The Unsung Dyeing Town: Ochiai and Nakai in Shinjuku

The Myoshoji River, a tributary of the Arakawa, flows near Nakai Station on the Seibu Shinjuku Line. A few minutes' walk along a riverside path will bring you to Some no Sato Ochiai, a workshop specializing in Edo Sarasa and Edo Komon dyeing.

The Ochiai and Nakai areas of Shinjuku are known as a dyeing district. At its peak, the area was home to over 300 dyeing workshops and related businesses.

"Originally, there was a district in Kanda called Konyacho where dyers gathered. It was such a major hub that Eiichi Shibusawa—the face on the 10,000-yen bill—used to make indigo balls in the Bushu region of Saitama and sell them there. But after the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923, fires made it impossible to work by the river, so the dyers all relocated here to Ochiai and Nakai."

Some no Sato Ochiai's predecessor, Futaba-en Co., Ltd., was founded in 1920. During the war, it even operated as a munitions factory producing umbrellas. As a stencil dyeing workshop, it has a long history of creating Edo Komon and Edo Sarasa textiles.

"For Edo Komon, we apply a resist paste using a single stencil that we move along the fabric. Edo Sarasa, on the other hand, is much more labor-intensive, requiring up to 30 different stencils to be layered. That's why very few Edo Sarasa workshops are left today."

Futaba-en began producing Edo Sarasa thanks to the third-generation owner, Bunjirō Kobayashi. When he held exhibitions in England and France, he presented large-format Edo Sarasa pieces. This attracted artisans with a passion for Edo Sarasa to the workshop starting in the 1980s.

"Futaba-en has always had a culture of encouraging artisans to pursue their passions. We incorporated the various dyeing styles that individual artisans loved, such as hand-painted Yuzen, Edo Sarasa, and Edo Komon."

The "染の小道" Event, Reviving a Lost Scenery, Sparked a Business Succession

Apparently, it was once a common sight to see dyers descending ladders to wash long bolts of cloth, known as tanmono, in the Myoshoji River.

"I've heard so many stories from the older folks in the community. Even Waseda University students mentioned seeing it from the Seibu Line train windows. It must have been a signature scene of this dyeing town."

However, due to river pollution and embankment construction to prevent flooding, access to the river was banned around 1965. Takaichi's journey to taking over Futabaen is tied to this lost scenery.

"I originally left my company after having a child. Parenting is a strange thing, isn't it? You have no time, but you also have lots of it. I started a free paper called 'おちあいさんぽ' as a project to connect local people and feature child-friendly restaurants."

A gallery feature in おちあいさんぽ led Takaichi to meet Motofumi Kobayashi, the fourth-generation owner of Futabaen. He then invited her to help launch an event.

"Kobayashi was passionate about reviving the scene of dyers washing cloth in the Myoshoji River through an event, showing everyone that the dyeing industry was still alive and well in this area."

Takaichi and her friends went door-to-door, asking local restaurants and shops for their support, and managed to get over 50 businesses on board. And so, the "染の小道" (Some no Komichi) festival began, decorating the Ochiai-Nakai area with dyed textiles, with bolts of cloth hung over the Myoshoji River and noren curtains displayed in front of shops.

"It was a huge success. After the second year, the Great East Japan Earthquake spurred a spirit of volunteerism, and more local residents started getting involved. Now in its 17th year, it has grown into an event that attracts over 10,000 visitors."

While working on 染の小道, Takaichi was approached by Kobayashi in 2017 to discuss taking over Futabaen. After exploring various options, including finding an entrepreneur, she decided, "I'm the one who has to do this," and established the general incorporated association Some no Sato Ochiai.

Edo Sarasa: Indian-Born Patterns Dyed with Ise-Katagami Stencils

Now, let's explore the Edo Sarasa dyeing technique that Some no Sato Ochiai has worked to preserve.

"Sarasa" is a general term for patterned fabrics that originated in India. With its exotic charm, sarasa took the world by storm. In 18th-century France, it was so popular that imports were banned out of fear that aristocrats were spending too much gold on the fabric.

"Sarasa dyeing methods vary by region. For example, there's Indian sarasa, which uses woodblock printing, and Javanese sarasa, which uses batik. These fabrics first arrived in Japan on Portuguese ships around the 16th century. The style evolved through Nagasaki, Sakai, and Kyo sarasa, eventually leading to Edo sarasa, which utilizes Ise-katagami stencils and techniques from Edo-komon dyeing."

Because the city of Edo was subject to repeated sumptuary laws, sarasa was not worn as kimono until the late Edo to Meiji periods. Instead, it was cherished in the world of the tea ceremony, used for kimono linings and as wrappers for tea utensils.

Edo sarasa's beautiful gradations are created by repeating the stencil-dyeing process dozens of times. What makes the colors truly unique is the artisan's masterful control of the deer-hair brushes used to rub the dye into the fabric, resulting in an exquisite and one-of-a-kind finish.

"A signature technique of Futabaen is to apply a final hiki-zome (brush dyeing) wash, which gives our Edo sarasa its characteristically soft color palette."

Creating a World Where Everyone Can Enjoy Dyeing and Handicrafts

At Some-no-Sato Ochiai, they're launching projects to share the magic of dyeing with the next generation. These include producing tanmono (bolts of cloth) using a cooling fabric called "CEOα" and hosting dyeing workshops for international visitors in collaboration with Airbnb.

"Our business hit a major roadblock during the COVID-19 pandemic, and I started to wonder if our craft was becoming obsolete," they recall. "But the moment I knew I had to save it, I decided we needed to focus on creating products and events that resonate with today's lifestyles."

Then, in 2023, they launched a crowdfunding campaign to digitize the vast collection of paper stencils stored in their warehouse.

"It all started when we had to clear out the warehouse and get rid of some stencils. It was heartbreaking to throw away the damaged ones," they explain. "That's when I had the idea: if we could digitize them with a scanner, we could preserve them and find a new purpose for them down the road."

Scanning the massive archive of over 60,000 stencils is proving more time-consuming than imagined, and the project is still underway. This year, they're even expanding the plan to include stencils inherited from other workshops that have sadly closed their doors.

"It's incredible; many of these are precious stencils that could never be carved again. The ones for Edo Komon (a type of fine-patterned textile) are just astonishingly detailed. A laser cutter rounds the edges, creating a look that can only be achieved through the artistry of hand-carving."

Once the stencils are digitized, the plan is to feature them in books, exhibitions, and more. As Takaichi says, "There is no progress in a closed-off world. It's crucial to stay open."

"Looking ahead, beyond these individual projects, we're dreaming of a 'Global 8-Billion Artisans Project,'" they share. "I just want to build a world where more people can find joy in hand-dyeing and manual crafts.

"At the very heart of monozukuri (the art of making things) is the lifestyle of creating what you need with your own hands—much like the term hyakusho, which originally referred to farmers who handled a hundred different jobs. I firmly believe this way of life offers a path forward, a kind of 'exit strategy' that can positively impact climate change and other environmental issues."