Loving Indigo Blue from Oaxaca and Japan

I’m smitten with indigo. I first fell in love with it years ago in Oaxaca, Mexico, where I discovered it is grown along the tropical, humid southern coast of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. The type of indigo grown in Oaxaca is a different strain. The botanical name for the Oaxaca indigo plant is Indigofera suffruticosa, also known as Añil. This species is native to the tropical and subtropical regions of the Americas, including southern Mexico. It is different from that grown in Asia or Africa, and yields a different intensity of blue. To go deeper into Oaxaca indigo, please read this piece I published in 2012.

Japanese Indigo, Persicaria tinctoria or Polygonum tinctoria (also known as Tadeai) is a frost-tender member of the knotweed family. Originally thought to be introduced from India and China via the silk trade, it likes to grow in warm, moist climates, often as a waterside plant. This plant thrives in the more temperate climate of Japan.

It was only natural that on this second trip to Japan (my first was in 2019), I would again pursue indigo. I took an indigo dye workshop and sought out a sashiko embroiderer who dyes her threads with indigo and stitches on naturally dyed indigo cloth. I should call this Japanese heaven. I was in my element!

Known in Japan as ‘aizome’, indigo dye is so integrated into Japanese society that this deepest, entrancing shade is often referred to as “Japan blue.” Evidence suggests that indigo production began in Japan as early as the 6th and 7th centuries. Because it was so difficult to produce, indigo was reserved for the wealthiest and most important members of society, particularly aristocrats and royalty. It was discovered, too, that Japanese indigo dyed fabric has many medicinal properties; its insect repelling and anti-bacterial qualities made it a popular choice for Samurai soldiers charging out into bloody battles.

Historically, it was also used to color workers’ garments and textiles for daily use. The traditional methods of fermentation and oxidization are used to achieve the various shades of blue. Color intensity is also controlled by the number of dips a yarn or textile is submerged into the dye pot. The indigo in Japan can yield a much stronger blue on plant fibers such as cotton or linen, than in Oaxaca. Yet, the color of Oaxaca indigo on wool is spectacular.

In Oaxaca, indigo dyeing has a long history, dating back to pre-Hispanic times. Indigenous Oaxaca Zapotec and Mixtec weavers used this amazing blue for traditional ceremonial textiles as well as for clothing worn by royalty. The dyeing process is deeply tied to local crafts and cultural heritage here, too.

When Annie and I returned to Tokyo for a week after visiting Kyoto and Takayama, we took an indigo dye workshop in a neighborhood on the city’s outskirts. It took us about a half-hour train ride to get there. We took the workshop organized by Aikuma Japanese Dyes–Japanese Dyeing Workshops. The owner is Yuta Yasuda, and his family has owned the company that supplies dyers since the late 1800’s. Yuta speaks excellent English and arranged for his colleage, dye master Morito, to lead the workshop. Yuta translated, but it was easy to pick up the techniques just by watching.

We used a rice paste resist and stencils made with Japanese washi paper. To make the rice paste Morito used three parts of rice bran to two parts of rice flour. Rice bran is a by-product of sake production, so nothing is wasted! The labor to harvest rice and indigo crops immigrate from Vietnam, Kurdistan, Turkey and China. Farms need lower cost labor, just as we do in the United State of America.

Take an indigo dye workshop with us in Oaxaca when you visit!

A Culture of Kindness in Japan

Some of you may know that I have a creative writing site on Substack called Digging Deep, Then Deeper: Something to Say. Today, I published an essay about my take on Japanese culture based on my observations of acts of kindness, cleanliness, and respect. Rather than repost it in its entirety, you can read it at this link: A Culture of Kindness.

And, if you haven’t already subscribed to read my essays past and future, you can do this at the end of the essay with the buttons.

Thanks so much for reading and commenting. All my best, Norma

And, we are taking a list of people interested in going with us to Japan for a culture and textile tour in October 2025. If you would like to add your name to be notified when we have more information, please send me an email. Thank you very much.

Wabi-Sabi. Making Beauty from Broken Pottery

Annie, my friend from Taos and traveling companion, spent the afternoon in a kintsugi workshop in the Aoyama neighborhood of Tokyo.
Kintsugi is the process of mending broken pottery and lining the cracks with a combination of a special glue and filling them with 24k gold powder.

Wabi-Sabi is the philosophy of making something whole from imperfection. Imperfection is honored here. It recognizes that nothing in life is perfect. things can be repaired and made whole again is a practice that applies to everything in life, including all things in life — people, nature.

“Kintsugi is a traditional Japanese technique of repairing broken ceramics with gold or silver. This method embodies the aesthetic of wabi-sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection and the natural aging process. The beauty of imperfection is not about hiding flaws such as cracks or chips; instead, it is about emphasizing them through kintsugi, creating a new kind of beauty. On the other hand, the beauty of aging means finding new value in things that naturally change over time, gaining unique textures and charms as they age or wear. Kintsugi realizes these concepts, breathing new life into broken objects and creating a new kind of beauty. On the other hand, the beauty of aging means finding new value in things that naturally change over time, gaining unique textures and charms as they age or wear. Kintsugi realizes these concepts, breathing new life into broken objects and creating a distinctive form of beauty.”

The lacquer used in Kintsugi is a sap collected from the lacquer tree, which is purified to remove impurities. The types of lacquer commonly used include raw lacquer (kurushi), clear lacquer (sukiurushi), wheat lacquer (mugiurushi), rust lacquer (sabiurushi), engraved lacquer (kokusourushi), black lacquer (kuroroiurushi), and picture lacquer (eiurushi).

Lacquer rash is an allergic reaction caused by a component in lacquer called urushiol, which can cause symptoms such as redness, eczema, swelling, and itching. In severe cases, it can even cause difficulty breathing, so caution is needed when handling it. However, products coated with fully dried lacquer typically do not cause rashes, and lacquerware craftsmen often develop immunity to lacquer, making them less prone to rashes.

The drying time for lacquer depends greatly on humidity and temperature. Generally, a humidity of 70% to 85% and a temperature of 20* C to 30° C are required for drying lacquer, and craftsmen use a controlled environment called a “lacquer bath” for this process. The drying time varies depending on the type of lacquer used, the season, and the conditions of the lacquer bath, usually taking half a day to a day.

Our finished pieces were carefully put into a container. We were told to keep it there for two weeks, then carefully remove them to let them air cure for another two weeks —a month total.

It was an amazing experience. If you are interested in coming with us to Japan in October 2025, please send me an email. I can’t guarantee we will do this workshop. Perhaps it is something you could do on your own before or after the tour.

Katazome Stencil Dyeing in Tokyo

We spent the day with our guide Kit who has been living in Tokyo for over forty years. She met her Japanese husband in London where he was a student and she was a resident advisor for Brown University study abroad. Kit has. PhD in English literature and is fluent in Japanese of course. It was an amazing adventure. Our day started at a katazome workshop and ended with shaved ice —. nothing I’ve ever tasted before! An amazing treat to end our day together. I was so full I couldn’t eat dinner.

Stencil dyeing in Japan is called katazome (型染め). In this technique, a stencil (usually made from paper) is used to apply a resist paste, typically made from rice flour, onto fabric. The resist blocks dye from penetrating certain areas, creating intricate patterns when the fabric is dyed. After dyeing, the resist is washed away to reveal the design. Katazome is commonly used for kimono fabrics and other traditional textiles.

The workshop master makes intricately dyed cloth that is sewn into kimono that can cost $70,000 USD. These are handed down generation to generation. We had a hands-on experience dyeing a tote bag. I chose white. Annie chose gold.

We will likely have a similar experience on our October Japan tour in 2025. Send me an email if you want to get on the interested list.

The cloth is “cooked” in a sawdust steam bath to set the design permanently. We got there just in time to see the dye master bring it out of the steamer. It will then be rinsed in an indoor “stream” of water to reveal the pattern.

Japan is an aesthetic experience. There is detail and be attention to everything here, from food to clothing to handcrafts. It is a place of extraordinary beauty. And they practice the art of wabi-sabi — there is beauty in simplicity and imperfection.

I’m eating a fig and red wine shaved ice treat.

Sashiko in Takayama

I spent the morning with Keiko-San at her home gallery twenty steps away from the Red Bridge. There is a green bridge, white bridge, and red bridge here. Landmarks to navigate location. Japanese are very organized and clean. Hisa, a local translator, met me at the red bridge along with Keiko-San to take me to her house. As we entered i was asked to take off my shoes before climbing the steep stairs to where she lives.

Keiko-San is a master Sashiko embroiderer. She does not have a shop. One must know about her and arrange a meeting through her son who lives in the US. I was grateful to have Hisa with me to make the communication easier.

Upon arriving upstairs, I was surrounded by this Japanese artwork of making little embroidery stitches on hand dyed indigo cloth. I was there for two hours. We even worked together to make two beautiful berets a bit smaller to fit. Fun is not enough to describe the experience.

Of course I bought something and if I never bought another piece of clothing in my life, this would be enough. My friend Svetlana Suggested I visit Keiko and also referred me to Hisa. Going into an artisan’s home is what I treasure most. I hope to return someday. Perhaps in 2025!

if you want to go to Japan with us in late 2025, please send me an email to get on the interested list.