White silk thread that is yet to be dyed is beautiful as it is.
Silk thread is reeled from a cocoon that is spun for wrapping itself in the process of a silkworm becoming a pupa.
The cocoons are boiled in a pot. As if rewinding the process of the silkworm spinning the cocoon, the fibre is reeled off from the end of the thread into the air and becomes a thread rapidly just like a string of light.
Then, after the cocoons in a shape of a straw rice-bag are gone, you will see the silkworms in pupa float in the hot water.
Every time I remember that scene, it wrings my heart.
When I touch the white silk thread that forces me to feel life, I become afraid that I might defile it with my own hands.
But if I can keep the life of plants in the form of colours, I also think that I would feel happy more than anything.
Every time I try to dye, I face it with respect.
The white silk thread with such power is the colour for me to go back to the starting point.
From my late 30s to 40s, there were many changes in my circumstances along with my mind.
I hope to write about those changes of my mind in this blog in the future or to reflect them on my work.
The things that have changed include my remarriage and giving birth, took a rest from working for a few years to take care of my child, resumed my work using my current surname “Mayuko FUJII”, and moved to the foot of Yatsugatake from Kamakura where it had been my base for a long time.
But there are things that haven’t changed, such as the tension I feel when touching the white silk threads like I wrote at the beginning, my body and mind become balanced when weaving, and the joy to see people wearing my work.
There are things that will and will not change in the future.
I will continue to walk my path scrupulously by embracing them both.