Bingata, Cherished as Okinawa's Unique Culture

First, could you tell us about your laboratory?

Our workshop was founded by my grandfather in 1972. Originally, we are one of the three familial schools that crafted Bingata for the Ryukyu Royalty, known as "Shimujibu Chinen Family."

I began working seriously at this workshop about 15 years ago when I was 21. Until joining the workshop, I worked in graphic design in Osaka and vaguely thought I would inherit the family business around the age of 30.

However, following the sudden death of my grandfather, I took over much sooner than expected, which led me to learn both the craft and management simultaneously.

Why did Bingata develop in Okinawa?

There seem to be various factors behind the development of Bingata.

Originally, Bingata was made for the Ryukyu Royal family or as trade goods. To prevent it from disappearing and to promote their culture to other countries, they developed the techniques.

Regarding silk fabrics, Okinawa was part of a route that extended north from China to Japan, which helped establish it here.

Though the processes for creating Bingata are very numerous, it is entirely done by hand. The fact that customers valued items only expressible through these handmade techniques has allowed Bingata to be preserved as a traditional craft in Okinawa for so long.

Although modern technologies like AI and 3D printers have advanced recently, we continue our craftsmanship, hoping that traditional techniques like Bingata will persist.

What distinguishes the Bingata you produce at your laboratory?

We pursue various challenges to expand our range of expressions. Specifically, we collaborate with professionals from various industries and actively incorporate digital technology, which might be rare in the Bingata industry.

In the past, we collaborated with Arita ware and Okinawa's Yachimun (pottery). We aim to create products that even those unfamiliar with Bingata or crafts might find interesting, making our approach accessible.

Hearing people recognize our products, "They must be from the Chinen family," signifies that these efforts are bearing fruit.

New Challenges Are Necessary for Development

Can you explain the process of Bingata?

First, we create original designs or revive classical patterns and carve them into stencils. The stencils are made from a type of paper called shibukami or synthetic paper known as ST paper, which resembles shibukami.

Once the stencil is prepared, it is fixed onto netting using materials like cashew (netting adhesive) before moving to the stencil application. Stencil application involves using a paste made from sugar and glutinous rice to transfer the patterns onto the fabric.

In the case of an obi (sash), the stencil application is approximately 240 cm (6 shaku), and for a kimono, it exceeds 13 meters. The stencils are designed to connect the patterns seamlessly, making it crucial to place them accurately.

Next is the coloring stage. The colors are created using pigments and gojiru, a broth made by squeezing soybeans. The hues are adjusted accordingly based on the creation, the fabric used, or the age of the customer.

Unlike dyes, pigments have coarse particles that don't penetrate the fabric; instead, they sit on top of it. To address this, a two-brush technique is used where the first brush applies the color, and the second brush smooths it out, alternating between the two to dye the color.

After completing the coloring stage, the shading is done. This step adds depth to the patterns by layering darker colors on top of the colored patterns.

If the shading colors are too light, they won't achieve the desired depth, and if they're too dark, they might overshadow the colors applied during the coloring stage. Therefore, it is crucial to consider achieving a moderate softness that matches the work's atmosphere. The shading step is infused with the artisan's skill and sensitivity.

After shading, the work undergoes steaming to fix the colors, known as mizumoto. During this process, the paste from the initial stencil application is washed off. The areas that were protected by the paste remain undyed, and only the pigment-dyed areas retain color, while the areas covered with paste return to their original white color.

Without further treatment, the work would remain on a white background, so the fabric needs to be dyed with a base color. However, if just applied as is, the base color would also affect the pigment-dyed areas.

To prevent this, a process called norifuse is used. Before applying the base color, the patterns are masked using a tube and paste, known as "binushi" in dialect.

Once the paste dries, the base color dye is applied using a brush, then dried. To fix the color, the piece is steamed again, washed, and hung to dry, completing the process.

I've heard there's been some debate about steaming to fix colors.

Indeed, Bingata was originally a style of clothing for the Ryukyu Kingdom. The Ryukyu clothes were tied with strings rather than belts as in Japanese traditional wear. Therefore, there was little concern about the color fading due to friction from strings.

However, with the spread of Japanese traditional clothing, belts became more prevalent. The increased friction from belts caused issues with color fading. Interestingly, during the Ryukyu Kingdom era, they seem to have used sunlight to fix colors.

The steaming method was a standard practice in places like Kyoto. My grandfather implemented it in Bingata, but at the time, some industry veterans remarked, "It's not Bingata if it's steamed."

However, nowadays, steaming has become essential to prevent color bleeding in Bingata. Looking back, I realize my grandfather had a knack for gradually improving traditional methods and embracing new challenges.

I feel strongly that such challenges are vital for developing craftsmanship and passing on the art of creation to future generations.

How many artisans does your company have?

We have about 12 artisans. Some have mastered every process, while others specialize in just one. Each process has its own characteristics, so we assign tasks based on the artisans' personalities and strengths.

Since I'm responsible for running the workshop, I've acquired all the necessary skills. To nurture our artisans, I recognize the need to enhance my own skills by creating various works and attending exhibitions to receive feedback.

The Freedom of Expression that Highlights the Craftsperson's Sense

Please tell us about the appeal of Bingata from your perspective.

Bingata is not just a technique for dyeing kimono or obi. For example, it can be used to dye various items like shop curtains, table centers, and accessories. I find this wide range of expression fascinating.

I often dye obi for kimono, and even if the shape of what I'm making is decided, it's very enjoyable to think about "what kind of patterns can be expressed within that."

Kimonos also show different expressions when displayed and when worn. Since the part of the obi that is wrapped becomes hidden, I decide on patterns considering that as well.

Additionally, I'm constantly thinking about the final image, such as the thickness and color of the pigments, the balance with dyes used for the background color. Products made with attention to detail lead to customer satisfaction, so I put special effort into parts that may become invisible when worn.

It's a joy that can only be experienced because each piece is hand-dyed, isn't it?

Indeed. In the case of hand-dyeing, colors and fabrics can be changed each time, making it possible to offer products as unique items for each customer.

I feel that craftsmanship lies between art and design. While crafts don’t express the creator’s ideas as strongly as art does, they don't purely pursue marketability like commercial design. Within a somewhat predetermined form, the craftsperson’s sense can be reflected.

Having worked in graphic design, I feel that this freedom allows for more unique ideas.

In creating works, I think patterns are very important and become assets for craftspeople. Is there any risk of them being imitated?

There are times they are imitated. Silk culture originally developed through imitation. While I understand this background through history, I don't think it's very desirable in this modern age.

I focus on sharing on Instagram, and thankfully, I've gained many followers, which sometimes leads to imitation. Initially, I felt, "Oh no," but I started to think, "They must think it's good enough to imitate."

Furthermore, rather than just being copied, I decided it’s better to broadcast, "This is the original." Instead of being upset about being imitated, I share the original design, colors, the fact that it's handcrafted as Bingata, and the reasons behind creating these patterns.

Why did you start sharing on social media?

It's to create opportunities for the younger generation to take an interest. I didn't think many people would suddenly enter the industry with "I'm interested," so I thought of using social media to showcase Bingata.

Initially, I was targeting the younger generation, but overseas individuals began showing interest and spreading it, leading the younger crowd to start viewing it.

Some people visited the workshop after seeing the posts, saying, "I want something with this pattern." Through social media, I realized for the first time "how much creation can influence people's emotions."

Bringing Bingata Closer

Could you tell us about the challenges facing the kimono industry and Bingata?

I'm not overly optimistic about significant growth in the kimono industry. The number of people wearing kimonos has decreased, and there's a psychological distance from kimonos compared to the past.

However, recently there's been growing popularity for "recycled kimonos" among the younger generation. How we can encourage this intrigued younger generation to wear hand-dyed kimonos is vital.

On the other hand, traditional crafts attract interest from a wider demographic compared to kimonos. Some people aren't interested in dyed or woven fabrics but are interested in baskets or pottery.

Therefore, collaboration with studios that create such crafts is necessary to spark interest in dyeing.

Instead of being something exclusive like "You can only experience Bingata by going there," I'm working towards making Bingata motifs a more familiar presence in daily life.

Are there any challenges you’d like to tackle in the future?

Currently, my ongoing work mainly involves kimono sashes, but I aim to find a variety of new, continuous business partners. I am actively brainstorming various projects to achieve this.

Some might find crafts and kimono difficult to approach or distant.

However, whether it's Bingata or any other craft, there is always some background in each piece that digital printing lacks. I see this background knowledge as a charm, so if you find something beautiful or nice, please explore the history of that craft.