Making Washi

Japan has this split personality. You can be in the futuristic neon part of town and turn a corner to find a temple that’s been there for five hundred years, completely unconcerned with progress. Kyoto is especially good at this. You can walk from ultramodern to ancient in maybe ten minutes.

I took a class with Yuriko Rico Ogura on making washi paper. The actual process is simpler than the tradition around it suggests. Plant pulp in a basin of water. A wooden frame with mesh. You dip the frame in, pull it up so the fibers catch, the water drains, and you’ve got a wet sheet of paper. Press it. Dry it. Paper.

The whole thing requires attention - not because it’s complicated, but because the material is particular. Your hands get cold. The frame motion has to be right or the sheet tears or comes out uneven. You end up completely focused on this small, repetitive task. I think this is what people mean by mindfulness when they’re not just selling you tea.

What stuck with me was the moment the sheet came out of the water. Something you made. Not manufactured, not optimized, just made by your hands in one slow motion. You understand then why the tradition lasted this long. It’s not special because it’s ancient. It’s ancient because once you’ve done it, you get why it matters.