Stories of resilience _{by Alessia Belsito-Riera}

The traditional art of Japanese mending is as much about sewing as it is about storytelling. Called boro, the practice employs a style of repair stitch (sashiko 刺し子, which literally translates to ‘little stabs’) that is intentionally made visible. In this way, the patch is celebrated rather than hidden, and the story behind it commemorated and added to the history of the garment.

An exhibition showcasing the artistry of boro fills Pātaka Art + Museum until the 9^th of March. “Some of the pieces are like a forensic puzzle where elements of family crests, firemen’s jackets, or small treasured scraps of special woven fabrics give a fascinating glimpse as to where and maybe who brought all the pieces together and what their lives may have been like,” Pātaka exhibitions and collections manager Gary Collins says.

Boro – Timeworn Textiles of Japan features Japanese textiles and garments drawn from the substantial collection of New Zealand artist Pip Steel and displays all kinds of items ranging from futon covers to 19^th-century silk dolls, dusting cloths to aprons, work jackets to mittens, sake or rice straining bags to braided rope, traditional wrappings to fabric sample books, and everything in between.

The exhibition aims to “highlight the beauty of these largely utilitarian garments and bags, that through their constant repair and reuse are elevated to objects greatly prized by collectors,” Collins says. “Also to acknowledge the anonymous makers and menders of these fascinating pieced-together narratives.”

Typically made by women living in rural conditions from hand-spun and naturally dyed textiles, the practice was particularly popular during the 19^th and early 20^th centuries at a time in history when cloth was a precious commodity. Boro was mostly practised by “women who when they were not working in the fields were creating beauty in every woven cloth, stitch, and application of cloth fragments”, Collins continues. Many of the items on display have been passed down and cherished for generations.

Japanese collector, social historian, and research scholar Tatsuichi Horikiri looks fondly upon the practice, expressing that in “seeing and holding these tattered garments used by farmers and villagers in times past, I cannot help but feel that they still exude the warmth and vigour of the bodies they once protected, and these scraps are trying to tell us their stories, provided that we only listen closely and with open hearts.”

As for the exhibition at Pātaka, Collins hopes that visitors will see the items as treasured and cared for rather than tattered and repaired. His intention is that viewers will leave with an appreciation of what goes into the production of cloth and garments.

“Hopefully they appreciate the beauty created by the accretion of all of the layers of fabric,” he says, adding that he would like visitors to gain an understanding of the many differing techniques used for weaving, dyeing, and reusing the hemp and cotton fabrics. “These garments are each a story of resilience”.