In a small workshop along a mountain stream in Gifu Prefecture, a craftsman bends over a wooden frame holding a fine bamboo screen. He dips the frame into a wooden vat filled with water and slurried fibre, lifts it horizontally, and tilts it back and forth in a steady rhythm — letting the water drain through while the fibre redistributes itself across the screen. After three or four minutes, the slurry has formed a thin uniform mat. He removes the screen and lays the wet sheet onto a stack of similar sheets to await pressing.
This is washi (和紙), Japanese handmade paper. The making process — nagashizuki, the “flowing scoop” technique — has changed only in detail since it was developed in Japan over a thousand years ago. The result is a paper that is unlike Western paper in nearly every way: the fibre is longer, the structure is looser, the texture has visible variation, and the durability is dramatically greater. A washi document from the 8th century, properly stored, is still readable today. Most Western papers from the same era have crumbled to dust.
This article traces what washi is structurally, the three plant fibres that make it, the nagashizuki method that distinguishes Japanese papermaking from Chinese and European traditions, and how washi survives — and in some markets thrives — alongside industrial papers.
Table of Contents
- What washi is
- Kozo, mitsumata, and gampi
- Nagashizuki, the flowing scoop
- Why it resists tearing
- Washi in traditional architecture
- Washi in art and calligraphy
- Regional traditions
- Contemporary revival
What washi is
The word washi (和紙) decomposes into wa (和, Japanese) and shi (紙, paper) — literally “Japanese paper.” The term came into use to distinguish traditional Japanese handmade paper from Western machine-made paper after Western paper began arriving in Japan during the Meiji period. In strict Japanese usage, washi refers specifically to paper made through traditional Japanese methods using traditional Japanese fibres, regardless of where the paper is made.
A finished sheet of washi has several distinguishing physical properties. It is generally lighter and thinner than equivalent Western paper, often with a slightly translucent quality even at full opacity. The surface texture varies — some washi is smooth, some has visible fibre and slight irregularities — but it is consistently softer to the touch than the harder, more uniform surface of Western pulp paper. Holding a sheet up to light reveals the fibre matrix: long fibres laid in random orientations, with the slight unevenness that comes from hand-formation.
The fibre structure is critical. In Western paper, fibres are short — typically 1 to 3 millimetres — and densely packed, producing a uniform but relatively brittle sheet. In washi, fibres are long — sometimes 8 to 15 millimetres — and laid loosely, producing a sheet that is less uniform but dramatically more flexible and durable. The longer fibres interweave like a fabric, distributing stress across the entire sheet rather than concentrating it at any one point.
This means washi tears in a particular way: with a long, fibrous edge rather than the clean break of Western paper. Tearing washi deliberately and using the resulting irregular edge as a design element is part of the aesthetic of certain washi applications.
Kozo, mitsumata, and gampi
Three plants provide the primary fibres for washi. Each has different properties and is used for different purposes.
Kozo (楮) — paper mulberry — is the most common washi fibre, used for the majority of everyday traditional paper. Kozo fibres are particularly long and strong, producing a paper that is durable, slightly textured, and well-suited for many applications: shoji screens, calligraphy practice paper, lanterns, document paper. Kozo is harvested annually as small plantation trees; the bark is stripped after harvesting, processed through several steps, and yields the basic fibre material.
Mitsumata (三椏) — paper bush — produces a softer, finer paper with more pronounced sheen. Mitsumata fibres are slightly shorter than kozo but smoother. The resulting paper is favoured for high-quality print applications, currency paper, and luxury writing papers. Until recently, mitsumata was the primary fibre used in Japanese yen banknotes.
Gampi (雁皮) — a wild shrub that resists cultivation — produces the highest-quality washi with the most refined surface. Gampi paper is typically thin, almost translucent, with a particular density that makes it ideal for repair work on classical paintings and for the very highest-quality calligraphy paper. Because gampi must be harvested wild and in limited quantities, it is the most expensive of the three primary fibres and is reserved for applications where its specific properties are needed.
Many washi sheets blend two or three of these fibres, taking advantage of complementary properties. The exact blend used by a particular workshop or region is often considered a trade secret.
Nagashizuki, the flowing scoop
The defining technique of washi production is nagashizuki — “flowing scoop” — developed in Japan in the 8th or 9th century. Nagashizuki differs from the tamezuki technique (used in Chinese and European traditions) in a way that produces fundamentally different paper structure.
In tamezuki, the papermaker dips a screen into the fibre slurry, lifts it level, and allows the water to drain straight through. The fibres settle in random orientation, producing a sheet with isotropic structure — equally strong in all directions but also equally weak. This is essentially the technique used worldwide before the introduction of nagashizuki.
In nagashizuki, the papermaker dips the screen, lifts it slightly tilted, and tilts it back and forth multiple times — letting some water drain while keeping a thin layer of slurry moving across the screen. With each tilt, the fibres are oriented in alternating directions, producing a sheet with crossed fibres laid like a textile. Multiple dips can be performed in succession, building up layers within a single sheet.
The technique requires specific additives. Tororo-aoi (the root of the wild yam) is added to the slurry to slow the rate at which water drains through the screen, allowing time for the multiple tilts. Without this slowing agent, the slurry would drain too quickly to permit the technique. The tororo-aoi must be carefully prepared and added in correct proportion — too much and the slurry becomes unworkably thick; too little and it drains too fast.
The result is a paper that has internal fibre orientation. The crossed-fibre structure is what gives washi its remarkable tear resistance and longevity. It is also what gives the paper its slight visible texture — the fibre orientation is subtly visible in good light.
Why it resists tearing
Long-fibre, cross-laid construction means that any force applied to a sheet of washi must work against the entire fibre matrix to produce a tear. A tear that begins at an edge cannot propagate easily; the long fibres bridge across the tear and require the force to break each one individually. This is fundamentally different from short-fibre Western paper, where a tear propagates rapidly along the path of least resistance.
Studies of paper longevity have repeatedly demonstrated washi‘s exceptional durability. Documents from the Nara period (8th century) — over 1200 years old — survive in readable condition in Japanese archives. Some washi sheets used in important historical documents have outlasted multiple generations of Western paper that has needed to be replaced.
The longevity has practical applications. Paper conservation laboratories worldwide use washi to repair and reinforce damaged documents from many cultural traditions. The transparency of thin gampi paper allows it to be applied over damaged areas without obscuring the underlying material. The strength of the fibres provides reinforcement. The stable pH of properly made washi (it does not contain the acid additives that cause Western paper to yellow and crumble) means that the repair material does not damage the original.
This conservation use has given washi an unusual position in global archival practice. Major libraries, museums, and conservation institutes maintain stocks of washi specifically for restoration work, and the demand has helped sustain certain washi workshops that otherwise would have shrunk to economic non-viability.
Washi in traditional architecture
The most prominent everyday use of washi in Japan is architectural. Shoji screens — sliding wooden lattice frames covered with paper — are one of the most distinctive features of traditional Japanese rooms. The paper used for shoji is washi, typically kozo-based, and it provides the diffused light, visual privacy, and slight thermal regulation that shoji are designed for.
A shoji screen is not a wall in the Western sense. The paper is thin enough to transmit light, with a soft glow that has been part of the visual identity of Japanese interiors for over a thousand years. The room behind a shoji is visible only as silhouette and motion; full visual privacy is maintained while light passes through. This balance is impossible with most other materials.
The paper requires periodic replacement. Shoji paper tears with use — children, pets, careless adjacency — and yellows over years of exposure to light and air. Traditional households replace shoji paper annually or biannually, often before the New Year. This replacement is now performed by professionals or, for those with the inclination, by household members using washi sheets sold specifically for the purpose. The persistence of this maintenance ritual has helped sustain washi production through periods when other applications have declined.
Other architectural uses include fusuma sliding doors (with thicker, more decorative washi on both faces), lanterns (chochin and andon), and the layered paper used in some traditional ceiling and wall finishes. The paper is structural in the sense that it carries the room’s atmosphere, even if it does not bear the loads that wood and stone do.
Washi in art and calligraphy
The relationship between washi and Japanese visual arts is direct. Shodo — the art of brush calligraphy — depends on the absorbency and flow characteristics of washi. The paper accepts ink with controlled bleed, allowing the calligrapher to produce strokes with sharp definition or soft variation depending on the desired effect.
Different washi papers have different ink-absorption profiles. A more absorbent paper (typically thinner gampi or processed kozo) lets the ink spread quickly, producing softer-edged strokes that show variation in pressure and speed. A less absorbent paper allows for sharper edges and more controlled lines. Calligraphers select paper based on the specific aesthetic they are seeking, and high-end calligraphy practice involves matching paper to brush, ink, and intended composition.
Beyond calligraphy, washi is used in sumi-e ink painting, in ukiyo-e woodblock printing (where multiple colours are applied to the paper sequentially), in book printing of religious texts and classical literature, and in the elaborate paper-cutting (kirigami) and folding (origami) traditions that depend on paper that holds shape without tearing along fold lines.
The visual aesthetic of sumi-e — soft ink washes that bleed gradually into the paper — is in significant part a property of the washi used. The paper’s response to ink is what allows the painter to produce the specific tonal gradations that define the form. A different paper would produce a different art.
Regional traditions
Washi is not a single uniform product. Specific regions of Japan have developed distinctive traditions of papermaking over centuries, each producing paper with characteristic properties. The most famous regional traditions are concentrated in mountainous areas with abundant water — the kozo, mitsumata, and gampi plants need clear stream water for processing.
Echizen washi (越前和紙) from Fukui Prefecture is one of the oldest and most prestigious regional traditions, with a continuous papermaking history going back over 1500 years. Echizen specialises in fine art papers for calligraphy, prints, and high-end applications.
Mino washi (美濃和紙) from Gifu Prefecture is famous for its translucent quality and is the standard paper used for shoji screens at the highest levels of traditional Japanese carpentry. Mino is one of the three traditions designated as UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2014.
Hosokawa washi from Saitama and Sekishu washi from Shimane were the other two designated as UNESCO Heritage. The recognition raised international awareness of washi and helped support continued production.
Other regional traditions include Tosa washi (Kochi), Awa washi (Tokushima), Inshu washi (Tottori), and many smaller local traditions. Each has subtle differences in fibre selection, slurry preparation, drying methods, and finishing that produce papers with their own character. A serious washi user can often identify the regional origin of a paper by its surface and feel.
Contemporary revival
The economic pressure on traditional washi production has been substantial. The introduction of Western papermaking technology in the late 19th century, the post-war shift to industrial materials, and the decline of traditional architecture have all reduced demand for hand-made paper. The number of working washi mills in Japan has shrunk from many hundreds in the early 20th century to perhaps a hundred or fewer today.
Despite this decline, several developments have helped sustain a contemporary market for washi. International conservation use has provided steady demand from institutions worldwide. Japanese craft revivalism has driven renewed interest in shoji replacement, calligraphy practice, and traditional paper applications among younger Japanese consumers. International craft markets have expanded the reach of washi into Western art supply, decorative paper, and design contexts.
Some washi makers have also adapted their products to contemporary applications: washi tape (the decorative paper tape now sold worldwide as masking tape for crafts), washi-printed wallpaper, washi-based lampshades and lighting, and contemporary stationery. These applications have expanded the customer base beyond traditional users while maintaining the traditional production methods.
The combination of conservation, traditional, and contemporary uses has created a stable if modest economic foundation for washi production. The number of working mills is unlikely to grow substantially, but the existing mills have a reasonably reliable demand base. Government recognition through Living National Treasure designations, UNESCO Heritage status, and regional cultural property programs provides some additional support.
What washi preserves, in the end, is a thousand-year-old technique that produces a material with specific properties unavailable through industrial papermaking. The nagashizuki method, the long-fibre plant sources, the regional variations — all combine to produce paper that does specific things better than any alternative. As long as those specific things are needed — by calligraphers, conservators, traditional architects, and craft practitioners — the demand for washi will continue, and the workshops along Japan’s mountain streams will continue to dip their bamboo screens into vats of slurried fibre and tilt them back and forth, sheet by careful sheet.