After lunch, we took taxis to the Sashiko Lab (Higashiyama ward) for a workshop on this tradition style of embroidery used for the decorative and or functional reinforcement of cloth and clothing. It is often seen as white thread patterns on indigo dyed cloth.
Upon arriving, we were greeted by Kazue, who runs the lab out of her home studio. We learn that sashiko literally means "little stabs." Kazue also shares that she started teaching sashiko while living in Dunedin, New Zealand for two years with her husband and two young children. Since moving back to Japan, in 2019, she began teaching sashiko to tourists, and offering private art and craft tours. By February 2020, as a result of the Covid pandemic, all of her bookings were cancelled. |
Creative and adaptive, Kazue spent the next three months developing online sashiko workshops and store where one can purchase patterns, vintage Japanese fabric, kits and supplies. I was especially looking forward to this workshop as it had been decades since I did needlework. As an undergraduate art student — back in the early 70s — my artwork involved printing photographic imagery on fabric, usually old white cotton sheets, and then adding extensive embroidery. I would sit for hours working on pieces that took upwards of a month or more to create ... not the fastest process when preparing for a thesis exhibition. I discovered sashiko, unlike my early stitchery, is a much slower and more mindful practice — the size and uniformity of the stitches, and in our case following a traditional pattern. |
Much to my surprise the taxi to dinner tonight dropped us off at Kyoto Station. Rather than walking into the train station, we headed instead into the Isetan department store, which is one of Kyoto's prominent shopping destinations. It has 11 floors with goods ranging from groceries / perishables / prepared foods to flower shops; from western-style clothing to Japanese kimonos; from a photo studio to kitchen goods ... and two floors of restaurants. There's even a shop devoted just to making and selling brownies!
Immediately exiting the taxi, I put my face mask on seeing the crowds of people entering the Isetan. Gypsy followed suit. Thankfully, Prairie knew the way to the bank of elevators where we crammed in with others to the 11th floor. Unlike our Japanese restaurants in the US, here restaurants cater to one speciality. For instance a sushi restaurant only serves sushi; no tempura, udon or sukiyaki.
Immediately exiting the taxi, I put my face mask on seeing the crowds of people entering the Isetan. Gypsy followed suit. Thankfully, Prairie knew the way to the bank of elevators where we crammed in with others to the 11th floor. Unlike our Japanese restaurants in the US, here restaurants cater to one speciality. For instance a sushi restaurant only serves sushi; no tempura, udon or sukiyaki.
Kaseiki is a traditional Japanese multi-course meal of sequenced light dishes that includes three essential elements — seasonal ingredients, simple seasoning and mindful presentation (appearance and colors of food). It is considered a type of art form. Dishes are carefully presented on plates chosen to enhance both the appearance and seasonal theme of the meal. Dishes are mindfully arranged and garnished, often with real leaves, flowers or are edible vegetables sculpted to resemble natural plants and animals.
Kyoto Wakuden is haute cuisine, each dish was exquisitely prepared with a harmonious balance of flavor, texture and visual presentation. It is also has lovely atmosphere with soft lighting and views over the city. My apologies for not photographing more of my delicious dinner ... I couldn't wait to eat each yummy delish dish!
Kyoto Wakuden is haute cuisine, each dish was exquisitely prepared with a harmonious balance of flavor, texture and visual presentation. It is also has lovely atmosphere with soft lighting and views over the city. My apologies for not photographing more of my delicious dinner ... I couldn't wait to eat each yummy delish dish!
After dinner, we took the elevator down to the first floor, walking between gorgeously arranged fresh produce and prepared food displays to an entrance to the subway station. Another adventure. Clean, well-lit and attractive trains that whisked us within blocks of our Hotel Rings.
I'm finding, again and again, that I ask myself questions that I've no reasonable answer ... For instance, tonight sparked the question: How is it that restaurants here in Japan are designed similarly to those in the US — large, open spaces without carpeting and curtains — and yet they're quiet so that it's easy to carry on conversations, whereas often it feels like we need to shout to be heard in restaurants at home?