japan – tracey doxey

Creative expression

I’m sitting on the roof of our residency, watching sunrise over Fuji, and I finally figured out that it’s Saturday. Being on an artist residency for a month, in another place, city, country, is kind of not knowing what day it is. To be fully immersed in place and a practice of making whatever comes to mind, and experiencing and finding new things in a new city that you never knew existed removes dates on a calendar and even day names.

I think it’s day 12. I finally settled into this place with new people and new building. On a practical level I’m still knitting. I’ve been knitting my second sleeve using the colours that I brought with me and really enjoying how they both sleeves sit alongside each other.

We’ve all had an artist interview with the people who manage the residency here. The questions were quite interesting – Tell us about you, what can you bring to Fujiyoshida, what does the residency space mean for you and a couple more questions that I’ve forgotten. I think what I bring here is an enduring curiosity for a place and culture (not everyone sees that in me) and an ability to share my findings with many people on my website blog and on Instagram. Of course I share just my perspective but I have a pretty keen eye.

Yesterday I was picked up by a complete stranger that contacted me through Instagram. She is called Shannon. She and her sister Pat were visiting their brother Mike who lives quite close to Fujiyoshida. We went to the Itchiku Kubota Art Museum, which is a museum built in 1994 by Itchiku Kubota to house his permanent exhibition of his work. It was quite remarkable to see the Kimono in all of their glory showing his techniques. If you ever go, my favourites were numbers 19 and 20. The gardens and buildings also represent the world of Itchiku

Then we went to the very beautiful chair museum to the foot of Mt. Fuji, in the forest of Oishi in Fujikawaguchiko. My favourite thing was the initial scent of wood on entering the building and the glorious, viewing Veranda where from many strategically placed small glass Windows in the traditional paper Shoji sliding doors you could view Mount Fuji whilst sitting on extremely exquisite low wooden sofas and chairs.

The view is exquisite. The scent was heavenly and then I found out that the building had been completely dismantled from the Saitama Prefecture in Tokyo, piece by piece and brought her to the mountain side.

If you don’t take chances with new people you never encounter these new things, so thank you Shannon for getting in touch and thank you Mike for driving us everywhere yesterday.

On a basic level, I’m knitting and my knitting is always portable so I sit on the roof at sunrise and watch the sun drench Fuji with colours of red or white light. I take my knitting to cafés and down to the Onsen, Which I visit every day except Wednesdays when it’s closed.

Knitting brought me here. Knitting has taken me to Shetland and other far off places and enabled me to continue to learn and express my creative practice through storytelling.

Here are my sleeves.

I am still not sure whether I will add them to a fabric body or a knitted body but if you want to practice your own colour work and experimentation through pattern and colour – then have to go with these sleeves or the hat pattern because this easy to knit motif lends itself to real experimentation and colour work.

Oh yes, I remember that one of the questions in the artist interview was, ‘what does art mean to you?’ and I think it is entirely about creative expression and freed of thought and when they both come together – you get alchemy

If you’d like to try this motif in a hat or jumper or alternative sleeves, then the links are here.

And even buying a small pattern helps and independent disigner to keep creating – so thank you. https://www.ravelry.com/designers/tracey-doxey

Fujiyoshida

Tonight the moon is blue. It is a full, Super cold moon. Now, it is only 8 pm but utterly freezing outside.

Today, after very little sleep, I decided to walk to the base of Mount Fuji. The morning was cold but bright. To get to Fuji, there is first about a 3 miles to walk from town to the Kitaguchi Hongu Fuji Sengen Shrine, which is a huge complex of buildings – the first small shrine is said to date back to 100AD. It is now a magnificent World Heritage Centre and I can completely understand why. I do not know its history but as I walked up the main road out of town, that leads directly to this place, I recognised that from the 16th century to the 19th century, the path was once lined with inns, temples and shrines and places managed my Oshi (priests) on both sides. Some of these places are still here and also recognised as historical buildings but some are also abandoned or derelict or turned into some other use but the gates at the front remain. Each one had information about its history and on each reading, it became more obvious how special this place has been to generations. The closer I got to Fuji, I began to sense how many people came to pilgrimage, rest and pray here before walking the mountain.

When you finally reach the gateway to Kitaguchi Shrine, it is in a forest of Japanese pine trees which all must be 100 feet tall. The path way is lined by majestic stone lanterns covered in moss. Immediately you are plunged into shadow and coldness under the trees where the pilgrims would’ve originally come to bathe and drink water before setting off to climb out Fuji.

The largest trees are respected with rope and paper ribbons. Even though I do not know or fully understand what is going on here, there is no denying that it is and has always been epic – as epic as when I walked the Great Wall of China and turned around to see the wall meander for miles into the distance, as epic as the day I spent in the Forbidden City and sat and the Pavilion of Crimson snow. These experiences are never forgotten and maybe hold some of the essence of the pilgrims within it. This is not just a complex of spiritual buildings they are stories of lives, beliefs, and gods.

Great stones made into water troughs were covered in ice with little tiny fearn forests growing around the edges. When I looked at the rock, I thought, if stones could talk what stories they would tell of all those who have passed here since Fuji settled from erupting.

I walked around towards the base of the walk up to Fuji. The forest made it very cold and I decided to start the walk to the base until the black bear signs became progressively increased and I thought better off it because I was on my own so I turned back.

Back home, when Takumi, came round to sort the smoke detector in the residency, he said that I could buy a tiny bell from the souvenir shop and hang it off the back of my bag to deter the black bear. I don’t think that I can trust that idea so much.

I have decided I might do a project – after Hokusai’s 100 views of Mount Fuji. I’ve shown quite a few of my Fuji, snaps on Instagram but now I’ve decided to work towards 100 modern views of Fuji. So now, hopefully, I will hopefully concentrate more on the idea but just to keep you going as Fuji shows up every day.

Here are a few views of Fuji in the last three days.

I have been knitting my second tree and star sleeve. I bought two antique kimono from a flea market at Hanazono shrine when I was in Tokyo because I was going to make a cloth body for my Tree and Star sleeves – you know, just make a little jacket body either padded or appliqued or something but I’m not so sure now

Here are the sleeves. I’m knitting them in lots of colours to give you ideas of alternative colour ways, if you’d like to knit the Kaleidoscope jumper or the sleeves yourself instead of in the blues and pinks that I chose.

It’s a very special place here in Fujiyoshida and I’m glad I made my own pilgrimage to get here.

Here is the sleeve pattern on Ravelry, if you would like to knit them for your own project or add them to the Kaleidoscope Jumper instead of the tree sleeves that are in the original pattern – see image on the right above.

So much more has happened, I met my lovely friend, Yuka, who I have know from Uni and we went around the Tokyo toilets (my request) after the Film – Perfect Days. I had such a perfect day.

All ravelry patterns are here and if you would like to join me in an online colour workshop, nip to the link for workshops to find out more 🙂

Paper Rice Bowl

A beautiful Autumn morning – the sky was deep pink ahead of the sun rising. It is not cold but a nip touches my cheeks.

I am experimenting outside where the crows are crawing, with Japanese Kimono silk that I bought from the flea market in Kyoto on Christmas day 2023.

The kimono is of brown silk with plumb blossom flowers, lined in scarlet silk with cranes and chrysanthemum in the weave.

It is 7:45am. A man, over the road, is sweeping leaves from around his house with a yard brush. The sound of brushing takes me back to when I lived in China and all I could hear every early morning, was the sound of sturdy bristles sweeping – sweeping rubbish, or dust, or leaves or anything before the honking sound of horns started. Brushing in the hutongs, is a sound that is so deep inside me that I had forgotten it. But here it is, resurrected over the road – not a leaf blower to be heard.

Sometimes, my life in China returns to me in the most unexpected ways. Here is where I lived in China – for a year.

This morning, I am working on my piece called ‘ Between Paper and Silk, and I have again become excited about the kimono fabrics that I bought in Kyoto. It is a pure joy to look at the patterns in the fabric, like water marks of cranes in scarlet.

But, when I apply the glue and water to the scarlet fabric, I think it will wash away the cranes but they are still visible so the fabric is woven. I am learning the materials and how they react to water and shifting light. When I was in Kyoto, Maki San, said that you cannot wash the old kimonos which is why people don’t really want them. I now see 2 reasons why you wouldn’t was a kimono. 1. The colours do run. They are not moder dyes that are set and 2. The pattern that you see dancing in the fabric may be water marks and not weave. Having said all that, the scarlet silk is holding its cranes and chrysanthemums inside.

Here is my progress. Paper Rice bowl. And Cyanotype flower tea pot.

I’m bringing together all of the tools of my crafts

Between Silk and Paper

Between Paper and Silk

I wanted to share with you, something that I have been quietly working on alongside my knitting designs,

I have been building a new body of work titled ‘Between Paper and Silk’, rooted in the two Japanese concepts of Ma (間)—the space between things—and Mono no aware, the gentle awareness of impermanence. I don’t begin to understand these concepts but I am building my knowledge and expressing my understanding through making. These ideas began to take shape during my time in Kyoto in December 2023/Jan 2024 and will be further explored during a one-month residency in Fujiyoshida with SARUYA Artist Residency, Japan in December 2025, where I will develop further stages of this project.

I am applying for a local Sheffield residency which will give me the perfect space and time for a continuation and deepening of that work. I will create a series of papier-mâché pots, made from my British tea pots and cups alongside vintage Japanese bowls, as a testament to both British and Japanese everyday home pottery used in everyday family life. And I will be considering the space between the time of use, who used them, how they hold stories and their tactile shapes lend to me feeling my way through these stories. I will cover these vessels with papier mache, initially using Japanese papers that I collected at the enormous flea markets in Kyoto to create objects which will then be covered in vintage Japanese kimono silk, sourced during my time in Japan to create delicate vessels considering both Japanese concepts of Ma and Mono no aware. I can also use my cyanotype prints from when I had my studio at Bloc. But the fabric of the silk will enable me to embroider a into it and some of the stitches will hold the pots together, symbolising repair, connection, and the delicate tension between fragility / resilience and home life.

Kyoto Flea market

This new work builds on themes explored in my previous piece, ‘I Cannot Reach You, which was exhibited at Farfield Mill and Frontier Gallery both in 2025. Those installations incorporated my hand knitted textiles and archival photographs to reflect on the emotional and physical distance between sisters, drawing on my story of memory, identity, and silence between siblings. It was a deeply personal exploration of Ma, using garments and imagery to express the spaces between people and the quiet weight of what remains unsaid. While ‘ I Cannot Reach You’ was rooted in knitting, ‘Between Paper and Silk’ moves into new material territory—paper, silk, family pottery, and embroidery —while continuing to explore the emotional resonance of absence and connection.

If I am lucky enough to be accepted on the residency in Sheffield next year, the studio space will become a contemplative evolving installation, where the paper tea pots, bowls and cups are hung and arranged with intentional gaps, allowing the voids between them to become part of the narrative. Torn paper from Kimono packaging will be layered into the papier mache, evoking the beauty of incompleteness and paper vessels of impermanence. The Testing Ground spatial arrangement will reflect Ma, inviting viewers to consider not just the objects, but the spaces between them.

Here is my current work in progress. It is may family Burleigh Tea pot. It has 2 cracks in it. I have covered it in 4 layers of paper before testing the cyanotype paper over the top. But, I think that silk pots will be more tactile and hole more stories. Stories of the family pottery and of the vintage silk from Kimonos.

Let me know what you think of my initial idea.

Trust your unconditional imagination

Trust your uncondtional imagination – I heard this said, by a musician. How many of us spend the time, the real time, to see our imagination?

This morning, I write, quickly, without inhibition, my unconditional imagination – not dream, nor hope but mature, possibly achievalble yet far reaching thoughts.

What I imagine is living in an old small Japanese house in Kyoto, much like the quadrangle houses in the hutongs of old Suzhou in China, where I once lived. I would find the perfect small place, – where I would live a small, simple life for one year.

I would learn to speak the language of the local people – every day, a little more – enough to get by. I’d get up when it was time to rise – maybe 4am at the sound of the bell ringing at the temple, or 6am when Nishiki market is rising and I would have a purpose to understand the passing of the seasons of one year, in all of its seasonal and serendipitous times.

I know where the Persimmon grows over the water but I have missed its blossom and leaves – only arriving last Winter to see a few plump fruits left hanging on the bare spindly branches, for the birds, or for the water but I want a year of the Persimmon trees of Kyoto. I have not seen the blossoms. I’d like to view them, feel them, sense and respect the history of them.

I want to learn how to wear Kimono properly – I have been shown but I want to be able to wear it in my small house. I want to rake the tiny garden, hear the rain travel down the rain chain from the roof, admire the growth of moss upon the rocks resting in the raked gravel of the sea. I want to regularly visit my favourite gardens – Dai Sen In, which made me almost cry at is beauty, Tofukuji, where I sat with the winter sun, a beautiful granny of a bride and watched the great oceans raked into the gravel with wonder at an act carried out in the same patterns for generations, or my first ever visited garden at Kenninji temple in Gion, where the guard was so used to me sitting on the long veranda facing South, in the winter sun knitting, that he began to smile.

I’d like to write the story of the seamstress, who works in the window of Old Gion. Hope that she would begin to trust me that I am not with her to take from her but to respect and admire her skills of many decades. I had begun to sit with the man who has befriended the heron on the river bank, I’d like to be a regular companion beside the changing year of the river, so that the birds would also begin to know me too. I’d take the time, hours and hours.

These are the things I already know exist but this is the tip. I want find, keep finding, keep learning, keep growing as well as give and share, as I once did when I lived in China.

I’d like to just feel the unique wonder of the cultural differences until it was no longer new to me because then, I would have emersed myself fully – grown the bonsai, joined the ladies chattering outside the theatre in their finest clothes, viewed the moss for so long that I could almost hear it grow, sat on the old wooden stools up to the make shift table in Nishiki market to eat sushi on a regular basis that they would know what I liked and I would know them as friends not as fine sushi and fish sellers, where I would greet people in the local greeting and mean it, wholeheartedly. I’d like to see the blossom move from south to north, I’d like to find an Onsen and revisit, I’d like to see Mount Fuji from the window of a passing train, in rain, in sun in mist.

I’d like to live a simple life with complex thoughts and feelings, to appreciate deeply from my heart – Kyoto for one year and face what may happen – good and bad because these things don’t come easily, don’t come quickly – they take time.

This is my unconditional imagination.

Kyoto Baby.

On the way back to the Kyoto guest house, as the light was fading, I passed a small shop in Gion. The front was covered in a grill, at the door, was hanging a traditional Japanese door curtain (Noren). I was only 3 days into staying in Kyoto and had no idea what the little place was, but, I could see a bent woman, working at a table under a light. A small gap in the grill showed a flash of crimson framed by the window. I watched the woman carefully sewing, and, as is my habit, I wanted to know more. At the window, I gestured to ask if I could enter the tiny shop. The Noren, always bending the guests as they enter. I, making no exception to this, bowed as I entered the tiny shop.

Inside, the space, the only thing I could see was the colour in exquisite Japanese silk Kimono taking up the entire huge table under the window and the woman standing beside it.

Crimson, peach, orange, ginger, cherry, turquoise, gold, purple, mint green patterned silk covered in cranes (symbolizing honour, good fortune, loyalty, and longevity) in flight shone under the sewing light. The seamstress was hand sewing the great, padded roll of crimson at the hem of the Kimono. She explained with few words and many gestures that it was a wedding kimono and entirely hand made by her. She exuded the gently quality of unassuming dignity. A craft master who had probably worked at that table, under the window for decades. I was awe struck by her skill.

I returned to the shop a number of times whilst I was in Kyoto – the last time was to show her my ideas to knit using colours that were inspired by the exquisite silk used in the kimono. I particularly noted the thick crimson roll at the hem. She understood what I was trying to do but must have thought that my swatch book was rather naive to her own skill, though she never showed it. We passed small talk about colour, each using our own languages, understanding little in words but everything in the action.

Before I went to Kyoto, I hoped to live in a space between ‘Balance and Beauty’ and here I was, at that exact place.

This little pattern is the result of that experience and inspiration of colour. I swatched for colour in the little guest house, I swatched the colours in the Sky Garden on the 11^th floor of Kyoto Train Station, I swatched in many of the Zen temples whilst viewing the zen gardens.

This little hat pattern, brings together some of the colours that I found that day. It is called Kyoto baby. It’s very easy to knit. The rib is an easy left crossing cable in Crimson to emulate the padded hem of the wedding kimono. It has a simple Shetland flower motif. The pattern has 14 colours related to the Kimono but it can be knitted simply in 6 colours. All the information is in the pattern and it was a joy to make. It is modelled by a beautiful little Sheffield girl, whose name I will keep a secret.

Kyoto Baby is here.

https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/kyoto-baby

there are a number of colour options in the pattern. I swatched for colour and so did my lovely test knitters. Shona Brown In Nova Scotia is has test knitted the baby beanie. – Thanks, Shona 🙂

The adult pattern will be out next week – Let me know what you think –

Kyoto baby

Kyoto Zen Gardens and knitting

Tofuku Ji

I’ve begun to get a small obsession with sitting in different Kyoto, Zen temples with dry raked and or moss gardens.

My favourite so far is Daisen In temple where I sat with a Japanese architect viewing the gardens in wonder together – but no photos were allowed of this astonishing place – I do have Instagram reels of the temples – @traceydoxey.
Sitting on at ancient wooden verandas surrounding these gardens, I usually end up facing south whereupon, I get my knitting out

I’ve begun to take instax shots of them. Some work, some don’t.

I have already had so many wonderful experiences but for me, the most memorable things about kyoto are the Zen dry gardens, and knitting in the sunshine. No one moves me on, I can just sit there with everyone filing past at their own paces. I’m in heaven.

Yesterday, at Tofuku- Ji temple, (my 2^nd visit) I was knitting in the warm wonderful winter sunshine on the great wooden veranda facing the south garden with a backdrop of Japanese wedding photography, when I saw a man with a rake and knew what he was about to do.

I thought the raking was a secret, I thought the gardens are raked before people arrive but here he was, beginning to rake the 8 great oceans. Everyone there was silenced in great respect of his skill.

When I arrived, there was a wedding photography session going on – with the ancient temple as a backdrop. Sometimes, the photos are real, sometimes they are dress up. But yesterday, was real. I sat on the veranda beside the 81year old grandma of the bride. We were both chasing the sun. She was delightful – I mean full of delight and must have been all of 4ft 8. I gestured if I could take her photo. She had no idea what the instax was. So I took 2, one for her and one for me. She was astonished. She chose the one she wanted and laughed and laughed. We sat together for ages. The wedding photographer even took our photo

I feel very lucky to have seen all of this at Tofuku-ji but it is about spending lengthy time in one place, engaging with the environment fully and the people within it. Then, you never know what will happen.

If you are a reader of this post and love reading about Kyoto and love knitting, I will give 20% off any of my patterns for the new year – runnin for the next 24 hours use the code – blogpost

Ravelry pattern link here ravely patterns are here

Happy Holidays – and good wishes for the new year

The needle shop, Kyoto.

Misuyabari

After waiting for it to open, to being completely overwhelmed by the contents of the tiny place, from listening to the owner who is the 18^th generation of over 400 years of the same family, to sell sewing needles, in this tiny place – down an alley in a shopping mall – to restraining myself and replacing the initial selection. Then, after buying my painstakingly considered choice, I sit in the zen garden in front of the tiny shop hoping for the jade green bird with the white circles round it’s eyes to return. A steady stream of women visit and ponder the wonders of sewing needles. Not just any sewing needles but French ones and Japanese ones for silk kimonos, long ones for denim and then, the very special hand made ones which are so very expensive that I still don’t think they pay enough for the skilled craftsman who hand-makes a steel needle with an eye for sewing thread.

I ponder the wonders that I have just seen – some of which, I cannot see well enough to see the eye at the end of the finest needles hich a Japanese seamstress uses. The owner, explains to me he lost his hair in 2000, whilst he is pulling out small cane woven baskets from under the counter, containing sewing needles in their neat rows related to sizes, which are placed inside a neatly fitted cushioni. So when I look and try to figure out which needles my friend in Shetland might want, he patiently tells me the story of each size and what they are for. I choose us both the same – French needles – sizes 6 and 7’s then we have a hope of threading them. I buy a pack of 8’s and also a tiny hand-made pin cushion and one of those wire things to aid threading a needle with a tiny eye, which he promptly tells me is not special ( you can buy this anywhere) and it will break. But, the needles are another story – fine packaging is the appeal too. The owner counts up how much I owe him but I don’t really mind. A Japanese lady, about my age, and he mother, in her 80’s are in the shop with me. The mum is so lovely – I hope not to sound patronising, which I also say to the daughter when I say that her mum is adorable. She has shrunk to tiny and she is as sharp as a pin herself. This is their first time in the shop although the mum lives close by. Her nifty hands feel the needles, as did mine.

The shop is a tiny explosive experience of need/ want/ desire management which requires restraint. After all, they are only needles and only a pin cushion, aren’t they?

As we three customers chat, the owner points out the marvellous bright green little Kyoto bird that has flown into the garden for the oranges. It is exquisite, so after I have paid, I move to the bench in the garden, waiting for it to return while a new stream of buyers file past, into the tiny shop. This exquisite little heavenly garden fronting the shop is a dream – granite bird water baths, large stones covered in moss like the moss gardens in the temples, small low growing lilac flowers, deep red camelia, berries and two trees. Irises too.

No bird returns so I finally haul myself off the bench and head back down the tiny alley to the crazy life outside this calm oasis.

The needle shop is Misuyabari, located on Sanjo Dori inside the shopping centre – it is closed on Thursdays. It might take you till then to find it.