My interest in Japanese and Korean paper began with my interest in Japanese woodblock printmaking (Mokuhanga), for which it is exceptionally well suited. Mokuhanga also gave me a glimpse into the world of Japanese tools, processes, and aesthetic theory. Together these subjects have charted a rich technical and material exploration, extending impulses and elaborating upon nascent themes in my work.
Japanese hand papermaking relies on the almost magical synergies existing between minimally processed raw materials found growing in close proximity. Combining them to produce such a strong and versatile array of finished products (from paper as we know it to clothing and building material) speaks to a quality of attention, a sensitivity to material, season, and locality I find endlessly inspiring.
Nicholas Cladis teaches papermaking at the Iowa Center for the Book, with an emphasis on Japanese practices and materials. He’s spent over a decade in Japan and maintains an active personal and professional presence in the paper-making community of Etchizen in Fukui Prefecture. Nick is a wealth of well rounded information on the history and contemporary applications of Washi paper. This 11 day workshop tracked the transformation of unscraped mulberry bark into lustrous and refined sheets of finished paper. Nick emphasized that the actual sheet formation is just one step amidst perhaps twenty others all requiring attention and patience.
In brief, strips of dried bark from Kozo, Mitsumata, or Gampi trees are soaked overnight to become relaxed and pliable for stripping and cooking. Depending on the desired quality of the finished paper, layers of black and green bark are peeled back leaving only the white inner bast. Green bark can be left to give more body to the paper and black bark (Chiri) can be left in whatever degree to fleck and freckle the finished sheets. Assuming a clean white sheet is desired, the white bast is then added to a simmering bath of water and wood or soda ash to gently cook out extra non-cellulose components hindering sheet formation while still leaving intact beneficial hemicelluloses. Properly cooked fiber will separate easily when pulled both with and across grain. Overcooking robs the finished sheets of strength and luster while undercooking leaves tough fibrous inclusions. Cooking fiber requires intermittent turning to ensure an even cook and smells wonderfully nourishing.
Once cooked and cooled, the fiber is successively rinsed in cold clean water. Here again the degree of rinsing will impact the crispness and color of the finished sheets. Once rinsed the fiber is picked over to remove tough spots, scars, and specs of remaining black bark… this can be a tedious and lengthy process… we were told to bring our hottest gossip, another traditional practice.
Clean fiber is mounded on a hard surface and beaten with wooden mallets for anywhere from thirty minutes to hours; again every preparatory step is an impactful choice. When the fiber is beaten to the desired degree it is dispersed and strained through a fine mesh bag before being vigorously stirred into a vat of cold water. The consistency of the charged vat is then “fixed” with form aid (a thick mucilage derived from Tororo-aoi, Hibiscus root, and other sources depending on the locale). This viscous secretion holds the fibers in suspension within the vat and slows the drainage of pulp through the screen during sheet formation. A magical synergy without which this style of papermaking would not be possible.
Sheets are formed through successive dips of the Sugeta (two piece sheet forming tool equivalent to a western mold and deckle) into the vat and the rapid movement of material across the surface of the Su (woven bamboo screen) until the desired thickness is achieved. This style of sheet formation is called Nagashisuki derived from the verb to flow or run, translating to the “flowing papermaking method”. There is a lot of skill to internalize at this phase, especially if the goal is production and consistency. Finished sheets are gradually pressed and brushed up on drying boards in the sun. We also experimented with making thicker sheets in the “Tamesuki” (the collect and hold method akin to western papermaking) style.
It was deeply satisfying to inspect our stacks of finished paper and to pivot into surface treatments and alternative processes. We explored pigmentation, surface dye, traditional treatments for weatherproofing as well as using unbeaten bast fibers for casting forms.
On a personal level, I have never been more comfortable in a group studio setting than I’ve been in paper. The work is so communal, so laborious, with so many entry points, that it attracts a refreshingly interdisciplinary and intergenerational crowd. There was a lot of experimentation and multidirectional learning happening over these two weeks both within the group and between the other Penland studios, which was fruitful and inspiring… especially in retrospect now that I’ve slept. I’m looking forward to many future meetings and collaborations.