Japanese textiles workshop (Part 2): Katagami & Katazome

Posted on October 28, 2018 by Toothpicker

Top: a visit and demonstration of katagami by the Ise-Katagami artisan Isao Uchida

Like I mentioned in my previous entry, my knowledge on traditional Japanese textiles techniques was quite minimal before the workshop. I have done some shibori techniques like itajime and pole wrapping, but I have never done any stitch shibori nor Katagami and Katazome before, and so when I received a stencil cutter and some stencil paper from Bryan in the ‘homework’ box before the workshop, I had to google frantically to get some ideas on how to create three unqiue patterns.

So, what is Katagami? It is an ancient Japanese paper stenciling craft that dates back to the 6th century. The specific paper required is made up of several sheets of washi (Japanese mulbery paper) pasted together with kakishibu (a tannin-rich persimmon juice), resulting in a strong and flexible, brown-coloured paper. Patterns can then be cut out with a razor-like cutter or punched out with various tools. It is also possible to overlap multiple stencils to create intricate and beautiful patterns.

Botom: a vintage katagami stencil from Bryan’s collection

We had the prilvilege to meet the Ise-Katagami artisan Isao Uchida who demonstrated a skill that he has practiced for several decades. He had just been named as the ‘Living National Treasure (Ningen Kokuhō)’ by the Japanese Government, and he came to pay Bryan a visit before attending the ceremony with the Prime Minster that eveing.

The craft of katagami is often accompanied by katazome – a traditional craft of stencil resist-dyeing using a paste made from rice husks, lime and water. Using the katagami paper stencils, the rice paste is brushed onto the cloth and when dried, it is immersed in the dye, like indigo. In the old days, katazome was used primarily on kimono fabrics, but now it has become a dying art form as the demand for kimonos have decreased significantly in modern Japan.

During the workshop, we spent a full day working at the katazome paste maker and dyer’s home/workshop, Hiroshi Noguchi, in Hachioji. Mr Noguchi is the a sixth-generation paste maker and dyer who specialises in indigo katazome. He works with his son, and his young grandson (the eighth generation), who showed immense interest and enthusiasm with the family bsuiness.

At Mr Noguchi‘s workshop, we watched him making the rice paste from scratch, and his son preparing the paste for us to use. When the paste was ready, we applied it onto the cotton cloths laid out on long boards through the stencils we had each designed. Since it was a very hot day, the paste dried fairly quickly in the sun. These long cloths were then hung horizontally outside and we all had a go at applying a special grey dye onto them.

Aside from the long strips of cloths, we also cut up some shorter ones and dipped them in the indigo vats. Since the paper stencils are very strong, we could easily wash them and reuse them over and over again.

The experience of working at Mr Noguchi‘s workshop was novel and humbling. It was encouraging to see that this craft has been passed on for so many generations, and that he was generous enough to let us use his workshop. I highly respect Bryan for trying to protect these traditional Japanese arts and crafts from disappearing by bringing his students here in order to support these artisans. With so many anicent arts and crafts vanishing globally due to our ‘fast culture’, it is time to review our lifestyle and support artisans who have spent their entire lives dedicating to one specfic craft or art form.

Shibori & indigo dyeing textiles workshop in Fujino (Part 1)

Posted on October 26, 2018 by Toothpicker

Lately, I have beein trying to recall when I first became interested in textiles, initially I thought it was after seeing a Japanese textiles exhibition at MOMA years ago. But then I remember how I used to draw/sketch historical costumes after seeing them on TV drama series, and this made me realise that my interest in textiles and fashion began long before I was even consciously aware of it.

After running a solo business for over 6 years, I was feeling mentally exhausted and unispired. I was desperate to take a long vacation. I also wanted to go back to creating and making things – which I have missed after starting a business. I have done many short textiles courses on and off for years, but I have always considered them as my ‘hobby’. When I finally decided to take my 6-month sabbatical, I wanted to learn crafts that I have always been interested in, and shibori was high on my list. After some research on the internet, I found Canadian textiles artist and teacher Bryan Whitehead‘s blog and I contacted him to enquire about his textiles workshop. Originally, he told me that all his workshops were fully booked until next year (!), but then about a month later he informed me that some people have dropped out and there were spaces available.

The 10-day indigo dyeing and shibori textiles workshop turned out to be the most intense, eye-opening, overwhelming and yet satisfying experience. Even though I have done some shibori before, it was pretty basic, hence I felt quite out of my depth at the beginning. I felt like I have jumped into the deep end of the ocean but somehow survived. I have never done so much stitching in my life and was shocked by how much I managed to achieve in such a short period of time. Looking back now, I can say that this workshop has led me to a new path, and it was the beginning of my indigo dyeing and shibori journey.

Bryan and his partner, Hiro (an ikebana artist and amazing cook), live in a 150 year-old traditional farmhouse surrounded by mountains in Fujino, Kanagawa (about 1.5 hour from Tokyo). This area used to be known for its silk farming, but this has ceased and now it is more notable for its tea plantation and art village.

About one month prior to the workshop, I received a box of ‘homework’ with instructions, materials and tools to be completed before the workshop. I was busy planning my 5-week trip and I completely underestimated the amount of work that was required. I also misread the illustrations and ended up stitching on bullet trains and in ryokans late at night trying to complete the rather long piece of textile.

Bryan has lived in Japan for almost 30 years, and since he moved to Fujino, he got to learn silk farming from the local villagers, but sadly he is the only silk farmer left in the area now. Besides silk, he also grows and harvests tea and indigo. I am amazed by how he manages his time – he weaves, dyes, and teaches, yet he was always full of energy during our 10-day workshop.

I had no idea what to expect before the workshop, and to spend 10 days with 10 women from different parts of the world could have been quite challenging. Luckily, we all got on pretty well and even set up a whatsapp chat group after the workshop.

Over the 10 days, we stitched and dyed endlessly. We even had to go to the river to bash the textiles like people did in the ancient times, but then I woke up the next day with a sore and stiff neck. Luckily, Bryan‘s excellent acupuncturist was called in and cured me from my textile-bashing injury!

One thing that struck me at the workshop was how time-consuming it is to do stitch shibori and dye with indigo. Everything we did required time, patience, and focus, and we could not rush anything. I honestly was a bit clueless before. My final piece was dipped 16 times, and I was working on it until midnight on the last night… I must have spent more than 50 hours making that piece from scratch! The experience totally changed my view on shibori and indigo dyeing, and I now understand the true value of handmade and handdyed textiles.

Another highlight of the workshop was the amazing food freshly prepared and cooked by Hiro. He applied his flower arrangement skills to his food presentations, and every meal felt like a journey of the senses. Not only does he grow vegetables in the garden, he also goes foraging nearby. One day, he took us up to the hill at the back of the farm house to look for bamboo shoots, and hours later, we got to taste the freshest bamboo shoots on our plates!

On the last day, Bryan invited his 99 year old Japanese neighbour/student to make udon from scratch for us, and it was the best udon that I have ever tasted. Although Bryan and Hiro live in the rural countryside, they are never short of visitors, and there seems to be a a strong sense of community spirit. To me, their way of living and ideal, and I hope that I can live like that one day.

To be continued…

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Hiroshi Sugimoto’s masterpiece: The Enoura Observatory in Odawara

Posted on October 22, 2018 by Toothpicker

The cute Nebukawa Station first opened in 1922 but was swept away (along with a train full of passengers) by a landslide a year later. Hundred of people were killed during this disaster, and there is a memorial at the station that commemorates this tragic incident

After I left Atami, I took the train to the nearby Nebukawa Station as I had booked a tour to visit The Enoura Observatory, created by contemporary artist and the founder of Odawara Art Foundation, Hiroshi Sugimoto (who was also responsible for the renovations of the MOA in Atami). All visitors have to book the tour online, which includes a free return mini bus rides between the observatory and the train station.

Since it opened in the autumn of 2017, the observatory has been receiving international coverage and praises for its merge of nature, art, history and architecture, and it was highly recommended to me by a Japanese friend.

Like both places I visited earlier in the day, this site occupies a hilltop position that overlooks the Sagami bay. The site comprises a reception area, a gallery space, two outdoor stages, a revived Tensho-an tea ceremony room, a restored Muromachi Period (c. 1338-1573) Meigetsu Gate, and rock gardens featuring various rocks and stones collected from all over Japan by Sugimoto .

At the long gallery space, visitors can view Sugimoto’s photography work titled seascape. The artist has had a long fascination with the sea, and he explained: “my earliest childhood memory is of the sea seen from the window of the Shonan train, running on the old Tokaido line from Atami to Odawara.” And this memory was the inspiration behind the project.

Drawing ideas from ancient cultures and their relationships with nature, the 100-metre gallery is also a viewing platform where sun ray would reach the gallery space on the morning of the summer solstice.

On the morning of the winter solstice, the optical glass stage would glow as it catches the light on its cut edges. Its auditorium is a full-size recreation of a ruined Roman amphitheater in Ferento in the Lazio region of Italy, with the glass stage designed to look like it is floating on the surface of the sea.

The winter solstice also sends light through the 70-metre light-worship metal tunnel to illuminate a large stone at the other end. An aperture has been built into the tunnel to admit light, with a well beneath it. The chisel marks on it suggest that it dates from medieval times. The bottom of the well is covered with pieces of optical glass, where the individual raindrops can be seen as they fall into the well when it rains.

As you walk around the maze-like site, it is hard not be to awe of what you see or encounter. It gives you a sense of anticipation and appreciation for nature and beauty. Every element here is precisely positioned to lead you somewhere and to make you look. In a way, it is like being ‘manipulated’ to see the nature around you through architecture and landscape design, which is quite ambitious and bold.

After spending some time here, it felt quite peaceful and contemplative. I think the project has succeeded in merging nature, architecture and design together harmoniously. It would be wonderful to revisit the site on the days of summer/winter solstice for a more enchanting experience.

Houkusai & Hirashige’s ukiyo-e exhibition at MOA Atami

Posted on October 22, 2018 by Toothpicker

After my visit to Kyu Hyuga Bettei, I headed back to the train station to take a free shuttle bus to the MOA Museum of Art situated on the top of hill that overlooks the sea. Like Miho Museum in Kyoto, this private museum was opened in 1982 by the Mokichi Okada Association (MOA) to house the art collection of the multimillionaire and religious leader (Church of World Messianity) Mokichi Okada (1882–1955).

There are 3,500 paintings, calligraphy works, sculptures, lacquerware and ceramics focusing on Japanese and Chinese art. The museum reopened in 2017 after a major renovation by contemporary artist Hiroshi Sugimoto and architect Tomoyuki Sakakida.

Interestingly, in order to reach the entrance of the museum, visitors have to go up a series of long escalators in a tunnel-like setting with colour-changing lighting. And when visitors reach the top, there is a dome showcasing some projected imagery with sound installations. The whole experience (before you even reach the museum) is immersive and uplifting, which makes you anticipate and look forward to what is to follow.

Finally, after I left the first building, I was out in the open with the sky and sea on one side, and a massive pinkish contemporary building on the other. And before stepping onto the the long and wide staircases, I was greeted by Henry Moore’s bronze work, “King and Queen”. I was incredibly lucky with the weather, and the view of the sky and sea was spectacular on the day of my visit.

I was also fortunate enough to have been able to see the special exhibition: “Hokusai and Hiroshige―The Thirty-six Views of Mt. Fuji and the Fifty-three Stages of the Tokaido“. Although I have seen several exhibitions on the ukiyo-e by Hokusai and Hiroshige, I have never seen the two complete series side by side, so I was really excited about it.

Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji by Katsushika Hokusai

Published in 1831 by Nishimura Eijudō press, Katsushika Hokusai’s (1760-1849) 36 woodblock print designs were published initially, with 10 more added later on. The two most famous prints are “The great wave of Kanagawa” and “A mild breeze on a fine day” or The Red Fuji”, and they both depict the power and calmness of nature. In every print, the revered Mount Fuji can be seen from different angles, sizes and colours.

“Fifty-three Stations of the Tokaido” by Utagawa Hiroshige

The Hoeido press published Utagawa Hiroshige’s (1797-1858) “Fifty-three Stations of the Tokaido” in 1833-4 after his expedition with the Shogun from Edo to Kyoto the previous year. The series of woodblock prints feature the landscape of the 53 post stations along the The Tokaido route, which connected Edo with the then-capital of Kyoto. If you want to learn more about this, you can check out this map that features the locations and prints by Hiroshige.

The compositions, the use of colours and tones, and most importantly –humanity– are expressed vividly by the two great masters. It was a real treat to be able to see the complete sets at this exhibition.

Besides the temporary exhibitions, there are some exquisite National treasures that can also be found at the museum. One of them is Ogata Korin‘s masterpiece from the Edo period “Red and White Plum Blossoms,” painted on a pair of two-panel folding screens. The other is another Edo period Tea-leaf jar with a design of wisteria by Nonomura Ninsei. And in another room, there are also some photographic works by Hiroshi Sugimoto of the sea shot from Atami.

There is even a Noh theatre inside the museum where performances and concerts are held regularly.

One you step out of side of the building, a path would lead you to the Japanese tea garden, Ippaku-an and Shotei tea houses and the reconstructed Residence of Ogata Korin (a famous Japanese painter, lacquerer and designer of the Rinpa school) based on the documents from the Konishi Archive.

It was incredibly calm and meditative to walk around the garden, and I only wish I had more time to spare here. I would recommend a visit to this stunning museum especially if you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. Although Tokyo offers many world-class museums, it is the beautiful nature and environment that makes this museum stands out from the crowd.

The architecture of Kanazawa

Posted on October 20, 2018 by Toothpicker

Tsuzumimon at Kanazawa station

As soon as you arrive at Kanazawa train station, the “Motenashi Dome” (Welcome Dome) made up of 3,019 glass panels is likely to catch your eye. This train station is thought to be one of the most beautiful train stations in the world, and it is designed by Ryuzo Shiroe. And when you walk out of the conservatory-like space through the eastern part of the station, you would encounter the stunning and gigantic wooden structure called Tsuzumimon (drum gate). This 13.7 meter-high gate is supported by two twisted pillars, and the design resembles the tsuzumi, the drums featured in Noh theatre and Kaga Hosho (the style of Noh traditionally performed in Ishikawa prefecture) performances.

Walking around Kanazawa, it is hard not to notice the mix of old and new architecture, and since it was spared from the air raids during the war, I think the architecture here is more varied and interesting than many other cities in Japan.

Traditional houses

Although I did not have time to visit many sights, I did enjoy wandering around the city while stumbling upon some interesting buildings. There is a conspicuous Western style red brick building at the bottom of the castle that really intrigued me, and it is The Shiinoki Cultural Complex, a government building built in 1924. While the front of the building has kept its original facade, the back of the building has a modern glassed facade. There are two amazing-looking 300 year old Chinquapin trees standing symmetrically in front of the main entrance and they are designated as Japan’s National Natural Monuments.

The Shiinoki Cultural Complex

The Owari-cho area not far from the Omi-cho Market used to be a bustling merchant district during the Edo period, and so you can find many fascinating Edo period architecture here.

One of them is Gallery Mita, an art gallery housed in a Western-style building constructed in 1930, which has been designated as a Registered Tangible Cultural Property because of its rarity. The gallery sells mainly ceramics dishes, and it has a cafe next door. I especially love the stained glass designs here.

When I took a route away from the main street, I came across a derelict building/house in an alley that has many art deco elements and seems to be from that period. Even though the house has fallen into disrepair, you can still see the architectural details and appreciate the fine design elements like the railings and tiles. It is a shame to see that it has been abandoned.

As for contemporary architecture, The 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art and D. T. Suzuki Museum (see my other posts) are good examples, but there is also the Kanazawa Umimirai Library designed by Kazumi Kudo and Hiroshi Horiba in 2011, which I didn’t get to visit.

If you want to learn more about the architecture of Kanazawa, there are some suggested walking/cycling routes that encourage visitors to explore the city’s diverse architecture:

https://www.kanazawa-kankoukyoukai.or.jp/course/architect/web/en/

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Kenrokuen – is this the most beautiful landscape garden in Japan?

Posted on October 19, 2018 by Toothpicker

Kasumiga Pond

Kenrokuen is considered one of Japan’s three most beautiful landscape gardens alongside Mito’s Kairakuen and Okayama‘s Korakuen. Located in central Kanazawa, the once-private garden covers an area of 11 hectares (almost 25 acres) next to Kanazawa Castle. The original garden named Renchitei is said to have been created by the 5th Maeda lord, Tsunonori Maeda around 1676. The garden was burnt down in 1759, but was restored in 1774, and in 1822 the garden was renamed Kenrokuen. This name can be translated to “garden of six elements”, which refers to the six features mentioned in a classical Chinese poem for a perfect garden: spaciousness, seclusion, artifice, antiquity, flowing water and panoramas. The garden was not opened to the public until 1874, and now it is one of the most popular sightseeing spots in Kanazawa.

There are two main entrances to the vast garden and it costs 310 yen to get in. It is easy to feel disoriented here because of its size, but if you are not in a hurry, you can easily stroll for a few hours while admiring the nature and landscape here.

There are roughly 8,750 trees, and 183 species of plants at this garden. The garden offers something different for every season, but it is particularly popular in spring because of cherry blossom.

Some of the main features at the garden include the artificial Kasumiga-ike Pond; Yugao-tei tea house on the Hisagoike pond which dates from 1774 and the oldest building in the garden; and a bronze statue of a legendary hero, Yamato Takeru was erected in 1880 to commemorate the deaths of 400 soldiers from Ishikawa Prefecture who died helping to suppress a rebellion in Kyushu.

There is also stone with a poem inscribed on it by the haiku poet Matsuo Basho who visited Kanazawa in 1689. The poem reads:

bright red burning
bitter sun…
but autumn in the wind

Since I am no expert in traditional Japanese landscape garden, I can’t say whether this is the most beautiful landscape garden in Japan or not. However, I was very impressed by the ancient pine trees at this garden, and I think they are definitely some of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen. The tallest one is called “Neagarimatsu”, meaning “a pine tree with its roots going up”, is about 15 m in height and it was planted by the 13th lord Nariyasu about 200 years ago. It is an absolutely magnificent and stunning tree (see the third one below).

Although the garden was quite busy during my visit, but due to its size, it was easy to avoid the crowds and enjoy some tranquil spots. The garden also offers a panoramic view of city, so I guess these are all the elements that make this one of the best landscape gardens in Japan.

The D.T. Suzuki Museum in Kanazawa

Posted on October 17, 2018 by Toothpicker

Out of all the sights I visited in Kanazawa, my favourite was the tranquil and minimalist D.T. Suzuki Museum, a small museum commemorating the life and works of Suzuki Daisetz Teitaro (1870-1966), a prominent Buddhist philosopher and writer.

Suzuki received his Buddhist training at the Engakuji Zen monastery in Kamakura and later became a professor of Buddhist philosophy at Otani University in Kyoto. Aside from Japanese, Suzuki was proficient in English, Chinese and Sanskrit, and he translated numerous religious texts and scholarly articles. He was also the author of more than 100 works on Zen and Buddhism in both Japanese and English. I have read one of his most popular books: “An Introduction to Zen Buddhism” (1934), which is considered an influential book that brought the teachings of Zen Buddhism to the Western world esp. to the United States.

The museum opened in 2011 and it was designed by well-renowned Japanese architect, Yoshio Taniguchi (also known for his redesign of the Museum of Modern Art in New York). The architecture and landscape is so serene and calming that it is hard not to want to slow down when you enter the museum. There are only a few exhibit rooms showcasing the writings and some photographs of Suzuki, but it is sufficient for visitors to learn about his dedication to Zen Buddhism.

Outside of the main building, there is the Contemplative Space, where visitors can sit in a large room with benches, take time to meditate or contemplate while enjoying the view of the Water Mirror Garden outside.

The Water Mirror Garden outside also embodies the same Zen and tranquil quality found inside the museum and in the Contemplative Space. There is much harmony between the architecture and nature, and in many ways, I think this museum can be seen as a modern ‘Zen temple’.

Here is a quote from “An Introduction to Zen Buddhism” by Suzuki on Zen:

“The idea of Zen is to catch life as it flows. There is nothing extraordinary or mysterious about Zen. I raise my hand; I take a book from the other side of the desk; I hear the boys playing ball outside my window; I see the clouds blown away beyond the neighbouring wood: — in all these I am practising Zen, I am living Zen. No wordy discussions is necessary, nor any explanation. I do not know why — and there is no need of explaining, but when the sun rises the whole world dances with joy and everybody’s heart is filled with bliss. If Zen is at all conceivable, it must be taken hold of here.”

The back exit of the museum can lead you out to the top of the hill where you can get a view of the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art. And as you follow the path, you will reach Kenroku-en, one of the Three Great Gardens of Japan.

Eiheiji Temple & Zen Master Dogen

Posted on October 14, 2018 by Toothpicker

A large 13th century temple complex located in rural Fukai is considered to be an important pilgrimage site by most Soto Zen practitioners (including Steve Jobs), and this temple is Eiheiji, founded by Master Eihei Dogen (1200-1253) in 1244.

I had been interested in Buddhism since I was in my early 20s, but I only started to practice properly in 2008. It was not plain sailing for me as I had to ‘shop around’ to find a non-dogmatic practice that suited me. I knew little about Master Dogen until I met my Zen teacher over more than four years ago. Since then, I have been practicing zazen regularly, and studying the writings of Dogen from his Shobogenzo (Treasury of the True Dharma Eye). And to my surprise, Dogen‘s writings from over 800 years ago are still pertinent today. However, Dogen advocated that the core of the practice is not about the writings, but the practice of zazen or Shikantaza (just sitting).

I had wanted to visit Eiheiji for some time, but due to its rural location, I did not make the journey until this long trip. Although the temple offers a sanro programme allowing foreign visitors to stay overnight, the stay has to be accompanied by an English-speaking guide and a written letter from your zen teacher (they got rid of this requirement recently). I was slightly put off by these requirements as I dislike bureaucracy, hence I opted for a day visit instead of staying overnight.

What struck me when I got off the bus at Eiheiji was the fact that I had to walk past numerous souvenir shops selling ‘zen’ items and restaurants specialising in ‘zen’ cuisine for about 10-15 minutes before reaching the site of the temple. It all felt quite commercial and not very ‘zen-like’.

The enormous temple complex is located deep in the mountains, and consisted of 70 buildings, as well as a cedar tree forest and a cemetery. The temple had been burnt down by several fires over the centuries (this seems to be the case with many of the temples in Japan), and the oldest structure on the current site dates back to 1794. Since Eihei-ji is a training monastery with more than two hundred monks and nuns in residence, there are many rules that visitors have to follow to minimise the disruption on the practicing monks and nuns.

One of the main temple attractions is Sanshokaku (Reception Hall) and its ceiling covered with 230 paintings of flowers and birds by 144 different artists completed in 1930.

As a visitor, it is hard not to be impressed by the beautiful architecture and the maze-like complex, but I did find the ambience to be quite austere and the temple more polished than I imagined. After I started to study writings by Master Dogen and other prominent Zen teachers like Shunryu Suzuki, Kodo Sawaki, Kosho Uchiyama, and Gudo Wafu Nishijima for the last few years, I couldn’t help but feel that the temple is almost too grand and immaculate. Perhaps my preconceived ideas have let me down, and I probably would have been more in awe of the complex as a sightseeing visitor.

Having said that, there are several buildings that are forbidden for visitors to enter, including the monks’ quarters (Sodo), where the monks eat, sleep and meditate; the kitchen (Daikuin) where the meals for the monks is prepared every day; and the baths and toilets (Yokushitsu and Tosu). And after watching a NHK documentary on the monks’ daily lives at Eiheiji, I gathered that the monks’ quarters are more modest and simple than the halls in the main buildings.

After my visit around the temple, I followed the path and walked up the mountain along the river. There are many amazing giant cedar trees on the temple grounds, and some are around 500 years old. This was my favourite part of the complex, and I thoroughly enjoyed the tranquility and nature here.

It was lucky that I arrived early, because I saw coaches of Japanese tourists arriving as I was leaving the temple complex. I find it hard to imagine how the practicing monks here can cope with the infux of tourists that the temple receives daily (apparently, it can reach up to 6000-7000). And in order to attract more tourists especially from the neighbouring China and South Korea, the temple and the local authority has started a redevelopment programme. Not only a new 18-room hotel will open in 2019, there will also be a new tourist information centre, and the restoration of the temple road according to the maps from the 1600s. I can’t help but wonder how the temple can maintain a balance between tranquility and tourism in the future. After my visit to Shirakawa-go, I am starting to fear the worst… It would be a shame if tourists are visiting just for photo opportunities rather than trying to learn more about the practice and the teachings by Dogen.

As my teacher keeps emphasising: the practice of zazen and Zen is about balancing our body-mind (body and mind is considered as one in the East). And in this day and age, I feel that all of us need this ‘balance’ more than ever – it probably explains why the teachings of Buddhism and the practice of Mindfulness are becoming more popular in recent years. Hence I certainly hope that the temple that advocates this philosophy/ practice will demonstrate that it is possible to achieve the balanced state.

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Scottish Highlands: Ullapool

Posted on October 4, 2018 by Toothpicker

This summer, I spent two weeks staying in Ullapool, a small picturesque port on the shores of Loch Broom with around 1,500 inhabitants up in the Scottish Highlands. Before this trip, I have never travelled anywhere beyond Inverness in the Highlands. Since Ullapool cannot be reached by rail, I had to take a bus from Inverness, which took about 1 hour and 30 minutes.

Although it is only a village, it draws many tourists as it serves as the gateway to the Western Isles. Large ferries and cruise ships can be seen at the port, and tourists can be seen embarking and disembarking all through summer. The village is also known as the centre for the arts and music, with several music festivals taking place here throughout the year.

Due to the peak season, I initially struggled to find accommodation for longer stay. After spending one week in a rental house, I went to the Isle of Lewis via ferry for a few days, then returned and stayed at a B & B up on the hill away from the centre. Luckily, the host told me that he has another rental studio by the loch in the centre, and that I could move over there after their guest had moved out. Somehow it all worked out, and I was more than happy to be staying in a studio facing the loch.

Ullapool is convenient as a base to explore the N.W. Highlands. I, too, used it as a base for my paper-making course in Elphin, and Geo Park tour. Hence, although I stayed in the village for 2 weeks, I did not get to visit the Ullapool museum, which was a pity.

Officially founded in 1788 as a herring port by the British Fisheries Society, Ullapool was designed by Scottish civil engineer and architect Thomas Telford. Although evidence of human settlements can be found along the coast and on the road side dating back over two thousand years. Some of the original 18th century buildings can still be seen facing the harbour.

However, the village is also associated with Scotland’s darker past as the harbour was the emigration point during the Clearances, where many crofting communities were evicted from their land by their landowners to make way for large-scale sheep farming from 1750 to 1860. During this period, many families in the Highlands left for the New World from Ullapool and never returned again.

Since Ullapool is a port, seafood is a ‘must’ when you visit this village, and the best seafood place here is not a restaurant, but a shack. The multiple award-winning Seafood shack (9 W Argyle St) offers fresh local seafood at affordable prices, and the menu changes daily according to what is being delivered on the day. I went there a few times for dinner, and the food was always delicious with a contemporary twist. I also had fish and chips from Deli-Ca-Sea (West Shore Street), a small fish and chips takeaway near the Ferry terminal, where they serve traditional fish and chips.

There is also a pleasant bistro facing the loch called The Frigate (6 Shore Street) that serves a variety of dishes made form locally sourced produce. And on the last night, I had drinks and dinner with a new friend at the friendly and bustling The Ferry Boat Inn (26-27 Shore Street). The Blue Kazoo Seafood Cafe not only serves fresh and tasty seafood, you can also enjoy live music there in the weekends. We had a brilliant last night there and loved the vivacious atmosphere.

The inspiring landscape of the Highlands is alluring to many musicians, artists and artisans. Hence it is no surprise that many of them have moved up to the Highlands to live and work.

At the paper-making workshop, I met Jan, a geologist/botanist/bookbinder who co-runs a beautiful art and craft shop in Ullapool. Ceàrd (21 West Argyle Street) focuses on locally made products by Scottish makers. You can find paintings, prints, jewellery, ceramics, textiles, crochet, carved wood and many wonderful items in their shop.

On the opposite side of the street is An Talla Solais Gallery, where they showcase practising artists across the North West coast of Scotland through their regular art exhibitions. I stumbled upon the opening night of local artist Peter White‘s exhibition and was intrigued by his nature-inspired work.

Peter collects stones from the hills he walks in, paints on them and eventually returns them to the summit of the hill they came from in memory of people who have died. Interestingly, I did encounter one of Peter‘s work when I was hiking up the hill one day (see below).

Further away from the centre, there is Highland Stoneware Pottery (North Road) where visitors can visit the pottery workshop and purchase unique pottery handmade by craftspeople in Lochinver and Ullapool. They have a vast collection of tableware, and an online shop where people who live outside of Scotland can order and get the items shipped to them directly.

What I enjoyed most about Ullapool is that I could easily go for walks or strolls by the river and beach without leaving the village. Nature and wildlife is abundance.

If you enjoy hill walking, then a short ascent up the Ullapool hill and the Braes would enable you to enjoy the panoramic view of Loch Broom and Ullapool. The highest point is the outcrop of Meall Mor with views inland of Loch Achall and surrounding countryside.

As I walked up to the highest point, the rain cloud started to move towards the village and it was engrossing to watch from the top. Luckily, I didn’t get too wet when I descended.

Last but not least, a trip to The Ullapool Smokehouse (6 Morefield Indstrial Estate) is a MUST before you leave the village. Located in an industrail estate, this family run business sells smoke fish, cheese, meat and eggs, using traditional wood-smoking methods. I bought some smoked salmon and smoked cheese and the quality is much higher than what you would find in the supermarkets. You can also order online via their webshop.

Papermaking with plants workshop in The Highlands

Posted on October 2, 2018 by Toothpicker

The scenery from Ullapool to Assynt

Scotland is one of my favourite places in the world. I love the landscape, wilderness, people and traditions; however, I am not so fond of its weather – a crucial element that has put me off moving up there. I have been traveling up to Scotland annually for the last few years to attend a meditation retreat in June, but I would only stay for about 1 week or less each time. This year, I decided to explore further and spend longer time there during my 6-month sabbatical. I stayed for three weeks in July. It started in Glasgow, then Fort Williams, Ullapool and and the Isle of Lewis.

I stayed in Ullapool to attend a paper-making with plants workshop at a local artist, Jan Kilpatrick‘s home/studio in Assynt, a remote area north of Ullapool. Since I wasn’t driving, Jan arranged her friend and workshop attendee, Jo, to give me lifts during the week as she happens to live in Ullapool. The commutes from Ullapool to Assynt were simply breathtaking, and I was capitivated by the sight of Cul Mor, Suilven and Quinag during these car journeys.

Jan is predominantly a landscape textile artist, but she is also a paper and mosaic artist. However, most of the courses she offers on her website are textiles related, so it was lucky that I managed to sign up to her paper-making course, which seems to be less in demand (as we were told). Since there were only a few of us, we got to know each other quite well during the week.

The reason why I signed up for this course was due to my passion for paper and interest in plants/botany. I have previously attended one/two paper-making sessions that lasted less than an hour, so my knowledge was minimal and I wanted to learn more about the technique and craft. Besides, the thought of spending the week sourrounded by nature up in the Highlands was a huge draw for me.

Over the five days, we spent most of the time working outdoors as we were quite lucky with the weather (except for the last day and when the midges attacked). Being able to pick many fibrous plants and grass from Jan‘s wonderful garden and use them as the materials of our paper was fantastic. The process of paper-making involves soaking the plants overnight, followed by boiling the plants with soda ash (or washing soda) and water. Then it is necessary to break down the plant fibres into pulp using a blender, and we mixed the plant fibres with recycled paper pulp to create different textures and varieties.

The next stage requires a mould and deckle (you can make one using picture frame and mesh), a vat filled with water and a bit of pva glue. Then it is time to add the pulp mixture into the water and let it dissolve in the vat. What followes is the most difficult part – using the mould to scoop the pulp from the back and bottom upwards inside the vat. When the mould is lifted you, it is best to shake it from side to side to drain the water and even out the pulp. This process requires patience and steady hands for consistency, and it may take several attempts to get the pulp evenly rested on the mesh. Sometimes the paper may be too thick or too thin, and it differs depending on the plant fibres.

The final stage is to remove the deckle from the mould and place the pulp on the mesh safely onto a wet paper towel. Then you need to press the pulp down with a sponge, add another piece of paper towel on top and place a heavy wooden board on top to squeeze out any excess water. After some time, you can lift up the board and hang the paper to let it dry on a rack.

We used a variety of plants like nettles, horsetails, daffodils, montbretia, dock leaves, and grass as our pulp, and we also added some flower petals as decorations. Since the process of paper-making is the quite repetitive, Jan suggested that we try mono-printing with plants, as well as eco-printing by arranging the plants onto the paper followed by steaming it.

After four days of making and experimenting, we spent the last day compiling everything together into a large portfolio book showcasing all the papers we made, and binded it together with some strings. We also created two mini plant books each featuring some of our handmade paper.

The five days went exceedingly quickly, and I found the workshop extremely inspring and enriching. It was also lovely to enjoy the vegetarian lunches that Jan prepared for us daily using many ingredients from her vegetable garden.

On Wednesday, we crossed the road and visited the Elphin market where there were vendors selling food and craft produced by local farmers and artisans. I learned that many artists and artisans chose to live and work in the Highlands due to its remoteness and landscape and nature, which I have no dounts would make one more creative being in this environment.

It was sad to leave this place behind, but there was more adventure awaiting, so I left feeling quite joyous and refreshed.