For centuries in Japan, shifu has been put to many uses, but primarily it has been sewn into clothing. Although its manufacture is laborintensive, shifu has been a material cheaply had—you could weave it out of any old account book. As clothing, shifu keeps the wind out and the warmth in. If it gets wet, the paper threads expand and also seal in heat, very useful if you are, say, a fisherman. But this unaffected cloth can also be, like the paper from which it is made, gentle, humble, humane—and exquisitely beautiful. A Song of Praise traces the possible origin of paper cloth to spies in Japan's feudal era who supposedly cut and wove secret missives into cloth in order to pass through enemy territory. Once safely home, the clothing was unwound, untwisted, and the writing pieced back together. Byrd's historical knowledge of shifu centers on the Shiroishi (Sendai) area, the place she learned shifu making and about which the noble Katakura family kept an exhaustive history. This, by the way, is a region in Japan deeply and traumatically affected by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. Byrd's love affair with shifu began in college when she made her first sheets of washi. She took a workshop with paper artist Amanda Degener, and was hooked. Byrd created a bamboo and handmade paper installation that recalled a very airy paper house, apparently a premonition of things to come. A Song of Praise for Shifu reviewed by sukey hughes Kazuyo Kajiyama, holding up a cut-and-rolled sheet of washi, prior to spinning. All photos courtesy of The Legacy Press, Ann Arbor, Michigan. Spinning paper thread on a Japanese spinning wheel. 46 - hand papermaking Around 1984, Byrd found herself in Japan staying in paper and book artist Asao Shimura's "A Paper Thatched House," a one-hundred- year-old farmhouse decorated throughout with handmade sheets that he laid wet onto walls, floors, and ceilings as he made them—Shimura's own paean to washi. But it was at a Mini Micronesia Conference in Guam where Byrd had her first close encounter with shifu, making breadfruit fiber into paper that participants wove into cloth. Back at the farmhouse, Byrd discovered shifu makers living nearby, Sadako Sakurai and her family, with whom Byrd eventually lived and studied under a National Endowment for the Arts Folk Arts Apprenticeship Fellowship Grant. Her Japanese improved quickly. Sakurai taught her how to select the perfect papers for shifu; how to soften, roll, and spin cut paper into delicate threads; how to dye them; and finally how to weave the threads into sublime cloth. Tucked into an envelope at the back of the first 500 issues of A Song of Praise is something quite special: a sample of Sakurai's incredibly fine silk-and-paper shifu (along with a sample of gossamer shifu paper). In the book's sad preface, Sakurai writes it is difficult for her to continue with her work, as she must compete in sales with makers of thicker, less refined paper cloth. When she returned to the States, Byrd continued to make shifu, entering weaving exhibitions and working for the famed Kasuri Dyeworks textile shop in Berkeley. Two years later, on a third and last trip to Japan, she further researched this volume by traveling the country visiting more shifu makers. Her book's romantic title is an homage to her teacher, Sadako Sakurai, who confided to Byrd that she felt her life was a dedication, a "song of praise" to her own Shiroishi shifu. Byrd includes a very thorough chapter on the making of washi in general and shifu paper in particular, and it is mostly accurate. The book has a chapter each on making shifu paper, shifu thread, dyeing, and finally weaving this magical cloth. If you want specifics, you will be well rewarded. It is not the type of book you decide to put in your lap and read from cover to cover. The book is too dense with information for that. You will want to dip into one section for a feel of what it is actually like to study a craft in Japan; at another reading you may graze through the history of Shiroishi shifu. You might put it down and pick it up later, marveling at a swift reference to wabizumai (refined poverty and solitariness). At another time, you will be entranced with photos of the sublime work of traditional and contemporary, international shifu artists. Hiroko Karuno's shifu, dyed softly with wild raspberry, is refinement itself.1 Check out Carolina Larrea's stunning self-portrait transfer onto her own woven paper cloth. Appendices in the back give maps, charts, supplier resources, lists of museums where shifu is shown, as well as shifu craftspeople and artists. There are even appendices of Byrd's Japan journals, including charming photos and sketches that I assume the author created herself. Throughout, the book is richly illustrated with color photos. Byrd writes well. However I found myself befuddled by the manner in which she organized the text, weaving her own personal, though interesting, stories in and out of the sometimes dense scholarship. She also interrupts the flow of what is essentially fine prose to give, in parentheses, the Japanese term and character for many a simple word. As we read along, do we really need to be told the Japanese word for "large and small banners" (nobori and sashimono)? For "bean curd" (tofu)? Her attention to detail is remarkable, but it occasionally created hurdles to my grasping the gist of what she was saying. Throughout, Byrd expresses her love for and gratitude to all the Japanese craftspeople who shared their work and knowledge so unstintingly. Byrd has joyously and rigorously pursued her passion, and with this book she has become shifu's devoted advocate and foremost expert. The resulting volume is our reward. Pick up a copy. It will impress. ___________ notes 1 Editor's note: Shortly before presstime, we received notification of the publication of Hiroko Karuno's Kigami and Kami-ito: Japanese Handmade Paper and Paper Thread. We will report on this new title in an upcoming issue. above and right: An Edoperiod indigo-dyed undergarment (shitagi), knotted together with a plied paper cord netting; worn by samurai under armor or as a surcoat over armor. Collection Paper Museum, Tokyo. Carolina Larrea, Blooming, 2012, 9 x 9 centimeters (3½ x 3½ inches), photocopy transfer onto paper cloth (cotton warp, kozo-paper-thread weft), from the Shifu Monogatari series. A hard-sided tobacco carrier (tonkotsu) made of a thin and thick diagonally woven paper string or cord, and lacquered

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