Fabric
My Machiya Quilts and Landscape Quilts are original art quilts, carefully hand-stitched using a composition based on a frontal view and a flattened visual style. By simplifying the forms of buildings and depicting them with delicate needlework using Japanese textiles, I express not only the beauty of the architecture but also the atmosphere of the surrounding landscape.
Although I use patchwork quilting techniques, my work is completely different from conventional American patchwork.
The first difference is the choice of textiles. I mainly use old kimono fabrics in my work.
When I began creating my first Machiya Quilt in 1998, I discovered pieces of fabric and old kimonos that my grandparents had kept in an old chest of drawers in our family home. That was when I decided to use them in my work.
I felt that when depicting old houses in Kyoto, it would be meaningful to use fabrics from the same era as the buildings, or fabrics passed down from my ancestors. It was a simple idea: old fabrics seemed naturally suited to old buildings.
Old kimono can also be purchased at reasonable prices at the monthly Kobo-ichi antique market at Toji Temple in Kyoto. That was another reason I began using vintage textiles.
However, the materials I use are not limited to old fabrics. Depending on what I want to depict, I also use modern synthetic kimono fabrics.
For example, when depicting a clear, brilliant blue sky, brightly dyed synthetic fabric may be more suitable than the softer, muted tones of plant-dyed vintage fabrics.
My goal is not to collect antique textiles. I use whatever material is appropriate for the part being depicted, whether it is a vintage textile, a contemporary kimono fabric, or another suitable material.
My challenge is to see how much of the landscapes I have seen I can express through hand stitching.
If I insisted on using only old fabrics, there might come a time when they could no longer be obtained, or their prices might become prohibitively expensive. From the very beginning, I decided not to limit myself in that way, so that I could continue creating my work freely for many years to come.
I use many different kinds of Japanese textiles, including silk, cotton, and linen kimono fabrics. I also incorporate other traditional fabrics, such as old furoshiki wrapping cloths.
For example, roof tiles reflect sunlight and have a smooth, glossy surface, so I use lustrous silk to represent them.
To depict wooden pillars, I use matte cotton or linen fabrics to convey the weathered appearance of aged timber.
When depicting trees, I use soft silk for the leaves of broadleaf trees, while tightly woven tsumugi silk is used for the firmer foliage of conifers.
For stone walls, I often choose chirimen crepe, whose textured surface resembles the uneven character of stone.
Traditional kimono fabrics offer an extraordinary variety of textures, allowing me to match the texture of each fabric to the material I am depicting.
People are often surprised by the way I assign different materials to different parts of my work.
They frequently ask me, “How did you learn to use fabrics in this way?”
The truth is that no one ever taught me.
It came naturally, as if it were simply the obvious way to work. Even I find that a little mysterious.
Design and Pattern Making
The second distinctive feature of my work is its design and pattern making.
My quilts do not just reproduce buildings or landscapes.
Instead, I simplify their forms using a frontal view and a flattened visual style, viewing each building directly from the front. By combining this flattened composition with layered fabrics, quilting, and delicate embroidery, the finished work gains a strong sense of presence that appears remarkably lifelike when viewed from a distance.
My work is a fusion of a flat compositional structure based on a frontal view and three-dimensional expression created through layers of fabric and embroidery.
Whenever I encounter a building or landscape that interests me, my first thought is, “I can sew this.”
Using photographs taken during my visits to the site, I begin designing the subject as if drawing an architectural elevation. Because the image will ultimately be constructed by sewing pieces of fabric together, I simplify the shapes as much as possible, avoiding perspective and creating a flattened composition. Ultimately, I complete a full-scale design drawing.
Next, I create a precise full-size sewing pattern on grid paper.
Once the pattern is complete, every individual piece is carefully numbered.
In conventional patchwork quilting, many identical fabric pieces are cut out using the same template before sewing begins.
My work is completely different.
Almost every template is a different size, so numbering every piece is essential.
Using carbon paper and heavy cardboard, I transfer the pattern to create durable templates.
Each template is cut out individually and traced onto fabric. Then I cut out pieces from the fabric and sew them together one by one.
This process is repeated hundreds of times.
Because there are hundreds of different templates, every piece must be sewn together with complete accuracy. Even a slight error would affect the final dimensions of the work.
Like assembling a giant jigsaw puzzle, countless pieces of fabric, each slightly different in shape and size, gradually come together until a building or landscape begins to emerge.
I never add color to my design drawings or patterns.
The moment I see a building or landscape, the fabrics I already have immediately come to mind. I do not finish the design first and then search for suitable fabrics. My creative process begins with the fabrics themselves.
As I sew, I select colors from the fabrics I already have. Because the construction is so complex, it is almost impossible to take the work apart and start over. For that reason, I must have a complete image of the finished artwork in my mind before I begin.
Sewing
When people see one of my large landscape quilt tapestries, they often wonder, “Where do you begin sewing?”
Those familiar with American patchwork frequently ask, “You start with the sky as the background and appliqué the houses and mountains on top, don’t you?”
No. The sky is sewn last.
All of my tapestry works are constructed from the bottom upward.
Using a combination of piecing and appliqué techniques, I build the landscape layer by layer to create a convincing sense of depth.
I believe this technique is the most distinctive feature of my work.
Although many layers of fabric overlap, I use an original technique in which all the fabric hidden behind the visible surface is carefully removed. As a result, even highly layered compositions remain surprisingly thin and delicate when finished.
Rather than relying mainly on appliqué, I place greater importance on piecing. In piecing, each piece of fabric includes a seam allowance, and the individual pieces are sewn together to form the image. This produces crisp, clean edges and a sharp, refined finish.
Because every detail, no matter how fine, must be created with nothing more than a needle and thread, I simplify the design as much as possible.
If I depicted buildings from an angle, perspective would change the angles of every window and roof. Since my Machiya Quilts are made by sewing together countless individually shaped pieces of fabric, this would make the construction dramatically more complex.
Unlike painting, I cannot mix colors to create shadows. I work with the fabrics I already have, so creating realistic depth would also make matching shadow colors far more difficult.
This is why the buildings in my works are always shown from the front.
I am not trying to express perspective or depth as a painter would. I want to face buildings and landscapes directly, and express their beauty with needle and thread while keeping them in a flat, two-dimensional form.
In my landscape quilts, I also try to make the seams disappear. As you look through my landscape works in chronological order, you can see that the simple seam lines found in my earlier pieces gradually become almost invisible.
Much of the work that goes on behind the scenes is invisible in the finished piece. It is a technique that cannot be fully explained by the word patchwork alone.
Soft silk is especially difficult to sew. By understanding the unique qualities of each fabric and making minute adjustments by feel with my fingertips, I sew each piece together without distortion and with millimeter-level precision.
It is much like sewing along the lines of a giant jigsaw puzzle. Unless every seam is sewn with complete precision, the pieces simply will not fit properly into place.
Once the landscape has been completed, I layer it with quilt batting and a backing fabric, then baste all three layers together. I then quilt closely along every seam, securely joining the quilt top, batting, and backing.
Finishing
Once the quilting is complete, I move on to the next stage: embroidery and the appliqué of small details. Before quilting, the soft silk fabrics are delicate and difficult to handle.
Quilting firmly joins the layers together, giving the work greater stability and making the embroidery and appliqué much easier to complete.
The final distinguishing feature of my work is its delicate embroidery. People often tell me that it is unusual to add further embroidery after a patchwork quilt has already been completed.
Yellow rapeseed flowers, leaves, the feathery heads of Japanese pampas grass—each is stitched with the same care and detail as if it had been painted.
How many embroidered flowers appear in my sake brewery quilt?
How many leaves fill the forest in my Fushimi Inari Shrine quilt?
There must be thousands. Perhaps even tens of thousands.
I embroider freehand, without drawing any guidelines first.
I am entirely self-taught. I have never taken embroidery lessons. I stitch freely, following my own instincts.
Calmly. Quietly. Moment by moment. If my work allows people to feel the joy of sewing freely, I will be truly happy.