My Incredible Indigo Dyeing Workshop In Kyoto With Toru Shimomura

From my personal journal.

Inside Shimomura-san’s countryside studio, sunlight filters softly through high-set windows and illuminates a deliberately chaotic workspace one would expect from a master craftsman. Stacks of textiles, sacks of raw material, and aged tools sit unceremoniously around several covered vats, set a meter deep into the concrete floors. Here, one has everything needed for ‘aizome’ –  the practice of traditional indigo dyeing.

I try not to stare, but my eyes are drawn to Shimomura-san’s hands, permanently stained a deep, vibrant indigo, down to the nail beds from decades of immersing them directly into the dye. His blue-stained fingers, the worn yet vibrant fabrics of his working attire, and the earthy scent of the fermented indigo leaves are chapters in a story of dedication, craftsmanship, and the preservation of a time-honored Japanese tradition.

It’s rare enough to witness the creation of traditional Japanese art firsthand, but being invited to stand inside an artisan’s personal workspace and learn directly from a master feels like stepping behind a curtain usually kept drawn.

This wasn’t a tourist experience, but rather an intimate glimpse into the artistry of Japan’s famous indigo dyeing tradition lovingly preserved by Shimomura-san and a small but dedicated group of fellow artisans scattered in ateliers across the country.

A Short History Of Aizome: From Kimonos to Blue Jeans

Natural indigo dyeing, achieved from the indigo plant, polygonum tintorium, entered Japan around the 6th century, carried along ancient trade routes from India through China to Japan. Over time, the distinct blue tone became synonymous with Japan itself as documented by early travelers to the once isolated country.

By the 17th century Edo Period, indigo was an essential part of everyday society, used to color everything from work clothes to samurai garments and fine kimonos. It was favored from farmers to the aristocrats for its strength, antibacterial qualities, and visually appealing hues.

Despite its popularity, natural indigo dyeing began declining in the last century with the adoption of synthetic dyes and mass manufacturing. Today, a small number of artisans continue to preserve this heritage. The demand for indigo may have changed from kimonos to jeans, but a new generation is rediscovering and appreciating the art form.

An Indigo-Dyeing Workshop Just Outside Kyoto

On a crisp winter morning, I hop onto the number 17 bus from Kyoto and head toward the tranquil countryside town of Ohara. Just 45 minutes from the city center is Kobo Ainoyakata, Toru Shimomura’s studio workshop.

I’m greeted by Yoshiko-san, my translator for the special indigo-dyeing workshop, and we instantly bond over our shared interest in traveling. Already, she feels more like a local friend than a formal interpreter.

Side note: This is one of the things I always appreciate about the translators who work with Wabunka. I’ve had experiences elsewhere where the interpretation felt mechanical and overly formal. But with Wabunka’s translators, it’s always felt personal. Yoshiko-san didn’t just bridge a language gap, she became a part of the experience, facilitating a natural, flowing conversation that made everything richer and warmer.

Shimomura-san welcomes us with a warm smile at the entrance of his home and studio, and ushers us inside, away from the morning chill. My eyes dart around, trying to process everything I’m seeing: deep indigo hues and patterns everywhere, textiles stacked chaotically, but deliberately, across the space.

The Art Of Indigo-Dyeing With Toru Shimomura

Over a pot of tea, Shimomura-san shares his story. Born into a family with a legacy in aizome, he inherits the craft from his father but continues to evolve it with his own philosophy. He speaks openly about international collaborations, his openness to experimentation, and how his materials and inspiration now come from all over the world.

Today’s project is a soft, beautifully woven cotton stole. It started as cotton picked in Madagascar, traveled to India to be spun in threads, and was finally woven together in Japan, completing a long journey before it even touches one of Shimomura-san’s dye vats.

Creating the Pattern

We start by discussing the pattern I want to create. Recalling one of his minimalist designs, I opt for two columns of circles neatly spaced a foot apart. Though the concept sounded simple, the execution was precise and demanding.

He guides me through the careful folding process: one long fold to create the two rows, then three more folds to achieve the six circles per row. It seems straightforward enough visually, but Shimomura-san warns me gently about the nature of aizome dyeing. Every tiny crease or fold would appear distinctly in the final pattern. A marginal shift in the fold or uneven tension could cause unintended imperfections.

Embracing Imperfection

He smiles gently, sensing my slight anxiety, and reminds me of Japan’s beloved aesthetic philosophy of wabi-sabi – the beauty of imperfections. While we aim for perfection, he explains, we should also accept and embrace the unexpected outcomes when creating with our hands.

After careful alignment, we tightly clamped wooden circular disks to create resist areas where the dye will not penetrate. Shimomura-san asks me to examine the fabric and clamp to see if anything is off, being approving it himself. Satisfied we head out to the working heart of his studio where the dye vats await.

Inside The Alchemy of Indigo

Entering his workspace felt like stepping into a sacred place. Natural light illuminate the sacks of sukomo, tools, buckets, and drying textiles hanging from the hung rails. Framed black-and-white photos dot the walls, documenting decades of his practice.

Shimomura-san carefully removes the lid from one of the vats, revealing a frothy, living culture bubbling ever so gently. You would hardly mistake this for industrial dye. It is a living mix prepared from dried and fermented indigo leaves, water, wood ash lye, and natural sugars. Each vat requires weeks of precise attention to cultivate and develop properly, and the culture inside would remain viable for only four months, slowly weakening with use and time.

Shimomura-san excitedly reveals another vat, this one freshly cultivated, vibrant and potent, capable of dyeing fabric fully and deeply with just a few dipping cycles. To my surprise, Yoshiko-san tells me that Shimomura-san has invited me to work directly with this new vat. Truly a rare privilege, as these vats are incredibly delicate. With improper handling, their bacterial cultures can be stressed and even destroyed. No pressure there.

Mindful Dipping

Putting on protective gloves (Shimomura-san, himself prefers to work with bare hands for the tactile connection), I squat beside the vat. Carefully, under his close guidance, I submerge the stole by the handle of a clamp. Shimomura-san demonstrates how to gently press out bubbles to fully saturating the fabric. Every movement is intentional, measured, and mindful, something I can only hope to imitate.

I do my best to soak the fabric throughly for a few minutes before lifting it to wring the excess dye drip back into the vat. Exposing the fabric to the air oxidizes and initiates a transformative reaction that bonds the color at a microscopic level. We repeat this dipping and airing process four times to ensure even and deep saturation.

Between dips, we talk about Shimomura-san’s life as a dyer, his relationships with suppliers, and the nuanced politics within the traditional dyeing circle. Shimomura-san speaks candidly about the challenges faced by artisans today like the decreasing number of apprentices willing to dedicate years to learning, the complex responsibility masters have in preserving and passing down their knowledge, and the delicate balance of protecting traditional secrets while opening up enough to inspire new generations.

The Reveal Of A Finished Product

With the dyeing complete, we move to the wash station, an equally nervous and exciting moment where the indigo shade reveals itself. Up until now, the fabric has more of a murky and almost rusty green hue, but a quick wash in color water allows the true indigo to magically emerge, vivid and striking.

I hold my breath as Shimomura-san unclamps the folded fabric to slowly revealing the pattern. Expecting imperfections from my own handling, I brace myself. But the stole turns out beautifully. The circles are crisp yet just soft enough around the edges that it is clearly hand-made, embodying exactly what Shimomura-san described earlier.

It was perfect in its own, imperfect way. We are share a moment of quiet appreciation, acknowledging both the effort today but also the entire process of bringing the indigo dye to life in the previous weeks.

After a final rinse and spin, my stole was finished and ready, a stunning testimony to a deeply personal experience. As we return to the showroom, Shimomura-san surprises Yoshiko-san with the yet-to-be-dyed dress she had commissioned on a previous visit. Seeing her joy, and the pride on Shimomura-san’s face, reinforced my feeling of being genuinely privileged to share this day with such authentic, passionate people.

My newly dyed stole, now steeped not just in an iconic blue but in memories. I depart from Kobo Ainoyakata truly grateful for another wonderful experience in Japan.

How To Book The Shimomura-San’s Indigo-Dyeing Workshop

Just outside Kyoto, the indigo-dyeing ‘aizome’ workshop at Kobo Ainoyakata is a limited-availability experience that can be booked through Wabunka. Plan ahead, as sessions depend on Shimomura-san’s schedule and the timing of his dye preparations. They offer many other unique experiences across Japan as well.

Getting There: You can take a taxi from Kyoto or the number 17 or 19 bus from central Kyoto to Ohara, about a 45-minute ride.

Duration: Plan for half a day (approximately 3-4 hours).

Updated on May 13, 2025