Mr. Masashi Sawamura, famous for making shoji screen paper, talked about light moving through his paper as he showed me the proper way to control the wet pulp moving in his hand mould. It was mid-November when I returned to Mr. Sawamura's house in Mino-warabi. This was the last stop of a fourteen-week research trip to Japan and my second visit with Mr. Sawamura during the trip. When the Gifu Paper Research Institute had introduced us earlier, in mid-September, he was busy brushing his newly-pressed paper onto drying boards in the sun, at his home and paper studio. As he looked up, his entire face smiled and he took the opportunity to show me his technique, first supporting the corner of the very thin paper with his drying brush and then parting the damp sheet from the post with one smooth motion. It seemed to float with his hands over to the large horse chestnut drying board, where he gently but firmly brushed the sheet onto the surface. Later I became transfixed watching Mrs. Sawamura's every movement as she formed sheets. Mr. Sawamura noticed I was moving my hands and body slightly, following her movements. He asked if I would like to use his mould and try the formation technique his wife was demonstrating. It was the largest su-geta I had ever dipped, 26" x 40", and a different formation technique than I had ever seen before. I felt incredibly awkward the first time I tried, but Mrs. Sawamura exclaimed, in Japanese, "She can make paper!" That evening Mr. Sawamura surprised me by inviting me to return to his home at the end of my trip so that I might study with him for three days. It was a great honor to receive his teaching. He is one of four remaining hand papermakers who have been designated by the Japanese government to preserve the traditional Mino papermaking technique, jumonjinagashizuki, as National Treasure and president of Hon-mino Washi Hozonkai. This particular sheet formation technique was different from all the others I had seen in Japan. As I watched him swing his large su-geta against the vat, moving his body in a rhythmic parallel motion, I remembered all of the teachings I had received as gifts from so many hand papermakers during my research in Japan. Being a teacher, I have always held the teacher-student relationship in high regard and, oddly enough, although I have made paper for over twenty years, I had never had any formal teaching in hand papermaking; these were my first papermaking teachers. Mr. Sawamura and his wife made paper together as his father and his father and his father had, perhaps going back as many generations of papermakers as have existed in Mino-warabi, beginning around 700 CE. Now he has no son who can carry on this honored craft. I realized he was aware that I would try to carry his unique papermaking technique, called minogami, to America. Even though he uses 100% nasu kozo fiber which grows only in that area of Japan and his neri is always tororo aoi, he smiled as he talked about my necessary adaptation of his teaching when I returned to Oregon. I had ordered a new su-geta the same size as his and planned to make minogami nagashizuki in my home studio. For the duration of my trip my friend Sumio Suzuki was by my side, escorting me, introducing me, translating for me, teaching me, protecting me, and all the time entertaining me. Sumio gave me one of the greatest gifts of my life when he invited me to Japan and offered to plan, arrange, and escort me on this nagashizuki papermaking research trip, from August to November, 1994. He is a hand papermaker from Yugashima-Machi, in Shizuoka on the Izu peninsula, who forms kozo paper in colors and makes paper masks. During those four months I was also an artist-in-residence for one month at Kyoto-Seika University, Department of Printmaking, with Professor Akira Kurosaki, doing research in water-based woodcut printmaking. In addition, I was in residence for two weeks at Tokyo National University of Fine Arts, with Professor Tetsuya Noda in the Printmaking Department. The four month papermaking-printmaking research trip would not have been possible without Sumio's help and without funding by a Japan Foundation Artist's Fellowship Grant. My trip began in early August, in record breaking heat, at the 12th annual Awagami Factory papermaking workshop. Thirty students had traveled to Yamakawa-cho, Tokushima-ken on Shikoku Island, from all parts of the world to learn the traditional nagashizuki papermaking techniques from Mr. Minoru Fujimori, a Prefectural Intangible Cultural Asset and owner of the paper mill. Each step in the process of preparing the fiber was clearly demonstrated and explained in Japanese by Mr. Fujimori then translated into English. We each took a partner in the workshop and shared a vat and a paper mould. Over the course of the workshop we learned each step in detail, from preparing the fiber through drying the sheets. This kind of papermaking class is very unusual in Japan and may be the only one like it. Traditionally the crafts in Japan have been passed on within families, from one generation to the next. A system of apprenticeships was never developed. Each papermaking area often made different kinds of paper: for shoji screens, sumi painting, writing, sliding doors, or decorative wrapping. Often the methods of preparing plant fibers for pulp and the techniques used to form sheets were subtly different. Historically the different papermaking areas intentionally kept their traditional techniques a secret so there would be less competition in the market. I was surprised how little communication there still is among papermakers from the different prefectures although there are paper museums and paper craft centers which educate the public. Every year there are fewer and fewer hand papermakers in Japan because more of their children leave to get a college education and then graduate into the corporate family and move to larger cities. In some ways, it is easier for the son of a papermaker to become a banker than for the son of a banker to become a papermaker. The only other place I saw hand papermaking being taught to students was at Kyoto-Seika University. Professor Kurosaki established there perhaps the first papermaking studio in a college of art in Japan. In a large, well-equipped studio, he teaches both traditional sheet forming techniques and paper as an art medium. While I was there, I saw many students using colored pulps, creating both two- and three-dimensional art works. Those students were given a thorough understanding of the traditional craft and then required to use it as an art medium. It is possible that some of them may elect to work in the craft after graduation. ----- After slipping gently into Japanese culture, I was escorted to the Kochi Prefectural Pulp and Paper Research Institute by Dr. Kameyoshi Miyaji, Head of Machine-made Paper at the Institute, Dr. Yoshinari Kobayashi, Director of the Technology Center for Information Exchange at Shikoku National Industrial Research Institute, and Sumio. The Kochi institute hosted me for a week. Specialists there conduct research in both hand- and machine-made paper for the paper industry in that prefecture, using a Fourdrinier and scientific testing equipment. The two specialists in hand papermaking, Mr. Eikan Ebachi and Mr. Kenichi Miyazaki, spent the entire week teaching me every aspect of the traditional nagashizuki sheet-forming process. Others at the institute escorted Sumio and me to the homes of famous papermakers in the area, often in small villages in the mountains, so that I could talk to them about their techniques and see their paper. Everyone was completely generous and always answered my questions. One day Mr. Miyaji escorted Sumio and me to Agawa Village, tucked into beautiful high mountains terraced with rows of green tea. We visited the home of Mr. Shegeru Ozaki which sits on the side of the mountain, giving us a spectacular view of the Neodo River below. Mr. Ozaki, known for making beautiful printmaking paper, creates his paper by laminating two sheets of kozo and mitsumata together. His techniques are generally the same as at the Kochi Institute except that he only cooks with lime, instead of soda ash. Mr. Ozaki also farms Tosa kozo and mitsumata in large fields on the side of the mountain, not far from his house. After leaving so many friends in Kochi, Sumio and I traveled to Kawanoe City. We spent the day with our host, Mr. Osanori Ishikawa, Director of the Kawanoe Paper Museum, a beautiful facility that clearly explains the world history of paper with an emphasis on the history and techniques of Japanese paper. They also have an elaborate facility where the public can try forming sheets of paper and then dry them immediately on a metal dryer. That afternoon Mr. Ishikawa drove us to visit Mr. Takeshi Tani, a traditional hand papermaker and owner of the Tani Paper Mill. The mill was larger than the normal family operation, with perhaps twelve employees. We saw writing paper being made by hand, nagashizuki-style, using recycled wood pulp paper, recycled mitsumata paper, and new hemp fiber. He also uses only tororo aoi, as opposed to chemical neri. I was particularly interested in seeing that they did not use parting strings between the couched sheets but instead doubled the edge of the sheet on the su after dipping, and couched four sheets staggered. It did not matter that there was a double thick edge because the edges of the sheet would be cut off later with a knife. One man dipped seven hundred to eight hundred sheets with a divided deckle in one day. Two women dried fifteen hundred sheets in one day, every other day. It was thrilling to see so many highly skilled papermakers working at lightning speeds in relatively simple facilities. The next morning Sumio and I went to Gokayama near Taira village, where Mr. Shoji Yamaguchi, Director of the Taira Mura Paper Craft Center and Museum, was our host for ten days. The center consists of a restaurant, shop, museum, and paper teaching facility, in addition to a professional paper production area. They make printmaking paper from kozo and mitsumata fibers, and sumi brush painting paper from kozo, mitsumata, Chinese bamboo, and rice straw. Mr. Yamaguchi's family has been making paper for four hundred years in the same region. I remember watching Mr. Yamaguchi make paper with art images by laminating colored mitsumata pulps on a kozo base sheet. He poured a thin coat of colored mitsumata and white kozo pulp in a tamezuki mould and used his finger to push the fiber into a design. That was couched onto a cotton cloth supported by a board. Then a different color of kozo pulp was dipped nagashizuki-style and couched on top of the colored base sheet to create a laminated sheet. While I was a guest at the Center, I was taught to make a nagashizuki-style paper using a pulp mix of 70% gampi and 30% kozo fiber, recommended for printmaking. Mr. Yamaguchi also taught me to make momigami (wrinkled paper) and rice paste resist paper. Later, we drove to Mr. Keisuke Yoshida's, a famous papermaker in Yatsuo town, to see his twenty-employees make colored decorative papers, including rice paste resist papers. My next adventure occurred in Mino City, an area famous for papermaking. Genuine Mino washi is called Hon-Minogami and the Japanese government has appointed it an Important Industrial Art Object. Sumio and I were hosted for ten days there by the Gifu Prefecture Paper Research Institute. We were greeted by Mr. Yoshifumi Saga, the Director, and Mr. Fumio Ogawa, the Manager. Mino-warabi is a small area where many hand papermakers have lived for hundreds of years. It sits near the pure water of the Itadori River. Nasu kozo is grown in the area (and also in Ibaragi prefecture) and is considered to be the best kozo in Japan, along with the Tosa kozo grown near Kochi. Nasu kozo is short, thin, and delicate, while Tosa kozo is long, strong, and thick. We were taken to Mino-warabi to meet Mr. Danjyaku Ichihara. He makes the decorative art paper mitsumata moyo, sometimes called lace paper. I watched him make paper with gold leaf and maple leaves embedded between a kozo base sheet and a thin kozo "lace" sheet. He also showed me a rack of wooden frames with real cotton lace stretched on them. He demonstrated how he creates lace paper with the exact pattern as the fabric, by placing the stretched fabric above a thin kozo sheet still on the su and allowing a shower of water to fall over it, making holes in the kozo sheet matching the cotton lace exactly. After my month in residence at Kyoto-Seika University, I traveled with Sumio to the ancient papermaking village of Kurotani. For years I had dreamed of going to Kurotani and Echizen, both with renowned histories of papermaking. Kurotani is a lovely, tiny, quiet village in a deep valley between two mountains and inhabited only by papermakers. It seems not to have grown into modern times. Near the entrance of the village stands a large painted map which identifies the name and home of each papermaker. Mr. Hajime Nakamura, past president and consultant of the Japan Handmade Paper Manufacturers Association, took Sumio and me around the village to meet the papermakers there. The village has no stores, hotels, or restaurants, only residents. Most of the people are elderly and I saw no young people following in their parents' footsteps. Even Mr. Nakamura, a famous papermaker now retired, had seen his son move to Tokyo to pursue business. We met at the Papermakers' Association building, a facility that buys large quantities of raw fiber at low prices for the papermakers and sells the paper made in the village. Near the river running through the village stands the Union building, where equipment for preparing the raw fiber into pulp is housed. It is shared by all the papermakers in the village. There is a large Hollander beater, a large naginata beater, six mechanical stampers, cooking pots, rinsing sinks, and vats for dying fiber. Later, as Sumio and I walked along the stream that ran through the village, we could see rows of drying boards with white paper reflecting the sun high on the side of the steep hills. Now when I remember, I hear the sound of water flowing and the slap, slap, slap of the pulp being washed across the su-geta of a papermaker. That rural experience was followed by my two week residency with Professor Noda. Tokyo was like another world, with its own customs, exciting and endless. I watched the print students work in water-based woodcut and learned more about the process so I could include it in my own teaching. The faculty and students were especially friendly and we were able to discuss their conceptual ideas. The students seemed very dedicated, disciplined and productive, working generally in a large format. While I was in Tokyo, I took a weekend to visit Richard Flavin, an American living in Ogawa-machi. He is known for his beautiful illustrations in Tim Barrett's book, Japanese Papermaking, and for his almost annual participation at the Paper and Book Intensive workshops. Ogawa is an area of rolling hills filled with papermakers. It was November and the village papermakers prepared to harvest the kozo. This was the one part of the process that I had not yet seen. I had arrived just in time for a local craft festival where the papermakers would be steaming freshly cut kozo branches and stripping the bast fiber from the sticks. Flavin patiently taught me to strip the outer bast fiber off the stick with one smooth motion, like pulling the stick out of its skin, leaving the bast fiber in one long piece. The papermakers were amused with my success and I was thrilled to join them in this annual ritual. Sumio returned to discover the magic of Echizen with me. It was mid-November. He had insisted that I go to Echizen in early winter because paper is best made in the winter. The famous papermaking village is now called Imadate, but Echizen, its old name, is still commonly used. It was a town full of life, a sharp contrast to Kurotani. Since 710 A.D. Echizen hosho and torinoko papers have had a high reputation as quality printmaking papers. At present, about one hundred Echizen families make handmade or machine-made paper. We were hosted by the Echizen Papermaking Cooperative and met by Mr. Michio Ishikawa, President, and Mr. Takehiro Makara, General Manager. One morning we visited Mr. Ichibei Iwano, whose father had been appointed by the Japanese government as a national living treasure. He makes paper with his wife in a small studio next to his house and his son will continue the family tradition. After we watched him make his beautiful printmaking paper from 100% nasu kozo, he honored me by giving me one of his horse hair drying brushes. Mr. Heizaburo Iwano's large paper mill was a direct contrast to Mr. Ichibei Iwano's studio. I found fifty highly skilled papermakers all working at lightening speeds making very large paper for traditional painting. Two-, three-, and four-person teams worked together, each team forming one sheet at a time. Paper about 4' x 8' was couched by two people, and a crane was used to assist in lifting the su for the larger sheets. Two men brushed the sheets onto ginkgo drying boards, which were then slid into a large oven to dry in just ten minutes. I was excited to see so many young papermakers working there. Their high level of expertise indicated a strong commitment to the craft and to the future of hand papermaking. For me, it was especially powerful to experience a culture with such an ancient tradition of hand papermaking. Having visited and talked with so many papermakers, I now feel my own work in paper belongs to a larger living context. I know exchanges like this one, between American and Japanese papermakers, will continue and this experience of family will grow. Mr. Myazi and Dr. Kobayashi will be visiting America next October, and Professor Kurosaki will be in the United States next fall and winter on sabbatical. We can hope that many more Japanese papermakers will come in the future. Much of my experience has returned to Oregon with me, both vivid memories and a sack of Sumio's tororo aoi seeds and four small kozo plants that he dug from his field the morning I left Japan. Sumio's generosity created this amazing journey and I know our friendship will continue throughout our lives. The kozo plants are happily growing in a pot beside me as I write this.
