[Tenugui] The Edo Technique of Chusen Dyeing: Preserving a Traditional Craft Beautiful on Both Sides for the Future

Greeting us was Murai Mitsutoshi, president and third-generation head of Murai Senkoujyo. He joined the family business right after graduating high school and has been at it for more than 40 years. In 2006, he was certified as a Tokyo Traditional Craftsman, a recognition held by highly skilled artisans.

Founded in 1936, Murai Senkoujyo relocated in 1939 from Higashi-Komatsugawa to its current home in Ichinoe, where it has mainly worked on dyeing tenugui and yukata (summer kimono). Although there were once dozens of dye workshops in the area, today only four remain in Tokyo, and just two in Edogawa City. Even so, Murai Senkoujyo continues to receive a steady stream of orders from across Japan, and it frequently collaborates with companies and organizations.

The traditional technique Murai has continued to uphold is chusen.

“Chusen is, just as the name suggests, a method of dyeing by ‘pouring’ dye. You place a stencil on the fabric, apply resist paste, and then pour dye over it to color the cloth. Because the dye penetrates down to each individual fiber, it produces vivid patterns and colors that look the same on both sides. There are also traditional techniques like sashiwake, where two or more colors are dyed at once, and bokashi, which uses handwork to create overlapping colors and subtle gradations. Unlike printing, where color is layered onto the surface, chusen preserves the natural texture of the fabric—so chusen-dyed tenugui have a supple finish.”

Once the katatsuke process is complete, the work moves on to dyeing. The accordion-folded fabric is set on a chusen dyeing table, and dye is poured using a kettle-like, watering-can tool called a yakan. The dye penetrates everywhere except the resist-pasted areas, and the pattern begins to emerge.

“Pouring little by little can easily create unevenness, so it takes skill to pour decisively in one go and finish cleanly,” Murai explains. “After pouring the dye, we press the cloth with a tool called a dango, then use a compression machine to suction air from beneath the table and draw the dye through. That extra step is what lets the dye penetrate all the way to the core of the fabric.”

Once rinsed, the tenugui are spun dry, then hung up to sun-dry on the roughly 15-meter-high yagura towering over the workshop rooftop, as seen at the start of the article. Using a dryer would distort the fabric with heat, so it is dried slowly using natural wind and sunlight for an even finish.

When dry, the fabric is fed through a dedicated rolling machine to remove wrinkles and neatly align the weave. Finally, it is cut to a set size, completing a single tenugui.

Supporting this long sequence of dyeing, washing, and drying over many years has been the area’s abundant water.

“I was born in 1962,” Murai says. “Back then, around the dye workshops there were fields and lotus ponds—it was a quiet, rural landscape. I’m told that artisans would hang tenugui on bamboo poles and rinse them by shaking them in the Ichinoe Sakaigawa River that flowed right in front of the workshop. Today the river has been developed as Ichinoe Sakaigawa Shinsui Park, so rinsing has moved inside the workshop—but we still wash using well water that draws on Edogawa City’s abundant water sources.”

So much so that, depending on the dye, they may even switch between well water and tap water—the quality of the water affects both color development and how well the dye sets. The surrounding streetscape has changed dramatically, but Edogawa City’s rich water resources continue to support the chusen work of Murai Senkoujyo to this day.

“During the COVID-19 pandemic, festivals and events were canceled, and demand for tenugui dropped sharply. We went through a period when we could only run the workshop two or three days a week,” Murai says. “But once restrictions were eased in 2023, demand came roaring back, and now, if anything, we’re busier than before. A major reason is the rise in inbound tourism.”

Thin, quick-drying, and usable on both sides, chosen-dyed tenugui have gained popularity among overseas visitors as a practical souvenir that feels distinctly Japanese. As a result, the factory now receives an even wider variety of orders than before. Alongside traditional Japanese patterns, more contemporary designs featuring cats, Mt. Fuji, and more have increased, further expanding the expressive range of chusen.

Even as chusen-dyed tenugui grow more popular, there are challenges to sustaining the craft. Tools and materials, including resist paste, have become harder to obtain as makers age or close their businesses.

“Securing the white cloth that forms the base of tenugui is getting harder every year,” Murai says. “There are fewer mills that weave the fabric, and the sarashiya—the specialists who bleach woven cloth white—are also dwindling nationwide. Some are moving toward using imported white fabric, but the texture inevitably differs. This is a critical issue that the chusen association as a whole needs to address going forward.”

How to pass the tradition to the next generation is a challenge—but there is also hope. In recent years, as chusen has become more widely known through events and social media, more young people than before are aspiring to become artisans. Several younger craftspeople joined Murai Senkoujyo after participating in initiatives held jointly with Edogawa City, such as the Chusen Practical Workshop and the Artisan Workshop, which were created to address a shortage of skilled workers.

“Some come from art schools, others are career-changers—people’s backgrounds vary,” Murai says. “But what they share is a strong desire to dye tenugui. Because they’re motivated, they pick up skills quickly. We even have artisans who mastered in three years what would normally take five. In recent years, more women have been applying, and we now have three women artisans working here. It seems other dye workshops are also seeing more young people—this is no longer an era where ‘artisan’ means only older folks.”

Murai’s second son, Kai, is part of that trend. Now 31, he decided while still in university that he would take over the family business, and joined Murai Senkoujyo immediately after graduating. Today he is an essential member of the team, entrusted with a broad range of work from katatsuke through dyeing.

“I thought Murai Senkoujyo might end with my generation, so I never expected someone would carry it on,” Murai says with a smile. “I’m happy. Chusen is a technique you won’t find anywhere else in the world—it exists only in Japan. I want to keep passing on what we inherited from those who came before us.”

From the days when tenugui were washed in the Ichinoe Sakaigawa River, Edogawa’s dyeing trade has moved forward alongside water. Now, strengthened by younger hands, its tradition courses steadily into a new era.

Writing: Kiuchi Aki
Photo: Takeshita Akiko