Two-legged Spider
Four of my eight appendages have been removed,
I sew with two hands,
fabric replacing my silk,
I wear a dress suitable for two arms, two legs,
shamisen my voice.
PHOTO: Some of my happiness today — vintage hanhaba obi tied over my clothing during shamisen practice. I often wonder about the people who had worn it before I did.
Practice tying chocho musubi with my hanhaba obi minus the obita and kimono.
Teacher told us the bow is something you can tie if you had limited time, but at this point I’m thinking the otaiko is much easier.
PHOTOS: Some finds: Golden Orb Weaver egg sac and a Tussock moth!
SONG: My favourite song —
when the shamisen slides during the first lines of Kurokami ('Black Hair') — I always imagine her letting down her jet-black hair .
IMAGE: Notation
After dance classes, a classmate and I bumped into each other in the changing rooms. I asked how her guzheng recital fared over the weekend. During the conversation, the topic shifted to why she chose to play this particular instrument. Her reply was, “I simply love (traditional) music.”
I had pondered over learning the koto before; however, like the guzheng (and all zithers), it is a right-handed instrument. So, I chose the shamisen instead, thinking the strings could be flipped around. Nope — in my first lesson, and without any sort of proper introduction to the shamisen, Teacher sat me down and made me hold the instrument the conventional way. As for the genre, I had no say from the beginning, as Teacher specialised in Jiuta.
Jiuta tends to strike sparser, deeply... it suits me.
On days when the scar on my neck is painful or makes it difficult to talk, I sometimes reach for my shamisen as it speaks for me.
PHOTO: Over the weekend, I repurposed some old fabric to make handkerchiefs to roll and place under the bow of my hanhaba obi, and I also made obiage out of old scarves and a torn bedsheet. I'm really excited to see how they drape and tie when I wear them with my kimono.
Above is an obiage I made using the old, plaid bedsheet.
I have seen plaid-style kimonos—and kimonos that feature plaid accessories—and I have always thought the look was very cute.
I knew going into this that the scarf would not drape as well as silk. The fabric was thick, even more so when folded into thirds! I was not able to tie it the way I normally do with my silk pieces.
Teacher had told me that the obiage are also used for decorative purposes, so I hope that (without crossing too many boundaries in kitsuke) I can be a little playful when it comes to making this work with the kimono.
And here we go…
PHOTOS: This little one was squirming on its side when I found it. I nudged it onto my hand, where it sat for a while before flying towards the cherry blossoms. Afterward, I taught Byung-ho the English word for 나비, nabi (butterfly), and I went looking for more butterflies and moths.
Recently, Yasuko and I were talking about tsumugi, a traditional type of rough-surfaced silk used for kimonos.
She was telling me how the colour of the fabric might change depending on the location and soil of the land—so interesting! (The topic eventually wended towards climate change and how the eventualities will affect the production of tsumugi. We stopped as it started to disturb us.)
In class, Teacher showed us a sample of ushikubi tsumugi where only tamamayu (double silkworm cocoons) were used to make the fabric. For the first time, I held a twin cocoon in my palm. It stirred me. I’ve raised silkworms as pets (I still remember their smell of fresh leaves), but now I have a biting urge to rear them again to observe the cocoons.
PHOTO: The outcome of this practice felt like one of my worst, however, the process of dressing was much easier than any other I’ve done so far.
There were so many things I was unhappy with, especially the otaiko. I’m at a point where I want to wear an obi with a repeat pattern. The process reminds me of the frustration of dressing in my striped kimono, where I had to align the lines on the ohashori with the skirt.
For body correction, I experimented with using one towel instead of two for my bust, thinking perhaps I would end up looking less bulky. However, the layers became difficult to manage (shifting and slipping) due to my curves. I will go back to two towels until I can find something more flattening.
PHOTOS: Snow peas starting to look unruly...
I didn’t plan to grow potatoes. However things sprout especially when you compost. I usually let the plant bloom for the flowers. The soil wasn’t adequate and also rather compact, so most of the spuds clustered on the surface, some look green too...Maybe next year I’ll consider growing them seriously...
PHOTOS: For Spring;
practicing tying chocho musubi (butterfly bow) with hanhaba obi, wearing my recycled komon kimono; wearing pale yellow to not compete with the blossoms on our peach tree as I walk through the garden.
The clip at the back holds onto my collar as I’m working through putting on the kimono. This time I managed place the floral pattern of my obi at the centre (which is rather formal). I’m still working on adjusting the te, and while pattern placements still feel like drawing a wildcard sometimes, I do have a basic idea of how it’ll end up.
I’ve tied my obijme in a double-knot style this time, bascially the same as the single but looped around twice.
The whole process takes roughly up to thirty minutes; the preparation, folds, alignments and adjustments, every layer underneath, every seam on the kimono has a reason; and this is why I love kitsuke. Dressing is a mindful consideration, like a ritual.
PHOTOS: Stretch spider on my potted dandelions
Winter ends with a warmth; the tepid scent of peach blossoms rises toward the waning moon.
I revise my kitsuke notes and chat with Yasuko about kimono and the neatness of her otaiko.
She had recommended some more styles of tying the obi: ginza-musubi /tsunodashi.
PHOTO: I wore my hanbok over the weekend. The 노리개, norigae, belongs to mum.
I forgot some of the steps, and ended securing the chima in the way you would secure a datejime or an objime on a kimono. I’ve revised the hanbok, but honestly feel like I’m probably not tying some things right...
PHOTOS: One-half of a pill bug moult.
This is very precious to me. I felt so lucky that it wasn’t eaten when I found it.
PHOTOS: Things I enjoyed today —
a small grass moth,
a jumping spider on a spinach leaf,
picking the first crop of snow peas,
gai lan blooms,
dressing in a kimono.
PHOTO: Oh...what a mess!
I’m the absolute worst when it comes to smoothing out the wrinkles on my back. Teacher has to constantly remind me before I put on my obi. This is my recycled komon kimono that I wear around the home. I’ve promised to dress myself in kimono on most days for practice.
PS. I was able to adjust the te enough so I don’t fold the flower embroidery when I make my otaiko!
PHOTOS: Daffodils, jonquils.
Regularly moving my potted plants to sit in the sunbeams during the day.
PHOTO: Kitsuke exam day... Well. The pattern is bascially non-existent on my otaiko.
Midnight. I hear a rip.
At the corner of my obi where it folds into a triangle.
I stand holding the sides of the tare in a daze; I had pulled the fabric in an attempt to create the top line of the otaiko. Then came the teacher’s voice, her words looping over and over, “You need to be gentle”.
Surely, I wasn’t the first to have done something like this?
The following morning I sat down, and carefully mended with black thread. Each stitch wrapped the unbound edge meticulously, one by one with the greatest care.
PHOTOS: I have fixed my obi! Now to open up the seams on my nagajuban...