Encountering Washi — a single sheet of paper changed my path

I never expected a sheet of paper to change the way I see art, space, or even stillness. But that’s precisely what happened when I was first introduced to washi — traditional Japanese handmade paper. Before that, paper had always been just a surface: something to write or draw on. It was beautiful but passive, almost invisible. But washi is different. It has presence. It glows from within. It holds air, texture, and lightness. And through it, I found a surprising connection to meditation and to my own creative process.

A New York insight — washi is like the breath

Although I had gone to Japan right after graduating from college with a degree in art, my first introduction to washi came during a visit to a paper studio in New York City in 1986. I watched artisans pull delicate fibers from pools of water, layering them gently onto screens with quiet precision. The rhythm of the work reminded me of breath—steady, slow, intentional. And the fibers danced across the screens. As the sheets dried, they transformed into something soft but resilient, almost glowing. Washi wasn’t just paper; it was an art form that could be explored deeply from a still place. At that moment in the studio, I thought to myself, This is what I must do in Japan! I was excited to find a location in Japan where I could create works with paper.