(rice paper), we turned the paper over, to copy the calligraphy in reverse with ink on the rock.
When the ink was dry our teacher gave us chisels to carve the rock. All this in the middle of a hundred of instructions in Korean, instructions such as that each stroke within the calligraphy should keep the exact same distance or, how to handle the chisel so as not to hurt our hands, the necessary depth that we should carve our rock and many others instructions.
Our master's patience was admirable, she guided us in Korean always smiling until finally, our seal was ready.
Last step, our teacher prepared a pasty red ink with which she covered our seals with a brayer or rubber roller. At that time, our stamps were ready to print on "hanji" (rice paper).
It was exciting to see that in three hours we had manufactured our own stone seal. My friend Cole embarked on the task of printing the name of her Scottish clan and despite being a somewhat complicated task she managed to perform wonderfully well. Bravo for my friend Cole who patiently let herself be dragged by me to do art courses in Seoul, thank you, Cole!.
Both we were so happy with our own carved stone seals.
I have to tell you a little bit about the Hangeul Jeongak Gallery because it is a place worth visiting, this artist has an extraordinary collection of stone seals, real work of art characterized for the elegance, attention to detail and, exquisite beauty. True works of love that seem absolutely impossible to capture with a chisel on rocks. Her pieces are so delicate and beautiful that I could not escape the temptation to buy her a seal, besides before saying goodbye and taking pictures with this amazing Korean teacher she gave us a copy of her stone seal book published in 2011.
We left the Hangeul Jeongak Gallery proud with new knowledge, experience and "our own carved" stone seal in Korean. Traveling and learning is a luxury, and if we add the company of a good friend there is nothing more to add. Don't you think?
November is the perfect month to discover Seoul, ... its streets, parks, walks, and mountains undergo an incredible transformation. The leaves of the trees are dyed with an innumerable range of shades ranging from fluorescent yellow, ocher, red, green, and brown.
Perhaps one of the trees that most impacts are the famous Ginkgo. It's a tree with fan-shaped leaves that begin to stain neon yellow from the top while still keep a green tone in the lower part. Slowly the Ginkgo will soon turn yellow until the tree is entirely fluorescent.
As if this show of colors in the streets of Seoul was not enough, when one looks up at the mountains that protect the backs of Seoul, the spectrum of colors continues in a varied and infinite multitude of strokes of green, yellow, red ...
Autumn dress up Seoul with unmistakable magic. The days are still sunny, dry, a little bit cold, and walking through its streets, adorned with autumn colors, becomes a feast for the senses. Add to this symphony of colors the tourists that rent traditional Korean costumes, called Hanbok, and stroll in Korean folk costumes for the most iconic Korean spots. Well, well, well ... the spectacle is impossible to be ignored.
There's so much beauty in Seoul streets during fall.
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During the first week of November, I had the fantastic opportunity to travel and visit a dear couple of friends who are living in the city of Seoul, friends that I met a few years ago while living in Columbus, Ohio.
This is how I was able to keep my promise to visit them and at the same time accommodate my biological clock to the Asian time use. Because my second destination would be to attend a specialized course in Japanese textile techniques in the city of Fujino, almost two hours by train from the city of Tokyo, ... but well I will tell you that the story in another Blog.
Unfortunately, my friend's husband had traveled and I could not greet him, but that did not prevent us from enjoying a very pleasant week in a city that surprised me by its beauty, its art, and its people.
My friends live on the outskirts of Pyeontaek, south of Seoul, a beautiful rural area, with typical little houses with fruit and vegetable plantations in every square meter. Trees loaded with apples, persimmons full of bright orange fruits, rice fields that had already been harvested, edamame plants and other vegetables that I don't know their name. Amazing to see how each piece of land is cultivated with very primitive tools, without technology, and by an elderly population. The young people go from the countryside to the cities and there I only see old people diligently taking care of their lands and crops.
The first walk I took to the city of Seoul was with a friend of my friend who kindly dedicated her day off to walk with me the streets of this beautiful city. With her, I learned the public transport system by train and subway.
On a sunny day, we toured the area where artists, designers of clothing, jewelry, ceramics, and extraordinary "hanji" (rice paper) lamps have their shops and studios. There, the artists are truly highly specialized masters who display ancient artisan techniques of exquisite beauty.
While it is not very common for Koreans to speak in English, young people do speak it very shyly and are always very willing to help, guide and indicate directions to tourists. Also in different corners of the city, we found some very nice girls from the tourist office who helped us find a tiny vegan restaurant. Not only did they give us the address of the restaurant, but they also called them to reserve us a table.
And what a surprise, this place was attended by a nice and temperamental Korean, tiny and energetic that delighted us with its delicious vegan and homemade food. I liked being in that place so much that I went back to visit her another day.
We finish our tour by visiting a Buddhist temple in the center of Seoul, with an extraordinary flower exhibition and a few minutes of meditation in front of its golden statues.
The next time I went to Seoul I did it alone, I walked between the plantations to the bus stop, arrived in Pyeontaek, took the train to Seoul and then the subway to a market. As the market did not turn out to be the place I had in mind, from there I took another subway and went to Ehwa University which is a women's university. In the neighborhood, there are streets with very exclusive shops only for women. Korean ladies wear very elegant and stylish outfits.
The following days we went with my friend to a luxurious hotel in the city of Seoul in front of the Han River. From the 32nd floor, we had a privileged view of the river, the city and the mountains that separate South Korea from North Korea.
One morning we dedicate it to visit the royal palace Changdeokgung, with its intricate maze of royal precincts.
We were able to attend the classes of a teacher in stone seals that with great patience and in Korean guided us to carve our own seals on stone. From there we left very proudly with our hand-carved seals.
The next day our destination was to learn to build lamps with "hanji" (rice paper) and all its secrets. Also, the class was in Korean and the result was a pair of precious lamps.
That afternoon we visited the Museum of the University of Women that had an exhibition of textiles and vintage clothing, ceramics, jewelry, and crafts.
The week in Korea was intense and very interesting. Discovered a very beautiful city with traditional corners, with master artists, meet people and above all enjoy the generous hospitality of my friend.
November, despite being a cold month in the northern hemisphere, it was surprisingly sunny and not very cold, which made my stay very convenient and enjoyable to be able to spend much of the day walking outdoors.
The last night, we separated, my friend went home and I went to sleep at a hotel at the same airport in Gimpo to board my plane to Haneda, Tokyo, Japan very early. Staying at the airport hotel was very convenient because that way I didn't have to travel several hours to get to the airport at dawn.
That was my trip through the city of Seoul. If you have the opportunity to visit it, don't stop doing it. A very beautiful city, with friendly people, extremely safe and vibrant, still retains many typical buildings where you can see delicately constructed wooden windows and doors without the use of nails or screws. Ceilings with very ornate ceramic tiles, visit extraordinary master craftsmen and enjoy a rich and delicate culture.
Seoul Vegan restaurant
Traditional patio
Ceramic tiles
Rice Paper Lamps
Our rice paper lamps
Our Stone Seals
Sunrise at Seoul
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I think we can't add much to this phrase. Just remember how essential we are within the divine plan when we occupy our roll with joy and enthusiasm.
Many of us grew up under the mantle of a philosophy of life that considered sacrifice and suffering to be commendable, because in some way it seemed that there was a God who was more pleased if we lead an austere, serious life, full of sacrifices because that way we would earn a little place in a "heaven" full of rewards. So a life of joy, smiles, and happiness, somehow meant that we were already missing some future prize.
When I finally discovered that the Creator experiences through our experiences, I realized that it was our obligation to experience, create, see, enjoy, travel, feel and live intensely every moment of our existence.
As Wallace D. Wattles said, "God, the One Substance, is trying to live and do and enjoy things through humanity. He is saying, "I want hands to build wonderful structures, to play divine harmonies, to paint glorious pictures, I want feet to run my errands, eyes to see my beauties, tongues to tell mighty truths and to sing marvelous songs, and so on..."
]]>"As we go through my life story, you're going to find that the word "search" is one of the paramount activities of my life. I've been searching all my life - not essentially on one subject but on many subjects...You're going to find practically in the whole history of my life that I've been searching and searching - the evolutionary search." John Fetzer. (1983)
When I was reading John Fetzer's biography I felt totally linked to his statement because my life is a permanent search and not in one aspect, but in many.
My search in life led me along winding paths that went into spirituality, health, art and much more. That constant search included many trips around the world, moving to places with different races, languages, cultures, and interests. My constant curiosity and search in life guided me without fear to very distant lands, not only physically, but also intellectually and spiritually.
Now, looking back, in my almost 60 years of age, if I can give advice is never stop looking, never stop reading, study, travel, don't get stuck, don't close doors, don't get tired, take responsibility for your lives, your health, your thoughts and emotions, study yourself, try to find your own identity, know yourself. Never stop searching.
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" To protect your energy...
It's okay to cancel a commitment.
It's okay to not answer a call.
It's okay to change your mind.
It's okay to want to be alone.
It's okay to take a day off.
It's okay to do nothing.
It's okay to speak up.
It's okay to let go."
I found this message, that I do not know who wrote it and, I thought what a profound remainder.
I think all of us in one way or another, feel related to this message because many times we compromise our integrity as spiritual beings.
The message is to be aware, to be present, to be conscientious. To be here and now.
Koh Samui- Thailand
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"There is an ancient peace you carry in your heart and have not lost." A Course in Miracles.
What an awsome remainder for each of us, no matter how turbulent it could be our daily life there is a deep corner inside us where we can find peace and silence. Like the big ocean with huge waves in the surface but with calm waters at the bottom. Just we need to learn the way to go there to find the peace we need to restore ourselves.
Never, ever forget..."There is an ancient peace you carry in your heart and have not lost." It is yours, it belongs to you and nobody can snatch it without your consent.
]]>"Here is a psychological fact to understand: A weak person will try to drain the strength of a stronger individual. There are dozens of tricks by which the weak one will attempt to draw power to which he is not entitled: He may chatter endlessly, unload a sense of guilt through accusing another, boast, ask personal questions, and so on. Be alert to this. REFUSE absolutely to let anyone drain your energies." Vernon Howard
As always, the recommendation is to be alert, and for that, it is necessary to remain as much time as possible in the here and now.
Stockholm, Sweden
]]>"Never forget this simple but remarkable reality: The more you walk toward the mountain, the more you walk away from the desert. This means you need to attend only to where you are going, not to where you are or where you have been. As long as you are headed for the mountains, what slightest concern needs you to have for the scorched desert? The desert is not your home; the mountaintop is your dwelling place.
A tremendous gush of energy pushes you forwards, once you realize that everything you do is done for your own sake. The ordinary man does not really see this. What little work he does is done from an annoying sense of required duty, or because it satisfies his imaginary image of being a sincere seeker. There is no energy in this; on the contrary, it is a burdensome drain of natural forces. The gush of fresh power comes from sighting that we are actually working for ourselves." Vernon Howard
What a deep reflection, work-oriented towards a goal, without stopping to think about the past, because the past does not condition us, nor to think that from the place we are in the present it is impossible to achieve the desired goals. We live in a friendly Universe that pushes us to achieve our goals. Therefore, everything we do we have to do thinking about the final destination, regardless of current or past difficulties. Energy well directed towards the final destination.
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