This may be the first time in six years that I’ve expressed myself like this, and honestly, it’s a bit uncomfortable for me to ask for help so directly. In the past, I’ve mentioned how important it is to refer back to me, to be mindful of who you learn from, and to acknowledge the true stories behind Sashiko. But today, I feel the need to make a more specific request. I would like to ask for your help in spreading the word about our In-Person and Online Sashiko Classes. Whether through word of mouth, sharing your experience, or even a simple recommendation, your efforts could make a significant difference for us, especially now, as the second half of this year has been more challenging than expected.
For about three months now, we’ve had no new registrations for our Online Classes, and we are also finding it difficult to fill the spots for our In-Person Classes scheduled for 2025. This is troubling for me, as I haven’t made any major changes to the classes themselves. The only adjustment has been a slight increase in pricing, but that’s simply to keep up with the (frankly overwhelming) inflation we’re all experiencing. Even with this minor price hike, I don’t believe that this alone explains the drop in interest. So, I’ve been looking at other external factors—things like the economy, trends, competition, and the classic demand-and-supply equation.
The economy, on the surface, doesn’t seem to be in such a bad state that it would affect this niche so dramatically. And from what I can see, the trend of Sashiko remains as popular as ever. People are still drawn to the beauty and history of this traditional Japanese stitching technique. In terms of supply, the number of workshops and classes being offered hasn’t surged either, so it’s not as though the market has been flooded. But then there’s competition—and I wonder: could those who have copied what I’ve shared, who have learned from me and now offer their own workshops, be contributing to the decline in interest for the original source?
This is a difficult question to ask, but it’s one I can no longer ignore. Some of my friends warned me that this might happen—that when you share openly and generously, others may take that knowledge and use it for their own purposes, often without acknowledging where it came from. It’s possible that this very process of replication, of commercializing what was meant to be shared respectfully, is leading to the erosion of the Sashiko tradition as I know it. The art form I’ve spent my life learning and sharing could be at risk of being overshadowed or even lost in this wave of reinterpretation and commodification.
I’ve often likened the preservation of cultural practices to maintaining the flow of water in a river. Without care and attention given to the upstream source, the water downstream will eventually dry up. In the case of cultural traditions like Sashiko, the "water" is wisdom—knowledge passed down, nurtured, and respected. If we neglect this, what’s left downstream will eventually become shallow and diluted. This is why I am so committed to ensuring that Sashiko remains not just a trend, but a deeply respected and sustainable practice.
I understand that my classes represent a significant investment of time and money, but I truly believe that what I offer is a life-long skill and mindset. Every person who has taken my class has told me afterward that it was worth every bit of the investment. I don’t just teach the stitching techniques; I teach the philosophy and cultural context behind them. My entire life’s journey with Sashiko is embedded in these classes, and I pour everything I’ve learned into them so that students can not only practice Sashiko but also understand and appreciate its true essence.
We live in a world where information is abundant, and so much of it is available for free. It’s easy to follow the path of being “self-taught,” especially with endless tutorials and resources online. But I think we all know that there’s a difference between what’s available for free and the depth of understanding that comes from dedicated learning. Everyone needs to make a living, myself included. Not everyone has the privilege to give their knowledge away without compensation, and for many artisans like myself, teaching these classes is not only a passion but also a livelihood.
That’s why I’m asking for your help. Please, if you can, redirect potential learners to my classes. Tell them about your own experience and the value you found in learning Sashiko from me. Help them understand that what I offer goes beyond just techniques—it’s about preserving a tradition that’s in danger of being overshadowed by fast trends and superficial interpretations. We’re reaching a point where the sustainability of this teaching is in question, and your support could help us ensure that Sashiko continues to be passed down in its true form.
The truth is, after taking my class, you’ll be able to complete large amounts of Sashiko stitching without frustration or difficulty. My students are always amazed at how much they can achieve after learning the proper methods and techniques. There are reasons why those of us who practice Sashiko regularly are able to stitch so much with ease, and those reasons come from years of experience, practice, and the right guidance.
By sharing my class with others, you’re helping to keep this tradition alive in its authentic form. You’re helping to ensure that the wisdom behind Sashiko doesn’t get lost in translation or diluted by trends. You’re helping to protect something that is both beautiful and deeply meaningful, not just for me but for everyone who values true craftsmanship and cultural heritage.
I know this is a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important. Thank you for your support, and thank you for being part of this journey to preserve Sashiko for future generations.
英語圏での刺し子に、日本での刺し子が飲み込まれようとしています。
だからこそ、もう一歩勇気を出して、声を上げる必要があるのだろうと思います。