For seven years now, I have been immersed in the study of natural dyeing. My journey began with herbs purchased from a Chinese medicine shop, progressing to the practice of indigo dyeing. I honed my skills in China, Japan, and Taiwan, and in 2020, I returned to Hong Kong to experiment with local plants for natural dyeing. This shift sparked a profound interest in discovering dyeable plants in my surroundings. Unlike regions where indigo plants are plentiful, Hong Kong's scarcity of these plants makes it difficult for locals to engage in indigo dyeing independently. 

 

Over the past two years, I've scoured the hills behind my studio, the nearby parks, and Pokfulam Village in search of dye plants. This quest has fostered a deeper connection with the community. Rather than identifying as a dyer, I consider myself a storyteller, using natural colours to weave narratives. Local plants hold unique significance for every Hong Kong resident, evoking personal histories and memories—from a father's efforts to the nostalgia of school days in autumn. Despite our diverse environments and experiences, conversations about local plants and their impressions resonate with those born in Hong Kong.

 

I recall a student once sharing insights about Shibari [i](rope bondage), an obscure art form in Hong Kong. The student explained how trust is crucial between the rope binder and the bound, exploring interpersonal dynamics through this art. This reminded me of natural dyeing, where initial perceptions are often practical. In Pokfulam Village, many local women initially approached natural dyeing pragmatically. However, as their interest grew, they began to explore and discover themselves through the craft, realising its multifaceted nature. This journey underscores that crafts can nurture relationships—between people and nature, and among individuals themselves—beyond mere practical needs. We find joy in dyeing even small pieces of cloth, dedicating hours to perfecting them. Workshops in the village often see the local women, as both tutors and learners, engaging in meaningful exchanges, their excitement palpable as they embrace new skills.

 

Five years since the Village Aunties' Studio was founded, I marvel at their dedication despite their familial and professional commitments. Ling Ling encapsulated this spirit: "We don't think about 'staying' or 'leaving'; we're simply enjoying ourselves as we did at the start. Leaving isn't an option." The village women may not be master artisans or artists yet, but from family-friendly workshops, they have grown their skills, continually striving for excellence. Their curiosity, akin to that of children, fuels their quest for knowledge and pride in their work. This blend of originality and tradition defines true craftsmanship.

 

Driven by this passion, my editor Vivian Ting and I aim to document their lives in the project "The Handcraft Diary of the Pokfulam Village Aunties". We seek to highlight the everyday practice of art in traditional crafts, perhaps calling it "the creativity of the village women". Their blend of frugality, diligence, local resources, and traditional wisdom offers a fresh perspective on handicraft development and cultural preservation. It encourages the public to promote sustainable practices and revive a forgotten way of urban life.

 

We extend our heartfelt thanks to the six village aunties, the handcraft teachers, our partners, and all the families and friends who supported this project. The book is rich with reflections on teaching and heritage. I am particularly grateful to Vivian Ting, my mentor and friend. Before I embarked on promoting natural dyeing, I hesitated, fearing a lack of serious interest. However, after an indigo dyeing session with Vivian, she urged me to teach, emphasising that even one dedicated student could make a difference. Vivian's commitment to preserving traditional culture, like natural dye, permeates us. We, as threads, carry different colours, intertwining through destiny to inspire others, echoing the sentiment of Nakajima Miyuki's song "Thread": 

 

The vertical thread is you

The horizontal thread is me

And this tapestry that we weave

May someday bring someone warmth

May someday protect someone's wound

 

The vertical thread is you

The horizontal thread is me

And when we find a thread meant to cross with our own

We call that destiny

 

[i] "Shibari" in Japanese literally means "bundling" or "binding". The ancient Japanese art of rope bondage inspires the concept of the performance. Rope bondage involves mechanics, technique and skill, and the combination of the model's posture and the interlocking and overlapping ropes creates a "masochistic" aesthetic.