After many years of persistent requests, I was finally introduced to Arasawa Eijiro1 an 87 year old native of Tokyo. He remains one of the last paper crushers in Japan and perhaps the most accomplished. To my surprise, he immediately accepted me as his first student and taught me his craft during the last six months of my scholarship. In Japan, if you mention the word chirimen, most people immediately think of a silk-crepe cloth. Chirimen-gami is simply paper with the texture and appearance of silk-crepe. It is technically a form of momigami, a type of paper created when a finished sheet is "rubbed" to soften and texture it.2 This paper can be treated in many ways that give different results. For example, paper crumpled as if it were to be thrown away would have a randomly crinkled texture. Paper pulled repeatedly through an almost closed fist would result in parallel wrinkles. Paper wrapped around a bamboo rod and compressed would result in much finer parallel wrinkles. If the craftsman changed the orientation of the paper each time he wound it around the rod, the overall pattern of wrinkles would change, resulting in a soft momigami. Terashima Yoshiyasu first mentioned this method in the 1721 publication Wakan San Sai Zue. This is thought to be the origin of the process for chirimen-gami. The explanations I have found to date which refer directly to the chirimen-gami technique vary slightly. I offer here the technique taught by my teacher, Arasawa Eijiro, in 1991. The process, in theory, is very simple. I accomplish the task with the help of a large press, a momi-dai, made of strong wood, and concertina-like matrix papers, called katagami (kata means form and gami means paper). The making of the katagami deserves special mention. The process starts with the use of a wooden board, approximately three feet by one foot, which a craftsman has uniformly grooved lengthwise with V shaped furrows about 1/16" deep. He forces paper down into the furrows using either a brush or a tool similar to a bone folder. He shifts the paper the width of the board and again forces the paper into the furrows. This he repeats until he has patterned the whole paper with the texture from the grooved board. He then paints the paper on both sides with kakishibu (a tannin made from fermented, unripe persimmons) which strengthens it and helps to make it waterproof. These papers are called the oyagata or parent-form papers and I used Mr. Arasawa's oyagata to make my katagami for the chirimen-gami process. I alternately layer papers which will become the katagami between sheets of the oyagata. I then tightly roll this stack (similar to rolling a sleeping bag) around a rod 11/4" in diameter. After inserting one edge of a hemp cloth into the open end of the roll, I continue to roll. Finally, I insert a cotton cloth in the same manner and finish rolling. I walk barefoot on the rolled mass of oyagata, papers, and cloths to further tighten the roll, much as one would wind a calendar before inserting it into a mailing tube. Once the roll is sufficiently tight, I stand it on end and insert the rod into an elliptical hole in the lever of the momi-dai. I press the lever down, first by hand and then by sitting on it. Then I remove the roll from the press and unroll it. I stretch the first oyagata back into its original shape and place the first paper on it, as is. I follow this procedure with the remainder of the stack, roll and insert the hemp and cotton cloth, and continue as before. I repeat this process, laying the papers in the same direction each time, until I have sufficiently reduced the width of the paper. Finally, I treat the katagami with kakishibu to strengthen and waterproof it (like the oyagata). The process works the same way for making chirimen-gami except that the katagami serves as the form or matrix in place of the oyagata and I do not coat the chirimen-gami with kakishibu. Also, each time I repeat the crushing step, I alter the orientation of the paper in relation to the katagami. I crush the paper in this way up to twelve times, depending on the quality of chirimen-gami I wish to achieve. The orientations of the paper relative to the katagami have a dramatic affect on the resulting texture. If I crush the paper in the vertical direction only (as when making the katagami), the result will be similar to what we know as crepe paper in the west. Sometimes I crush the paper in both vertical and horizontal directions, which lends itself to the texture of leather. When I require the highest quality result, I crush fine papers on the vertical, the horizontal, and the diagonal as well, a minimum of eight times. This produces a multi-directional, minuscule set of puckers that truly gives the paper the look and feel of cloth. Papers used for superior quality washi ningyo are always crushed in this manner. Papers with printed or dyed designs crushed more in one direction than the other result in a design with altered symmetry. The limited size of the katagami sometimes requires this. When I place the paper on the diagonal, it must fit within the width and height of the katagami. Therefore I must often crush the paper horizontally first to decrease its width. Another effect of the chirimen process is the recognizable difference in the intensity of the colors in the paper. This may be an optical effect or may be due to the compression of the paper resulting in concentration of the same amount of colorant in a smaller area, resulting in a deeper color. I suspect it is a combination of both. Unlike non-crushed papers, the cloth-like qualities of chirimen-gami allow the washi ningyo artist to achieve the flowing movement and drape of a kimono. The quality and type of paper are also important. Handmade papers subjected to the chirimen process become very supple. Machine-made papers, in contrast, tend to be difficult to crush and are stiff when completed. Furthermore, handmade papers with some proportion of wood pulp will crush fairly easily but the resulting chirimen-gami will be crisp in comparison. The unclear history of these wonderful papers has meant that, over time, I could only try to piece together from scattered references an overall picture of their origin and the history of their uses. I feel the momigami technique, coupled with an imitation leather-paper technique (gikakushi), gave birth to the chirimen process as we know it today. The imitation leather-paper technique seems to have started with a few seemingly unrelated topics: tobacco, humidity, Holland, and a Shinto shrine. I believe the introduction of tobacco and Dutch gilt leather, at the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th centuries, respectively, combined with Japan's high humidity and system of strong religious beliefs, led to the creation of these leather-papers. As soon as the Portuguese introduced tobacco to Japan, the Japanese found that it grew unusually well. It soon became a pleasure that could be enjoyed by all classes, from the farmers to the samurai, and, before long, people across the whole country--men, women and even children--were avid smokers.3 The Japanese enjoyed the new-found craze in the form of kizami, an extremely fine, shredded tobacco. Subsequently, all of the tobacco paraphernalia that arose was suited to the fineness of the tobacco. Next to sake, tobacco took its place as Japan's second consumable pleasure. It became such an important part of everyday life that all men would carry their own pipe and case. Unfortunately, kizami did not keep well in humid conditions. At the time the Japanese solved this by wrapping the tobacco in oiled paper.4 The Japanese already used oiled papers for various purposes,such as lanterns and waterproofed capes (the now familiar Japanese umbrellas would become popular at a later date). Sometimes they treated the paper with yegoma-no-abura (oil), urushi (lacquer), kakishibu, konnyaku (a mucilage made from the devil's tongue root), or a combination of these, to render the paper water-resistant and increase its strength. In some cases they would soften or texture the paper first, using one or more of the techniques described above. For centuries the Japanese made lacquered textured papers into items such as the hats the samurai wore on official occasions, samurai eboshi. For these they added texture to the paper by pressing it onto boards carved with a pattern resembling those in the cloth of which the hat was originally made.5 Craftsmen must have quickly seen the possibilities of using this technique and these textured papers as forms for imparting the texture onto other sheets. However, instead of using lacquer for these textured paper forms, they used kakishibu, due to its strength and pliability when wet. The Dutch had introduced gilt embossed leather, kinkarakawa, not long after tobacco took root in Japan. The Japanese eventually used these very expensive leathers as tobacco pouches, tobacco ire. Throughout this period the government frequently imposed restrictions on the populace in order to limit the outward display of wealth. Because they were small and easily concealed, these tobacco ire, like the infamous netsuke, became a way in which commoners could circumvent these orders. By the early 1600s, many Japanese aspired to make a pilgrimage at least once in their lifetime to Ise, to visit a large and very important Shinto shrine dedicated to the Sun Goddess (and, therefore, connected to the emperor).6 When they traveled, as part of their travel articles, they would put their tobacco and pipes in their leather pouches. It was considered impure, however, to carry leather into the Ise shrine. And so, around 1684, a man named Horiki Chujiro, who lived near Ise, began making kinkara-gami (later known as gikakushi) for tobacco ire out of papers which he had creped and oiled, embossed, or lacquered.7 The Horiki family opened a store right along the main road leading to the Ise shrine. During the 18th century, these tobacco ire gained recognition throughout Japan. I think the oiled paper used, which would have helped to keep the tobacco from spoiling, along with the pouches' lightweight quality, must have helped in securing the success of Horiki's tobacco ire. Eventually, a member of the Horiki family received permission to go to Edo (present day Tokyo) where he was able to sell a great number of tobacco ire. By the beginning of the 19th century, a considerable amount of experimentation with the leather-paper process was taking place in Edo. By 1831 Yamamoto Seizo had successfully developed an exceptional imitation leather and his company developed a process for making larger sheets.8 Coinciding with the Meiji restoration, which began in 1868, and the re-opening of Japan to foreign trade, the Japanese adapted the technique for creating imitation leather wallpapers. At the Vienna international exhibition in 1873, the industries of Japan were represented for the first time and the leather-papers were very well received. Next to silk, imitation leather wallpaper became one of Japan's largest export items. Between 1881-1897, as many as ten factories in Edo alone produced it.9 Eventually, Horiki Chujiro's grandson, Horiki Chutaro, entered the wallpaper business in Ise and both Yamamoto and Horiki papers were represented at various world's fairs, such as those in Philadelphia, Chicago, Barcelona, Paris, and St. Louis. Various explanations of the imitation leather-paper process indicate that they first creped the paper using the chirimen-gami technique, then beat it onto wooden forms in which they had cut the desired pattern. With the advent of imitation leather wallpaper manufacturing, the Japanese often used rollers, which allowed for longer papers and continuous designs. The imitation leather-papers varied greatly in appearance. One of the two main types of papers had an embossed, colored, and lacquered design and would correspond to kinkarakawa. The rest have textures consistent with natural leather and are textured with the chirimen-gami process alone, without wooden forms. The following excerpts from Industry of Japan10 gives a nineteenth century description of the imitation leather-papers. The author's reference to "twilled" is synonymous with "creped." These are brought to market in different colours, twilled and smooth, simple or sometimes printed and gorgeously ornamented in raised arabesques, flowers and other decorations. ... Out of it are made letter portfolios, tobacco bags, pipe cases, boxes, small chests, and other articles. ...The simple twilled black-lacquered leather-paper serves also for the Saki-kake or Saki-kawa, with which the feet are protected for rain by drawing them over the Geta or wooden shoes. A great deal of leather-paper is made in Tokio in the quarters of Honjo and Fukugawa, on the right side of the Sumida-gawa). The province of Ise also furnishes a considerable quantity...In Tokio the process is in essentials as follows: 1. The paper is spread out on a board so that the smooth side lies upward. It is coated by means of a broad hair brush with a thin rice-paste to which lampblack has been added and then hung on horizontal poles to dry, which takes from one to two days. 2. It is generaily twilled... during which the sheets shrink considerably in both directions. 3. Then follows a coating of Yegoma-no-abura on the same side, and a thorough drying in the sun, occupying from 5 to 20 days according to the time of year. 4. Upon this follows a coat of paste solution in which is mixed the dye which the leather-paper is to receive (red oxide of iron, orpiment, indigo, india ink, or a mixture of such colours). 5. After the paper is dry again it is impregnated with lacquer... 6. If the leather-paper is to be figured, carved wooden moulds are pressed in at the close of the crepe-process, and the different colours are put on through paper stencil plates. A metallic reflective surface is obtained after the figures are made by fixing bronze powder with lacquer, and polishing when dry. Additional uses for chirimen-gami and gikakushi during the Edo period (1603-1867) were: covers for swords; genre woodblock prints, ukiyoe; a form for women's hairstyle, mage-kata11; and covers for boxes and cases. Uses after the Meiji restoration included: oilcloths used as floor coverings; covers for man-pulled carriages, jinrikusha; napkins, table cloths, and paper cloth bedspreads made for export; and books, also made for export. The use of chirimen-gami for books is particularly interesting. Starting around the mid 1880s, an Edo book publisher named Hasegawa Takejiro created remarkable books for sale outside Japan. He had Japanese fairy tales translated into English, French, Dutch, German and Russian. He then had the books printed using woodblocks. Finally, he sent all the pages, including the covers, to the paper crushers to receive the chirimen-gami texture. This gave the books an incredibly soft and supple quality.12 An increased interest in washi ningyo in the last thirty years has sparked one of the most recent uses of chirimen-gami. In fact, washi ningyo artists now constitute the largest market for this paper in Japan. The quality of the paper and the extent to which it is crushed might vary, but the properties of chirimen-gami make it particularly suited to the needs of these artists. First and foremost an artist making washi ningyo, I have always been inspired by the papers used to make them. The prospects of further research into this wonderful, traditional, paper crushing technique excite me. I seek and welcome additional information connected to chirimen-gami or gikakushi. I am also very interested in experimenting with non-traditional papers and techniques, as I feel that the possible adaptations of the crushing techniques are limitless.   I first demonstrated the chirimen-gami process for the Fairmont Park Council for Historic Sites, in Philadelphia, May 1995. I have based the text of this article on a lecture and demonstration given at the Peabody Essex Museum, of Salem, Massachusetts, in August 1995. I thank both of these organizations for their invitations and support. I would also like to thank a few of the many who have helped me: Bonnie Croskey, without whose expertise and generous gift of time the tool used in this process would have never taken form; Nakanishi Kyoko, my washi ningyo teacher, and Nakanishi Hiromitsu, her manager and husband, for being my mentors and, like my wife, Teresa, for always being there for me; Timothy Barrett and Jesse Munn for encouraging me to write this article; Valerie Foley for translating portions of Edo no Kami Saiku; and Horiki Seijiro for lending various pictures and artifacts from his ancestral business of leather-papers. Last but not least I wish to express my deepest appreciation to Arasawa Eijiro for teaching me his mastery of chirimen-gami.   Notes: 1. Japanese names are presented in Japanese manner, with the surname first. 2. Even though the word momigami literally means "rubbed paper", it has become synonymous with crushed or crumpled paper. 3. Maekawa Kyutaro, Edo no Kami Saiku (Paper Crafts in Old Japan) (Tokyo: Seibundo-Shinkosha, 1978). 4. Ibid. 5. Ibid. 6. Charles J. Dunn, Everyday Life in Traditional Japan (Rutland, Vermont, and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1987). 7. Kinkarakawa no Sekai; Goudleer (A Special Exhibition, Goudleer Kinkarakawa) (Hyogo Prefectural Museum of History, 1989). 8. Ibid. 9. Thomas Keith Tindal, "The Handmade Papers of Japan" in Seki Collection (Rutland, Vermont, and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1952), pp. 106-7. 10. "Leather Papers, or Kami-kawa" in J. J. Reins Industry of Japan (New York, 1889), pp. 411-12. 11. The mage-gata was placed under the hair to help create the shape of the mage (upper most part of the hairstyles worn by women), and the texture in the paper (creped in one direction only) helped to keep the hair from moving. 12. Frederic A. Sharf, Takejiro Hasegawa, Meiji Japan's Preeninent Publisher of Woodblock-Illustrated Crepe-Paper Books, Peabody Essex Museum Collections, vol. 130, no. 4, (Salem, Massachusetts, 1994).