Monthly Archives: March 2019

Train to Miyama, Indigo and Thatched Roofs

Posted on Thursday, March 28, 2019 | 8 comments

It was a pilgrimage to the Little Indigo Museum in Miyama Chokita, Nantan, Kyoto Prefecture. After two trains and a bus, after two hours of travel, we arrived in the thatched roof village that is a national historic site.

Scenic does not sufficiently describe what it is like to be in Miyama

Old boro jacket is part of the museum collection

Hiroyuki Shindo has been living here with his wife and family for 40 years. Born in Tokyo, art schooled in Kyoto, he wanted a more pastoral life to create an indigo workshop that would fulfill his passion for blue.

Mr. Shindo shows us his indigo shibori cotton scarf

Indigo dye vats heated to keep a consistent 90 degrees

It is hard to get good water in the city, he tells me. The pH of water is everything for creating the finest indigo dye. It is pure here, mountain water, and the color he gets equals the finest in Japan.

Traditional thatched roof farm house, once prevalent throughout Japan, now a relic

There is plenty of ash, too, from the wood fires used for heat and cooking. Ash is added to make the dye pot alkaline. The plants come from Kobe Prefecture, sukimono composted leaves.

Skeins of silk and hemp, dyed with indigo

The Little Indigo Museum is an attraction in this tourist town where big buses bring travelers looking for a quaint view of Old Japan. We were there for the indigo rather than the atmosphere. However, it was a wonderful surprise to spend a couple of hours in the village to explore the gardens, the nearby river and join locals in a delicious soba noodle lunch at the diner.

The museum is filled with Mr. Hiroyuki Shindo’s personal collection. It is housed upstairs under the steep thatched roof, supported by bamboo. Each bamboo support beam is lashed for strength. Shibori and hand-stamped indigo on silk, cotton and hemp are displayed, along with related artifacts.

A thousand knots are tied before the silk is submerged into the indigo vat.

Mr. Shindo’s son works with him. The cotton cloth, above, is prepared with a paste resist that will repel the dye when the cloth is submerged into the indigo dye vat.

It’s colder up here than in Kyoto. The cherry blossoms were yet to bud, but there was still plenty in bloom for early spring in Japan — late March 2019.

Vintage cloth stamped with indigo designs of fish and butterflies

Our country lunch of soba noodles with shrimp tempura

The tranquility of water, gurgling, sounds of osprey calls from the forest

Indigo kimono, part of the museum collection

What does this have to do with Mexico, you might ask? Few places around the world grow indigo. Fewer families are cultivating the plant that makes this extraordinary blue dye. Some say there may only be ten families around the world keeping the tradition alive. Blue. The color of royals.

Yes, the strain of Japanese indigo is different than the one that grows on the coast of Oaxaca, Mexico. The preparation of the plant is different. Color intensity depends on many variables.

The family I live with works with indigo as part of their natural dye color palette. The artisan skill required to use indigo dye necessitates a knowledge of chemistry — folk chemistry — recipes learned and passed down. It is an imprecise art and science. An experimentation of sorts.

Felted indigo balls and ikebana, a meditation

What I see here is the same dedication to keeping the traditions and to innovate as well.

Back to the hubbub of Kyoto Station, a vast transportation network

How to Get There: Get to Kyoto Station. Using your JR Pass, take the JR-Sagano Line (leaving from either Track 32 or 33, check the schedule) to Sonobe. This is unreserved seating. This leg takes about 45 minutes.

At Sonobe, change trains to the JR train to Hiyoshi. It will be on the opposite track. Change time is between 2-4 minutes. Get off at Hiyoshi. Trip from Sonobe to Hiyoshi is about 10 minutes. Using the JR Pass, the trip from Kyoto to Hiyoshi is included in your pass cost.

Exit the station. Go to the front of the building and find the Red Cone marking the spot in the parking lot where the #4 Nantan City Bus will take you to Miyama. The cost is 600 yen and the trip takes another 40 minutes.

The Red Cone is your bus terminal. The driver will show you a photo of the thatched house village and ask if this is where you want to go. Just say, Hai.

The Little Indigo Museum is at the top of the hill from the bus stop. Appointments are recommended before visiting. Telephone: 0771-77-0746. Mr. Shindo speaks English.

As I mentioned above, most of the visitors come to see the thatched roof houses, designated as an Important Preservation District for a Group of Historic Buildings since 1993. Mr. Shindo has a selection of small indigo-dyed gift items produced for tourists. There are a few indigo-dyed shibori cotton scarves, placemats, coasters, etc. and no garments. The attraction for visiting is the scenic route, the adventure in getting there, the stunning setting of the village, and Mr. Shindo himself. Of course, the museum, though small, contains a beautiful selection of pieces he has collected over the years. Definitely worth a day trip if you are in Kyoto for more than four or five days!

Contemporary shibori piece by Mr. Shindo

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Posted in Oaxaca Mexico art and culture

Tagged Hiroyuki Shindo, how to get there, Japan, Kyoto, Little Indigo Museum, Miyama, Thatched roof village, travel

Four Words and Boro, Japanese Indigo Patchwork

Posted on Monday, March 25, 2019 | 16 comments

Writing from Kyoto, March 25, 2019. It’s been four days since I landed in Tokyo and I’ve managed to learn four words: konnichiwa (hello), sayonara (goodbye), arigato gozai mas (thank you very much), and oishi (delicious). I knew ai (indigo) before I arrived.

Mexico and Japan share a common language through indigo.

An indigo chrysanthemum, simple adornment

Everything here is delicious. Economy meals at corner restaurants where you order and pay in advance from a menu machine are delicious. In my view, as delicious as the priciest sushi set. The people are delicious, the kindest and most generously helpful of any I have met. The fashion is delicious. It is pure deliciousness to be under a cherry tree as buds begin to blossom pink. To say I’m in love with Japan is an understatement.

The asymmetry of patched cloth, worn to tatters and repaired

My sister Barbara and I have filled our days with what my friend Liz Bell calls flaneuring. The discovery is in the meandering, the randomness of what you will find without a plan. Like the pure ai (indigo) coat I found in an off-beat shop hanging on a rack among nondescript clothes, made in the style of a workingman’s jacket crafted from old recycled cloth in pristine condition, redesigned, repurposed. I didn’t buy it but it was a delight to wear, even if for the moment.

Like Mari Ishibashi, a 2013 graduate of Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC, who gave me her phone number and said if we need anything, to call her.

With intention, we made it a priority to visit the Amuse Museum in Asakusa, Tokyo, where an incredible textile exhibition of boro was on display until the end of March. Here, we could see and touch an extraordinary exhibition of vintage cloth, saved by folklorist Chuzaburo Tanaka. The textile is now recognized as a national Tangible Cultural Property. Indigo plays a central role in this story.

Long underwear, each one elaborately embroidered

Indigo is a reverential art form here, and nothing speaks more proudly of Japanese ingenuity, creativity and self-discipline than the utilitarian Boro patchwork from the coldest, northernmost region of Japan in Aomori Prefecture.

The layering of cloth over the generations

Boroboro means something tattered or repaired. In the layering of the cloth and the accompanying long stitches, called sashiko, used to hold the patches to the base fabric and hemp filling, the fabric takes on a quality of shimmering texture and beauty. It was not intended this way. Boro was born from poverty. It´s purpose was to make a quilted piece of clothing or bedcover from leftover material that would provide warmth in a frigid, inhospitable, harsh climate. Hemp was used because cotton could not be grown in cold areas. Threadbare areas of cloth were repeatedly patched over, reinforced, and reinforced again.

Blanket, hand spun, woven hemp, dyed with indigo, stuffed with hemp

Hard scrabble peasant farming classes made boro, mending the same garments over and over again with spare scraps. Scraps were saved like treasure. Collected, scarce. Hemp dyed with indigo was common. Garments were passed down from generation to generation. Working class people made do with dignity.

Portrait of a grandfather with granddaughter, Aomori Prefecture

Today, the story is different. Vintage pieces of boro are collectible, scarce and costly. Classes are taught around the world in boro patchwork and quilting techniques. Boro is adapted by fashion designers to embellish blue jeans. Boro has become romanticized, commodified as a fashion statement, taking on a life far from its humble roots.

Intricately embroidered apron, and long underwear

We might compare the indigenous cultures of Mexico with the native peoples of remote Japan, who struggle to survive and thrive in the face of poverty, lack of education and with little or no access to health care. In the face of adversity, they create extraordinary cloth. I have written about cultural tourism and how we seek to get closer to those who are the creators. We admire their creative outputs. We may even yearn for a simpler life for ourselves — more basic, more grounded, more meaningful. In our yearnings, do we create a false romantic vision that obscures the harsh realities.

A core aesthetic of Japanese life and values is called wabi-sabi. It is a worldview based on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. Some say that boro is one of the best examples of wabi-sabi —the cloth and the stitches reflect the beauty of natural wear and use. The cloth and the stitches change, become asymmetrical, born of simplicity, roughness and economy. Beauty is in the simplicity of all.

Padded, stitched and repaired cloth shoes

Wabi-sabi acknowledges three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.

Boro cloth is quirky, repaired, subtle, weathered, imperfect, rustic, spare, minimalist. The cloth is organic, changing, deconstructed and reconstructed. Like the people who made it, boro is resilient and enduring, a testimony to cultural continuity.

I am on a quest for ai. The imperfect piece of ai. I know I will find it.

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Posted in Oaxaca Mexico art and culture

Tagged boro, cloth, indigo, Japan, patchwork, quilting, wabi-sabi

Make a Gift in Patrick Murphy Ruiz’s Memory

Posted on Friday, March 22, 2019 | Comments Off

I’m writing you from Tokyo, Japan, because this is an important concern. After I wrote about Patrick’s death, many of you asked if you could make a gift to honor Patrick’s memory and help his family.

Please share this post so we can raise $5,000+ USD

So, I wrote to Patrick’s brother Robert, to ask. He suggested that Patrick’s daughter Maya and son Aaron would appreciate any and all help from friends. They had unexpected travel expenses to cover to come to Chiapas from Mexico City, where they both go to university.

A Tribute to Patrick Murphy Ruiz: In Memorium

Heartfelt thanks to so many of you who wrote tributes to Patrick’s memory in the comments section of that blog post. The family read every word you wrote and this keeps Patrick alive. He touched so many of us, left an everlasting impression. His life was a gift.

Patrick Murphy Ruiz, photo by Jonathan Tico G

Since Patrick didn’t have insurance, his other brother Juan David covered all the funeral expenses.

Now, there is tuition expense for both Maya and Aaron, that was covered in full by Patrick. With his death, Robert and Juan David have pledged to help however they can. But it won’t be easy. Robert tells me that it would be of extraordinary help to them if friends could make a donation of whatever size to supplement what they are able to provide.

I’m going to give you BBVA Bancomerbank account information to wire funds to Mexico for this purpose.

Cuenta BBVA Bancomer, Juan David Murphy Ruiz, Sucursal: 4439, No. 12627988087, Clabe Interbancario: 012180012627988087, Clave A.B.A. 021000021

You can also send a check with the USA to US Bank , 425 Walnut St., Cincinnati Ohio 45202

Payable to John David Murphy, with a note to deposit into Account Number 182376787350, Routing Number 075000022, or you can do a wire transfer.

Whatever you can give will be deeply appreciated by the family. However, please note that this gift is not tax-deductible.

Thank you from the family!

In gratitude, Norma

Patrick Murphy Ruiz, February 2019, with potter Esperanza, Amantenango del Valle

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Posted in Oaxaca Mexico art and culture

Tagged donation, family fund, gift, Memorial gift, Patrick Murphy Ruiz

In Memorium: Patrick Murphy Ruiz, Chiapas Humanist + Guide

Posted on Monday, March 18, 2019 | 64 comments

Patrick Murphy Ruiz has died. He was a young man, born in 1967, just a tad over age 50. Close in age to my son. A friend told me he had a heart attack celebrating with family on St. Patrick’s Day.

Patrick Murphy Ruiz was an extraordinary individual who I met eight years ago in San Cristobal de Las Casas when I brought a group and needed a cultural guide. I have worked with him each year since.

Patrick Murphy Ruiz, with Esperanza in Amantenango del Valle

I want to pay tribute to the man we just said goodbye to, literally, as our 2019 Chiapas tour ended on March 7. Our last day with Patrick was on Sunday, March 3. On March 5, Patrick had a surgery in Tuxtla Gutierrez to remove varicose veins. I checked in with him via WhatsApp on March 7 to see how he was doing post-operation.

Thank you, Norma. I’m doing fine. I’m recovering and resting.

It took 40 minutes for an ambulance to get to his house after his family made the call.

Patrick Murphy Ruiz with Maria Meza Giron, Tenejapa

What I want to talk about is Patrick Murphy Ruiz, the compassionate nephew of Bishop Samuel Ruiz, who continued the family commitment to defend and support the indigenous Maya people of Chiapas.

Patrick was a story-teller, a historian, a cultural and political interpreter, with deep knowledge about his country, Mexico and his state, Chiapas. He was so much more than a patient tour guide. He was sensitive to the nuances of life and the needs of others. He embraced people, was helpful and concerned. He was generous of self. Calm and empathetic, filled with energy and inquisitiveness. A source. A resource.

We learned so much from him. We learned the political nuances about the Zapatista movement. We understood the Maya Day of the Dead rituals and spiritual path. We gained a deeper respect for the mystical traditions in the San Juan Chamula church.

I can still feel him sitting next to me on a bench inside this church with no pews, the floor strewn with pine-needles, copal incense clouding the air with smoke and aroma. We are both deep in meditation at the moment. The quiet moments are to be cherished. I will always remember this.

I remember him standing tall under the tall Maya crosses at the Romerillo cemetery. He was like the ancient Cieba tree, strong, an anchor, in perfect symmetry. I hear him explaining the thousands of years of history here, the traditions of burial, the syncretism of the Maya and European cross, why the boards cover the graves and are moved aside to allow the spirits passage from the underworld to visit loved ones for a day. The layers of existence and co-existence and existential thought and respect. Patrick Murphy Ruiz could communicate it all.

Patrick explains Xibalba, the Maya concept of afterlife

I loved Patrick as much as I relied on him. Everyone in our groups felt the same way.

If you read this and knew Patrick, please take a moment to share your own memory in the comments section. Take a moment to say a prayer, light a candle, send Patrick’s spirit out into the world to populate his goodness. His life enriched ours.

64 Comments

Posted in Oaxaca Mexico art and culture

Tagged Patrick Murphy Ruiz, San Cristobal de Las Casa

North Carolina Interlude: Between Oaxaca and Japan

Posted on Friday, March 15, 2019 | 21 comments

In just a few short days, on Wednesday, March 20, with a fast turnaround, I leave NC for Tokyo, where I will meet my sister and we will travel together for almost three weeks. I’m taking time-out. This is Forewarning: I will be on vacation during this time and may or may not post regularly about my search for Japanese indigo and pottery (in tribute to our dad, who was a potter and ceramics teacher).

In fact, I’m not taking my computer and plan to travel lighter than usual.

In this moment, I’m experimenting by using an iPad with keyboard to publish this post. My hope is that I can find a moment or two to write about what I find with photos. No promises, though.

I want to be unemcumbered, or at least, less encumbered.

I´m promising myself that I will allow more breathing space between events next year. I recently read Brain Pickings by Maria Popova, who culls and comments about the philosophy of living with more intention. She talks about Marion Milner, a British psychoanalyst and writer who undertook a seven-year self-study to evaluate her own core of happiness, fulfillment and contentment.

This is a fascinating exercise. I believe to find meaning in life, we must continually reexamine our own values and our relationship in the world. Then, the challenge is to shift and make adjustments as necessary as we are more aware of self, needs and change.

Who we imagine ourselves to be and who we are through behavior is often at incongruous.

As I embark for Japan, a place of deep spiritual belief where one can find meaning in small, beautiful experiences and creative output, I hope to use this time to take a respite from the fast pace at which I’ve been living for the past several months. I hope to use this time to approach 2020 differently.

Museo Textile de Oaxaca, dyeing with indigo.

I made a promise to Oaxaca friends that I would have more time next year to enjoy their company, take art classes, be in the hammock on my rooftop terrace, and limit my travel that takes me away from Oaxaca city.

I made a promise to North Carolina friends to spend more than a few weeks at a time here, with longer intervals to actually connect and enjoy the life I have created here, too.

This is a written testimony to publicly share my intention to slow down the pace. It is a way to make a recommitment to core values as I gain in years (ie. Age!) and life choices become even more important. There is limited time to make up for lost time.