In the piece below the floral portion was dyed, and finished. It would have been a quite satisfactory expression on its own. However, the artist decided to go back and apply shibori over the entire surface, creating a very unique  sense of depth – with the background acquiring a yellow cast and just the tips of each tied section taking on the red. See the detail below.
Below we have very much the opposite approach to using the string as a resist. The pattern could have been achieved equally well in  either of two ways:
   Colored string, with a somewhat fugitive dye, could have been used for the tying. With no further color added, the tied fabric, when boiled, would have released and set its dye into the yardage, leaving the maroon rings once the thread was removed.
    Or the fabric could have been first dyed and then tied. Discharging the dyed yardage (stripping the color) would have left the tied sections intact with exposed areas lightened considerably.
    In this case, only the technician knows for sure!
The Japanese are quite skilled at mimicking shibori through other techniques, which in themselves can be quite beautiful. Below is a finely printed version (notice the regularity of the circles and how crisp are their edges).
It’s always fun to come across two pieces in different color ways. It helps one to appreciate the skill that goes into creating a flexible design, and the challenges a designer is faced with in marketing a look.
   Above are two kimono, in the tsujigahana style.
   True tsujigahana is a combination of shibori and hand-painting. The majority of the the yardage is shibori dyed, often layer upon layer of color and multiple re-tyings. This layering causes a somewhat fuzzy affect, giving one the impression of looking through a window that has been covered in rain drops. As a final step, by going back and hand painting in crisp (normally black or indigo) lines, the design suddenly transforms from being ill-defined to to subtle and demure.
   Tsujigahana style means that the fabric has been printed (dyed) to capture the mood of true tsujigahana. So, how can you tell the difference? Especially since after the printing is complete, areas will be stitched off in shibori fashion just to give the fabric texture?
    Look closely at the edges where colors meet. Real shibori has a tendancy to be a bit blurred. In both these examples, the edges are rather crisp.
    In true shibori, variations in color are a result of the dye penetrating unevenly due to the pleating of the gathered fabric. Here, the affect has been well imitated by layering color. Two shades of red (or two shades of black) have been expertly printed to achieve a similar nuance. (See the detailed inserts.)
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On this page I’d like to discuss some of the interesting variations found in shiborizome
The furisode to the left, with its dynamic, grasping waves, is of special interest in that the majority of the surface is tied but not dyed. Since the dyes for shibori are normally simmered in, the silk itself acquires a semi-permanent wrinkle, adding a characteristic texture. The artist here has made excellent use of the texture, overcoming the impulse to add color throughout.