Master Papermaker Mr Imai, burying kozo fibre in a snowstorm…

What is it about snow that makes me smile? Perhaps it is the way it transforms a landscape, like changing the lenses of your glasses and suddenly things you didn’t notice before come sharply into view.

Maybe it rekindles a belief in magic, that nature can fill the sky with these tiny flakes that fall and fall and pile up until the ground is covered in white and what’s underneath is hidden from view. A snowy day beings its own pace, slowing everything down. Steps have to be more carefully taken. Clothes have to be extra warm. If it snows too much you can’t go anyway. It is its own phenomenon.

I arrived in Japan on Friday night, got into the train on Saturday and suddenly the landscape changed from sunny to cloudy to misty to snow on the trees then snow on the mountains. I really didn’t think there would be any snow for the snow bleaching paper workshop I had signed up for. There had been no snow in the area for a month, then suddenly the entire mountains in the north east of Japan was covered in this glorious white frosting.

Getting there was half the fun. The train skirted the coastline, then past the base of the mountains and suddenly I caught sight of that classic Mt Fuji postcard view. The tip of it covered with snow. I felt Japan had really turned on all its attractions just for me.

I remember the first time I arrived in Mansfield in Victoria to go for an interview for a new job as the branch librarian. I drove along the windy road, crested the hill and there before me was Mt Buller, tipped with snow. I had to take that job, just to be in it’s presence.

I felt that same thrill when I saw Mt Fuji. I have missed that sense of awe and wonder that I think I came to Japan to find again.

Up in the mountainous town of Oguni where the papermaking studio is, we went out in knee deep snow to bury the prepared and cooked Kozo fibre. It’s called snow bleaching. When the fibre is dug from the snow and beaten, it makes the most beautiful naturally bleached washi paper.

Of course I wanted to try my own experiment. I made a few sheets of washi paper which we dried on heated metal sheets. I then took a couple of them and buried them in the snow, just to see what they would look like when I dug them up. I tried this in Iceland many years ago with very disastrous results. Firstly I forgot where I had buried them and put the spade through the sheets digging around trying to find them the next day after a heavy snowfall.

This time it is a bit more organised. Four sticks have been placed around the corners of the buried paper to mark the exact location. I have no idea what I’ll do with them but I wanted to experiment to see if the washi paper would fall apart under these conditions.

Who knew snow bleaching was a “thing” in traditional papermaking practice. I’m keen to have some more fun in the snow for the rest of the workshop. Then I’ll be on my way west to the temples of Kyoto and the hot spring baths. I can see my bag will quickly fill up with paper and maybe even some indigo dyed fabric. More adventures to follow…

This sheet fell apart before it dried so I sandwiched it between two perfect sheets and buried them all in the snow