The Scent of Rush Grass, Etched in Memory

The scent of rush grass has always been deeply engraved in me as part of my “everyday life.” Every time I visited my father’s tatami workshop, that distinct fragrance was there. A space filled with stacks of tatami like I had never seen before. I still vividly remember the simple feeling that came to me in that moment: “Tatami smells so good.”

My strongest memories are from summer. The sound of wind chimes drifting in from outside, the gentle breeze, and the aroma of tatami. Surrounded by that scene, I recall quietly thinking to myself, “Japan really is beautiful.”

Lying down on tatami, feeling its coolness and cleanliness, became a place where my heart could reset.

Questions and Discoveries About My Family’s Craft

As a child, I never understood why my father chose to be a tatami craftsman. It wasn’t pride or admiration I felt—it was pure curiosity: “Why?”

That curiosity began to change when I started working part-time at the workshop again during my university years. The turning point was my decision to study abroad in France. Before living in a foreign country, I wanted to deepen my understanding of my own culture.

Experiencing the tatami-making process from scratch, I was struck by the delicacy and depth of each step. Tatami looks simple, yet it embodies the wisdom and painstaking effort of generations. Learning that tatami used to be sewn entirely by hand, I was deeply moved by how much care had been devoted to preserving it.

The First Stirring of “What a Waste”

At the same time, I witnessed piles of rush grass offcuts being discarded in the workshop. What rose up in my heart then was a strong sense of “what a waste.”

Materials that still carried their fragrance and beauty were thrown away untouched. That image stayed with me and weighed heavily on my mind.

I believe this reaction came from the values nurtured in my home—respecting the power of microorganisms, the cycles of plants, and a way of living that makes use of what is already there. To me, simply “throwing away” felt like going against the natural order.

Breathing New Life Into Silent Materials

Eventually, that discomfort shifted into a question: “Could I breathe life into rush grass once again?” Yet it was not easy to communicate this idea to those uninterested in rush grass.

Often, people would dismiss it lightly: “Oh, that’s just part of tatami.” Many times, my concern wasn’t seen as a problem at all.

Still, what I could never forget were the rush farmers—working tirelessly, day and night, under grueling conditions. Knowing their effort and hardship made me strongly believe something had to be done.

Rush Grass as a Material for the Future

For me, rush grass is not just a material. It is a symbol of the life and culture the Japanese people have built over 1,300 years—a reflection of the Japanese spirit itself.

Tatami is deeply connected to our breath and sensibility. It embodies the beauty of a life that is “quietly balanced” and “in harmony with nature.”

Today, we live in what is often called a stress-filled society, constantly bombarded with stimulation. This is precisely why I believe the calming power of rush grass and tatami is so essential.

The scent of tatami brings a sense of ease, a quiet reassurance. I want to share that feeling with people living in modern cities.

Passing Down Japan’s Wisdom to the Next Generation

I believe rush grass holds the potential to be a “material for the future.” It is not just tradition—it is something that can bring new value to modern life.

By intentionally placing tatami in Western-style spaces, we can create moments and places where both body and mind can relax. And beyond tatami, I see potential in transforming rush grass into a wide variety of products.

Rush culture is a crystallization of the wisdom the Japanese people have nurtured while coexisting with nature. Passing that wisdom on to the next generation feels like my calling.

Ten, twenty years from now, I hope rush grass will still be quietly present in someone’s life. That is why, today and every day, I continue to touch, reflect upon, and act with rush grass.