横 振り 刺繍

横振り刺繍

From long ago, there has been a deep connection between the kimono and embroidery in Japanese culture. Apparently, before the war my great-grandfather also worked in embroidery in the kimono producing area of Kiryu City.

Soon after the war, in my grandfather's generation, the family moved to Yokosuka. That is the birthplace of what is now called the 'sukajan' — souvenir jackets made for soldiers at the U.S. military base there that have oriental Japanese designs sewn into them — and he was one of the first to work on them as an artisan.

My father's five years of unpaid pedaling of a sewing machine

Following the path of embroidery, my father inherited the technique from my grandfather. But he told me that after starting on that path at age 17, he spent five years without pay pedaling the sewing machine every day until he had accumulated a certain level of skill.

When I was a child, he was receiving all kinds of work, not just 'sukajan,' but also things like embroidered badges for units of the U.S. forces, and tablecloths. I would do what I could to help, and received spending money for that, but I wasn't particularly closely observing my father's work.

My father enjoyed sake, but he was a man of few other desires and the type of person who was taciturn when he was working. But when I was sick, he would put me on his back and take me to see the doctor, he was loving and spent a lot of time with me, which has made me into the person I am today.

Becoming my father's apprentice in a time of adversity when machine embroidery had become mainstream

I left home early and took on various jobs, but since I like creating things, I was always involved in making something. They were things like costume and accessory design — not anything connected to embroidery. But I think that, at the time, I always had the feeling that 'this is not what I really want to be making.' Back in those days, as machine embroidery became the mainstream, 'sukajan' had also come to be mass-produced by machine embroidery, but compared with Yokoburi embroidery, carefully made one product at a time, they were cheap.

I didn't understand it as a child, but when I returned home as an adult, for the first time I saw my father's embroidery as amazing. As a kid, I was always busy making something, but I never came across the one thing that I really wanted to make. It was right under my nose all along — right alongside my father. But, of course, my father was totally opposed to it.

With only my body to my name, I threw myself into the computerized marketplace

First of all, I needed an income to live, so I would do sometimes up to four different jobs in one busy day, filling four days of the week full to the brim with work. The remaining days I would spend at the sewing machine. My father opposed my plan, so I bought a sewing machine myself and started practicing all by myself. So, rather than being taken on as my father's apprentice, it was more like breaking and entering into the role. My children were little at that time, which made it very difficult. And, I suppose my father couldn't turn a blind eye to that. In the beginning, I often had to deal with the sewing needle breaking and misalignment of the machine. I'd come home late from work thinking that I had to repair it and find that it had been fixed. My father had fixed it for me while I was out. One day, he arranged his sewing machine and mine so that they were facing each other and so that I was also able to use his thread stand. I was so touched by him doing that. It was tough, but I went on to study my father's technique in earnest. Just like my father, for the first six years I didn't aim to make a profit. I took on jobs for just the cost of the thread because I was desperate to master the technique no matter what. I began putting prices on my work only five or six years ago.

My children were probably lonely, but I felt that letting them see me fulfill my goal was part of parenting. I not only let them see me staying up all night pedaling away on the sewing machine, but also took them along when I delivered my work so that they could see the customer's response. I think I was able to teach my children something by letting them see both me fulfilling my goal and the hardship required to do it.

Assisting my aging father to continue doing work he could be proud of.

When I think about it now, perhaps I did it all because I wanted to somehow support my aging father.

When my father entered his late 40s, he sewed some amazing pieces for me and my siblings, saying 'I'm at the top of my game now. From here on I'll start losing my touch. I'll make something now for you to remember me by.'

I started learning Yokoburi embroidery because I wanted to, but at my core, I probably wanted to support my father in some way. I made up for the areas in which he had weakened by taking care of publicity and getting big jobs for him. A large part of me probably wanted to increase the amount of work that my father could be really proud of and help him continue to work as a Yokoburi embroidery artisan even just a little longer. I didn't want the limelight shone only on the 'sukajan.' I also wanted to make it shine on my father, who was embroidering them.

Father's sudden passing and a connecting vertical thread.

One summer day, when my father went to help pack up a stage used in a festival, he suddenly fell ill and passed away three days later. It was kind of like him to go that way, but I cried so much I almost broke down. I became just a shell of myself. But my father had left behind some unfinished work. By all rights I should have taken over the jobs and completed them, but I thought there was no way I could finish them at the same level as that of my father, so I visited each of the clients to apologize for not being able to deliver the work. One of those clients told me that my father had often spoken proudly of me, saying, 'She's gotten really good, and like me, she has talent.' I was so happy. I think those thoughts pushed me forward after his passing and made me able to continue on my own.

With Yokoburi embroidery, because each piece is sewn one at a time, their finish differs according to the personality of the artisan. Especially regarding the animals (the dragon, hawk, tiger, etc.) that are characteristic 'sukajan' designs, I think that only Yokoburi is capable of expressing their vigor and vitality. Now, I just want to work one by one on each piece that is in front of me, and make something good.

Precise embroidery work

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Currently, there are only a handful of artisans skilled in the Yokoburi embroidery technique in Yokosuka, the birthplace of the 'sukajan.' Even throughout Japan the number is low and, if things remain as they are, it is possible that in the not-too-distant future the technique will die out.

At A drop in Japan, through initiatives such as upcoming collaborative products with Dagr Figaro, we want to share the knowledge of this precious art with people outside Japan and we hope to support the seamless succession to the next generation of this traditional technique. About half of the products that we currently offer are jacquard embroidered items, but we plan to eventually offer all Yokoburi embroidery products and be able to deliver them to customers overseas.