Japanese Nishijin Textile Seller: A Comparison
*All conversations published have gained the consent of speakers.
Nishijin Textile, picture from internet
Meizi, a cool Chinese girl with a bob haircut, lived in Tokyo and harbored a love for all things ancient and Japanese. Her name meant plum blossom in Chinese, which also held significance in Japanese culture as the symbol of elegance and purity. Pretty fitting for her, in my opinion. I had a phase when I was obsessed with Nishijin Textiles, and I became one of her regular clients, buying six rolls of ancient textiles from her. Though it emptied my pockets, seeing the textiles in my bedroom filled me with joy. With my background in Chinese intangible cultural heritage, I wondered how beauty in Japan was different. Thus, I decided to conduct this cross-national interview that compared and contrasted Nishijin-Ori with textile arts in China.
I started off by asking about Meizi’s story. “Meizi, tell me about your personal experience before we start. How did you start selling Nishijin Textiles?”
“Well, I moved to Japan a while ago. I was born in the 80s and have always been drawn to Japanese culture: Japanese plants, the anime world, etc. I felt a spiritual connection towards Japan—it was almost like I was Japanese in another life. Especially Japanese antique fabrics. There’s something about them that’s just so aesthetically pleasing! Before I even knew it, I’d collected over 800 ancient textile pieces. Now, I’m a professional collector of Nishijin Textiles, and all my money comes from this online shop I run. The price I sell them, ranging from 600 yuan to 3000 yuan a piece ($80-430), is enough to make me a living. I’m sure you’re familiar with that!”
“Woah! How many sales have you made so far? Why is the market so large?”
“With new trends in Chinese fashion, more people are using old Japanese fabrics to make traditional Chinese clothing or accessories like handbags. A lot of my customers are quite wealthy! To this date, I’ve made 568 sales, to be exact. With this money coming in, I have extra to buy more textiles and keep my shop running. I’m really quite lucky—most in the intangible cultural heritage market don’t make nearly as much money.”
“Cool! Let’s jump to the materials used. Nishijin-Ori and many Chinese textile arts, including Su Embroidery, all make use of silk. However, they have completely different textures. Why is that?”
“As you can see, patterns on Nishijin-Ori are knitted into the fabric. Su Embroidery uses silk as its base, but patterns are created by extra silk threads. These can be taken out by simply cutting out the threads, but with Nishijin-Ori, one can’t fix a mistake unless the whole fabric is taken apart. That’s why the masters must be extra careful when making Nishijin-Ori; mistakes are almost irreversible. The good thing is, Nishijin-Ori fabrics are a lot more wrinkle-resistant.”
“That’s so interesting to think about! I also noticed that the threads in the pattern of Nishijin-Ori seem thicker than those in Su Embroidery. Why is that? Is it because Su Embroidery splits threads into even thinner segments?”
“Precisely. That’s what gives Nishijin-Ori its heavier and more textured feel, while with the almost painting-like Su Embroidery, thinner threads are needed to create intricacy. Due to this, the patterns on Nishijin-Ori are very orderly.”
Heavy texture, picture from internet
Ordered, repeating patterns, picture from internet
Pondering that, I thought back to one of my close friends, Ping, who was a Suxiu Embroiderer. While Ping sketched what she wanted to embroider, Meizi told me that modern masters, such as the famous Hironori Fukuoka, used computers to create patterns arranged in squares. “The warp and weft yarns don't allow otherwise,” she said.
Fukuoka’s patterning process (taken from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRdZWHYtVA0)
“Is the coloring any different?” Many of the Nishijin-Ori fabrics I had seen in older times were much bolder and more extravagant than Su Embroidery’s colors.
My thought was affirmed by Meizi. “Nishijin-Ori is often used as waistbands for Japanese traditional apparel, the kimono. It fits the aesthetic: many kimonos are also brilliantly colored.”
Look at that coloring!
“Interesting! What about the patterning? In China, patterns are often beloved plants like the peach blossom or plum blossom (haha, like you), while animals are those with good symbolism, including swallows (joy) and fish (never-ending money).
“Same with us! For flowers, you’ll see a lot of cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums. Cranes are one of the animals that appear most often. There is some overlap, though: we also love plum blossoms, pines, and bamboo, which I’m sure also appear in Chinese textiles. These are commonly grown in both countries, after all. With Japanese crafts, you don’t see that level of detail in Su Embroidery; our patterns are more abstract. Even with our scenery pieces, we have color blocks. It’s a different kind of beauty, a quite mystical one, akin to the nationally treasured Ukiyo-e paintings,” Meizi smiled with pride.
The Great Wave off Kanagawa, famous Ukiyo-e painting. See the similarity?
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