Gestural Thresholds

What is beauty,
But joy found
In all life.

Kanjiro Kawai 1890 - 1966

I have always been fascinated by the way that textiles can act as delicate membranes to bisect a space - creating zones and thresholds within an interior. Suspended in a space, fabrics describe a volume with a fluid, gestural, permeability.

Perhaps it stems from a childhood in South India growing up with mosquito nets. Sharing a bedroom with my siblings, a mosquito net offered a night-time sense of a uniquely private space - you were at once in the wider room, and removed from it.

Not strictly a mosquito net, but I love the dreamy feel of this patched and mended diaphanous curtain screen in the little house we stayed at in Shikoku last autumn. The layered view, through the gauzy curtain, to the paper screens beyond, with a glimpse of the landscape in the distance. Waking in the morning to this veiled view through to a green space beyond offered a very Proustian moment, transporting me straight back to my childhood.

Here below are a couple of details from the Kanjiro Kawai House in Kyoto with examples of Nawa-Noren or cord curtains. In these, thresholds between spaces are subtly delineated with a ‘curtain’ of rope or cord – something akin to a bead curtain I suppose. The structure is very simple – two horizontal lengths of bamboo with a patterned interlacing section at the top. The rope falls to a foot or two above the floor – giving a sense of a permeable, gestural threshold. In practical terms, the rope serves as a screen for privacy and a blind shading against the sun.

In interior spaces, the nawa-noren indicates a subtle division between different zones - here below, one hangs between the entrance hallway and the central living area. You can see that the rope has slowly worn away over the decades – a trace of all the hands that have parted it, and the folk that have passed through.

The act of parting the curtain, adds to the sensory experience - the weight of the cord as you move a section aside, the sensation as it falls across your shoulders, the smooth ribbed texture and the faint scent of the material.

These Nawa-Noren are a variation on the Japanese fabric Noren - a simple flat panelled curtain which hangs in a threshold. The fabric is often decorated with simple graphic indigo resist patterns. The construction is very simple – with two or three sections of cloth, joined in the top quarter or so with a seam. In the lower section of the noren, slits between the panels allow for you to pass through.

You often see Noren used outside the entrance to a shop or restaurant – they serve a multitude of purposes… giving a degree of privacy and shade to the interior, whilst also acting as signage for the business – something like an awning I suppose.

In the photos below by my friend Risa Sano, you can see a couple of examples of noren in commercial spaces. The building on the left is a sake shop, with a noren hanging over the door lintel. The white lettering bears the name of the shop. On the right you see a noren used internally, in a corridor of a timber store to separate the reception area - the ‘front of house’ - from the store and workshop at the back. The white symbol depicts the company logo. The fabric ground is a rich brown - perhaps reflecting the timber, which you can see stacked up on the left of the image.

Some months ago, I wove a noren for the entrance hall of our little home on One Tree Hill. It hangs just inside our front door – creating a liminal space between inside and out… something of a deconstructed permeable air-lock, bringing a sense of privacy to the interior and something of a hint of mystery about what lies behind.

I wove the noren as a single piece of fabric – with the left hand panel threaded on separate shafts from the right. This set-up allows for a dedicated shuttle on each side – creating two separate panels side-by-side at the same time. The twin panels are joined every half inch or so with a pair of interlocking weft threads – creating a perforated cutting line. The piece was woven, finished and installed as one piece. Once it was hanging in place, we cut the lower interlocking threads to create a split high enough to walk through.

I left the warp threads at the top of the piece long enough to tie them onto a hazel pole – eliminating any need for sewing. The pole rests on a pair of hand-forged wrought iron hooks.

The yarn is a wool and linen mix – a neutral oatmeal colour with a red band at the bottom and a fine red selvedge stripe at either outside edge. The weft ends are left untrimmed - all in all a rather rustic English take on a Japanese tradition.

For more about the wonderful Kanjiro Kawai house in Kyoto see here