Making Paper the Old Way

 Japanese paper is a personal fascination of mine. The soft fibers give it a unique and unforgiving surface to work on. It absorbs color and pigment deep into the fibers, making mistakes easily apparent, but also giving a vibrancy and saturation that other papers do not allow for. A while back, I had a chance to make my own Japanese paper (also known as washi) deep in the mountains of Nagano. 

Nagano is a remote mountainous province in central Japan. It contains 4 great mountain ranges and a number of Japan's largest mountains. In the old days, it could be quite a rough place to live. Farming was difficult with the harsh, long winters. People had to turn to other crafts and methods to earn a living. Forestry and silk manufacturing were both popular occupations. Paper making was also a way some of these remote villages earned a living.  

 Washi can be made from a variety of plants and fibers, but one of the most commonly used is the paper mulberry. The village I lived in at the time was actually called Okuwa which means 'Big Mulberry Village' (大桑村). The mulberry referenced in this village was not a paper mulberry, but one more commonly used for silkworm farming. Paper mulberry uses the kanji 楮 and is referred to as kōzo. 

 I was in luck. One of the local shop owners knew I had an interest in paper. She offered to talk to the head of a local paper making shop and see if I could join in the yearly harvest and preparation. This shop makes a variety of specialty kōzogami (mulberry paper) that is used in local festivals and events. The shop, based in the small mountain town of Nagiso, made what is known as Tadachiwashi (Tadachi being the neighborhood name and washi meaning paper). 

steaming the sticks

When I first arrived, I was greeted by the beaming head of the shop. He was clearly excited about paper making and looking forward to sharing the method with both locals and foreigners alike. I had a quick tour of the facilities, but the work had already begun. Earlier in the season, the shop owner had cut down all the necessary branches that were needed. A large reserve of kōzo sticks is required for the initial paper making process. 

revealing the steamed sticks

 The first step in the old way is cutting these sticks down to size and steaming them. This is so the fibrous bark can easily be pulled off. In the old days, this steaming was done in a large wood bucket that is flipped over a hot fire. All the sticks are bundled together and put in the bucket over the fire and left to steam for hours.When the steaming is finally done, a big rope is used to pull the bucket off of the sticks. In a misty reveal, all the hot steam escapes, leaving the bundle ready for the next step. 

getting ready to separate the fibers

 Spread out on a blue tarp were large piles of these sticks, waiting to be stripped. We all gathered around and began pulling off strips of bark. The steamed fibers inside the bark are what will become the paper much later down the line. 

hanging the fibrous bark

After separating the bark and sticks, we gather them all together to hang. The leftover sticks can go back on the burn pile or be kept as a sort of memento. I used mine to scare away snakes in the garden. With the days work done, we all retired to a luncheon and drinking party. We enjoyed some of the local sake and a boar stew. 

mesh screens

This is not nearly the end of the paper making process. Once the bark strips are dry, they are repeatedly beaten and shredded. This is to separate and soften the internal fibers that are still attached to the woody outside bark. Bleaching the fibers is necessary to getting a white finish. In the old days, they would set the fibers out on the snow to be bleached by the sun. When they are ready, the fibers are mixed into an aqueous solution to just the right amount. A mesh screen is dipped and shaken around the solution. The amount of times you dip the screen determines the thickness of the paper you make. Then you have to suck out as much of the moisture as you can. Finally, the paper is pulled off the screen and set on a giant metal drying furnace. 

drying on the furnace

It is a laborious and time consuming process. As Japan's villages shrink and its population focuses on urban life, techniques like these are dying out. I could not help but notice the vast majority of people were elderly here. Tadachi Paper is by no means a large scale commercial operation. It is important that we continue to foster these folk arts across Japan.