Motif: Asanoha (hemp leaf)

'Broken' Asanoha motif on a han-haba obi.

Asanoha (sometimes seen as: asa-no-ha), or hemp-leaf, is a beautifully versatile motif. Despite it's botanical name, this motif is decidedly geometric and can be worn year-round as it has no specific seasonal connotations. Several sources cite that it is considered an auspicious motif for babies and young children who might be swaddled in blankets with the asanoha motif in the hope that they will grow strong and hearty, like the hemp plant itself.

I love pairing this motif with other, more organic shapes as the intersecting lines make for a pleasing contrast and can hint at plant-life while giving balance to the overall ensemble. It can also be seen not as an all-over motif, but as a complimentary motif, such as on this obi:

This han-haba obi is actually reversable, with the Asanoha pattern as an accent with the kasa, or umbrellas (we'll talk about those in a few days) on one side, and an all-over pattern of asanoha on the reverse.

Because the motif itself is not seasonally limited, you should be sure to consider the color and style of the garment upon which it appears, as well as any other motifs with which it might be paired. In this case, the bright yellow of the obi and the presence of the kasa suggest that this would be best for summer use; the bright yellow creates a pleasing visual spark against a field of cool blue and white, traditional coloring for yukata.

The asanoha is not at all visible in this photo, but ayame are! We'll be talking about that motif later, under I for Iris. This was for San Jose's Obon Odori in July of 2014.

The same is true of the the first obi pictured: the darker green is also a color better suited for late spring and summer, and the fact that it is a han-haba obi means that it is best worn on less formal occasions and with yukata.

Broken asanoha han-haba obi paired with ajisai yukata. We'll be talking about ajisai (hydrangea) later in the month.

You may have noticed that my examples are of han-haba obi featured in casual ensembles, but that is more due to the limits of my personal collection than any restrictions the motif itself imposes. Also to note is that the pattern can be found on other items used in kitsuke, from decorative tabi socks to the hanao on geta. These tend to be very subtle points in an ensemble, but by having a versatile geometric like Asanoha on your hanao, they can be worn in many situations and lend more interest than a solid color might impart.

Tomorrow, our featured motif will be Bats!

Refocusing

In an effort to get more of my thoughts centered, to better focus and articulate my why's and how's of kitsuke, I'm making an concerted effort to participate in April's "Blogging from A to Z" challenge. The goal is one post for every day in April (with Sundays off 'for good behavior' as they say) centered around a common theme, as chosen by the blogger.

To meet this challenge, I plan on spending the month of April writing about motifs. Floral, geometric and 'man-made' motifs all crop up in my collection and I spend a good portion of my time thinking about what pairs well with which and why. Most motifs, especially the floral ones, have very specific connotations for mood, intention, or season, as well as personal inspirations that may have nothing to do with any of those; all good fodder for a month of blog entries.

As this is an 'A to Z' blog challenge, I must recognize (and hope that you may forgive) that there are going to be some inconsistencies in how I come up with my daily titles. The fact of the matter is, there are some letters that don't exactly occur in the Japanese language structure, as well as a lot of words with similar beginning sounds (I had no trouble coming up with at least three different topics for 'A' if I was going just by the Romanization of the word). To that end, you will be seeing a mix of Romanized Japanese terms, as well as the English translation of those terms so that I can get through the month with minimal frustration.

There are still a few days before the challenge begins in earnest, and I suspect I shall be filling my time with plotting out my entries and doing a bit of research. Until then, I leave you with a teaser: the April 1st post will be on Asanoha (or Ajisai. Or Ayame. I haven't decided yet, but I have a few days, right?).

Crafting: Tenugui

From left to right, my original tenugui, purchased from Nichi Bei Bussan, the first tenugui that I made for myself and finally, the one I made for this post! You'll see more of it later.

Tenugui, the versatile, traditional hand-towels (not to be confused with furoshiki, or wrapping cloths, which I will cover in a later post), are the perfect project for lovely bits of cotton that you don't quite know what to do with but don't want to see languishing in your stash. They are also a project that involves no sewing whatsoever-- just a bit of strategic measuring, cutting and ironing!

My first foray into making tenugui was last year, after I went through my own fabric stash and found some lovely fabrics with large patterns that I found to be too large for my usual quilting and patchwork projects, and too graphic to work effectively as han-eri on juban.

This adventure also happened to coincide with the beginning of Obon Odori dance practices. At least one dance every year calls for the use of a towel as a prop, and with a friend joining me for then dancing for the first time, I wanted to be sure that she would have what she needed to be able to practice effectively. Obon Odori time is here again  and practices are starting soon, so this seems like the perfect time to revisit this project and share it with you.

What you will need:

Fabric (at least 35 inches x 14 inches)
Iron
Ruler

If the fabric that you wish to use is larger than the traditional dimensions given, you may also find the following useful:

Scissors and Tailor's Chalk (or other means to temporarily mark your fabric) or...
Rotary Cutting Mat
Rotary Cutter
Ruler

Ideally, the fabric that you are using will be a high-quality cotton. It is washable, absorbent, and will not be as prone to fraying edges. This last is very important as we are not finishing any of the edges with a hem or seam, but are simply hiding the longest exposed edges by ironing them to the inside.

My original, store-bought tenugui is 35 inches long by 14 inches wide (unfolded). The fabric that I picked out for this demonstration happened to be about 44 inches by 9.5 inches, so I didn't feel any need to cut it down. This works to my benefit because it means that the ends of fabric that wind up being the ends of the tenugui are on the selvege and will not unravel. The downside to this is that you can see the printing that is often in this area (manufacturer, pattern name, color swatches, etc), depending on where on the selvage your particular piece happens to have been cut.

My first home-made tenugui, with selvage edges in place.

With my first home-made tenugui, the fabric I chose had one edge where the pattern went all the way to the selvage, but another end where, as you can see in the image above, there was a white strip with printing information instead of the full pattern. I chose to leave this in place because this was meant for practice and personal use and by not cutting the selvage edge off, it meant that I didn't have to worry about fraying edges, like the ones you can see below.

My original tenugui with an ayame pattern. It's hard to see with the white-on-white, but these edges are unfinished and fraying. Tenugui are meant to be used and there is nothing wrong with finishing (or not finishing) your tenugui in this manner!

These are the edges from the tenugui I made for this post. The pattern does not go all the way to the edge, but the white is relatively uniform and any manufacturer's marks were folded to the inside. 

Once you have the length and width of fabric that you need, the next step is a little bit of strategic ironing. You don't really need a ruler for this, but if you are not comfortable with gauging distances by sight, you might find it useful.

You will wish to start by ironing the entire length of your fabric to remove any creases it may have acquired from being folded while stored. Once that is done, lay your fabric right or patterned side down on your ironing board.

Here, the fabric is folded in half, so that the right side is facing up. You will wish to iron the fold to create your middle crease-- the main one you will be using as a guide-line for the next folds. 

I've opened the fabric again and you can see the main middle crease. You can also see some of the softer folds that I was not able to get out with my first pass with the iron. Please do your best to ignore these- they will disappear wen ironing the secondary folds.

This is the first fold that will help establish the final width of your tenugui and hide that long, unfinished edge. 

 Once you have folded your fabric, press along that fold but be careful to NOT press the first, middle crease that you created. You will want that to stay as crisp as possible. Your finished tenugui can be as wide or as narrow as you like, but I find 2.5 to 3 inches to be comfortable for handling. At this point, you can tell how wide your finished piece will be by measuring from the middle crease to this first folded edge.

You are going to repeat the previous step with the other side, folding the raw edge towards the middle and pressing.

This is where you might find a ruler to come in handy, as you will want both unfinished edges to be about the same distance from that middle crease.

The moment of truth! Folding again along that middle crease, we sandwich the raw edges to the inside of the finished tenugui! Press the entire length of fabric and the project is finished.

I hope that this might help you and inspire you to take a few moments to make tenugui for yourself. Not only are they delightful, fluttering props for dances, but they have many more practical uses if you make a practice of wearing kimono out and about.

Not quite tenugui in action. This was at Obon Odori in 2012.

Bon Odori

Obon Odori, for those of you unfamiliar with the festival, is most easily likened to Dia de los Muertos celebrations. It is a time of remembrance and reflection; a time to honor those who have passed. Rather than mourning, it is a time to celebrate, dancing in joy at the memories we cherish.

Three years ago, after my grandfather's passing, I decided that I would dance at Obon, not just that year, but every year. I'm not sure that he would have understood my decision, even if I were able to explain, but this sort of remembrance is for the living. This year, I am dancing for a very dear friend who I think would have understood, and would have certainly loved the parade of colorful yukata and kimono that is always on display for the dancing.

My grandfather and me, taken in 2009 on one of my trips back to the East Coast.

Fran was a dear and wonderful friend to my family. She had a passion for many things, including textiles, so I wore yukata for one of my visits with her.

I had participated as a dancer in the festival several years previous to making this promise to myself; not to dance for anyone in particular, but simply to say that I had. Before that, I had been content to play the spectator, not really understanding just what had brought all of these people together.

I worried that keeping my promise would be difficult. I worried because I felt myself to be very much an outsider to this community. I worried because it seemed to me that everyone already knew all the dances and was using this as a chance to socialize. I certainly didn't know the names of anyone save perhaps one or two people, and even then, only in passing. After the first few practices, though, I realized that what I had stepped into was a very open and inviting community (Buddhists, as a friend pointed out to me, tend to be like that).

The next year, I knew more people; I had a group that I could walk to practice with, and be able to learn and dance with. Not only that, but I was recognized by others because of my various forays into Nihonmachi while in kimono. The highest compliment, of course, was having someone come up to me and say 'I remember you from last year. You look like you know what you're doing so I'm going to follow you.'

This year, the dances are familiar to me. The music plays and the steps come back easily, despite the intervening year. More faces are familiar, but there are just as many new faces who appreciate the welcoming smile that I can feel confident in offering now. Somewhere, somehow in this stretch of time, I have become part of a community. Keeping my promise will not be difficult.

Yukata worn for Saturday's dancing at Obon 2012, the year my grandfather passed. It happens to be the same one I wore to visit with Fran in the earlier photo.

For three years, I have been struggling to write this post. From the beginning, I wanted to do justice to the festival and to the community that has welcomed me. I wanted to talk about the origins of the dance in the Buddhist tradition, the dances themselves, as well as the more secular aspects of the festival-- carnival-style games and food.

Of course, I wanted to talk about yukata, especially as the light summer garment is very much a part of the identity of the festival. It's not required to dress in yukata to participate though it is encouraged and if one is unsure of how to dress properly, there are volunteers to help. There is no denying that the sight of so many colorful patterns lend a festive air to the proceedings.

Yet I struggled for three years because to talk of any of the more secular aspects without their proper grounding in the heart of the festival would have been a disservice to the whole occasion. To only talk about my own reasons for dancing would not be giving proper respect to all those who dance, have danced, and dance no more. For three years, there did not seem to be a way to write down everything I wanted to share about this time of year.

After much contemplation on how to do this properly, I found myself at the beginning; that this is a celebration of remembrance. The dance is opened and closed with Gassho: The meeting of opposites, the symbol of Dharma- the truth of life. Having acknowledged this balance, I hope that this will be only the first of several posts about Obon, which has become one of the touchstones of the circle of my year.

Crafting: Susoyoke

Rather than explain why I haven't been writing anything over here, because there are many reasons, and none of them really matter so much as the fact that I am here now and have something to share. Today's offering is some notes on crafting susoyoke.

Susoyoke is a half-slip that is worn under kimono. Traditionally, it helps to preserve the kimono by creating a barrier between it and your skin. This is how I use mine as well, but when I am dressing, I will choose a susoyoke if I am wearing a kimono that does not give me as much overlap in front as I might like so that I might preserve some sense of modesty and still present a neat appearance.

The undergarment that I outline here is a bit longer than more traditional garments of this style because I wrap and tie mine at the bust-line (I find this VERY useful in helping me keep my hadajuban collar in place). Normally, these would be wrapped and tucked at the waist like a regular slip.

My initial notes-- I couldn't recall the name 'susoyke' though I knew that the garment I was attempting DID have a proper name. The measurements are based off of one that I found at a sale benefiting the Yu Ai Kai.

 When I found my first slip, I realized that it would be a garment that I'd get a lot of use out of, and simple enough that I could easily make some for myself. It's a fun way to use smaller amounts of fabric that are too dear to pass along but not large enough for massive projects.

 The basic shape is a rectangle (mine was 50" x 43"), and the only fussy sewing is a rolled hem and applying the bias-binding for ties. Because it's a rectangle and the direction the pattern was printed as it was, I was able to cut and piece so that my sides were on the selvage of the fabric and needed no finishing. I started out with about two yards of a 42" fabric, and I still have some left over that I might use to make some other kimono-related undergarments.

The fabric that I was working with was directional, in a traditional but fun motif which makes it really nice for this project.

Finished, with bias-binding ties.

I think I used an entire pack of double-fold bias-binding for my ties, but it makes for a simple and effective finishing of the top edge. The bottom was a simple 1/4" rolled hem.

From start to finish, it took me a couple of hours, but that's partially because I had to figure out my initial measurements from the existing garment and do a little piecing so that my fabric would be wide enough to wrap around. If the pattern had been printed the other way, I wouldn't have needed to do the piecing, since an average bolt of fabric is already 42" or so wide, but I would have needed to finish each side, since they wouldn't have been on the selvage, as well as applying the bias-binding for the ties.

I have plans (and fabric) to make several more of these. While susoyoke aren't an article of clothing that is likely to be seen (and certainly not displayed), there is a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from knowing that one is well dressed from the skin out. Even when the details are hidden, or only caught in glimpses, they all add up to a pleasing presentation of the ensemble as a whole.

Nikkei Matsuri

The Nikkei Matsuri in San Jose's Japantown is one of the festivals that I look forward to attending every year. It is a vibrant little street festival with lots of artisan vendors, food booths, music, demonstrations and performances. For me, it has become one of the markers of the seasons-- with the Nikkei Matsuri, spring is really here.

Since this is a festival of the arts and of spring (as well as corresponding loosely with 'Boy's Day,' at least in that the big carp flags are always brought out for this festival), I of course wished to dress for the season. Recently, I'd acquired through E-bay a lovely kimono of a pale silver color with a repeating diamond design of fans in dark purple. I had thought that the colors would be cool enough to hint at 'spring' and that I could wear an obi and cords that would accent the feel of the season. Unfortunately for this plan, the weather promised to be quite warm and I couldn't justify going out in a fully lined kimono to a place that had plenty of hope of shade, but little of seating or air conditioning.

I didn't want to opt for one of my yukata, for though they are cotton and unlined, and entirely appropriate for an outdoors festival, I felt that they were just a little too casual for an occasion where I hoped to be taking in some of the classical dance demonstrations, as well as shopping on the street. Fortunately, there were other options.

Front view of hitoe kimono with woven obi.

Back view of hitoe kimono with musubi tied by  Ann.

This is an unlined or hitoe kimono that I picked up at Nichi Bei Bussan during their 'Thank you' days. Being unlined, I didn't have to worry about having an extra layer on top of the juban that I wore to protect the garment. What I did worry about was that the colors would be a little too autumnal, especially with an obi in a golden tone. I think I was able to offset that effect by highlighting the blue hints in the obi with my bag and the blue on the hanao of my geta. The kanzashi also say 'spring' and though you can't really see it, I'm wearing a second stick that has a little koi charm on it in honor of the carp that are flown for this festival.

One of the things that I enjoy about this festival is that it affords an opportunity to see others dressed in kimono.

Of course my eyes were closed, but we couldn't resist the photo-op.

Beyond seeing others in kimono, this can also be a time to educate people on how to wear their kimono. When one is approaching the garment for the first time, there are all kinds of mistakes that can be made, starting with how it is crossed across the body (you always want to be left over right, unless you are dressing a corpse!). I regret that I was not present when Ann did her good deed for the day and helped a young woman get into her own yukata properly.

It was also fun to see some cosplayers (individuals dressed in the manner of anime/manga characters that they like) wandering around, though we didn't get any photos of them.

A final shot-- the pinwheel was given to me by the gentleman in the right-hand side of the previous photo.

Every year, I see more and more people coming out to the festival in kimono or costume, and I hope that the trend continues as more people discover the joys that can be had with dressing for the occasion.

But you don't look...

It's a phrase that gets tossed around a lot. 'You don't look sick,' or overweight or whatever it is about yourself that you feel acutely because you're living in the skin you're in. It's meant to be a reassurance, but for  those of us who are hearing it those words don't help. Yes, it's nice to know that we're passing for normal or for healthy, but those words aren't going to change how we feel about ourselves. In fact, they usually make us feel worse because we've just been told that whatever it is we're struggling with is invisible; it doesn't matter because we're passing for fine.

To say that this is a complicated issue for me is an understatement. Like many, I struggle with maintaining a healthy weight. I am also one of those people who 'doesn't look overweight.' The people who say this don't know that my pants size has gotten bigger or that I feel very awkward in the shirts that they say are flattering. Knowing how to use clothes as camouflage simply means that I've figured out how to look good, not how to feel good about how I look.

You may have noticed that there hasn't been much activity here for several months. I had been dressing but not as often-- I even have photos somewhere of the snow-bunnies as worn to a Christmas dinner, but most of my photos from winter were taken inside and frankly there is no saving them from bad lighting.

Another contributing factor to my silence has been how I feel about being in kimono. I love these garments, I love how I feel when I wear these garments but there have been times when I don't feel that my frame is doing a good job of showing them off. Kimono are essentially an assembly of rectangles, and the ideal look is of a cylindrical profile. Being the American I am, a cylinder is most certainly not how I would explain my profile.

However, wearing kimono is not just about how the garment fits. The reason I started to wear kimono in the first place was to highlight the garment and the assembly of the ensemble. With kimono, the fabrics can do all of the talking. It's about the look as a whole, not the shape of the person under the layers. With kimono, I can feel good about the look that I'm presenting and look good while I'm at it. I know this, I can intellectualize it, but that doesn't always make pulling together an ensemble easier.

What I've been missing has been my final accessory: Confidence. With the return of spring, I am feeling renewed. I've been working on eating right and getting more exercise. Fresh air is a great confidence builder and to that end, I finally put together an ensemble (with the help of Ann) to take a little trip to Nichi Bei Bussan. As you may have guessed, I will take any opportunity to visit that store, and a couple of weeks ago, they were having their annual 'Thank You Days,' (which translated to 15% off consignment and vintage items and 20% off much of the rest of their merchandise) which I wasn't about to miss.

It was incredibly spring-like on the day that we decided to go and as I often do, I puzzled for some time over what to wear. This was the ultimate decision:

Front view of the Koi.

Back view, with the simple bow that Ann tied for me. This also gives a clearer shot of my kanzashi.

This outfit really wouldn't have come together as well as it did were it not for Ann. I usually like to pair this kimono with a very striking obi to offset how busy the pattern is. For this occasion, however, I didn't want to be quite that bold. It's springtime, after all, and I was hoping to dress specifically for that sense of subtlety that this season has.

Koi are generally a far more summery motif, but because the background color of the fabric is black, it helps make this particular piece a little more versatile. Though it is not so obvious in the photo, there are hints of blue, which is why I went with a blue han-eri on my juuban. That collar also has a wave motif which can be found amid the koi and the blue is a nice contrast which also happens to tie in with the hanao of my geta. So that the obi would not get lost amid the koi, it was Ann's idea to add the dark blue-black silk obi-age. Strictly speaking, this particular bow doesn't need the obi-age as it's usually used to cover an obi-makura, but in this case it helps to bring the hints of blue that I'd added to the middle of the ensemble.

I felt very good about how everything came together, but I felt even more accomplished when Arlene of Nichi Bei fluttered her hands and said that she loved the look because it was, "Just so springy." Those are the sort of words that are serious confidence-boosters-- affirmation that the effect has been pulled off just as hoped. Happy spring, everyone.