Our topic this time is paper.

A vital tool of everyday life, it's undergoing a resurgence as a sustainable material.

This bag is made by sewing paper.

Its soft creases only add to its charm.

This breathtaking building in a disaster zone was also constructed using tubes of paper.

Artisan Hamada Hironao makes incredibly thin washi paper.

He is always on the hunt for new ways to use this versatile material.

It's time to explore the potential of paper!

Hello, Hamada-san.

Hello.

Welcome to the show.

We have some of your work in the studio today.

"Tosa Tengu Joshi" - just look at how thin this is!

It's lifting in the still air here.

May we touch it?

Please do, yes!

Oh! It's lovely.

May I?

Wow, just look at this!

It's beautiful!

This is extraordinary. Like gossamer.

It's also quite soft to touch.

- It is, yes.
- Yes.

Made from a type of mulberry.

Mulberry?

Yes, the same family as the wood silkworms eat.

Right, silk.

Yes, that's very much what it feels like!

You can try tearing it.

Rip it up?

Yes, go ahead.

Really?

Yes, I can just soak and reform it!

You can reshape it?

I can recycle the fibers.

Oh wow... how satisfying!

Isn't it?

This feels like such a waste!

I do feel bad doing this though!

But the shape is still so clean.

The fibers are so delicate.

Yes, because it's held together by fibers, it tears very neatly.

At just 0.03 millimeters, Hamada's "Tosa Tengu Joshi" is considered the thinnest handmade paper in the world.

The complex tangle of paper mulberry fibers make it both thin and strong.

This makes it a perfect tool for repairing old documents.

It's a vital resource for restoring art collections and cultural treasures around the world.

Ino in Kochi prefecture lies in the south of Japan.

Hamada's workshop is near the Niyodo river, which is one of Japan's cleanest water sources.

He uses local Tosa paper mulberry for his paper because of its long, thick fibers.

This is boiled in the pristine local water, removing any oils or impurities from the plant.

The fibers are then soaked in more spring water and left to whiten in the sun.

Hamada spends up to five hours a day turning them over.

He uses various techniques to slowly reduce the paper mulberry wood to its fibers.

He stirs the fibers in a bucket, removing any scum that might attract insects.

This ensures that the final washi will last for many years.

This painstaking preparation is unique to "Tengu Joshi," and it's what creates such strong, beautiful paper.

The final process of making the paper takes only a minute.

The frame is moved horizontally and vertically, ensuring the water reaches every corner.

This results in evenly tangled fibers and a thin, yet sturdy, sheet of paper.

Hamada learned how to make "Tosa Tengu Joshi" from his grandfather, under whom he trained for 15 years.

He and his brother Osamu inherited the family papermaking business.

Today, he's gone beyond tradition to create his own artworks, and work with other artisans to explore the potential of "Tengu Joshi."

This is one of Hamada's works.

Fibers are dyed red and black before being made into washi.

The distinctive texture creates a powerful, avantgarde piece.

"Chigiri-e" is a Japanese artform that uses torn paper.

This local artist uses Hamada's super-thin "Tengu Joshi" to create hyper realistic images.

The delicate fibers mimic the texture of animal fur.

Hamada and his brother have also created a new construction material that combines glass and washi.

In this hotel, it transforms sunlight into a soft glow.

Hamada is continually exploring the possibilities of paper as a material.

We have some of Hamada-san's work here in the studio with us today.

This is gorgeous.

How wonderful.

The scale of it is impressive.

It's a powerful piece.

And I really like this textured sensation. Makes you want to touch it!

I know what you mean.

Thank you very much.

May I see it up close?

Go ahead!

Oh, yes. You can see the fibers much more clearly at this distance.

All through here.

It's so delicate, the way they're all tangled together like this.

Is this made using the same technique as "Tengu Joshi?"

That's right.

I simply layer the fibers for longer to make the artwork thicker.

You add more on top.

Yes, I essentially keep layering them on top of each other to make a thin but three-dimensional structure, with slightly thicker fibers.

I also move the frame much more sharply and less cleanly.

That means the fibers end up uneven.

Then I add one pigment to the washi, then a second, and so on, up to about five colors.

If I drop them in large splatters, you get a deep black on the surface.

If you turn it over, you can see the order of the colors very clearly.

Interesting.

The thickness of the fibers changes how much color they can absorb.

You can see that very clearly.

That's how washi paper can be used to create this kind of picture.

We also touched on a new material that combines glass with washi paper.

We have some here with us in the studio, and we also have some smaller samples here.

Oh, I had the wrong idea.

At first, I thought this was a piece of paper sandwiched between two panes of glass.

But that's not the case here.

It's on the glass surface.

On the surface, yes.

I can feel that it's not glass.

Right.

It's very clear if you run your nails over it.

It doesn't scratch off. I was worried!

Has it been coated in something?

No, it doesn't need to be.

The texture is quite obvious when you touch.

The key characteristic of "Tengu Joshi" is determined by the preparation process.

I remove all the organic elements until only the fibers remain.

The moment the water drains away, the fibers stick to the frame like glue.

If you let it dry like that it will stick fast.

So instead of using a solvent, we just pour water over it.

We don't need any extra coating because we put in the work earlier in the process.

That's the key.

Amazing.

The shape is suggestive of a traditional paper "shoji" screen.

A modern way to create the same soft light.

I wanted something that would work seamlessly with modern architecture.

It has the same matte texture as paper, and it filters light in the same way as a "shoji" screen.

It really does tie the room together.

It must have taken an extraordinary depth of understanding of other materials.

Not just washi paper.

Yes, I've been making washi for just over 20 years now, but I wanted to study again from scratch.

I'd been working solely with paper for a good 15 years, after all.

I had the skills, but there was a surprising amount I didn't know about the principles behind what I was doing.

So I started there.

- The scientific reasoning.
- Exactly.

I was just doing what I'd been taught.

So I went to a specialist paper research center.

- In Kochi?
- Yes, a place in Kochi prefecture.

I studied from scratch.

I bet the people at the center were surprised!

I mean, you're already so established in your craft.

They were like, "Didn't you know this?"

- Sorry!
- Yes, "sorry!"

It was a lot of new discoveries.

I wasn't doing research, but I was learning all over again.

I'd been making paper because it was the family business.

But the center showed me I could make art too.

I met a lot of artists who worked in music or fashion and learned about the creative side of things, too.

I wondered what I could bring to that, and I realized I could turn papermaking into my lifework instead of a job.

It was a new decision I made for myself.

I wanted to learn more, and I enjoyed exploring the potential of paper.

Hamada's choice to look beyond tradition may have been influenced by his grandfather Hamada Sajio.

He was a master washi maker, recognized as a living national treasure.

In the late 1800s, "Tosa Tengu Joshi" was often exported for use as typewriter paper.

But by the mid-1900s, it had been replaced by machine-made paper and was beginning to die out.

As other makers went bust, Sajio chose not to pass his trade onto his children, instead continuing to make "Tosa Tengu Joshi" himself.

He started using a new technique to dye the washi with pigment, improving his craft alongside his wife, who was also a washi artisan.

They also had the good fortune to meet a famous "chigiri-e" artist.

Countless layers of thin paper create an extraordinary gradation of color.

This "chigiri-e" art created a new demand for "Tosa Tengu Joshi."

It's interesting to see how demand for this paper changed over the years.

Times changed, and demand just fell away.

Yes, "Tengu Joshi" is very thin, which can make it difficult to use.

But meeting "chigiri-e" artist Kamei Kenzo was a real turning point.

Such beautiful work.

And it's made by tearing up this paper that took so long to make!

That's not something that everyone would be happy with.

- Such painstaking work.
- Of course.

But my grandfather gave him permission to do just that.

And thanks to that decision, the paper found a new use.

A material that had previously only been a tool to write on was suddenly an integral part of artistic expression.

In many ways I really do feel that moment, that decision, is why I'm here today.

In some ways, you're following in his footsteps.

I really do think so.

The person using the paper should be the one who decides what happens to it.

If I want to keep these techniques alive, it's clear that I have to be flexible.

I feel I inherited something closer to a perspective than a simple technique.

I didn't have a lot of time with my grandparents, but their thinking has really stayed with me.

That's wonderful.

It's been a real discovery for me.

Elsewhere, an updated washi paper design is being put to surprising use.

This bag and pouch are made from paper.

Their distinctive texture showcases creases, reflecting the quiet warmth of this material.

Although it's very light, the bag can carry around ten kilograms.

It's the invention of a manufacturer in Ichikawamisato, in Yamanashi prefecture.

Washi products have been made here for a thousand years.

The firm largely made paper for "shoji" screens, but as demand fell, they developed a new kind of "shoji" paper that didn't tear.

Today, the paper utilizes recycled plastic bottles.

The new, stronger paper stands up to water, but once it wrinkles, it can't be smoothed out.

Product designer Naoto Fukasawa was asked to design new products highlighting the material.

He opted to put the wrinkles front and center.

Fukasawa worked with Ai Furutani from the manufacturer.

It started when he handed me
a crumpled business card.

"Let's make a bag from
crumpled paper!"

People expect paper bags to tear.

So how do we ensure
they know how sturdy it is?

In order to make strong paper bags, Furutani suggested "sewing" the paper as if it were cloth.

Unlike cloth, paper has no elasticity.

It must be sewn very carefully and precisely.

Once this is complete and the bag is reversed, the secret of the design emerges.

It's impossible to reverse it after
sewing without creasing it.

It's inevitable, but it's also
part of the appeal.

The design's only motif are the creases left by human hands, underlining the warmth of the paper material.

Other products are mixed with different materials.

A pattern of hardy "urushi" lacquer on the paper adds a subtle gleam.

The paper is scratched to create an uneven surface, to which the lacquer adheres.

The quiet gleam of "urushi" and its delicate texture are a perfect match for the paper, resulting in a modern, yet gentle design.

Paper that looks like leather
has a long history.

"Urushi" was long added to paper
for tobacco pouches and so on.

Rice is sold in paper bags.

They carry 10 kg just fine. People
don't realize how strong paper is.

There's so much potential
for paper as a material.

There's more to explore.

We have some of the SIWA products in the studio with us today.

This one actually belongs to Furutani-san herself.

- Beautiful.
- Lovely folds.

How wonderful to take these wrinkles and transform them into something positive.

I feel like this is a design that you could only pull off using paper.

Definitely.

She says she's used this notebook for three years.

That's given it real character.

It's almost like leather, don't you think?

Yes, exactly. Vintage leather.

And it's very soft.

That unique paper feeling.

Yes, and it's lighter too.

It's so light.

The items we have here on the table have the new "urushi" lacquer design.

I feel like the patterns add a bit of a Scandinavian touch, don't you think?

There's a long history between washi paper and "urushi" lacquer.

In fact, paper would be turned into strips and braided into string, basically.

Those were woven together and hardened with "urushi."

The containers were very light, easy to carry, and very functional.

There was a lot of flexibility in how they could be used.

Looking at these products, I feel a strong sense of kinship with that history.

It's certainly not a copy, but it's a sign of how key materials can be brought together in every age.

I agree.

Is there any material you would personally like to use with washi?

I actually have made something using "urushi" before.

Oh, really?

These rings I'm wearing now.

They're made from "urushi" lacquer and washi.

This is paper?

- It looks blue.
- Blue "urushi."

I've never heard of blue "urushi."

My first attempts used resin to harden the paper.

I wanted a very matte feel, but I was also drawn to "urushi" lacquer.

I discovered a young generation of artisans working with "urushi."

He's quite a bit younger than me, but one creator called Kirimoto-san was drawn to the ring idea.

- He's from Kochi?
- Wajima.

Oh, Wajima.

He was eager to lacquer the rings and came to Kochi so we could work together.

It's nice to wear something subtle that represents your country.

It's a great conversation starter too, as you can see.

I take washi with me wherever I go when I travel.

Traveling washi.

That was my original goal.

Years ago, we didn't have the travel infrastructure to support these collaborations.

We were too far apart.

Now it's become possible.

Interesting.

I'm so glad I finally got the chance to pursue this project.

I'm sure.

Now, let's take a look at paper architecture.

International architect Shigeru Ban's designs are graceful and distinctive.

This research hub for world cultural heritage site Mt. Fuji is an inverted cone.

Its reflection echoes the shape of the mountain.

This French gallery looks like a delicate handkerchief on top of a box.

Ban handled the structural design personally.

But he's perhaps best known for his paper buildings.

These tubes are made from layers of recycled paper.

Ban uses them in pillars and walls.

Fax machines still used rolls
of paper with central tubes.

I hated to toss them out so I kept
them and they inspired me.

I'd always wanted to develop my
own materials and structures.

I knew it was technically possible
with paper so I gave it a try.

Low-cost, environmentally friendly paper tubes can be made anywhere in the world.

After testing their structural integrity, he water-proofed them and began using them as a construction material.

Ban has leveraged this material to create many welcoming buildings.

This cathedral is made with his paper tubes.

After the original was destroyed by an earthquake in 2011, this cathedral was put together with paper tubes over two years as a temporary replacement.

It became so popular with residents that it remains standing today.

The cross, altar and furnishings are also made of paper.

That shape was the result of
using round materials.

The tubes create a distinctive
light and shade. This is key.

A beauty born from natural changes soothes the cathedral's visitors.

Ban has also used the paper tubes to support disaster relief around the world.

The idea was born from an architectural desire to build a space where people could feel safe.

He began volunteering in 1995 in Rwanda, where civil war had driven two million people to become refugees.

Logging was a problem in the area, so Ban proposed using paper tubes instead of wood.

He has continued to volunteer for around 30 years, designing shelters that provide privacy and can be assembled by anyone.

In March 2022, he began offering support to Ukrainian evacuees in Poland, France and several other countries.

The paper isn't temporary.
There are many permanent structures.

Students built a paper church
in Kobe in 1995.

10 years later, they donated it to
Taiwan where it's still used.

Paper can be permanent if the
building is loved. That's the key.

It sounds cliche but it's why
places are used for a long time.

Ban-san's designs really are extraordinarily beautiful, aren't they?

I recently watched a show about his work in Poland.

He created a project focusing on providing privacy to the people evacuating to refugee shelters there.

It made me realize just how important it is to be able to think and respond to people's needs.

And also just how flexible paper is for applications like this!

He's featured paper in his works for years now.

He's someone who sees the role of architecture as being about the people who really need it.

This principle is at the very root of his work.

You can see his primary concern is for the people who'll use his buildings.

His choice for building materials isn't purely rational either.

I'm sure he elected to use the paper tubes because of the soothing atmosphere that paper provides for visitors.

It's not just about function.

It's also about how it makes people feel.

He's a genius at maximizing both of those elements.

I know it's not my area of expertise, but it's just so impressive.

I totally agree.

I find his designs so inspiring.

Seeing such amazing work really stokes that desire inside me to go out and create something.

Our society has changed so much over the last few years.

But when it comes to design, I feel that we're starting to look beyond efficiency.

Would you agree?

Yes, I think that it's precisely because we now live in a "paperless," digital era that my work has become possible.

It's allowed people like me to take our time with the papermaking process.

Our customers are happy to wait for our products.

An interesting development.

We used to have to work at the pace of industrial machines.

This is why people started using lots of chemicals.

Now we can take the time to do it by hand.

People often ask if the digital age has had a negative effect, but for washi makers I think it's actually been a positive change.

I've really enjoyed our discussion today. Thank you so much.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.