Everything I saw.

What was the color of the sky that day? One day during the reading session on March 20, 2024. As I stood in the building where the session was held, "Moriyamate," I was captivated by the vast sky framed by the window frames. Even though I'm used to looking at the sky, I was surprised at how much the sky's presence spread across my heart when I was in a room with plenty of windows.

It's a late spring for cherry blossoms this year. When I say late, I'm just comparing last year's cherry blossoms in the place called Tokyo where I live with the cherry blossoms that bloomed this year. When I looked into it, I found that in Western and Eastern Japan, the cherry blossoms are about the same as or later than normal. In Northern Japan, the cherry blossoms seem to be blooming earlier than normal. "It says Western, Eastern, and Northern Japan, but what about Okinawa?" I thought, but the news didn't have any information about cherry blossoms in Okinawa. When I looked on another website, I found that the Okinawa Meteorological Observatory declared cherry blossoms blooming in Okinawa on January 7th, nine days earlier than normal.

What is the basis for deciding something is "fast" or "slow"? Every time I realize that I have made a hasty judgment based on the senses I have and the place I'm standing in, I sigh at the limitations of my perception and the narrowness of my perspective. Even in our days when we tend to let go of our margins, how can I open up the windows of my mind, body, time and space, even just a little, and let the world flow into me?

Thinking about this, in early April of 2024, when the flowers were in full bloom and the freshly polished jade green leaves were already peeking out, I walked around the neighborhood several times and recalled the day of the reading of "Reading Woven Memories." It was a day when the sky changed color so much that it seemed as if the four seasons had gone through a full circle in just one day. It was a day when the fragments of the world that seemed to be separate - seasons, places, times, stories, and reality - were rewoven together.

10:45. Arrived at Moriyamate. The building I visited for the first time since last year was white again this year, and the weather was great. YUKI FUJISAWA's foil, which was the same color as the clear sky, shone in the middle of the white cloth and swayed comfortably on the roof of the building.

"It's apparently for use in reading sessions."

The owner of the building, Mr. Moriyama, told me in a gentle voice. His friendliness melted my heart, and I ended up enjoying tea with him. I was glad I had bought it the day before, and with my phantom hands I patted my chest and recommended the langue de chat I had brought with me. We bartered. The chocolate in this langue de chat is a little more delicious than the others. Langue de chat means cat's tongue in French, and although it's not because of that, I enjoyed talking about French film directors such as Agnes Varda and Claire Denis. A space with a lot of space is more likely to attract these kinds of small, miraculous coincidences, which illuminates the heart.

When I entered the building, Yuki was mending her knitted fabric. When I asked her, she said, "I'm making a book cover for Izumi-chan's reading." The color is SOIL by Donegal Yarns. This year's yarn incorporates the scenery that Yuki saw during her travels, mainly in the Baltic States .

The color of the soil could be the color of the rich soil that people living in faraway lands have stepped on, or the color of the soil that I stepped on barefoot as a child. I was trying to bring to life the world I wanted to see, even if only a little, until the very last moment before the show started. As I gazed at the yarn wrapped in Yuki's palm as she made a book cover at Donegal Yarns, which holds memories of her travels, such memories were unravelled.

If you just try to remember any memory, if you can just remember it, the softness and sweet smell of the past, the aching pain and the process of recovery, everything will fill your heart as if it were yesterday. It absorbs the scenery of the journey and is entrusted with wishes, and it becomes no longer just a piece of yarn, but a thread that can pull together the memories of the person who receives it.

Towards the voice. Izumi Aoyagi was practicing for a reading session that she was planning to perform twice that day. The Pocket LOVE Letter Cardigan in SKY BLUE is a color that is "a soft blue, like the light cloudy sky seen from a boat floating on the canals of Copenhagen in September, with the sunlight occasionally shining through." I remember very well a photo of the scenery from Yuki's trip that inspired the color SKY BLUE. I wrote the following in my personal diary. From the diary on September 20, 2023.

“Yesterday, I saw a photo of a friend of mine lying on a boat looking up at the sky, and for some reason, I started crying. Perhaps he felt like he had seen a corner of something beautiful just by being there. I hope that humans too can have a little more time where it is enough to just be there.”

Izumi, loosely clad in her SKY BLUE robes and wandering freely through the forest, looked like a messenger or a postman, using her voice and body to convey the fact that the beautiful blue colors of this world are always close by - the flowing clouds, the thin ice, the lake teeming with life, the vast sky seen through the halation of sunlight reflecting off her eyelashes - all of which we tend to forget in our busy lives.

"Please take this!"

Yuki, who had already finished making the book cover, handed me a paper cup with a string attached, which brought me back to reality. We decided to practice string telephone. The reading session that started after this had a secret mechanism that only those who noticed the string telephone could talk to Izumi.

A long string is stretched from the third floor of the building where the reading is being held to the first floor of the building across the courtyard, and the receiver is held to my ear.

"Can you hear me?"

"I-I can hear you!"

"Yume-san, the notebook in your pocket is about to fall out."

My ears lit up every time the casual words we normally spoke reached me. No matter how long we'd been friends, there weren't many friends who'd ever spoken to me over a string telephone. It was as if I'd opened a secret door, and my ears were unfamiliar with each word, making it awkward.

What was striking throughout the production diary was that everyone who worked with YUKI FUJISAWA said, "This is the first time we've ever tried this." I truly understand why. To give shape to what he dreams of, he doesn't just take on big adventures, but also takes small, first steps, like making a string telephone, one by one. That is Yuki's approach to craftsmanship, and this collection of diaries is a reflection of the happy six months I've spent alongside her.

With the light still shining down on Moriyamate, several groups of customers came in to look at the Aran knits, smiling. Pullovers, cardigans, vests... one customer tried on in rapid succession, "They're all so luxurious, I can't decide which one to get," said the other, caressing a knit she picked up and saying, "I knit myself too. This is my first time at the unveiling, but I can really feel the power of hand-knitted items in YUKI FUJISAWA's clothes." Souvenirs for visitors included cookies baked in Uma no Hanamuke's wooden molds.

The staff at YUKI FUJISAWA work smoothly and smoothly as if they have the power to see a little into the future, and Yuki's friend Saori, who is there to help out, watches over them quietly to ensure that customers are able to spend time here in a way that suits them perfectly.

Yuri Kanzaki, also known as "Uma no Hanamuke," her husband Dai-chan , and knitters Chiyoko and Kanae also arrive. It means the time for the reading is approaching.

"It's amazing how everyone involved shares the same worldview, it makes me wonder if YUKI FUJISAWA's creations are done by a single person," says Yuri, blinking her eyes wide.

"Yuki-san is particular about her work," said Chiyoko and Kanae-san, their smiles showing the strength of people who make things, suggesting that they must have gone back and forth between prototypes many times. After enjoying the atmosphere of the unveiling, the two of them were busy knitting something as they waited for the reading.

The people who decided to come to this place today are coming one after another, using up precious moments in their lives. People we love, and things we love, are also gathered here.

The ceramic buttons from Uma no Hanamuke. A letter from Chiyoko. The mittens knitted by people in Estonia. The flowers that Mana Yamamoto selected and arranged after being inspired by Yuki's travels. The Lithuanian ornaments that illuminated the lives of people living in a time of occupation and war.

This year's Aran sweaters flutter in the breeze by the window, welcoming fragments of these worlds. Although the sunny weather has started to show signs of decline, it is as if all the seasons of the year are crowded together, and the people and things connected to YUKI FUJISAWA are eagerly waiting for the little celebration to begin.

From outside the window of the room where about 20 people were gathered, a voice was heard announcing the beginning of the reading. It was a slightly nasal voice, and once you hear it, you will never forget it for the rest of your life. Izumi's voice shook the air and reached the bodies of each and every person who listened carefully. With just one word, my heart was filled with a deep emotion, as if I had received an extraordinary letter, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one to feel that way.

"The Cure, the House Named Cosmos" by Kawakami Mieko, performed by Mum and Gypsy in 2020, with costumes by YUKI FUJISAWA. "The Aran Islands" by John M. Synge, who traveled to the Aran Islands at the recommendation of his friend Yeats in the late 19th century and deepened his relationship with the people of the island. A collection of poems by Emily Dickinson quoted in the production diary of "Fragments of Quartz", which was created with gem polisher Oshiro Kanna. About the amulet-like mittens in Estonia and the KGB Museum in Lithuania, which I saw during a month-long trip mainly to the three Baltic states. Izumi weaves together words that were written in different times, places, and by different people.

The reading took place as the participants moved from outside the Moriyamatei building to inside and then back outside again, touching the sweaters, mittens, flowers, ornaments, and other items scattered throughout the venue that evoked memories of their travels. It was the very journey of YUKI FUJISAWA through the seasons, as he poured the memories of his travels around the world into Aran sweaters, handed them over to loved ones, and set off on new journeys.

And yet, I felt like I could believe in the goodness of passing on one person's memories to another. Like finding a small mug you always use filled with stars. Like waking up late on a Sunday and finding a mobile observatory in your town. That kind of unexpected irreplaceability.

The words "Everything I have seen" that rang out at the end of the reading stuck in my mind. Who is "I"? I wondered. The things in this space are a microcosm of the things Yuki has encountered over the past year, or even longer ago. However, I don't feel that we have been watching Yuki's journey one-sidedly.

That day, in that place at Moriyama Tei, there were all the "I's" who had lived day to day, and they were surely watching the reading while overlapping their own memories. The words were spoken by Izumi, and the journey was Yuki's memory. But this reading was made possible by the collaborative work of all the people and things gathered here, who shared the small stitches and knitted together. Like two people knitting a sweater at the same time, like making an Estonian sweater with no seams in the body. Perhaps when our lives intersect even for a moment, we are always knitting an invisible knit together.

People listened to the reading with their whole bodies as ears. Seeing them, I felt that each person had threads of memory or something like a lace of memories stored in a drawer in their heart, so what Yuki had seen on her travels and the reading on this day would not end here. Each of us will recall fragments of what YUKI FUJISAWA saw in the world at some point in our lives, reweave them, and surely pass them on to something or someone in the future in our own way. This premonition made my heart flutter with excitement.

After the first reading, before the second reading began, gloomy clouds gathered and a spring storm-like rain fell. Ichiko Aoba, who was the model for YUKI FUJISAWA's Angel Pearl , had an umbrella that turned over before the wind blew, making her look like an angel flying in the sky. Hiroshi Homura and his wife, Mam and Gypsy, were also there, and the fresh rain had accumulated like a small lake on Homura's backpack, who didn't have an umbrella.

By the time the second reading began, the heavy rain had stopped, and instead, a strong wind was making a constant howling sound. I felt protected by the window, and at the same time, because the window was large and transparent, with a fragile look that was not too strong, the color of the sky was burned into the back of my eyelids so clearly that I might see it in my dreams tonight, and I felt the strength of the wind up close from the trees and electric wires bending in the wind. In this place, where boundaries and stitching are not neatly hidden, I felt like I could remain indifferent to the world. Different seasons, eras, places, light and shadow were all invited into one place, and it was a day there.

There is a brilliance in the things that YUKI FUJISAWA creates. Just as the "foil" applied to the knitwear is symbolic, there is a sense of light in his work. However, he does not only find joy and happiness, he also listens to the voices of people who have lived through sadness, suffering, difficulties and darkness, and tries to see the distorted structure of society and the world. While repeatedly feeling his heart tighten and shaken, he chooses to know rather than not know, and there is an attitude of walking into tomorrow without fearing the changing self.

Things that came to mind from the reading. For example, there are people in this world who are saved by "moving," but there are also those who are forced to move and those who have no freedom to move. People who live close to the blessings and trials of nature that are beyond human control. A female poet who wrote a huge number of beautiful poems but was never "discovered" during her lifetime. People who have been trying to create a warm life with their own hands, even at this very moment, are finding it difficult to sleep peacefully or eat well, and are facing the possibility of losing even a second into their future.

Not only was there a smooth peace of mind, but the voices of people who had lived and departed through deep sorrow, suffering, and difficulties, and Yuki's own emotional fluctuations as she encountered those lives, were woven into the readings that day. To know the world is to have your heart tremble with irreplaceable, unknown joy, and to have the pain of someone else flow right up to you, so I don't think you can conveniently choose just one of them. However, rather than pretending not to see the inconvenient things and creating something beautiful, the path of not turning a blind eye to difficulties and not giving up on the pursuit of beauty is surely the world I want to live in.

We are already living in a world of complexity and depth. I want to remember this over and over again, so as not to be consumed by anxiety and despair. In a world full of cracks and holes, I think about what I can be a part of connecting and carrying, in order to pick up and weave beauty and hope.

When I come into contact with the things that YUKI FUJISAWA makes, I suddenly remember what I really want to cherish in the future, and how I wished to live my life. I wondered why, and remembered the words of my grandmother. My grandmother was someone who hand-knitted everything, and she once told me, "Hand-knitted things are not just spiritual, they really seem to weave the atmosphere of the place into them."

Yuki's creations are woven with the atmosphere of various parts of the world. They are knitwear that is full of sincerity and weight, made by someone who dives in to embrace what she wants to know and see, and never just skims over the surface. And so this knitwear embraces her back in return. It remembers the person who wears it. It remembers the days the person spends wearing it. Hand-knitted knitwear will outlive a human life, carrying our memories into the future. It is a handmade prayer for strength.

There are many things I learned from making a production diary with Yuki, but there is one thing I particularly like and have started to incorporate into my daily life. That is sending letters to loved ones while traveling. In an age when airplanes are much faster than mail, letters often arrive later than the body. It was about 10 days after Yuki returned from her trip to the Baltic States that a postcard from Tallinn arrived in my mailbox.

The letter had gotten wet during the journey and the ink had smudged. There was an apology from the postal worker attached. There were some characters I couldn't read, but when I received the letter, I understood that it was written in greater depth than if I had been able to read the characters fluently, and I thought that I would never forget receiving this letter.

I think that the craftsmanship of YUKI FUJISAWA is like sending a letter, pasting a stamp across time and place. From wherever Yuki is now, she packs what she has seen and heard, what has truly moved her heart and what she believes to be important, without hiding anything, into a time capsule of handicrafts, with the hope that it will be good if it reaches the world. With love and spirit. That letter will certainly reach someone, and it will last a long time. Just like the stars, even if it takes time, light will always reach its destination.

The sky is blue, and what is happening under the sky that looks blue. In the midst of the daily uncertainty, I am a selfish and limited creature who quickly assumes that I understand things, and gives up on using my eyes and ears to imagine and think about things that are hard to see or hear. However, I know that there are people who create things that touch the feeling of being alive with their bare hands, without letting go of the distant, deep, and long axis of time. YUKI FUJISAWA is clothing that is like a letter, inviting you to feel the touch of the world.

Could I have become one of those people delivering a letter through this production diary? I don't know yet, but I'm glad I was able to write down the record of those days as I tried to weave, stitch by stitch, the world I want to live in.

End

Words: Yume Nomura

Photo: Ishida Masumi

Izumi Aoyagi Hair & Makeup: Rumi Hirose