Did you know that Fukushima Prefecture has long been a center for silk textile production?

Silk was once a cornerstone of Japanese industry. However, as times and lifestyles have evolved, production has dwindled, and its presence has slowly faded from our daily lives.

Breathing new life into this nearly forgotten silk culture and weaving it anew is Misako Suzuki of Kobo Oriwori, a studio based in Fukushima City.

In her studio, a renovated traditional Japanese house, she raises silkworms, creates silk floss from their cocoons, spins yarn, dyes it with seasonal botanicals, and weaves it into cloth. Alongside her craft, Suzuki is passionately involved in activities to pass on the culture of silk to the next generation.

"I just get so excited thinking about silk, I can’t help it!"

With a beaming smile, Suzuki shared her journey and her vision for the future potential of silk.

Reconnecting Silk Culture with the Modern World

It was a snowy March day when we visited the "Oriwori" studio, nestled near the hot spring town of Iizaka Onsen in Fukushima City.

Here, every single step of the silk-making process—from raising silkworms to spinning yarn, dyeing, and weaving—is done by hand.

"You know, when you practice sericulture, absolutely nothing goes to waste."

True to Suzuki's words, at the "Oriwori" studio, every part of the silkworm is treasured and transformed. Their creations go beyond textiles, taking various forms like silk facial puffs and even lotions made by extracting the "sericin" from cocoons.

During our visit, she brewed us some "Sansha-cha," a tea made from dried and roasted silkworm droppings (sansha), which was fragrant and surprisingly delicious.

It was the Great East Japan Earthquake that prompted Suzuki to focus on "silk."

"What should we preserve for Fukushima's future?"

As she grappled with this question, her focus turned to Fukushima's integrated silk culture, which encompasses everything from sericulture to weaving.

"The more you learn about silk, the more fascinating it becomes. After Japan ended its period of isolation, raw silk became its primary export for earning foreign currency. You could say that modern, prosperous Japan was built on the back of raw silk. It's such a precious part of our culture. From a historical perspective, I believe it's something we absolutely must not lose."

Today, Suzuki not only engages in sericulture herself but is also dedicated to activities that reconnect this historic silk culture with the contemporary world.

A Lifelong Commitment to Weaving

Suzuki's journey began with an encounter at a weaving workshop called "Nitta" in Yamagata, which she visited for training while in vocational school.

Captivated by the looms, she had a sudden realization: "This is my life's work." Driven by this passion, she began her apprenticeship and honed her craft.

She married in her 20s and continued to weave while raising four children. In their small company-provided apartment, her loom would sometimes double as a jungle gym or swing for the kids. Despite the challenges, she never let go of her passion.

"When our fourth child was on the way, I seriously considered packing away my loom," she recalls. "But my husband told me, 'If you put it away now, who knows when you'll get it out again.' He even made sure I had a dedicated room for it. I was so incredibly grateful. If I had given up then, I definitely wouldn't be doing this today."

A turning point came at the age of 42. Her beloved husband tragically passed away from an illness.

Left to raise four children on her own and pushed to her emotional and physical limits, Suzuki was stuck in a deep state of grief for some time. What pulled her through were the words her husband had left her.

"He always used to say, 'You should turn the house into your workshop.' He'd even tell his colleagues, 'My wife is going to open a weaving studio here, so make sure you support her.' But, you know, it takes tremendous courage to start a business while raising kids. I agonized over the decision, but my neighbors cheered me on, saying, 'We're all rooting for you.' That gave me the push I needed to finally do it."

In 2001, she launched "Kobo Oriwori," converting the first floor of her home into a studio and living on the second.

Believing that "to teach others, one must first master the craft," Suzuki relentlessly honed her skills. She traveled to Kyoto to study textile design, New Zealand to explore wool crafts, and even India to deepen her understanding of natural dyeing, mastering authentic techniques at every stop.

Word of her expertise spread, and her studio soon became a popular gathering place for aspiring weavers and craft enthusiasts.

We Can't Let Silk Culture Die

The 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake dramatically changed the course of Suzuki's work.

"We cannot allow the pride and heritage that Fukushima has cultivated over generations to be lost in the shadow of the nuclear disaster."

As she questioned what she could leave for the next generation, she had a renewed appreciation for Fukushima's deep-rooted sericulture (silkworm farming) culture. Regions that handle the entire silk production process—from hatching silkworm eggs to weaving the final fabric—are incredibly rare worldwide. It is a proud silk heritage that has been nurtured in Fukushima for centuries.

"As someone who has dedicated my life to weaving, I felt this was the only path forward for me," she explains. "So, even though I was a total novice who had never even touched a silkworm, I just jumped right into raising them myself! (laughs)."

Suzuki started by teaching herself how to raise 300 silkworms, eventually scaling up to an incredible 15,000. Her efforts even won over veteran silk farmers who had initially dismissed her. They eventually gave her their seal of approval, admitting, "Your cocoons are even better than ours."

Suzuki's goal was to create a community where people could connect and pass down the culture of silk to the next generation.

To achieve this, she founded "ふくしま絹の道" (Fukushima Silk Road) in 2018. The initiative connects the traditionally separate roles of silkworm egg producers, silk farmers, and weavers to secure the future of the craft. It aims to restore these fading connections and promote the value of Fukushima's silk culture both in Japan and around the world.

Today, in addition to her own creative work, Suzuki offers hands-on sericulture and dyeing workshops at her studio and gives guest lectures at local elementary schools. She has also traveled to France, Spain, and India, bringing with her beautiful furisode (long-sleeved kimonos) woven from silk, to share its allure through workshops and speaking events.

"I am constantly in awe of the power of silk," she says. "It is, without a doubt, what has connected me to the rest of the world. Yet, the number of silk farmers in Japan continues to decline, hitting new record lows. I truly believe it will be too late if we only realize how precious it is after it's already gone."

Believing in the Potential of Silk

Currently, Suzuki has launched an NPO and is embarking on a new challenge: linking the preservation of tradition to the revitalization of society.

A cornerstone of her activities is forging connections with the younger generation. Young people who feel disconnected from society or are searching for a catalyst to move forward come to the mulberry fields. By raising silkworms, assisting with natural dyeing, and helping with weaving, they gradually reconnect with the community.

In turn, the young people support the activities with their own unique talents. The goal is to create an environment where they can engage with society in this mutually beneficial way.

At the workshop, I was shown a robe that had been dyed with madder, spun into thread, woven, and tailored. Dyed a rich madder red, the robe exuded a warmth like the setting sun, seeming to glow with a soft light.

"Next, I want to weave a *shiromuku* (a traditional white wedding kimono). After the earthquake, I know we caused many people to worry, but now, we've finally reached a point where we can live our daily lives in peace. I want to create something tangible, here in Fukushima, that symbolizes our new beginning. It feels less like a dream and more like my mission. When I finally finish weaving the *shiromuku*, I think that's when I'll feel like we've truly come this far."

Suzuki says with a smile, her belief in the potential of silk unwavering. Connecting people and bridging cultures, the thread she spins is surely weaving the future of Fukushima.