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KANOKOSHIBORI
Kanoko means fawn (literally, baby deer). It is in reference to the tiny white camouflage spots a fawn looses as it grows
older.
I’m often amused when I hear someone tell me that kanokoshibori is created by tying the silk around a grain of rice. I’m sure the origins of this “myth-conception” (sorry!) are based upon a very logical misunderstanding, however it is passed
along by people who seemingly have never cooked rice. When rice it cooked it
swells, this would not only rip the silk, but would also leave you with a very
sticky mess to wipe from the fiber before it could be sewn.
To create the complex kanoko designs you see on this page, several steps are
required. After the artist has created a repeating pattern or image, it is
transferred to hand-made mulberry paper (very similar to that used in katazome). The design is then translated into a series of dots and the holes are punch
accordingly. If it is a repeating pattern, one stencil is used over and over
again. If a single image for the garment, then several stencils are designed to
work together.
Through this stencil is brushed a very unique dye called aobana (blue flower). It leaves a blue-grey spot wherever there is a hole in the
stencil. It is a very fugitive dye, and in this case ideal for the task at hand
since it later disappears entirely on contact with water.
The skilled craftsperson assigned to tying the silk must be sure to “pinch” every single spot as the minute portions are tied off. This is done by
professionals using only their fingers and a
spool of thread that looks somewhat like a tatting shuttle.
The tightly wrapped thread acts as the resist, preventing any dye from seeping
into that portion of the fabric. Once the fabric has gone through one or more
color changes by being steeped in dye, the string is removed and the white
portions revealed. The heat of the dye not only sets the color, but also sets
in the wrinkles that give shibori one of it’s many endearing qualities.
above and right: A man’s nagajuban (under-kimono) with the image of performers doing the Sparrow Dance. The grey,
black, and brown sections are divided using nui-shibori.
Many people believe this intricate work to be done by machine. Perhaps this is
true in some cases, but everything illustrated on these pages is hand tied. I
have not been able to find any information on any mechanized method of tying kanoko. If pressed, the Japanese professionals admit that they have no personal knowledge of this, and further admit, reluctantly, that a great deal of contemporary work is done in China.
Unfortunately, many collectors and connoisseurs believe that being produced in
China lessens the inherent quality or value of a piece. I don’t. What difference does it make if the production is moved to the next
prefecture, or a few more miles away? Beautiful work is beautiful work – no matter to whom those talented hands belong!
