Stories Woven in Color

Chapter 1: "Dyeing is How Plants Hug Me Back"

A Conversation Rooted in Earth

Q: When did you realize dyeing was your language?
"It found me slowly. At first, I only saw technique—how to extract color, the chemistry of it. But one autumn, I was boiling persimmon skins, and the steam smelled like my grandmother’s kitchen. That’s when I understood: these plants weren’t just materials. They were keepers of stories."

She pauses, fingers tracing the edge of a cloth dyed with cherry bark. "Now, I know—if you sit quietly enough with mugwort or day flowers, they’ll tell you how they want to be seen. Some days they give bold yellows; other times, just a shy blush. Like people."

Q: You mention ‘mistakes’ often. Why?
"Oh! Last week, I forgot a bundle of cloth in the dye bath overnight. The color was all wrong—too dark. But when I unfolded it at dawn, the uneven patches looked like shadows under maple trees. My favorite pieces always begin as accidents."

Chapter 2: The Ritual No One Sees

From Seed to Cloth

Q: Your creative process is often compared to growing plants. Can you explain this connection?
A: "My work begins by gently listening to the silent conversation with plants. The process is like growing a plant - I place a small seed I found by chance in my palm, water it with love every day, and let it grow little by little. When it sprouts, I watch over it gently, letting it grow with the wind and light, carefully nurturing it until the day it blooms."

"In daily life, when I suddenly come across something interesting or notice something small that strikes me, I feel that's like a seed. I nurture that seed, observing and thinking deeply about it, as if watering it carefully. As I spend time with it, eventually the seed blooms into a work of my own."

Chapter 3: Skin as Fabric, Fabric as Skin

Where Kampo Meets Cloth

Q: You mention connections to skincare and Kampo philosophy - could you elaborate?
A: "The act of dyeing always gently awakens all of my senses. I touch the softness of water, feel the quiet heat of fire, breathe in subtle scents, and sense the air and temperature through my skin. It becomes a quiet, intimate dialogue - between my hands and my heart - that unfolds slowly over time."

"There is a fleeting, almost sacred moment when color appears on fabric. To recognize that moment, I must tune myself to the whispers of nature, the shifting seasons, the warmth in the breeze. It's not something that reveals itself right away. But by returning to it again and again, my senses begin to listen more deeply."

"In that way, perhaps it feels deeply connected to the philosophy of skincare and Kampo - gently turning toward your own skin and heart, nurturing them in your own rhythm, with tenderness and trust."

Chapter 4: The Poetry of Ordinary Things

What Fuels Chieko Fujii

Q: How does your daily life influence your work?
A: "For me, care and balance are among the most important things in my daily life. That's because the heart and hands are deeply connected, and whatever state my heart is in, it shows itself clearly in my dyeing - as if reflected in a mirror."

"I also find deep support in the smallest rituals of everyday life - talking with someone I love, spending time with family, enjoying a good meal, taking a bath. Each one, though ordinary, helps me stay in balance and feel whole."

Q: What inspires you most in your creative work?
A: "What inspires me most is the beauty of things just as they are. Whether it's a person, a plant, or an object, I am deeply moved by the natural, unadorned presence that simply exists. There is a beauty that lives precisely in what is not perfect."

"One of the most important things I've learned from working with plants is that you can't rush them to share their color. They won't open their hearts right away. To see their true colors, you must spend quiet, honest time with them - gently building trust through stillness and care. It's very much like our relationships with people."

Chapter 5: A Love Letter to Slowness

Closing Thoughts

Q: How do you hope your work impacts others?
A: "I feel like something is slowly changing. The scenery I see, the way I feel the light, and the direction my heart is directed are all slightly different from before. I'm pondering, 'How can my work be of use to people in the future to make them happy?'"

"I believe that textiles have a small magic that can soften the atmosphere of a place. A moment when you notice beauty, a time when you feel peace of mind - I hope that my work can create such gentle encounters. I can't put it into words well, but I hope that my textiles can create warm connections between people."

"When we place our hands on our own skin with care and tenderness, it's not just our body, but our heart, too, that receives a quiet kind of healing." - Chiaki Fujii