Mingei Aesthetics - Nori no Michi
Yanagi Sōetsu’s Mushin Philosophy
Yanagi Sōetsu, founding father of the Mingei (民藝) movement whom Shitsurae has introduced several times, was also a religious philosopher who closely intertwined beauty and faith. He consistently believed that all phenomena are nurtured under the same nori (法) and located two ways this noriappears: the “realm of faith” in religion and the “realm of beauty” in art and craft. By nori no michi (法の道) he meant not man‑made law but “nature’s law beyond human intellect.” Indeed, he repeatedly declared that “no work surpasses nature’s own,” insisting that truly beautiful craft emerges when humans restrain ego and stand beside nature. Put differently, creation in craft is not to express artificial intention; it is a pure act of faith that obeys the voices of materials, techniques, and the climates in which they dwell. This idea—readily accepted by many Japanese who, like those influenced by Shintō, lack a fixed dogma—is what I call “memory of place (場所の記憶).” When an artisan assimilates with that place‑memory and works single‑mindedly in mushin (無心, selflessness), craft (Mingei) is born.
The culmination of this thought is Yanagi’s treatise “Ito no michi, Nori no michi” (絲の道 法の道). Here, alongside nori no michi, he proposes ito no michi (絲の道). In modern Japanese the character is usually 糸, yet the older form 絲 places one “thread” radical above another, depicting intertwined fibers; a reduced thread shape atop the lower part conveys fineness and softness, so the single character 絲 alone expresses delicate, supple fibers. Yanagi’s fusion of this imagery with nature’s law is profoundly intriguing. Yanagi states, “It is certainly humans who weave, yet beauty appears only when they weave within nature’s nori.” Even when a loom—then in transition from hand weaving to machine weaving—is moved by human hands, the law of nature still governs, and genuine beauty manifests only when the artisan interlaces threads without opposing that nori. He further holds that such beauty is grasped through intuition, a view deriving from the influence of Buddhist philosopher D. T. Suzuki (鈴木大拙) with whom he shared deep friendship.
Put more plainly, Mingei prizes intuition over formal style or theorization: it is a beauty of nori felt by the heart rather than reason. Though Yanagi was a modern thinker and never denied beauty as personal expression, he always sought a more primordial beauty. His observation that “healthy beauty (健康な美),” which he also calls “beauty of other‑power (他力の美),” resides precisely in the daily necessities produced by nameless artisans for ordinary life vividly shows the truth of craft aligned with nori no michi.
Among such works, Japanese kasuri (絣) textiles perfectly fit nori no michi and stand as the symbolic craft of ito no michi. In kasuri, threads are resist‑dyed so that undyed sections later form motifs when woven. Through layer upon layer of painstaking processes, motifs arise containing misalignments and blurs beyond human calculation, creating a uniquely rich beauty. Yanagi discovered in this process “a beauty that transcends human intention” and extolled it as “a method that births beautiful dreams.” I, too, felt deep emotion when viewing kasuri from the San‑in region. Kasuri’s faint wavering and repeating patterns form an emergent order that artisans cannot reproduce merely by calculation: it appears only when they listen to the voices of threads and dyes, converse intimately with nature, and surrender to its constraints. This is an expression of nori no michi rooted in Shintō and Zen, and the characteristic beauty disappears the moment subjectivity, viewpoint, or ego intervenes.
Furthermore, traditional kasuri motifs—simple geometric patterns and rustic designs handed down through families and villages—inherit regional universality rather than flashy individual invention. While motifs from each area look similar yet distinct, Yanagi observed that the daily act of nameless artisans creating practical goods for local life lets their hands “work as part of nature,” and the resulting forms carry an order that “cannot be otherwise.” Thus kasuri’s orderly repeats and harmonious simplicity, impossible to copy or replace, attest that the maker wove in selfless harmony with nature, achieving astonishing perfection that still moves viewers a century later and continually updates memory of places through the act of making.
Kasuri is now virtually unknown even to Japanese people, yet from the Edo period to early Shōwa it flourished across the archipelago within diverse regional cultures. Representative examples include Kurume Kasuri (久留米絣) in Kyūshū, Iyo Kasuri (伊予絣) in Ehime, and Bingo Kasuri (備後絣) in Hiroshima. Kurume Kasuri is said to have been invented in the late Edo period by the twelve‑year‑old girl Inoue Den (井上伝), and pieces meeting the conditions of hand‑tied kasuri yarn, natural indigo dye, and hand‑loom weaving are designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property for their advanced technique. After the Meiji era, Kurume cloth spread nationwide as everyday wear; at its peak more than two million were produced annually, supporting about 100 000 households. Yanagi, who surveyed crafts nationwide, remarked that probably people in every region made kimono from it and praised Kurume Kasuri as “one of the textiles Japan can be most proud of.”
In Yanagi Sōetsu’s Mingei thought, kasuri culture is not mere tradition; it is the symbol of “beauty of other‑power” born from the harmony between nature’s law and human life and is profoundly Japanese in character. By following the voices of materials rather than makers and weaving according to techniques handed down from ancestors, kasuri possesses a clear, powerful beauty suited to nori no michi. Embedded within are the maker’s selflessness and reverence for nature, giving wholesome inspiration to viewers—and I envy the Japanese who once lived daily in such garments.
Today, mass production and chemical dyes have made traditional kasuri rare, yet the essential value Yanagi found—beauty that appears when people create without defying law—remains vivid. In sustainability discourse there is much to learn from kasuri’s natural materials and handwork. Nearly ninety years after the Mingei movement began, the spirit of nori no michi still shines through kasuri motifs, reminding us that the origin of making lies in coexistence with nature and humble creativity; within Japan’s kasuri culture lives the very essence of Yanagi’s Mingei.