I've always been deeply interested in colour and chose it intuitively from a young age. At university, that intuition became more layered. I began studying brightness, saturation, how light affects colour, how materials shift perception, and how combinations can create optical illusions.

Over time, I've searched for what feels like "my" colour language. I also collect colours in daily life, shades I notice and feel drawn to. Living with colour, observing it, and translating it into thread has become a quiet but constant practice.

It often comes from very ordinary places. A flower I see while walking. A road sign. I love going to home improvement stores and supermarkets.

I think I'm drawn to the contrast between organic forms and inorganic shapes, something soft against something structured. That tension often serves as the starting point for a piece.

I first touched a loom when I entered university as a textile major. Machines often felt intimidating to me. But with a loom, I could understand every step with my hands. I knew why I was doing each process. That clarity made it feel right for me.

At first, I struggled just to weave straight lines. But over time, repetition made the movements natural. During my university studies, I studied weaving, dyeing, knitting, and many other textile techniques.

For my graduation work, I chose weaving. By then, I understood the loom well enough to ask: What do I want to express through this structure? That was the moment it became language, when I no longer just followed the technique, but began shaping it according to my own intention.

The tapestry technique I use historically communicated religion and war to people who couldn't read. That idea of weaving as communication is something I'm very conscious of.

I have always felt a certain difficulty with verbal communication. Weaving allows me to express that complexity and connect with viewers in another way. It has become the axis of my practice: weaving as dialogue.

I lean more toward creating something new. Of course, knowledge and technique are essential foundations. But I believe there is meaning in the fact that I am weaving now, in this era.

Traditionally, wool and cotton were standard materials. Today, there are many types of yarn available depending on function. By using contemporary materials to express the landscapes and emotions of everyday life, I hope to create something new within the structure of tradition.

Before entering this field, I never thought much about craft or tradition. But by seeing, touching, thinking, and making with my own hands, I came to understand how extraordinary it is. Because I stand somewhere between those who know craft deeply and those who don't know it yet, I sometimes feel I can connect those two worlds.

Digital progress is wonderful. We can do almost anything instantly. But making something by hand allows me to feel most like myself.

Tapestry weaving, in particular, reveals the individuality of the maker more than many other weaving techniques. It takes time. It requires patience. In a world where time feels scarce, choosing such a slow process is both joyful and detoxifying. I believe that is why it can reach people's hearts.

I hope simply that a few more people will come to know weaving, or feel curious about it.

When I was very young, I lived in Italy due to my father's work. For me, Tokyo once felt like a place of longing.

Perhaps that early experience, being between cultures, shaped my colour sense and what people sometimes describe as a subtle "Japaneseness" in my work. I'm not entirely sure, but I think that in-between feeling may still live in the threads.

Follow Araki Kei on Instagram →