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Bridget Ang

@sashiko_for_therapy

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🧵Learning Sashiko & Ainu Embroidery | Self-Taught Heritage-Stitcher
💖Crafting for calm, kindness & community
🎁Supporting charity through thread

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On my ANA flight to Hokkaido, I happened to read an article about 滕氏良子 [種田シマンノ系 14代] Fujioka Ryoko, President of the Sapporo Upopo Preservation Society. Little did I know that just a few days later, our paths would unexpectedly cross at the [新しい鮭を迎える繊式] New Salmon Welcoming Festival where I was introduced to her. What happened next felt almost surreal.

Sensei Fujioka kindly invited me to join her at the annual Shakushain Memorial Festival in Shinhidaka. Shakushain (1606–1669) is a prominent chieftain and revered as a historic hero of the Ainu people. Then, to my absolute delight, she also agreed to teach me the seemingly impossible Etaraka stitch! 🥹🪡

Two days later, I attended an embroidery session with Sensei. But the lesson became so much more than learning a single stitch. She generously shared little details that I had never fully appreciated before — the correct fabric to use, which threads are suited to different types of embroidery, how to hold and position the fabric properly, and other techniques that come from experience and years of practice.

After a year of learning and practising on my own, I suddenly realised just how much I have only scratched the surface. There is so much more to this art than simply following a pattern or mastering a stitch. If I want to truly progress and learn to practise Ainu embroidery correctly and respectfully, I need to learn from those who carry this knowledge and tradition.

To have that opportunity — to sit beside an Ainu elder and teacher and learn directly from her — is something I still find hard to believe. ❤️ I felt deeply grateful, humbled and incredibly fortunate to have been there.

And if I am lucky enough to return to Sapporo for a longer visit, Sensei has already promised to show me how to make a kimono. 🥹❤️

I know there is still so much to learn, and I hope to continue doing so with respect, humility and an open heart. 🌿🪡

This banner is handmade by Sensei Fujioka.

Ohaw Soup with Salmon served at the festival ~ traditional Ainu cuisine.

Sensei’s beautiful work alongside my humble attempt following her instructions. by @sashiko_for_therapy

Ainu #ruunpe embroidery #ルウンペ

After months of learning and practising the Chijiri and Kaparamip techniques of Ainu embroidery, I felt ready to explore Ruunpe through the third book in Ms Tsuda Nobuko’s Ainu embroidery series. (Please swipe to see the book.)

This technique uses narrow strips of fabric that are folded and appliquéd onto a base cloth or larger garment. These strips are arranged to create the distinctive Ainu motifs, featuring elegant symmetrical whorls (moreu) and thorn-like projections (ayus).

As I practised, I find myself in awe of the ingenuity of Ainu women, who created such intricate garments using only simple tools and scraps of fabric. Their embroidery was not merely decorative, but often carried hopes for protection, love and well-being for the wearer.

Of the three techniques I have learned so far, I found Ruunpe to be the most satisfying, as even the smallest scraps of fabric are given a new life. At the same time, it has also proven to be the most challenging. Achieving smooth curves while aligning each folded strip neatly requires patience, precision and many careful adjustments.

While I have previously made a small Ruunpe sampler that I turned into a pouch, this is my first piece featuring the decorative couching stitches. I’m delighted with how it turned out. There is still much to learn, but that is part of the joy. For me, embroidery is more than creating something beautiful. It is about learning, understanding and respectfully sharing the stories and traditions that give each motif its meaning.

Hope you like the resulting tote bag featuring this technique. May you have an enjoyable and creative rest of the week ☺️ by @sashiko_for_therapy

My first attempt at this Sakhalin Tetarape motif, adapted from a pattern found on the corner of a garment hem (swipe for a look at the photo of the garment).

Although sharing common cultural roots with the Hokkaido Ainu, the Sakhalin Ainu developed their own distinctive textile traditions, particularly in their use of appliqué and cut-work motifs such as the Tetarape [テタラぺ].

After folding and securing the seam allowance, a core thread is laid in place and then painstakingly concealed beneath countless tiny stitches, each one added individually until the thread disappears completely. It is work that demands patience, concentration, and time.

Working with good lighting and modern tools has made me appreciate the skill and perseverance of the Ainu makers who created these textiles generations ago, often with far fewer comforts and resources. I am also deeply grateful to Ms Tsuda Nobuko 津田命子先生 whose books have opened a window into these remarkable Ainu textile traditions and made it possible for learners like me to explore them stitch by stitch.

As many of you selected “history” in my recent story poll, I hope you might enjoy this small glimpse into the distinctive textile traditions of the Sakhalin Ainu and the inspiration behind this piece.

Wishing you all happy creative days ahead ☺️ by @sashiko_for_therapy

This cushion cover is a project very close to my heart. The design is a カパラミプ kaparamip (a traditional Ainu embroidery pattern), created by Ainu heritage textile artist and scholar, Ms Tsuda Nobuko 津田命子先生.

The story behind it completely captivated me: Ms Tsuda based this pattern on an antique Ainu robe (labeled “A17”) kept at the Japan Folk Crafts Museum. In the original historical piece, time had taken its toll—the vibrant red muslin wool fabric had been entirely eaten away by insects over the decades, leaving behind nothing but a few faint red threads along the edges of the applique cloth. To honor the original makers, Ms. Tsuda designed this pattern to recreate exactly how that robe would have looked when it was freshly made.

Inspired by her work, I took on the challenge of crafting this piece myself. The entire process felt like a conversation across generations.

I am excited to share that this special piece will be added to the collection I am currently working on. Knowing that a design rooted in preservation and history will now go toward helping a meaningful cause makes every single stitch worth it.

I hope you enjoy learning a bit about the history behind this design as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life ☺️ by @sashiko_for_therapy

I’ve been working on a line of accessories featuring all three traditional styles of Ainu embroidery (Chijiri, Kaparamip and Ruunpe), alongside a collection of sashiko pieces.

The pouch on the right features my first attempt at the Ruunpe [ ルウンペ ] technique. Of the three styles I’ve explored so far, this one has been my favorite to work on. I love how it transforms treasured fabric scraps into something new.

These pouches, along with other handmade creations, will be available at the next charity event. Every stitch has been part of a learning journey, and I’m excited to continue exploring these beautiful textile traditions.

Thank you for following along on this embroidery adventure. More creations are on the way, and I look forward to sharing them with you. May you all have a safe and creative week ahead 🙏☺️ by @sashiko_for_therapy

I’ve been trying to be more mindful about what I throw away, especially clothes that are still perfectly wearable but no longer feel new or exciting. Instead of discarding them, I’ve started giving them a second life through Ainu chijiri [チヂリ] embroidery.

This old jacket was something I had stopped wearing, but after adding these stitched patterns, it feels meaningful and new again in a completely different way. The process of slow stitching also changes how I see my clothes — when you spend hours sewing on something, you’re far less likely to throw it away when trends or novelty fade.

This chijiri pattern comes from a book by Ms Nobuko Tsuda, and I’ve reinterpreted it here on this jacket (swipe for a look at the book) Working on pieces like this makes me appreciate clothing differently — not as something temporary, but something that can evolve, be repaired, be embellished, and continue to be worn for many more years. It’s also become a wonderful way to practise and improve my embroidery skills with each piece I work on.

For me, this is a small way to reduce waste, extend the life of what I already own, and surround myself with things that carry time, effort, and story. Slow work, but meaningful work. Hope you like the new look too ☺️ by @sashiko_for_therapy

Ainu chijiri [チヂリ] embroidery ~ inspired by a video I watched during my visit to the Ainu Cultural Centre in Tokyo last November.

This is the wide chain stitch —formed by spreading the thread with the tip of the needle, then inserting it at an angle. In the video, Ms Katsue Kaizawa 貝澤　かつえ now in her 80s, worked with such quiet mastery, creating piece after piece with this technique. I was completely enchanted and made a promise to myself to learn it.

Ms Kaizawa traces her roots to Nibutani, Biratori Town, where many of her works are now held at the Biratori Municipal Ainu Culture Museum. She learned embroidery from her grandmother, and that lineage of wisdom continues to live through her hands.

What I didn’t expect was just how challenging this stitch would be. Balancing thread tension, finding the correct angle, rotating the needle between my fingers every few stitches—it asks you to hold many things at once. With every attempt, my respect for these great artists only deepens, as I begin to understand the true difficulty behind their work.

But this is the practice: to keep showing up, stitch by stitch—adjusting, learning, beginning again.

And so here it is: my attempt at the wide chain stitch, practised on a design from Ms Nobuko Tsuda’s book on Ainu Embroidery - Chijiri edition (swipe for a look at the book)

I’m deeply grateful for the chance to learn, even from afar, by watching these remarkable artists. I hope that one day I might meet even one of these great teachers in person.

I am always thinking about the sources I learn from. How do you acknowledge the teachers — seen or unseen — in your practice? by @sashiko_for_therapy

I’m drawn to sermaka omare — “place it upon the back” — a protective blessing in Ainu culture.

The spiral kiraw and thorned ayus motifs stitched at the back of the robe are not merely decorative; they are believed to guard the wearer from harmful forces. They are quiet guardians.

For those interested to explore this theme more deeply, I highly recommend Kristie Hunger’s 2017 thesis, “Sermaka Omare: The Ainu Motif of Protection. An Analysis of Traditional Ainu Artwork.” It offers a thoughtful and detailed study of the cultural meanings behind these protective designs.

Along the lines of Sermaka Omare —
this kaparamip motif was learned from the work of 小川早苗先生 (Ogawa Sanae) and re-stitched here in study and gratitude. (Swipe for a look at the book) I had assumed that a smaller project would be easier, especially after working on several larger ones. I was mistaken. Though the scale was much smaller, the challenges were still present — small misjudgments, subtle struggles, moments that required unpicking and patience. Not overwhelming, but not effortless either.

A gentle reminder that size does not determine difficulty. Each piece asks for its own humility. Small doesn’t mean simple. Has that been true for you too?

Wishing you a fun week ahead ☺️🌹 by @sashiko_for_therapy

Finished at last. This tapestry marks my first project made entirely by hand. Working slowly and by observation, I followed a practice shaped by repetition, rhythm, and inherited ways of making. The finished piece carries not only the labour of the hand, but a sense of continuity with traditions where making is both purposeful and restorative.

I hung this tapestry on a tree branch and used string I had kept from last year’s panettone packaging. There is something comforting about letting everyday remnants find a second life alongside the embroidery.

Accompanying process photos trace this journey of making though I admit they do not sufficiently mark the entire process.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey of learning and connection with the art of a culture that has long been marginalised and nearly erased from history. Best wishes for a peaceful and prosperous Lunar New Year 🙏🧧☺️

Dimensions : 70cm [H] X 55cm [W]
Borders : 3.5cm [W] including seam allowance. by @sashiko_for_therapy

I attempted another kaparamip technique in Ainu embroidery. Without the opportunity to learn directly from teachers, l’ve come to believe that the best way forward is simply to practise -patiently, attentively, and often.

This project would not have been possible without the generosity of the Ainu Cultural Center in Tokyo, where I spent many hours immersed in their video archives of contemporary Ainu artists and teachers. As Hokkaido Ainu Association Distinguished Craftsman Ms Kiyoko Mamiya so beautifully said in her video, “Watching is the best way to learn.”

The motif measures 53 × 24 cm and is the largest piece I have ever attempted. There were many struggles along the way, but each came with invaluable lessons. I made the classic beginner’s mistake of choosing the wrong fabric for the appliqué-the cotton linen frayed relentlessly and was almost impossible to tame. I chose it simply because I loved the colour, only to learn (the hard way) that material choice is fundamental to the final outcome. I also used slightly different shades of natural for the thick and thin threads for the couching stitches, making every imperfect stitch unmistakably visible. Strangely, I didn’t mind the difficulties. Each mistake clarified something important. These lessons mean the next piece may be gentler, not because it will be easier, but because I will know better what not to repeat. Practice, after all, is its own teacher.

In the coming days, I’ll be adding borders and assembling this into a finished wall tapestry. I look forward to sharing the final version soon - thank you for accompanying this work as it unfolds.

Note : This piece uses a motif copied from the book 私たちのアイヌ刺繍, as part of my learning and practice of Ainu embroidery techniques. Swipe for a look at the book and some process photos.

Wishing you all a fun and creative week ahead 😊 by @sashiko_for_therapy

Working another Ainu pattern created with the “Kaparamip” technique as the year draws to a close. This pattern is from the book 私たちのアイヌ刺繍 (Our Ainu Embroidery ~ Kaparamip edition) which I reinterpreted to meet my skills where they are at this moment.

This piece was full of challenges, especially aligning all the sides and horns with precision. I chose this particular pattern so I could work the etaraka [エタラカ] stitch (second pic). I have been deeply fascinated by the beauty of this stitch and how it enhances the character of every piece. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with it more closely. And especially grateful to @pirikamoshiri 山田かおるさん for her generous sharing of this beautiful technique via her blog. While I managed to achieve the desired outcome to some extent, there is still much room for improvement.

This is also the longest time I have ever spent on a single project. Yet the rewards were immense. Beyond the technical lessons, the slow, deliberate act of stitching gave me space to reflect on life and on a year that is almost at its end. In that quiet rhythm, I gained insights into how I wish to live in the year ahead. It brought to mind Thoreau’s famous quote from Walden:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Just as Thoreau went into the woods to strip life back to its essentials, I find that it is in embroidery—and in these quiet, unhurried moments—that I begin to discover life’s core meaning. With each stitch, I am reminded not to get lost in trivialities, but to live consciously, to be fully present, and to pay attention to what truly matters. In this stillness, making becomes a way of listening, and through that listening, I gain a clearer sense of what a fulfilling life asks of me.

As the year draws to a close, may you find moments of rest, gratitude, and quiet joy. Wishing you a year ahead filled with good health, gentle days, and renewed hope.
Cheers 🙏🥂💐 by @sashiko_for_therapy

Sitting with this piece of Ainu embroidery that took a week to complete reminded me how slow work can become a form of quiet devotion. Every tiny stitch is deliberate, every curve and spiral part of a pattern that has travelled through hands, lives, and time.

This pattern comes from the book 私たちのアイヌ刺繍 (Our Ainu Embroidery)—a collection of work by three Ainu cultural educators and artists (swipe for their introduction) I spent many happy hours with this book at the Ainu Culture Center in Tokyo, imagining their hands at work, feeling the presence of a culture that persisted through scarcity, resilience, and incredible artistry. Yukari Naganawa [長縄由加利] is the author of this pattern which brings together both kaparamip and chijiri, two techniques that require not only time, but patience, rhythm, and heart.

What moves me most is that Ainu embroidery is such a time-consuming process. Historically, they had so little material wealth, so few tools—and yet they created work of remarkable beauty and lasting impact. In contrast, we live surrounded by convenience, efficiency, and abundance, but often accomplish so little that feels meaningful or lasting.

This comparison doesn’t make me sad—it makes me grateful. Grateful for the comforts I enjoy every day without thinking, and even more grateful for the traditions that remind me of the value of patience, commitment, and presence.

When I stitch, time dissolves. My mind empties. Hours pass without my noticing. It feels like entering a quiet current that carries me beyond words—where making is not a task, but a form of rest and a quiet meditative gift.

To all the teachers, elders, and artists who protected this art, kept it alive, and continue to share it with the world—thank you, profoundly, for this gift of beauty, history, and healing 🌹 by @sashiko_for_therapy