Japanese washi paper lanterns made by Keiko Haraguchi at her Satsuma Washi Studio in Kagoshima. Image ©Nicole Bargwanna
Washi: The Art and Science of Japanese Paper
Paper is one of those things most people take for granted — a disposable material to be used, discarded or recycled at best.
Washi is the exception. Japan's traditional handmade paper is a material that demands attention — it looks and feels different, it moves a differently, light passes through it in ways that ordinary paper can’t achieve, and it is designed to last. It is one of the most technically refined craft traditions in the world, even though its making process has barely changed in over 1,300 years.
From Writing Tablets to Fabrics — a Brief History of Washi
The word “washi” combines “wa” (Japanese) and “shi” (paper), and specifically refers to paper made by hand using traditional techniques and native plant fibres. It evolved from Chinese methods, but like many Japanese crafts, it developed in its own distinct manner, taking advantage of local materials, climate and Japanese aesthetic sensibility.
Before paper-making arrived in Japan, strips of bamboo, simple woven textiles or mokkan wooden tablets were often used for documentation and writing. The Korean Buddhist monk and diplomatic envoy Donchō is often credited with bringing secrets to high-quality paper to Japan in 610 AD, during the reign of Empress Suiko, and most historical accounts don’t reference a use of paper until the early 7th century. Within decades, however, washi making became a common craft across the country. By the Nara period (710–794), the imperial court was using paper for official documents, Buddhist sutras, and administrative records — and its production was already evolving from its Chinese origins to something quintessentially Japanese.
Washi paper art pieces by Keiko Haraguchi. Image ©Nicole Bargwanna
By the Heian period (794–1185), washi was common in aristocratic culture. Not only was it used for writing, poetry and letters, but also for Japanese interior architecture, replacing fabric on screens and shoji sliding doors. The paper's translucency, which diffused light to create soft barriers for privacy in rooms, was by design — a quality refined by Japanese craftspeople over the centuries. Regional centres of production also began to emerge, each developing their own styles of paper based on local resources. Many of these still survive today.
A more unusual historical use of washi, one that really illustrates its strength and flexibility, is kamiko — paper garments. Buddhist monks around the 10th century often recycled paper sutras into undergarments and robes, a tradition that eventually spread across social classes. From farmers to aristocracy, kamiko became common as both practical and fashion pieces. Paper was kneaded and softened before being treated with a konjac-based starch or persimmon tannin to make them water resistant and even more durable. Shifu, a washi textile used by the samurai class and ceremonial dress, later developed, and involved cutting paper into strips and spinning it into yarn to be woven into a fabric. Kamiko peaked during the Edo period (1603-1868) before declining with the introduction of modern textile production during the Meiji Era. Today, only a handful of communities still make kamiko, primarily for monk rituals. Kozo fibres, however, are sometimes still combined with cotton and other materials for modern goods, including socks, towels, and kitchen textiles, such as Harada Orimono's Washi Paper Wash Cloth.
Kozo or mulberry, prepared into a paste at Satsuma Washi Studio. Image ©Nicole Bargwanna
How is Washi Paper Made?
Traditional washi is made from the bast fibres of one of three specific plants: kozo (paper mulberry), gampi (Wikstroemia), or mitsumata (Paperbush). Of the three, kozo is the most widely used because its extra long and flexible fibres can produce strong sheets with a good surface — ideal for shoji. Gampi’s short fibres create a more lustrous paper that naturally resists insect damage and was historically the paper of choice for official documents and high-status correspondence. Mitsumata’s extra-fine and short fibres yield a far softer, flexible paper that was used for bank notes and still is for fine calligraphy.
Inner bark of plants are usually harvested in winter, then steamed, stripped and dried, before being soaked in water. It’s boiled with an alkaline solution, traditionally wood ash or soda ash, to break down the strips and isolate the plant fibres, which are then washed. Any remaining impurities are picked out by hand. To break down the fibres even more and encourage them to mesh and lace, they are beaten into a pulp before being suspended in large vats of water mixed with neri, a natural viscous agent.
Next, nagashizuki — sheet formation — takes place. A bamboo screen mounted in a wooden frame is gently dipped into the vat to scoop up the thick liquid, before being rocked back and forth and sideways to distribute the fibres across the screen. Skilled papermakers actually adjust the thickness and fibre distribution with each motion. Once complete, the screen is pressed to remove excess water and the sheet carefully peeled off the frame and placed on wooden boards to dry. For traditional artisans, it's a labour-intensive process, with each sheet made individually and thickness gauged by instinct honed by years of experience.
The nagashizuki, washi sheet formation process. UFshio, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons
Regional Traditions and UNESCO Recognition
Japan’s washi traditions are still strongly regional. Though some washi manufacturers now use machinery to speed the paper-making process, three traditions in particular were recognised on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2014 for maintaining original techniques across generations — Honminoshi from Gifu Prefecture, Hosokawashi from Saitama, and Sekishubanshi from Shimane.
Mino, in Gifu Prefecture, has been producing washi for more than 1,300 years. Its paper is made with kozo fibres, using the soft water of the Itadori River, and it's known for its clarity, even texture, and durability. Today, Echizen in Fukui Prefecture is the largest centre of washi production in Japan and produces a wide variety of paper styles — from thin, translucent sheets to heavier, textured sheets. Ogawa-machi in Saitama produces Hosokawashi — a paper of such stability and strength that it has been used in conservation and restoration work.
Chosen for the same practical qualities that defined them centuries ago, these regional papers are still popular materials for contemporary use. The texture and chemical stability of Mino washi, for instance, made it ideal for the restoration of East Asian artworks at the British Museum and Louvre. Echizen washi, with its extensive range of weights and surface finishes, is the choice of supply printmakers, bookbinders, and product designers who require a material with both precision and character.
Some individual artisans have also built their work around washi's structural and visual properties. Kyoto-based artist Eriko Horiki works almost exclusively with large-format Echizen washi, building sheets of multiple layers embedded with dyed fibres, silk, or metallic foil. When light passes through these, the hidden layers are revealed, turning the paper itself into a design element. Her architectural installations using these sheets have appeared in hotels and cultural buildings across Japan and internationally.
Washi paper lampshade art piece by Keiko Haraguchi. Image ©Nicole Bargwanna
Washi in Contemporary Design and Lifestyle
Architects and interior designers have also long recognised washi's role beyond paper. It’s still used for contemporary shoji screens, as a surface material in furniture, and increasingly in lighting design, where its capacity to evenly diffuse light helps transform artificial light into something closer to natural daylight.
Kagoshima-based designer Keiko Haraguchi of Satsuma Washi Studio is a fascinating artisan working at this intersection. Keiko was drawn to washi's warmth, its translucency and strong connection to natural materials. It was something she realised she had an affinity for while training in architectural design in Denmark. Now based in Kagoshima, Keiko produces her own paper by hand and applies it in interior and architectural contexts: hotels, restaurants, and private residences. When NiMi Projects visited her studio last year, we were struck by her ability to use washi to express a relationship between material and space. It's not used simply as surface or decorative addition, but as a way of shaping how a room feels. Her lighting works are sculptural, their minimalism in colour belying a complexity in design — each one highlights the natural tones of washi fibres that she skilfully manipulates into intricate textural patterns
Saiko Design's studio in Mino, Gifu, Japan. Image ©Mio Yamada
Understanding of how washi can transform a space also drives Gifu-based studio Saiko Design, creators of minimalist lampshades inspired by the shapes and forms of Japanese nature. Produced in collaboration with local Mino washi craftspeople and using techniques that trace directly back to the region's 1,300-year paper-making history, Saiko Design’s pieces are made with Nasu kozo paper sourced from Ibaraki Prefecture. Their forms are structured using chochin lantern-making techniques, a Gifu craft tradition, which allows each piece to hold organic, soft and contemporary shapes that can be folded flat for storage. Rooted in method, these are objects that remind us of the history of washi — a material designed to be enhanced in the presence of light.
Washi’s strength, flexibility, natural absorbency, and gentle texture translate equally well into everyday objects that we sometimes take for granted. Wakayama-based Harada Orimono, for example, weaves washi fibre with cotton for a wash cloth designed to put these qualities to direct use. Paper fibre gives it a soft, naturally exfoliating texture and strong absorbency, while the long-fibre construction means it’s resistant to deterioration. With each wash, it actually becomes softer. Washi masking tape may be a small, functional object, but its qualities are also entirely rooted in washi production. Japanese brand Bande’s washi tape sticker rolls are easy to peel off and reposition because of the strength of washi paper, a nod to the way beautifully hand-printed washi papers are often re-used in Japan for wrapping gifts time and time again.
You can explore Saiko Design's washi paper lampshades, and see Harada Orimono's Washi Paper Washi Cloth and Bande Sticker rolls at nimiprojects.com.
Washi paper artwork at the Mino Washi Akari Art Gallery in Mino, Gifu. Image ©Mio Yamada
Ten Things You May Not Know About Washi
1. Washi contains no rice whatsoever.
Washi is quite often mislabelled as "rice paper,” — an old mistranslation that caused widespread confusion. Washi is made from the bark of plants such as kozo, gampi, and mitsumata. In French, it is correctly referred to as papier Japon, which is considerably more accurate.
2. A sheet of washi can outlast a human civilisation.
Due to its low acidity and long interlocking fibres, washi has a documented lifespan exceeding 1,000 years. This makes it ideal for conservation departments at the Louvre, the Vatican Museums, and the British Museum to use it for restoration and repair of some of the world's most fragile and valuable objects.
3. Rembrandt chose washi over European paper.
From around 1647, Rembrandt began printing many of his etchings on Japanese paper. Researchers believe he chose gampi washi from Echizen in Fukui Prefecture, which had a smooth, dense surface that allowed him to achieve richer blacks than European papers could produce. His only etched portrait of his son Titus was printed exclusively on Japanese paper.
4. The word "kami" means both paper and god.
In Japanese, kami (紙) means paper, and kami (神) means god or spirit. Though the two are written with different kanji, they are pronounced identically. This near-homophony is not just a linguistic curiosity — washi has spiritual significance in Japan, and the connection between paper and the sacred is understood as meaningful rather than coincidental.
5. Isamu Noguchi helped introduced washi to the world in 1951.
On a visit to Gifu — a city known for its paper lanterns — the Japanese-American sculptor Isamu Noguchi was asked by the city's mayor to modernise paper lanterns for electric light. The result was what has become Noguchi’s famous Akari collection. More than 200 washi and bamboo light sculptures of the Akari collection that have been in continuous production ever since, and they are now held in collections including at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
6. It has been used to make fire-resistant clothing.
Yes, it seems counterintuitive, but paper was used as a fire-resistant textile. Kamiko washi paper garments came in forms that surprised many. When treated with persimmon tannin and combined with starch and oil, it became water resistant and sufficiently durable for use in firemen's protective clothing. It also made the paper resistant to insects and bacteria.
7. Every bottle of Suntory Hibiki whisky has a handmade washi label.
Since Hibiki launched in 1989, every bottle has featured a label made from Echizen washi produced in collaboration with artist Eriko Horiki. Each label is handmade individually — a process that requires multiple printing passes on paper crafted to precise specifications of thickness and texture. This makes the Suntory Hibiki whisky label one of the most widely distributed applications of traditional washi in the world.
8. The zigzag paper streamers at Shinto shrines are made from washi.
Shide, the white folded paper streamers seen hanging at Japanese shrines are made from washi and folded into a specific zigzag pattern said to represent lightning. They appear on shimenawa ropes, ritual wands carried by priests, and household altars. They mark the boundary between the sacred and the everyday — a role washi has performed in Japan since the Heian period.
9. The number of traditional washi makers has fallen by more than 99%.
At their peak in the late 19th century, more than 80,000 families across Japan were making washi by hand. The introduction of Western machine paper-making, and the shift away from traditional materials during the Meiji era, however, drove the industry into sharp decline. Today, there are approximately 100 to 200 traditional making companies.
10. Washi is made in winter — by design.
Traditional washi production takes place in the coldest months of the year, not despite the conditions but because of them. Cold water inhibits bacteria that would otherwise decompose the plant fibres, and lower temperatures cause the fibres to contract, which produces a crisper, denser sheet. For centuries, papermaking was the winter work of Japanese farmers — a seasonal craft that also helped supplement income.