In Two Minds: A persimmon Journey

I have always loved persimmon dye. It is natural, antibacterial, and insect-repellent, and it works beautifully on so many surfaces, from textiles to paper to wood. Its warm, earthy brown feels deeply grounding and reminds me of the quiet abundance beneath our feet, a kind of wealth that does not need to be measured in cents or dollars.

I first learned about this dye from fellow weavers and textile artists in Japan. I am grateful for how this knowledge continues to be passed from person to person, carrying the memory of many hands and generations.

As someone with roots outside of Japan, I often feel as though I am standing between places, learning from both and trying to contribute to both. My persimmon dye experiments seem to follow the same path. I have dyed textiles in my small Tokyo apartment and also in my mother’s home in Malacca, Malaysia.

In Tokyo, I work with very limited space. My balcony is tiny and does not receive much sunlight, so I move the pieces around throughout the day to catch whatever sun appears. The results often come out uneven, but I have grown to love this irregularity. It feels alive and honest, shaped by the rhythm of the day and the limitations of where I live.

In Malacca, the process becomes something else entirely. I borrow my mother’s porch, where there is more open space than my entire living room in Tokyo. The sunlight there is strong and constant. It is not always kind to the skin, but it is perfect for persimmon dye. I can lay out the textiles freely and let the sun saturate every part of them.

The difference in color is remarkable. The pieces dyed in Malacca appear lighter and brighter, with a reddish, glowing brown that reminds me of the old Dutch buildings in the center of the city. The pieces dyed in Japan turn out deeper and more muted, shaped by softer light and a narrower space.

This year, I brought these experiences together in my woven work In Two Minds, a paired wall piece that joins two weaving techniques to express two ways of processing attention. One section is dense and patterned, reflecting a state of focus and intention. The other is lighter and more open, expressing a softer awareness that responds to the world around it.

In daily life, attention can move in both directions. There are moments when we guide our focus deliberately from the top down, and moments when our senses pull us toward what is unexpected or meaningful from the bottom up. The two sections of this work reflect this conversation, where focus meets intuition and thought meets feeling.

Although the entire piece was woven in Tokyo, the upper section represents concentrated thought and carries the persimmon dye from Malacca. Its deeper hue holds the memory of both places, the weight of focused weaving, and the warmth of home.