Today on DESIGN X STORIES, we're exploring embroidery,

the art of using thread to decorate textiles with patterns and images.

In Japan, embroidery is said to have begun in the 5th century

when an embroidered image of Buddha arrived from the continent.

It was later used to decorate kimonos.

Delicate, uniquely Japanese designs evolved over time.

There's still a custom of embroidering the backs of children's clothes to ensure they grow up healthy.

Shaula and I will be meeting the people using embroidery as a way to make a stand against fast fashion.

Join Andy and me on our exploration of embroidery.

My first visit was to a designer with a deep love for embroidery.

Nice to meet you, I'm Andy.

Hello, thanks for coming.

- Sorry to visit in this busy period!
- Not at all.

Minagawa Akira is a leading Japanese fashion designer.

He's spent around 30 years creating special clothes for long-lasting, everyday use.

His designs are never discounted or discarded,

and his unique aesthetic is popular with wearers around the world.

A major component of his designs is their simple, yet delicate embroidery.

Minagawa has used this embroidered motif for many years - it's now become his trademark.

- Lovely space!
- Thank you.

- You designed this too?
- Yes.

Those ceiling details!

It's actually embroidered fabric.

It's called 'skyful.'

Tiny embroidered clusters
mimic a sky full of stars.

I see. There's embroidery everywhere.

Yes, if you look closely...

...there are embroidered clusters
around the edges of the flowers.

It's titled 'frost garden.'

Winter blooms limned with frost.

This kind of textured embroidery is
a feature of our work here.

One of my strongest impressions of your
work is the 'tambourine' pattern.

Yes, we used that pattern
for this season's coat.

Each one is embroidered differently.
They're all a little different.

Then all linked together.

Much like human society, or
a neighborhood. Diverse yet linked.

- A community.
- Exactly, a community.

They group into a country,
or into a global society.

It's also like a mandala pattern.

Each individual part of the whole.

It feels like an ideal to me.
How society should be.

I see.

We don't abandon our designs.

Instead, we use them in new ways each year.

That's always been part of
your approach. Why is that?

As a young man, I learned a lot
about how textiles are made.

I saw the workers complete
each pattern with great care.

Yet it would be discarded
so quickly. Such a waste!

People's work shouldn't be
disposed of so quickly.

We love clothes for their design,
but even more so for their memories.

The longer we have them,
the more we love them.

That makes sense.
I hear you draw your designs by hand?

I sketch, or tear out the shape of my designs.

Working by hand is vital.

It creates imperfections, gaps for
new relationships or coincidences.

That's important to the design.

It's our imperfections that
allow us to help others.

We support one another by
filling in our gaps.

It's the same with design.

Imagine a perfectly balanced design.

Your eyes don't move over it.
They just stop taking it in.

A little wave or curve creates
movement, especially when it's worn.

Like leaves swaying in a breeze.

It's a more natural sensation.

I see. Then your sketches
are turned into data?

The workshop does that, yes.

So you hand over your sketches
to the factory team?

Yes, Sato-san at the lace workshop.

He uses thread to turn
my 2D images into 3D knotwork.

Interesting.

Embroidery artisan Sato Toshihiro is one of Minagawa's most trusted colleagues.

When Minagawa set up his brand around 30 years ago,

he came to Sato for the embroidery, and they've been partners ever since.

Some of the embroidery depends on Sato's exceptional skill.

Each stitch has a clear direction
and feels hand-stitched.

He layers them to create this look.

This kind of hand-drawn style
is an entirely new phenomenon for lace.

It's very inefficient.

Yet Sato agreed to try it.

As we came to know each other better,
he developed new techniques.

My work is focused on
making clothes and fabric.

I feel I work in parallel
with Sato-san.

Time to visit the factory and see Sato at work.

- Hi, I'm Andy.
- A pleasure, hello!

Thanks for having me today.

Wow, you're working on
'forest parade'!

- That's right.
- This is incredible!

It takes four days to embroider the required meter-length of fabric. Astonishing!

This is the very first design
that Minagawa-san brought us.

It's called 'hoshihana.'

Straight away I knew this
would work. It's so lovely.

You knew?

Yes, see the slight twist at the tips?

30 years ago, we were already
finding ways to look handmade.

- And still are.
- We are.

- May I?
- Please.

I see....

The tips of the petals twist.

- They do. It adds movement.
- Exactly.

Sato has embroidered 358 patterns over the last 30 years.

Oh, that's gorgeous. Lovely!

Isn't it?

This is the 'sitruuna' pattern they launched in 2022.

Each dot is a different size and shape.

Sato recreates the data input process for me.

This is how it's done?

Yes, it's enlarged 600%
so I can ensure total accuracy.

- You do it by hand?
- Oh yes.

It's emerging. What detailed work!

One tiny stitch at a time.

That's right.

And each star is different.

Yes, I have to trace the order
in which each stitch is made.

Part of the beauty of embroidery is its texture.

How does Sato do it?

Think of a manju bun.
It's filled with bean paste.

We add our paste from below.

Let's embroider a sweet potato.
Stitches round the outside.

We want to raise the center,
to puff it up and out.

You pack it with stitches.

Then embroider over the top.

The exact shape depends on
how we packed the underneath.

So the raised areas are packed with densely sewn stitches.

That's how they create those lovely rounded shapes.

This one's firm. Lots of bean paste!

That's right! We make sure
to make it different each time.

And that's up to you?

Yes, after every four shapes.

It's a fairly simple pattern so
you need to play with the texture.

You've collaborated with Minagawa-san
for 30 years now. How do you feel about that?

It's wonderful to know people are
enjoying the clothes I helped make.

It's so encouraging.

It inspires me to try new things.

Now let's meet one of Japan's leading contemporary artists, Konoike Tomoko.

She uses a wide array of techniques to examine the relationship

between human energy and art.

Konoike asserts that anyone who makes something is an artist.

One of her works is a series titled 'Storytelling Table Runner.'

During exhibitions around the world, Konoike talks to locals about especially vivid memories.

Then she sketches out those memories.

Finally, they embroider her drawing, completing the process.

"Mom carrying me as we walked home
through a blizzard."

"Our beloved family dog disappeared one day."

I've always been fascinated by
the energy I see in people.

The question is how to access it.

It has to be something simple.

Materials for handicrafts are easy to find.

Folks can do them at home.

They're often overlooked.
We don't pay attention to them.

But people can sew, embroider,
or patchwork over my sketches.

Their own memories will guide them
to change my lines.

They get to see and shape an image
that lived inside them.

It's very human.

And it's also a wonderfully joyful process.

Over 300 people took part in the work,

but it's not just exhibited in art galleries and museums.

This is a small private business in Fukushima prefecture.

The work is displayed alongside household items.

It inspires some local shoppers to passionately discuss their personal memories.

The pictures really take me back.

The clothes, the patterns, you know?

Our futon covers were stuffed with straw.

We were really very poor!

It was straw, not cotton.
That's how long ago that was.

Look at the white hairs!

A little white thread.

My mom and I would knit for the family.

And for fun.

I started to branch out.

I took up embroidery as well.

These exhibitions are being held all over the Tohoku region.

Each tiny stitch is a memory of self-expression -

and a source of energy from less fortunate times.

I love this. Just love it.
It's exactly right.

The knees and behinds would
wear out so quickly.

We'd repair them, like this.
There was no other option.

You'd patch them up.
That was normal then.

Tatami mats!

It even shows the edging on
the mats, isn't that great?

Amazing.

It's such time-consuming work.

Yeah.

Each one is incredible.

You're her granddaughter?

Yes, I'm visiting from Hawaii.

These images are like pictures from
a book to me.

Such scenes are unusual.

You can see the work and love
that went into each one.

You had to sew for yourselves.

People who grew up back then have
a well of strength.

That's something I could never recreate.

Their stories shouldn't be written off
as sentiment.

They're really powerful.

The world is moving in alarming directions.

We need that strength now.

There are people who have that strength
all over the world.

Each stitch of embroidery has its own power.

Our final stop is in the Ota neighborhood of Tokyo.

It's home to around 3500 workshops, and is also known as Tokyo's manufacturing district.

One local creator is making unique embroidery here.

- Aoyama-san, hello!
- Hello, nice to meet you.

- Hi, I'm Shaula.
- Aoyama, a pleasure.

Artist Aoyama Satoru.

He studied textile art at a London university,

then spent 25 years using embroidered art to examine society.

Wait a minute, this is fabric?

Yes, made with a sewing machine.

It's so detailed! May I touch?

Sure, go ahead.

The wrinkles are so real!

I'd expect to see it
on a train seat. Incredible!

And this banknote.
May I touch it too?

Of course.

So realistic! And much more
valuable than a real note!

Maybe, yes.

I see another banknote in this case.
Can you tell me about it?

A local workshop made the case.

You can turn it on to watch a video.

You can see me making this banknote.

So cool.

You mentioned value earlier.

This work asks questions about
the value of labor and of money.

I recorded my hours of work at
Tokyo's minimum wage on a timecard.

This much labor to create the note,
and this is how it's valued.

Wow, complete with 30-minute lunch breaks.

I kind of made up the logs as
I've never kept a timecard!

59,805 yen. (US $402)

At minimum wage.

To sew a 10k banknote. ($70)

- But that's minimum wage.
- Sure.

You can't live on minimum wage.
So what's next?

Capitalism today ensures money
only flows in one direction.

How do we redistribute that?

I used to sell my work at that price.
It was part of the concept.

But I can't survive on minimum wage.
So let's think about redistribution.

There are apps where people
can 'tip' artists.

I collaborated with one for my work
to raise awareness of this issue.

- That's fun, it feels kind of punk to me.
- Does it?

It's all about tearing down systems.

I do want to tear down our
current set of values, definitely.

I'm especially drawn to this work, which Aoyama exhibited in 2019.

An embroidered silk screen print.

That's a powerful message.

The original image is of women during WW1.

They're sewing the US flag.

I traced the image, painted it,
then embroidered it.

It's a historic image.

But this is my message for future activism.

Technology is developing along
unnecessary and dangerous paths.

That's my concern, certainly.

Innovation just for its own sake.

There's real humanity in this.

I use a lot of machines to make my work.

That has an effect.

It ironically seems to highlight
the humanity in it. It's a big theme.

Your work gets people thinking.

That's intentional, right?

Right. I want to make myself think
through what I create.

This was made at an elementary school workshop -

a medium for students to express their true feelings through embroidery.

I asked the kids to come up with
monsters, which were made from felt.

Then we laid them out.

There were two reasons
I asked them to create monsters.

Firstly, there's a recent trend
of calling superstars monsters.

True.

So monstrosity can be positive.
But I had another reason too.

Helicopter parents are called
monster parents here.

Social pressures create monsters too.

I thought kids probably feel that.

So I asked them to make monsters.

Some are straightforward.
A scary cram-school teacher.

I noticed that one!

This monster boasts about their marks.

A boastful monster.

There's a lot of bad dads too.
This one's a lazy monster.

They wrote it out!

Just laying around.
You can feel the laziness.

- A monster who's good at baseball.
- That's cute!

A K-pop fan monster.

They really do reflect the zeitgeist.

I think so, yes.

Ever since the pandemic began, there's one work that Aoyama has been particularly focused on.

You're making these now?

Yes, the cigarette butts.

On the concrete, it's so realistic.

Yes.

- Why cigarette butts?
- It's titled "Mr. N's cigarette butt."

Mr. N's cigarette butt?

Mr. N is someone who worked nearby.

At a local factory in the neighborhood.

He worked there for 30 years,
but the owner died in the pandemic.

The son took over, but it
went under soon after.

The day I realized, I saw
a cigarette butt outside the workshop.

We'd meet during the pandemic, and
he'd say that work was getting tight.

I've rented this spot for 15 years.

We weren't super close.

But realizing that he'd just
disappeared left me reeling.

I'm making around 20 of these.

The same thing's happened all over.

There are Mr. Ns all around Japan.

What a very human project.

There's so much story behind
a simple cigarette butt.

That's right.

Embroidery offers us a unique reflection of human ideas and passion.

A single thread and needle can reveal the importance of our own stories.