A Town That Weaves Time, and Spins the Future

This time, I’d like to introduce Nishijin, an area in the northwest of Kyoto. Strictly speaking, there is no official district called “Nishijin” in administrative terms, so there isn’t a clearly defined boundary. In a broader sense, however, it is generally considered to refer to the area roughly stretching north to south from Kitaoji Street to Marutamachi Street, and east to west from Karasuma Street to Nishioji Street. In a narrower sense, it may refer to an even smaller zone.

Why not step into Nishijin’s deep history and get a taste of the traditional industries that still shape the neighborhood today?

The Origin of the Name: The Ōnin War

The name “Nishijin” traces back to the Ōnin War, which took place during the Muromachi period. The reason it came to be called Nishijin is quite simple: it is said that, amid the conflict, this area served as the encampment of the Western Army—hence nishi (west) jin (camp).

The residence of the Western Army’s commander-in-chief, Yamana Sōzen, once stood here, and its legacy remains in the place name Yamana-chō, which is said to derive from the former estate site.

This area had already been thriving as a center for textiles since the Heian period. If you’ve studied Japanese history, you may have heard of the government office called Oribe-no-tsukasa, established around the time the capital moved to Heian-kyō (Kyoto). Under its influence, artisans in what is now the Kamigyō area were encouraged to produce high-end textiles, which helped Kyoto’s weaving culture flourish.

During the Ōnin War, many craftsmen fled the turmoil—but when the conflict ended, they returned and resumed their work. The traditional craft that grew out of this revival is what we now know as Nishijin-ori (Nishijin textiles).

Nishijin-ori: Kyoto’s Traditional Textile Craft

Nishijin-ori is a collective term for pre-dyed figured textiles produced in Kyoto’s Nishijin area, known for high-mix, low-volume production (as defined on the Nishijin Textile Industrial Association’s website).

“Pre-dyed” refers to a technique in which threads are dyed first, then woven together to create intricate patterns. In contrast, textiles that begin as white fabric and are dyed afterward are known as “post-dyed.” A famous Kyoto example of this is Kyō-yūzen.

The production process for Nishijin-ori involves many steps, making mass production difficult. Because of its beauty and rarity, it has been designated a traditional craft of Japan. And even within “Nishijin-ori,” there is a wide variety of weaving methods and looms—Japan officially recognizes 12 different weaving techniques, each with its own unique character.

For instance, a technique known as Tsuzure-ori (tapestry weaving) is extraordinarily detailed. It’s said that depending on the complexity of the design, even a full day of work may produce only one square centimeter of fabric.

Writer’s Recommendation

So, you’re interested in Nishijin-ori—but where can you actually see it? If you’d like to learn more before exploring the Nishijin area itself, I recommend the Nishijin Textile Asagi Museum (Nishijin-ori Asagi Museum).

It’s conveniently located near Shijō–Karasuma, and it’s also easy to reach from Karasuma Oike Station, the nearest station to Kyohotel Kishotei Goshominami—about a 12-minute walk.

In the permanent exhibition, you can see Nishijin-ori recreations of works by Rinpa masters such as Ogata Kōrin and Tawaraya Sōtatsu, as well as Impressionist painters like Monet and Renoir. The collection is truly breathtaking—countless threads woven with such precision that they capture the brushwork of each artist.

If there’s one piece I especially want you to notice, it’s the Nishijin-ori recreation of Gustav Klimt’s masterpiece, The Kiss. The Kiss is said to have been strongly influenced by Ogata Kōrin and his Red and White Plum Blossoms folding screen. Klimt’s bold use of gold leaf certainly calls Kōrin to mind.

And here, that very work is reinterpreted and recreated through Nishijin-ori, a traditional Japanese craft—almost like a “reverse import,” returning Western art to Japan through Japanese technique. Seen through the lens of artistic admiration traveling back and forth across time and cultures, it’s irresistibly romantic.