Matohu Women's SS2011 Tokyo

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Shades of Kasane: Layered color combinations - Spring / Summer

When I wake up each morning, the world of color comes alive for me.

Color is an integral part of our lives - such an integral part, in fact, that we do not even need to verbalize this fact. Color meets our eyes no matter which way we look.

So what exactly is color?

Color is whatever it is we are gazing at right at this moment. It is virtually impossible to describe color in words: the color of a flower, a bird, the sky - the world that we behold at any given time. Long ago, giving names to colors was our way of identifying and understanding everything in the world around us. The Japanese language has a myriad of names for color, proof of how ancient people exercised great subtlety in their observance of tones. Astonished by the beauty of the hues they saw, they took to naming them individually - in effect counting them.

At the same time, regardless of how many color-names are noted in documents and literature left to us by previous generations - no matter how many colors our predecessors described in words - the only way to recapture color accurately is to close your eyes and imagine the color behind the darkness of your eyelids. This is because color is all about what we are seeing now, at this very moment - the manifestation of the vivid scenes we see before us.

We tend to think that our current imaging technology captures all color, but this is an illusion. This morning I took a photo of the morning glories on my balcony with my digital camera. I was struck by the stark contrast between the delicate bluish-violets of the flower petals I saw with my own eyes and the images taken by my camera. I took the pictures over and over again, comparing them with the flowers, but the result was always the same: the color in the photos was a totally different hue than that of the real thing. Needless to say, for me the true color is that of the living tone of the morning glories blooming fresh before my eyes.


Let's reexamine the seasons based on the concept of kasane irome, meaning layered color combinations. The cherry blossom trees bloom as the weather softens, heralding the coming of spring. Starting in May, the new green of the year slowly casts its lush rich shadow over the land as we shift into summer. If we carefully observe these changes in the seasons, we realize just how much gradated color there is in nature, though we may not notice it on a daily basis. It is not even that our world has changed at all; rather we simply fail to see it as we off-handedly go about our business.

The seasons may seem to change slowly, but in fact moves from one into another extremely rapidly. It is customary to divide the year into four seasons: spring, summer, fall and winter. In addition to these, the ancients further compartmentalized the seasons into 24 (including the beginning of spring, the vernal equinox, the summer solstice and more), and still further into 72 tiny seasonal segments. The people of past centuries sensed a change in season about every five days, carefully observing the natural world. We can only imagine how perceptive and utterly sensitive they must have been. For example, we know that most flowers bloom for about five days before they wither. Therefore, the ancients' way of looking at the seasons was not simply a matter of rote subdividing: it was an ability developed out of constant observation.

In June, we set out for Kyoto, watching the freshly planted yellow-green rice fields and the clear blue sky from the Shinkansen bullet train. The purpose of our trip was to visit the studio of Sachio Yoshioka. Mr Yoshioka is the fifth generation head of a dyeing studio called Some no Tsukasa Yoshioka, which has existed since the Edo period (1603-1867). He has devised his own methods of reconstructing ancient Japanese color as well as the traditional kasane irome. He is also a prolific author on the subject of color. Mr Yoshioka is an eminent Japanese dyer respected by all who know him.

We went to talk with Mr Yoshioka about kasane irome. His home studio in Fushimi was strewn with berries and roots - which are the raw materials for dyes - while the ashes are used in the dyeing process smoldered in the oven. In the Japanese-style room was a cinnabar-colored wooden tub holding some pale green hydragenas yet to come into their color. I realized that the rainy season was upon us.

Mr Yoshioka described traditional kasane irome shading combinations in great detail, concluding as follows: "I don't believe there were any specific kasane irome. The names we have now are merely something that was recorded by the nobles in remembrance of the Heian period (794-1192) dynasties. Other kasane irome were surely more spontaneous and spirited. I doubt that people wore uniform-like attire of the same color - that would mean there would be no other way to convey one's unique fashion sense to the opposite sex!"

The women of that period would hide themselves behind bamboo screens to show which kasane irome they had chosen for their kimono. The men would pick up on their subtle sense of fashion and color, which prompted them to write love letters to the women. They would write these letters on washi (Japanese paper) dyed with the colors of the seasons. In other words, design at that time was largely impacted by seasons and the associated colors of the seasons.

Mr Yoshioka's dyeing is natural dyeing in the true sense. With a great deal of planning and innovation, he has recreated colors mentioned in the Engishiki, a book of legal code compiled during the Heian period, encountering various difficulties along the way. "Our dyeing methods haven't changed since the Momoyama (1573-1603) and Edo periods," he said cheerfully, proceeding to show us around his studio.

At the entranceway, a cloth dyed in a yellow-red hue shone wet with water. From the back wafted a scent like that of simmering Chinese herbs. The kariyasu grass was stewing the in large pot. This plant yields a gorgeous yellow color. Other plants were being boiled here as well: this was one mysterious kitchen!

At the end of our tour of the studio we witnessed safflower dyeing. A tub was full of safflowers. They were still yellow, but soon their yellow hue would be washed out, kneaded and squeezed with alkaline water extracted from the ash of straw. The result of this process is a deep, brilliant red.

Since we had become so accustomed to the strong smell of dyes and other chemicals, the atmosphere of Mr Yoshioka's studio was an incredibly pleasant experience for us. It has only been 150 years at most since chemical dyes were discovered, yet humans have been dyeing clothing with natural dyes for thousands of years. Though this is an established historical fact, I was still slightly taken aback by it. Garments from around the world have been dyed beautifully in bright colors using the same low-profile techniques used here at Mr Yoshioka's studio. Today when we think about plant-based dyeing we tend to think of a limited number of dark colors, but it should be mentioned that the true value of natural does lies in the fact that they create bright, clear hues.

Mr Yoshioka's fabrics have a transparent look, and a profundity that pulls the viewer in. Why is this? I wonder if it was because the life of the plants is transferred to the fabrics such as cotton and linen in the dyeing process. The same is true of silk, which is a product of the life of the silkworm. It strikes me that the tones are so alive because they are infused with the life of the natural world.

After dropping in on Mr Yoshioka I had the opportunity to visit India. There I met a local artisan who showed me a golden-colored cloth that had been dyed with the marigold flower. I was so astounded by its beauty that I examined "How spiritual"! Like Mr Yoshioka's colors, it was a hue that goes straight to the heart just by looking at it.


Though our journey into color has just begin, to conclude my essay I would like to offer a fun anecdote from Mr Yoshioka. I confronted him with an abstract question: "What is the color of Japan?" It was a question that could only be asked of Mr Yoshioka, a man who had decades of experience pursuing Japanese colors. The response was truly an exciting one.

His answer: "There is no particular Japanese color. Dyeing methods were brought to Japan during the Nara period (710-84) via the Silk Road, so the colors are virtually the same as those found in China and Korea. Dyes such as suo (a red color) and choji (a brown tone) were being imported as of the Nara period. Dyeing techniques had already globalized from a time in history before the nations of the world had even solidified as countries."

Still, even as they used materials and techniques common to East Asia, our ancestors carefully observed Japan's unique natural environment in creating a variety of rich and subtle color schemes. In addition, through the medium of classical literature, the tradition of dyeing has reached a new level of art that transcends time. The aesthetic of what we know as "typically Japanese color" developed in this way.

We found ourselves agreeing with Mr Yoshioka - who maintains a wholly global, unbiased view while pursuing the most ancient of technologies - on a most basic level. If only we take the time to look at it closely, color has much more to tell us.

Text by matohu

[Faust]

Thank you, Avantster! This is so lovely - I like the lightness of this collection.

[Johnny]

Avanster thanks. Really beautiful stuff here. I love the easy shapes, colours are vivid and light as Faust says, and the fabrics looks great too. There seems to be a different colour in every outfit but somehow the whole thing hangs together; quite a difficult thing to achieve.

[whitney]

thanks for sharing Avantster! I love the colour combos done..the multi color block top and pink plaid leggings..

[Faust]

Avanster thanks. Really beautiful stuff here. I love the easy shapes, colours are vivid and light as Faust says, and the fabrics looks great too. There seems to be a different colour in every outfit but somehow the whole thing hangs together; quite a difficult thing to achieve.

I was thinking that Dries couldn't do better than this.

[Avantster]

Welcome, all. I was pleased to see that they've continued to explore the distinctly Japanese (but not limited to strict traditional color rules) layered color combinations that were very successful last season.

[Mail-Moth]

Splendid. Not only because of the palette, but because of the silhouettes too - nothing overdone ; calm, nonchalant ones.

And it must be the first time that I like pink so much in a collection.

This one is probably my favourite :



Or this one, because of the stripes of green and blue at the bottom of the dress.

[snafu]

moth i really liked the second look, a nice collection
a reshing taking on layering; more simple and clean, purposeful and not silly.

[Mail-Moth]

Just read the article ; thanks for that too, Avantster !

The more I look at those pictures the more I love this collection. This is incredibly subtle. I won't repost all the looks I like, but there are more than some.

[interest1]

I was thinking that Dries couldn't do better than this.

mmm, actually, he could. perhaps it's just that he hasn't for the past few seasons..

that said, I do think this collection is beautiful. the magic is always in the mix.. be it color, fabric, silhouette – or all of the above.
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