No Compromise, Enjoying Oneself Wholeheartedly and Leaving things to Others: A Conversation About Handicrafts and Reproducibility with Fukiko Goukon (handicrafter) and Katsunobu Yoshida (graphic designer)
Handicraft bracelets and textiles and a new craft-based graphic design not oriented towards mass production. How does one create processes that deliver value while producing things from scratch in this day and age? In this conversation, we reappraise the value of handicrafts in conversation with two artists who share a common dialogue with nature.
Above: Fukiko Goukon (handicrafter). Born 1975 and raised in the Akanko Ainu Kotan (settlement). Together with her family she runs the Ainu Food and Hand Craft Café 'Poronno' and keeps Ainu handicrafts such as textiles alive. With Shimokura Emi, Goukon performs live Ainu music as the sister group Kapiw & Apappo.
Bottom: Katsunobu Yoshida (graphic designer). Born in 1987 in Shinjuku, Tokyo, Yoshida is now based in Yamagata Prefecture where he is engaged in foraging, design and specialty printing. The Chinese character 吉 ('yoshi') in his name is made up of the characters for earth and mouth.
Let me start by asking you to introduce yourselves.
Fukiko Goukon (G): I was raised in a place called Akanko Ainu Kotan in Hokkaido. My family manages Ainu restaurant Poronno. We go into the mountains to gather wild herbs each season and serve Ainu foods made from these ingredients in the restaurant. We also sell handicrafts made from materials collected from the mountains. For myself, I make handicrafts using natural materials and perform Ainu music.
Katsunobu Yoshida (Y): I generally describe myself as a graphic designer but I also spend a lot of time in the mountains. Originally, my mother in Sendai ran a dyeing and weaving workshop where she wove cloth and dyed fabric using plants from the Tōhoku region. Thanks in part to her influence, I am conducting field studies and research on how to extract fibre and dye from plants.
You both make things using materials from nature don't you?
G: The technique originated my grandmother, who handed it down to my mother who passed it on to me. Now I feel like I am trying to express what I have been taught in my own way. Specifically, I make bracelets and chokers using a technique that was originally used to make men’s sword belts with thread I make from the inner bark of trees.
I am also trying to develop my own techniques. From my grandmother's generation, I was taught the technique of boiling the bark with wood ash in order to soften it. This year I am challenging myself by steeping it in a solution of bicarbonate of soda. This technique is also mentioned in the writings of the nineteenth century explorer Matsuura Takeshirō and I had heard about it from a friend of my grandmother. It is still an old technique and so there is no real difference in terms of taking fibres from nature in order to make something.
Y: In terms of obtaining fibre from nature, I think there are some similarities between Tōhoku and Hokkaido. I have also extracted kudzu (Japanese arrowroot) fibres from the vine. Apart from fibre per se, the yellow part of the inner bark of the Amur cork tree is also used in Chinese herbal medicine and as a tea and a dye. Recently I have been talking with my mother about whether we can use dyes made with plants from the mountains as printing inks in my graphic design work.
▲An artwork by Katsunobu Yoshida that uses tree bark as a pattern.
Why did you first start going up into the mountains?
Y: For me it started by learning about how to gather these materials from Takeshi Haga, an expert in foraging for wild herbs and mushroom. I was simply fascinated by learning the names of the wild herbs and foraging them for them myself. Gradually, this started to come together with my job as a graphic designer. I started to understand that gathering materials is the first step in crafting. In terms of design, some people say that so long as the final product looks good then that is all that matters but I think this method is at the opposite end of the spectrum.
G: In my case, when I make Ainu handcrafts using tree bark or grass fibres, I begin by going into the mountains and forests to obtain the raw materials. These materials are not available for sale and I feel that crafting begins with obtaining the materials. Kaeka is the basic technique in this handicraft. This is the process of taking the fibres from tree bark or grasses and twisting them into thread. I could buy hemp cord or other similar products but I prefer to stick to the old techniques wherever possible.
To take an everyday example, is this ‘wrong way’ of doing things something like the difference between instant noodles and ramen noodle soup that is made from a proper broth?
G: The rich umami flavour of proper ramen noodles is different from that of instant noodles isn’t it? You might be right, it is a bit like eating instant noodles without ever having known the taste of the real thing.
Y: So does that mean that if you know the process, for example, you know how to make kaeka, then even if you use bought materials the end product becomes authentic? I wondered if somebody knows the making process their bones can make something authentic even while using bought materials? Is that what you mean?
G: No, that’s not it. I would say that the process of making a piece begins when you to go to gather the materials. I think that’s where you will find the essence of the kind of handicrafts I cherish. For example, say I want to make a bracelet with yarn I have made from tree bark but the yarn I twisted is on the inside of the piece and isn’t visible from the outside. There are some people who might say that in that case, it’s OK just to use some durable store-bought yarn. But as much as possible, I do not wish to compromise on using yarn I make myself.
▲Bracelet's made by Goukon modelled on the 'emush at' (sword belts) Ainu men wear as part of their formal dress.
Are your thoughts as a maker something oriented towards the person who will use the object?
G: Of course, time spent thinking about the person who will wear it while making an object is really enjoyable. However, it’s not like I expect them to be grateful. This might sound egotistical but I cherish the feeling of being relaxed and contented when I am crafting. If you are tense while you are working, then the feeling will show up in the finished product. I think anybody who makes things knows what I am talking about. I want to be able to have the confidence in the things I send out into the world, knowing that I have put time and thought into making them.
Y: In my work as a graphic designer, working with clients is the foundation. The client places an order and I make the product and deliver it. Even so, I don't think it is good enough to only try and please the client. Beyond the client are the customers who will access the product through them and beyond that is society at large.
But when I think about what it means to work for society, I end up coming back to myself. I don’t think that I can live up to my responsibility to society unless I can be confident in the feelings and ideas I put into the things I make. I have been thinking about this lately and so I have a lot of sympathy with what Fukiko is saying.
▲‘Indigo Dyed Shawl with Ainu Design' produced by Goukon for AKAN AINU ARTS & CRAFTS → NEXT. (Photo: Yuri Manabe)
When comparing design work with making handicrafts, I think the big difference is whether or not they involve 'mass production'. Where design produces something to be reproduced, in principle, no two handcrafted objects are the same.
Y: Maybe the concept of 'slow reproducibility' lies somewhere between the two. For example, traditional toys like Kokeshi dolls are produced on a fairly large scale. But they each have a different expression and people interpret them as having different emotions. However, they are sold as the same product. Their reproducibility is about 60–70 percent.
Of course, in the field of graphic design, printing enables us to produce items that are 99 percent the same. It goes without saying that they will be reproduced in the tens or even hundreds of thousands. Even so, I think it is possible to create gradations. If there is no need to print 10,000 copies all at once, then one can adopt 'slow reproduction’ without using a large printing machine. This reduces costs and adds interest because the output will change slightly each time. I am getting more of this type of job.
I see. Ms Goukon, what about the scarves you are making for this project?
G: I have always wanted to make an indigo-dyed scarf using Ainu designs. Through this co-production with Aizome Zabo, we have made something beautiful and I am thrilled to see something I have wanted for a long time come to fruition. The bold Ainu design unfolds from the unique depth of the indigo. The scarf we made is just how I imagined it and I am excited about where we can go from here.
For this project Ms Goukon, you were the designer and indigo dye studio Aizome Zabo handled the actual manufacture.
G: I designed the bold Ainu design that covers the scarf. I had numerous consultations with the dyer, Mr Kumatani, about how to fully express the depth of the indigo, how to extract the dye and the degree of discharge printing to be used. Up until now, my handicrafts have been made steadily and laboriously on my own. After I handed my design over to Kumatani and saw the finished shawl, I felt something totally new sensed tremendous possibility.
Y: From the perspective of a designer who works both as an artisan and on a commercial basis, I find that when I try work from the intersection of both these perspectives, I can harmonise them, but I sometimes end up with a product that is difficult to evaluate from either perspective. When I market such a product, sometimes it sells extremely well and at other times hardly at all. It seems like the process of finetuning these ideas has become central to how I work. Just as materials obtained from nature are all different from one another, when I make things based on the reaction I get from society, I can achieve something I couldn’t see before. I think that's really interesting.
▲This 'Indigo Dyed Shawl Featuring an Ainu design', was also produced at the natural indigo dyeing studio Aizome Zabo in Hokkaido. (Photo: Yuri Manabe)
Fukiko Goukon, who talks about the integrity she values in herself and in her history that lies hidden behind the word ‘handicraft’ and Katsunobu Yoshida, who extracts new sensibilitities from nature and society. Two workers in the same field of design share an attitude towards craft that teaches us the importance of freeing ourselves from the quantitative perspective of efficiency and marketing. Craft is always a dialogue between the self and the world outside.
Translation: Alexander Brown
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