"Translating" a Technique in a Different Country - Katazome in Australia

It's been 8 years since I first tried to replicate katazome resist dyeing in Australia. After spending a year on exchange at Kyoto Seika University during my undergraduate studies, I'd come back with a burning enthusiasm to try and see if the same technique could be achievable with local supplies. It turns out, yes - but with much modification.

When you start to look at traditional crafts without applying the lens of "sacred and untouchable", you find at the core of it all a basic process that utilises a series of specific tools and ingredients to achieve a beautiful end result. The gadgets and materials that have come to be synonymous with a particular traditional craft (think shibugami stencil paper with katazome) have only obtained that status because they've developed over time in line with that culture and with other industries developing simultaneously.

What I mean is,

Dye brushes at Kuriyama-kobo, a katazome company
on the western edge of Kyoto

why would katazome use deer-hair brushes? Probably because 1. there were deer around and 2. an industry already existed making deer-hair brushes for use in traditional painting. Why would one utilise thin rods of bamboo with sharp spikes at the end to stretch fabric taut? Presumably because bamboo was already being formed into products for other purposes at the time. Katagami stencil paper could not have developed without the existing Japanese skills in washi papermaking - from which the stencil paper is made.

Very traditional stencil paper - shibugami

The thing is, if we look at the technique of katazome as it stands now, there is a very polished, established and institutionalised way of practicing it. It is basically understood to involve a set of specific tools and materials (mochi rice flour, komon rice bran, stencil paper, soybean & seaweed derived fixative). These are presumed to be the ultimate, most refined and correct way to achieve the best results. Of course it is fair to think that. These are not tools and materials that are used by accident - they have gone through a few hundred years of use and modification.

Whilst there is now some deviation from these very traditional and quintessential ingredients and processes, like a modified plasticised stencil paper or a chemical pre-dye fixative, there is still a very set way of doing things.

Newer plasticised stencil paper

How about if you want to use katazome in a country where those quintessential tools and materials are not only unavailable, they're simply not part of our culture. Bamboo, deer hair, rice flour and washi paper have only, if at all, recently been part of our vocabulary let alone available to purchase. They simply aren't part of our natural environment or resources.

Applying shinshi stretchers to long narrow fabric

So okay, why not seek to uncover what function these ingredients and tools perform within the katazome process and utilise something locally available to perform the same task?

Instead of lamenting that shinshi (bamboo fabric stretchers) are unavailable in Australia (they have no reason to be; historically we've never needed to be able to stretch a narrow kimono-width fabric out to dry) why not consider what function they are performing (stretching the fabric taut whilst leaving the back side accessible) and seek to replicate that function? A wooden frame with pins to hold the fabric out taut performs the same function. Of course, this is not as flexible as the centuries-tried-and-true shinshi approach but it is a workable solution.

Funori - looks natural and traditional, I guess

Manutex - not pretty but same stuff on the inside

Alright, what about the funori  - a seaweed derived gloopy thickener used in the pre-dye fixative? Well, if you get down to the nitty-gritty of what's actually in that stuff, you'd find that it's the same seaweed gloop that we use as a food thickener in Australia and it also already exists as a substrate for use in screen printing. Powdered "Manutex F" does not have the same natural look or roll off the tongue as nicely as funori, sure, but it performs the same basic function. 

And so you can continue with all the necessary tools and ingredients in the hallowed katazome tomes and see what can be used to achieve the same result.



For some ingredients the swap is simple. Others are proving more difficult. Soft, dense dye brushes, fine de-fatted rice-bran, water erasable ao-bana ink.... But it is really just a matter of thinking outside the box. To be able to source tools and materials locally would be the ideal situation. Not to remove the technique from its Japanese roots entirely, but to make it viable.


There are many specialised businesses in Kyoto, for example, which have operated as family-run enteprises for some hundreds of years. They each have their own niche of the textile process to support; the nori (resist paste) manufacturer and shop, the shinshi (bamboo stretcher) specialist, the kimono-width silk salesroom, the specialised craftsmen making circular punches for intricate stencil carving...More and more these businesses are struggling to survive. With the demise of the kimono as daily and common wear, these businesses that thrived and supported the kimono industry now have little patronage to subsist on. If I were still in Kyoto, I would continue to support these businesses with my own hard-owned yen and utilise them in my artwork but I fear even that is simply not enough.

Just one example of the many kimono industry support businesses that are often now finding it hard to stay afloat

If, and it would seem likely, these businesses continue to shut-down, there is no-one left to make the traditional katagami, to bulk-produce batches of nori paste, to make specific lengths of shinshi, to craft tiny sharp circular punches. Like any loss of knowledge and skills, this is tragic, it really is. But this is the way it goes. Crafts are only in demand so much as they are an active and necessary part of our daily lives. Without that demand, they become obsolete. There are many example of innovative companies and individuals who are thinking outside the box to continue supporting Kyoto's craft industries and make them relevant to today's society (these are something I plan to touch on in future) but I think we also need to be realistic. Whilst continuing to support traditional industry where possible, I think we need to start accepting that there are alternatives, so that the techniques can actually survive - even if some of the tools cannot.

It seems to me that in the end, even if it means modifying many of the components of the technique, having the ability to actually practice the technique at all, and see it survive into the future is the best way to honour tradition.

A tradition is kept alive only by something being added to it. - Henry James

On that note, I'm off to continue testing out new resist-paste recipes!

Somé no Bunka - Fukumoto Shigeki's introduction to the unique magic of Somé

It took me many months to read, but I successfully worked my way through a book by Japanese artist and researcher Fukumoto Shigeki called "Somé no Bunka", or "The Culture of Dyeing".

Part of the motivation behind my exhibition (and especially the choice of title) last month at the Japan Foundation in Sydney was to introduce more people to the genre of somé. Somé means 'dyeing' in Japanese and the term separates it from other forms of textiles. 

In Japanese it is common practice to divide the field of textiles into dyeing and weaving (somé & ori 染め、織り). The name of the textiles course in many Japanese universities is senshoku (dyeing and weaving 染織) which is the just a different reading of the characters for somé+ori.

Somé is different from weaving, obviously, but it is also distinct from surface design or 'textiles'. It's a complicated division and of course there are overlaps but Fukumoto's book reiterates the unique history and way of thinking behind Somé.

Fukumoto is a practitioner and proponent of Textile dyeing. His own work is diverse but is characterised by free-form dyeing with gradations, folds and wax resist.

This is a beautiful video showing him and one of his techniques. I have to say it's a little bit contradictory to the things he says about flatness and tactility but it's interesting nonetheless.

I thought I might translate a few short passages from Somé no Bunka here for you. (Please excuse the Engrish-y feel of them!)

Preface

"There is a curious pleasure to be found in dyeing work, almost without realising. It’s something you sense during the actual work of the dyeing process; a joy perhaps only privy to those who’ve tried it. 

There’s the feeling of pleasure when impurities and excess dyes are washed away. Or in the final rinse, one feels a sense of accomplishment as the dye stops running from the fabric and the water runs clear.

You see the vibrancy of the dyed colours in the soaking fabric.
Relaxing the fabric with steam, it becomes supple and fresh again.
Touching the freshly dyed fabric, and knowing it is clean and clear of impurities is a joyous moment.
As well as the many possible dye-effects, there is a satisfaction in knowing the finished artwork is still simply a single piece of cloth. 
There is a joy not simply the making of the work, but also in the sensation of touching it with the skin.
I question that perhaps I enjoy this too much."

Regarding mounting textiles　↓

"Dyeing requires cloth and dye. 
Unlike painting with pigments, for example, dyeing is borne of the need to fix colour onto cloth without spoiling the fabric's characteristics. 
That is, the basis of dyeing is using methods that don't alter the feel of the cloth.

If you go and frame or mount a dyed piece of fabric, it becomes a flat artwork. That piece of cloth is transformed into a mere surface and it loses its meaning as a soft, pliable cloth.
If it's an illusory flat surface you want, what's wrong with using canvas, or paper, wooden board or a wall?
If you insist on using fabric even though the final product will be hard and flat, what's the point of going to all that trouble dyeing it to maintain it's fabric qualities? You're probably not interested in the tactility of the cloth - the direct interaction with the skin.
 In which case, your choice to insist on using fabric is nonsense."

- YEAH! you tell 'em Mr Fukumoto!

He also goes into a lot of depth regarding the relationship between Japan's dyeing history and culture and European and American understandings of dyeing. He is particularly scrupulous about the Surface Design Association in the U.S and their development from a weaving-dominated association to one that covers all kinds of textiles. I think Australia went through a very similar progression, from crafts-based textile skills, to 1960's/1970's free-form fibre-work and dyeing to a contemporary Textile scene we see today.

Though Dyeing tends to be subsumed under the heading of Surface Design in Australia and the U.S, Fukumoto maintains that Somé and Surface Design are not one and the same. He advocates using the word Somé as an alternative, to avoid the inevitable connotations of words like Textile Design, Surface Design or Fibre Art.

He's actually quite adamant, "Sashimi, Karate, Anime and Shibori are already incorporated into our internationalising vocabulary. Why not just call it Somé? Japanese dyeing culture is highly regarded around the world. If people are so enthusiastic about learning those traditions and skills, first they should just use the word Somé!!"

I would love to share more of his writing in future posts - but for now just these tasters!

-- keep an eye out, I hope to post images from my exhibition in the near future!

Autumn Grasses and Cultural Glasses 秋草と異文化

　"The Culture of Dyeing"
by Fukumoto Shigeki

Recently I've been slogging my way through reading "Somé no bunka", literally titled, "The Culture of Dyeing". It's a relatively long book in Japanese (hence the slog) by Fukumoto Shigeki, a Dyeing Artist and author who trained at the somewhat conservative Kyoto City University of Arts in the late 1960's. The book is a philosophical look at the cultural history and relevance of dyeing in Japan. Fukumoto has some strong opinions regarding dyeing, which is making it an interesting read (e.g "frame a textile?! What are you, an idiot?"or "Japan is surely the only country who can boast such an accomplished Dye culture!"*translated with some creative licence...).

最近、「染めの文化」という本を読もうとしています。染色作家の福本繁樹氏が書いた内容は興味深いですから、漢字を辞書で調べたり、面白い文章をノートに写したりして頑張っています！「染めの文化」は（読んだ所までにはといえば）、染めという物・行為は日本においてどの意味を持つのか、どのように進展してきたのか、を色々な角度から考察する本です。日本の染めをより深く理解できるように、アメリカでの染織の歴史・現状なども取り上げられていて、面白いです。

Back to Fukumoto and his strong opinions in a moment....but now for something completely different!!

Autumn Grasses in Moonlight　by Shibata Zenshin
月に秋草図屏風、柴田是真

What do you make of this painting above Is it a nice painting of a pretty bunch of weeds? Or perhaps a wistful ode to the passage of life? (...how insightful of you!)

福本の話は後述の部分に戻るのですが、ここで違う話をしましょう。

上の絵を見ると感想はどうですか？ただ、綺麗に描いてある雑草に見える？それとも、秋のモチーフによって世の哀れを感じさせる？（まさかの玄人じゃないですか？！）答は、個人の文化的な背景によるのでしょう。

Perhaps that all depends what cultural glasses you are looking through!

つまり、どの文化の眼鏡をかけて見ているかによると思います。

（←豊原周延の真美人が格好いいでしょう！和服と眼鏡の組み合わせで違和感を感じますけどね。この真美人も面白い！）

In Japanese there is the term "akikusa"秋草. It literally means "the grasses of Autumn"and refers to a stylized motif that can be seen in traditional Japanese paintings (as above!) and designs. It's a popular motif in contemporary Japan too, appearing on everything from Kimono to notepaper. 

日本語の「秋草」が上の絵のように、秋に生える雑草を描写するモチーフです。琳派などの絵や伝統工芸において人気なモチーフでしたが、今も着物やレターセットなどにも多く使われています。

尾形光琳の秋草図屏風 'Autumn Grasses Folding screen" by Rinpa School Master artist Ogata Kourin.

In it's most traditional conception, Akikusa tends to depict the so called, "Seven plants of Autumn"(seven being an auspicious number). These 7 are usually:

Pampas Grass - Chinese Bellflower - Maidenflower - Bushclover - Wild Carnations - Arrowroot - Boneset

These are often partnered with other set Autumn motifs such as the Moon, Rabbits, Red Autumn Leaves, or Chrysanthemums. 

But why go to all the trouble of painting 'a bunch of weeds' anyway??

秋草のモチーフはよく「秋の七草」を描写しています。その七つは萩・薄・藤袴・桔梗・葛・女郎花・撫子だそうです。秋草はよく、ウサギ、月、紅葉、菊などの秋モチーフと一緒に描いてあるですね。

さて、なぜ草というごく日常的な物をそんな綺麗に描こうとしていたなのでしょうか？

Here's where Fukumoto's book comes back into the equation.

Something he suggests is that, unlike "the West", people in Japan have a tendency to appreciate the value of age and patina, as well as favour imagery that suggests ageing, decay and the cycle of nature. 

I think a wonderful example of this Japanese taste for the wistful is the akikusa motif. It is intended to evoke a feeling of melancholy and an appreciation of the passing seasons and impermanence. My Japanese friend described it like, "Akikusa is one of those "Withered Expressions" that Japanese people really love. Japanese people have long loved the cycle of the seasons and the cycle of life: to sprout, grow, bloom, make seeds and then die". 

ここで福本氏の話に戻ります。「染めの文化」に、いわゆる「欧米人」と違って、日本人は哀れの表現を好んで、季節の循環やほろびに深く感動される傾向がある、と書かれました。秋草はこの好みの例としてちょうどいいでしょう？

跡見花蹊の秋草図屏風 "Autumn Grasses Folding Screen" by Atomi Kakei

(Can I just say though, I get a bit annoyed when authors like Fukumoto make broad claims like "Unlike in the West where They think X, We Japanese think Y"? For starters, I really dislike the use of the term "the West". The two Kanji in this Japanese word (欧米）refer to the whole of Europe and America, and presumably in today's consciousness it has also come to include Australia. You can hardly make a sweeping generalisation about what "the whole of Japan" thinks, let alone put words in the mouth of a collective "West", comprised of at least 70 different countries, all with different cultures!! If Japanese authors are going to contrast the philosophy of their country to that of anywhere else, I wish they would at least be specific, rather than just throw them in contrast to some contradictory "other".)

話がちょっと変わりますが、日本人の筆者の「欧米人はこう思っていますが、日本人はこう思っています」というような文章はとても嫌です。「欧米」って最低70ヵ国からできている地域なので、全体的にそこに住む人の意見って簡単に説明できないのです。日本人も様々で、「日本人の考え方はこうだ」と言うのも無理でしょう？海外の思想などと比較したい時に、具体的にどの国と比べているかとか、もっと詳しく考慮してほしいだけです。

I do tend to agree with Fukumoto that, especially in the past, Japanese culture has respected and revered the wistful passage of time but I don't think that an appreciation of the fading and melancholy is exclusively a Japanese past-time, as some would have you believe.

And don't forget modern Japan is notoriously fickle in her appreciation of the weathered and worn (Think, tearing down old machiya houses to build cookie cutter apartment blocks)...

福本氏が言う日本人は物の哀れを深く感じる傾向に同感しますが、自然の循環や物の哀れをきつく感じるのは日本人に限られていると思わないです。現在の日本社会と言ったら、古いものに対してそんなに優しくないしね。（町屋の代わりに全く味がないアパートを建つとかを例にできる）

Cootamundra Wattle, an Australian Native but notoriously spreads outside it's natural range = a WEED

All this talk of Autumn Grasses led me to wondering whether I could come up with some kind of Australian equivalent. We certainly have plenty of weeds...which, if you were wondering, differ from a "plant" in that they are malicious and unwanted; a species in the wrong habitat and trying to dominate it. Seems like another case of the right glasses, does it not?

I had seen a lot of different native and weedy grasses in the nature reserve near our house and set out to document some of them. Whilst it's actually Spring in Australia at the moment, vegetation dries out in the sudden heat and there is actually quite a lot of "autumn-esque" foliage around. Strange how the seasons are opposite to Japan but not really.

grasses and weeds as far as the eye can see!

秋草について調べたりしたら、オーストラリア風の秋草もできるのではないかと思いました。家の近くにある山々の所は雑草が多くて、カメラを持って見に行きました。沢山の種類を見つけたのですが、秋の七草のような7つにこだわるなら、次の７を提案します！

I found plenty of weeds to choose from but I think I'd like to limit my "7 Canberra grasses" to the following:

Salvation Jane. A farmer's nightmare
but pretty when it forms a purple carpet over fields of grass.　シャゼンムラサキ

Lambs Ear. Looks like a cabbage, feels like a...lamb's ear.
「ラムの耳」と呼ぶ雑草。手触りはフワフワ

Wild blackberries:
Prickly wild bushes that were supposed to have been
helpful for lost bushwalkers but are now a noxious pest.
野生のブラックベリー。いばらが多いから美味しそうけど
採るのが凄く痛い！

Random dry grasses -
which Australia has in ABUNDANCE
乾いた草。乾燥しているオーストラリアの
どこにもあるもの。

Something which I don't know the name of,
but they are everywhere around Canberra
名前が分からない雑草ですが、
形は力があって、面白い。

Another mystery weed- how cool are the floaty tendrils?
もう一つの分からないやつ。
でもリボンのような葉っぱはとても気に入る。

And finally, twisty vines of Hardenbergia,
with cute purple flowers.
最後に、小さい紫の花が沢山咲くハーデンベルギア

Technically I suppose these are Spring Grasses but in future artworks, I hope they will carry the meaning of Japan's akikusa. Australians too, are capable of an appreciation for the wilting, the fading and the impermanent.

Finally, in an interesting plot-twist, I just found out that the Australian Bourke Parrot, all little and pink and grass-loving, is translated in Japanese as the Akikusa-Inko, the Autumn Grasses Parrot! What a way to bring everything back full circle :)

最後にもう一つ！ずっと秋草を検索していたのに、このオーストラリア原産BourkeParrotの和名は「アキクサインコ」だと昨日まで知らなかった！いいね！話はなんかうまいことに染めで始まったけど好きな鳥で終わりました！

Bourke Parrots, a.k.a Akikusa Parrots!

Kyoto's backstreet Textile Industry 京都の裏道にある染色世界

When people call Kyoto the Textile Capital of Japan, it's easy to write it off as some kind of nostalgic comment.
京都が「染織の都」と呼ばれているのは、昔を懐かしむくせに過ぎない、と思いやすいですね。

But there is still a very real and functioning network of textile companies in Kyoto today, tucked between carparks and petshops, incomprehensible from the next house on the street besides a small company sign, and taking up multiple floors on non-descript 1980's office buildings.
しかし、決まり文句っぽいのに、今でも本当にその通りです。もちろん、昔のように盛んでいるとは言えないですが、今の京都では染織関係の会社がいっぱい残っています。コンビニとペットショップに挟まれたり、80年代っぽいオフィスビルや何も目立たない町屋で営業しています。

Looks like any old house right? 普通の家に見えるでしょう？

Almost all of the signage and information about these companies is in Japanese, of course, so visitors to Kyoto probably don't even notice. These businesses also tend to be concentrated in pockets of the city that are removed from the tourist areas, so it's easy to miss them. I think even Kyoto residents don't even really notice.
この会社の看板はほとんど漢字で書いてあって、観光客はもちろん、京都人でも気づいてないだろうと思います。場所的に、街からちょっと外れている通りに集中しているから、気づかないでしょう。

近く見たら、染織関係だ！看板小さいね。A closer look at the building above shows it houses a Textile Artists' Association and a decorative textile research office.

As a kind of experiment last week, I walked around some of the streets I know to be textile areas just to see how many of these companies I could spy. The answer? In just 30 minutes, stacks!
先週、京都市内の染織が有名な町を散歩したら、何軒の染織関係の会社が見えるのかという実験をしました。その結果は？いっぱい見えました！

I was excluding those specialising in weaving (you can hear the whirrs and clacks of the looms beyond the frosted windows); trying to just narrow it down to businesses related to dyeing and the kimono industry. The number is practically exponential, once you start looking up and reading the signs.
織物関係を別にして(窓の向こう側に織り機のカシャカシャが聞こえます!)、染物屋さんだけに限りました。それでも、上を見て看板を探し始めたら、数え切れないほどあります！

A company specialising in dyeing Black. Black is known as a very technically difficult colour to dye well, hence entrusting that step to a separate business. 黒染屋さん。黒って、染めにくいから、分業して、黒染専門の工場が作られたでしょう。

黒染屋さんの看板。着物の形。Black Dyeing shop with it's Kimono shaped Sign.

tiny sign to indicate this is a dye workshop. In the Nishijin district of Kyoto. 西陣にある染め工房。

This one was a triple line-up. Dyeing workshop with the blue signs, then a business that does dye finishing processes and then a flag business. 三つも並んでいた！

Right next to a pet shop, this one is more weaving oriented, silk fibre company. 

Typical looking house on a typical looking street.. 普通の通りに普通に見える家は

but it turns out to be another business that does specialised Black Dyeing. 黒染屋さんでした！

Business making chirimen silk kimono

Another dyeing company...

and another...

And another...

and another!!

This business sews Japanese clothing like kimono or haori etc.

This one specialised in Kyoto style embroidery. Probably for embellishing kimono

the shop with the red noren curtain sells kimono lining fabrics.

これは紅型の会社だそうです。This one is a Bingata (okinawan style stencil dyeing) business.

I think you can start to get a sense of how numerous these businesses are. There were many others I didn't take photos of because it felt rude. I know there were also many more that I missed or that are not specifically marked on the building even though they are operating some kind of textile business. You can see below where these businesses are concentrated.

the red dots are dyeing-related businesses in Kyoto

Now that kimono are no longer standard everyday wear, many businesses such as these presumably have less work than they used to. I wonder what will happen to them in the future? They are powerhouses of knowledge and specialised equipment as well as links in the chain of kimono production. The division of labour means that when one business closes down (such as a steaming company that shut down 2 years ago) then the rest of the chain is affected. As more start to close, the chain will end up with some big holes. Can the individual businesses find ways to keep their services relevant in future? I guess it remains to be seen.

The Mismatch, The Spaces Between.

At a review meeting I had two weeks ago at school, my head Professor saw my draft design and declared, "It's like an Australian Sōtatsu!" (Sōtatsu Tawaraya is a very famous founding member of the Rinpa school of Japanese painting and is most famous for his bold designs and folding screen paintings which are a staple in Japanese school textbooks) It was a laughable comparison but essentially, my Professor was suggesting that my artwork looked pretty Japanese.

VERY Famous pair of screen paintings by Sotatsu. Reproductions are on permanent display at Kennin-ji in Kyoto.

Another teacher then asked me whether I'm "conscious of that mismatch between the Japanese and Australian". Yes, of course and I feel like I still haven't managed to tread that fine line with sufficient finesse. Perhaps my artwork still does look too Japanese.

But let's think about what that means; to "look Japanese". Maybe my compositions or colours are heavily influenced by Japanese painters. But isn't any artist inspired by someone, or by some art that came before he did? It just happens to be that what I am inspired by is "outside my own culture" or has a history attached that was borne in another country. I'm not trying to appropriate or parody Japanese paintings or Japanese traditions, rather I am impressed and moved by them. So perhaps the questions should be more about where the line is between Parody and Homage. 

It comes back to the very crux of what is "creation". All we are ever doing is recycling. Grabbing all those little skerricks of things we love, things that excite us, things that make us go "ohhhh" and bundling them up together cleverly and beautifully in a way that becomes us. 

Where we grab those strands of inspiration from will influence the whole but the sum of them will be unique.

I can be influenced by Japanese painting or scrolls or Abstract Impressionism but if I am a talented artist, if I am engaging in creation, then the artwork that I create won't be an imitation of those or a parody but rather an artwork that rings of a certain taste, certain familiar qualities, certain influences that are important but not all-defining. 

I happen to love art that makes you look twice because it's a special play on imagery or tradition. How about this list for starters? Australian Danie Mellor, Ceramicist Ah Xian, Sculptor Ricky Swallow, Painter Yamaguchi Akira, 

Yokohama-e Prints from the 1860's, Edo-era Bird scrolls, Japanese painter Takeuchi Seiho.......

Quirky scrolls depicting imported bird species from the early 1800's

Ah Xian "China Bust 15" 1999. Porcelain

Akira Yamaguchi 『演説電柱』2012

Takeuchi Seiho "Painting of Rome" 1903

These are artworks and artists inspired by tradition, inspired by certain tastes or cultures but they turn those influences into something else entirely. 

In my own work, I feel the same push and pull. The technique gives the work a certain look, and I push it towards something else; as a result it can be neither here nor there. And why not be both? If we did the same thing as everyone else, we could expect the same results, and we know from the definition of "creation" that every recycling produces a new combination.

I have now officially spent half of my art education in Australia and half in Japan so the images and artworks that I've been exposed to are from both backgrounds. Perhaps if I was doing katazome purely within an Australian art school, my work would tend more towards design or abstraction or experimental textiles. But with the things around me like Nihonga (Japanese painting) and contemporary pictorial textiles, this is what I have gravitated towards. Also I'm really interested in the ideas behind Japanese painting about compositions and seasonal imagery and flow, it's not purely just that those paintings are around.

Instead of feeling odd or uneasy about the mismatched things and the spaces between, why don't we celebrate them?