An Irresistible, Uncontrollable Allure

Was craftsmanship always a part of your daily life growing up?

My family runs a dyeing factory in Kyoto. It started as my great-grandfather's Yuzen textile dyeing factory and is now managed by my father, who mainly prints on clothing using auto screen printers and inkjet printers. It was also my grandparents’ home, so I was always around fabrics as industrial products from a young age. The dyes for prints are blended and mixed with a computer-controlled automatic mixer, but final adjustments are always made by hand to suit the climate and humidity. Seeing these dyeing processes up close, I learned that even machine-produced fabrics are always completed by the hands of skilled artisans.

What inspired you to pursue crafts and eventually become a craft artist?

During high school, I started thinking I wanted to acquire tangible skills and became interested in crafts that use color, like dyeing and ceramics. I wanted to study in a serene area with a deep culture of craftsmanship like Kutani ware, so I decided on Kanazawa College of Art. In my first year, I learned a little bit of every craft before choosing a specialty in the second year. When I experienced weaving, I found it fun, and was also influenced by words from Professor Nobuyuki Tanaka, who said, "Choosing a material by how it feels in your hands or its hardness is one way too." That's why I chose textiles and dyeing. Metals felt too rigid for me, and clay, because it responded to my whole body, reflected even my mood and physical state too much. Fibers, on the other hand, have just the right tactile feel and resistance for expression, and delicate silk threads lie perfectly between easy- and difficult-to-handle materials. I can’t control fibers as completely as a true master can, but that very unpredictability fascinates me even more.

A Fusion of Embroidery Techniques from Japan & England

What led you to choose embroidery artist as your career path?

Until my third year at college, I was considering either working at a textile manufacturer or helping out with the family business. But once I learned Kaga-nui, a technique of Japanese embroidery, I was enchanted by its intricacy. What struck me was how, with Japanese embroidery, not only the visible front but even the usually unseen back turns out beautifully detailed. In the English three-dimensional embroidery technique of "stampwork," which spread in the 17th century, you use wire and other materials to make even the back of the piece viewable. At first, I combined the two techniques as research, and then I became hooked on the possibilities of their expressions. It felt like my true path opened up before me.

Why do you choose familiar subjects and personal memories as your motifs?

I’ve always felt attached to nature around me—especially fallen leaves. When a leaf from a tall tree drifts into your hand, it feels like a tiny treasure just for you. Ideally, I hope that people who see my work, on their way home, will notice fallen leaves or flowers at their feet and be reminded of the beauty in everyday nature.

I start by researching the plants that inspire my motifs—using dictionaries, anthologies of waka, classics, and books on traditional Japanese colors. From their historical roles and etymology, I draw inspiration. For example, with this camellia piece, I read that in the Nara period, it was written as "海柘榴" (read "tsubaki" for camellia). So, evoking the "sea," I used indigo-dyed thread in a pale watery blue called "mihanada." Rather than faithfully replicating plants, I try to express beauty through my own emotions and impressions.

Embroidery: A Technique that Captures Attachment & Time

Please tell us why you are dedicated to embroidery and what makes it so captivating.

For me, embroidery is a technique that allows the expression of attachment and the passage of time. While working, I sometimes struggle with the delicacy of silk threads, but I’m enchanted by their shimmer and the possibility of depicting intricate details. In Japanese embroidery, you can sew the threads as they are, without twisting, or twist them yourself to create different textures and add strength. The act of embroidering itself is genuinely enjoyable; to me, craftwork is a "physical vocation."

Compared to master artisans who dedicate their lives to creating obi and kimono, my method—which blends English stampwork with Japanese embroidery—might be seen as unconventional. Yet, precisely because I take a different path, I believe that continuing to produce works in Japanese embroidery can eventually draw more attention back to the tradition itself. Through my creations, I hope to ignite a new interest in Japanese embroidery within wider circles.

Learning & Connecting Across Boundaries

What are your thoughts on the challenges facing contemporary Japanese embroidery?

Nowadays, interest in kimono and Buddhist art has faded, and people rarely encounter Japanese embroidery in everyday life. Both the number of practitioners and buyers is shrinking, especially among younger generations. To foster familiarity with local crafts and the processes behind their creation, I feel we need to connect craft more closely with everyday life and engaging content.

Recently, I was deeply moved to see families with small children and young people intently admiring works at a collaborative exhibition between Pokémon and traditional crafts. Since craft is both art and technique, I strongly feel that collaboration with other fields is essential.

Listening to Her Future Goals

I want to use hand embroidery as a core, connecting it with a wide range of fields. I’m also taking on the challenge of creating textile works printed with my family’s traditional dyeing and weaving techniques. Someday, I hope to exhibit long, flowing, large-scale printed textiles at an exhibition.

I also aspire to help shape the visual world of high-end brands. One day, I hope to go to England to experience authentic stampwork, and to immerse myself in foreign cultures and lifestyles—so I can develop embroidery expressions that only I can create.