After I finished making a headdress, I looked at my table.

I couldn't tell where the headdress ended and the fabric began.

Fabric was everywhere.

It looked like someone had been searching for something.

 

...

Yes, that someone was me.

 

I don't remember making decisions.

I just remember looking through fabric.

I knew what I was looking for.

Looking at the table, I could almost see what had happened.

I must have been pulling fabric out one after another.

I don't remember doing any of it.

It felt like I'd just come back.

 

This happens sometimes.

I finish making something...

and only then do I realize what I was doing.

 

Where was I?

もう【27】と描かなくなっていた
I don't know why I've just written in Japanese!

 

Today I noticed something while painting.

I don't write 27 anymore.

After coming back from London, the number 27 stayed in my head.

It was the bus number I had memorized there.

Whenever I picked up a brush, 27 would appear before I had even thought about it.

I wasn't trying to include it.

It just kept appearing.

About a month later, I realized it had stopped.

Without noticing, I had stopped writing it.

Maybe that number has already left my mind.

Or maybe it has simply gone quiet for now.

I wonder if it will ever come back.

Forecast: Current obsessions

Stripes are returning.  
Ties are returning.

My drawings have become more childish again.

Since I came back from the UK, something is looping back.

 

This isn't a place to explain the clothes.

It isn't a place to explain me, either.

 

A biography can tell you where I was born, where I've lived, or what I've done.  
Product descriptions can tell you how something was made.  

But I've never been sure if those things explain where the work comes from.  

 

Sometimes people ask me why I chose certain colours.

Or why I made something a certain way.

Most of the time, I don't really know.

That's the most honest answer I can give.

If I could explain everything clearly, maybe I wouldn't need to make clothes in the first place.

 

A biography can tell you where I was born, where I've lived, or what I've done.

Product descriptions can tell you about the materials, the techniques, or how a piece was made.

But I've never been sure if those things explain where the work comes from.

 

Maybe these notes are a little closer.

Or maybe not.

 

I'm still not sure.

 

Anyway...

 

I wanted to write.

So this is where I'll leave these words.

Just a small record after making.

 

Lately, I've wanted to write.

I make clothes, so most of what I do is visual.

But recently, I just wanted to use only words.

Just words.

 

Would that even work?

I run a fashion brand.

What happens if I don't show any pictures?

Can words be enough?

 

Maybe I just got tired of looking at so many images.

 

Photos.

Videos.

Scrolling.

Scrolling.

Scrolling.

... or maybe some things just want to become words.

 

I realised that most of the honest things I write end up in my Instagram Stories.

Maybe that's because they disappear after a day.

I liked that.

Some thoughts belong to a particular moment.

I never felt like they needed to stay forever.

And maybe I also liked that they only reached the people who were already there.

I still do.

But I also wanted a place that's a little quieter.

A place where the words can stay.

I don't know why I felt that.
But I'm already doing it.

 

So... welcome!