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Thoughts on Patchwork

When I became enamored with the art of dyeing, I traveled from Korea to Japan to learn about the various Japanese dyeing techniques. Over two decades later, I am still here. In my quest to master dyeing, I have acquired many materials and methods and have delighted in the splendor of textiles. As I contemplated how to bring out the best in each textile, I was reminded of the fabrics that my mother and grandmother sewed when I was a little girl. No scrap was too small and nothing was ever wasted. Stitch by stitch, layer by layer, the women in my family created simple yet beautiful piecework filled with gentle love.

After many years of living in away from my homeland, I established an atelier in Japan where I was able to gradually incorporate and teach the traditional Korean piecework style called “bojagi”. I believe this return to my roots is a gift from my mother and grandmother and the generations before them.

The History of Bojagi

The custom of wrapping things in fabric—such as food or tableware—is a deeply embedded one in Korean culture, and the fabric itself is called “bojagi.” Versatile and multi-functional, historical records show that was also frequently used as room dividers as well as floor and wall coverings.

In a typical, small Korean dwelling, bojagi would often be used to wrap bedding or other household goods when not in use. Because bojagi could be quite large when spread out but can be folded into a compact size, it is reminiscent of the Japanese furoshiki. However, furoshiki fabric tends to have standardized dimensions, whereas bojagi can range anywhere between 12 inches (30 cm) square for small items, to about 2 yards or meters square to encase bedding/blankets. Another differentiation between furoshiki and bojagi is that bojagi often included ties on the corners, which furoshiki don’t have.

It is unclear when the name bojagi came into being. In ancient literature, there are references to the word “獣” (“pok”), which means “fabric with which to wrap”. Pok has a Korean homonym that means “fortune,” so bojagi is considered a bearer of luck, and a home with bojagi-wrapped items would be blessed with well-being and prosperity.

In Japanese kanji, the word “bojagi” translates as “樅子 器” (insulator), abbreviated to “略” (po) The kanji “褓” is also pronounced “mutsuki” in Japanese which could be translated to mean a garment for bundling babies.

My grandmother affectionately called the ubiquitous patched fabrics “po” or “boja”. Additionally, when the bojagi was used to swaddle babies, she called it “bojai” (diaper). I imagine that in generations past, as a child grew the scraps and cuttings from his or her clothing became the patchworked bojagi.

The application of fabric patches for upcycling clothes and kimonos and creating separate quilts is a long-held tradition in Japan as well, using traditional mending techniques such as “hyaku-hagi” (100 patches, also knowns as yose-gire, which roughly translates as gathering tears or rips). Gradually, the patches became less random, with planned color combinations and symmetry/balance emerging as part of the mending process. The mender increasingly infused her own tastes and creativity into the patchwork.

Similarly in Korea, women incorporated their individual color and design preferences into their bojagi. Most importantly, by bundling babies in these meticulously pieced together bojagi, there is a deep and resonant wish for children to grow into strong and healthy humans.

In both Japan and Korea, giving fabric new life through patchwork and mending is a humble virtue. I’ve been struck by how the seemingly simple activities of stitching reveals a spiritual, beautiful connection between people across different countries of origin.

Bojagi Styles

Bojagi is divided into two main styles: Kumpo and Mimpo. There are subcategories within those two depending on construction methods and application purposes.

The Kumpo style is associated with the aristocratic class and the ways in which bojagi was used in court rituals (including mourning) and for preservation of objects, usually made from silk in red hues.

The Mimpo style has strong associations with the “common people”. Mimpo bojagi has had many uses and was made from materials such as Ramie, cotton, linen, gauze, paper, etc.

Another way to classify bojagi is based on construction methods known as Hoppo, Kyoppo, and Sompo. Hoppo is a single layer bojagi. Kyoppo includes a backing or lining, thus making it a two-layer bojagi. Batting is included between two layers of Sompo bojagi, which makes this style effective for wrapping breakables and to prevent water damage.

There are also distinctive embellishment and production techniques for bojagi such as Suuppo, Kungpokpo, Klimpo, Nubipo (similar to Japanese Sashiko), and Chogakpo. Of these, Chogakpo is considered particularly representative of the Mimpo style. Reminiscent of the Japanese “hyaku-tsugi” (100-piece patchwork), fabric scraps are piece together into continuous rows. Chogakpo is my own personal favorite style and this book heavily features projects using the Chogakpo method.

Lightweight fabrics like gauze lined with silky, textured fabrics work well for Chogakpo. Delicate but sturdier fabrics like Ramie and linen can be constructed in a single layer. The most quintessential Chogakpo is a single layer version made from linen, beautiful with its tidy and geometric design. On a side note, the fabric ramie is called “karamushi” in Japanese and the textile derived from the fibers of a type of nettle plant. I love the symbolism of meticulously processing the plant fibers to create an intricate and lovely fabric and have named my studio as such in the hopes of creating works of beauty with exquisite attention to details.

The Colors of Bojagi

In Korea’s 5,000-year history, the overarching philosophy has been one of restraint, and overt emotional expression was deeply frowned upon. However, despite any initial impression of stoicism, there is an underlying, hidden emotional abundance ready to leap out. Once unleashed, the explosive expressiveness is almost overwhelming and this is a characteristic of the Korean culture.

As a society ruled by demanding strictures, women of the Joseon Dynasty were not allowed to be seen outside of their homes during the day. It is said that when the sun would set and the evening bells rang throughout town, the men would return to their families and only then were women able to step out of their homes. Despite this sequestered way of living, the women found rich satisfaction in stitching colorful and beautiful fabrics in a specially designated inner sanctum within their house.

A completed bojagi revealed the socioeconomic status of the maker. At times intense, and at other times gentle, the range of color combinations tell stories of families and histories and is heavily influenced by the ancient Chinese philosophies of yin and yang, Feng Shui and the five-elements theory that make up the universe. The five colors associated with the elements that form the basis of the entire natural world are: blue, white, red, black and yellow. Blue represents spring and is oriented toward the east; it symbolizes birth, creation, and hope. Red represents summer and is south-facing; it symbolizes passion, love and growth. White is autumn and westward; it symbolizes innocence, truth, bereavement and transition. Black is winter and points to the north; it symbolizes darkness. Yellow represents the earth itself, at the center; it symbolizes light and life. Although the colors red or green may be used in place of black, these five main colors comprise the essential directional elements and form the foundation of the bojagi color scheme. Various expressions can be evoked via the color combinations, from delicate and lighthearted to fiercely dark.

For example, a Chogakpo constructed in a Hoppo style often utilizes pastel colors that indicate a richness and complexity, and the colors reference the purple hues that only the wealthy could afford to use in days of yore.

In examining the various colors and configurations of Chogakpo bojagi, there are quite a few that seem to have no rhyme or reason in terms of design. In any kind of art, there is usually a planning phase and the final piece is executed in accordance to this plan. However, Chogakpo involves randomly piecing together available scraps and it is, in fact, this organic method that creates its unique beauty. Tattered fabrics destined for the dustbin are given a second life, and I believe the resulting work could stand on its own as a piece of art.

At its heart, bojagi is a utilitarian, age-old Korean craft accessible to everyone. Born from respectful and law-abiding women who—despite their cloistered existence— created moments of respite and artistry from the humble activity of needlework to establish a practice of joy and hope. I am guided and inspired by these women and consider it my life work to spread this joy and hope.

May this book bring you good fortune, as bojagi is meant to. I think of the many anonymous women who tirelessly pieced together small pieces of fabrics one stitch at a time and have designed this book to bring a fresh perspective while preserving the integrity of the craft. My hope is that this lovely tradition dating back to the beginnings of the Joseon Dynasty will be enjoyed as part of modern daily living, and I included sections on the wonderful variety of projects that have evolved from this art form. I’m certain that you’ll find projects that strike your fancy in these pages.

Finally, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to Huh Dong Hwa, the president of the Museum of Korean Embroidery, whose vast collection of and ardent advocacy for the craft of bojagi has not only given bojagi the spotlight it deserves but enlightened us all about its beauty as an art form and narrative. Furthermore, I am deeply appreciative of his permission to use his materials as references and samples in this book.

Please note: The projects in this book were designed and executed using metric measurements. Imperial measurements to the nearest eighth of an inch are provided in the instructions, but these are approximate. Using the more precise metric measurements is strongly recommended.

Terminology

There are many finishing techniques associated with bojagi, and the resulting style will differ depending on the combination of how seam allowances are handled for certain construction methods. To avoid confusion, the techniques and construction methods will be called out in Korean for each project.

Style (Construction Methods)

Hopp—single-layer bojagi

Kyoppo—two-layer bojagi with a top piece and backing piece

Sompo—more of a traditional quilt with two layers of bojagi sandwiching a layer of batting. Also known as Nubi.

Finishing Techniques

Komsul—Seam allowance is pressed open. Typically used in a two-layer construction method.

Samsul—Similar to a flat-felled seam, the raw edges of the seam allowance are folded over each other and sewn down. Used in single-layer construction method.

Kapsul (Keki)—The raw edges are separately folded toward the wrong side and stitched into place with a series of running stitches. Used in a single-layer construction method.

Hatsul—The seam allowance is pressed to one side and secured with backstitches from the right side of the fabric.

Choi Yangsook

References

“Colors and Shapes of Korea: Traditional Korean Textile Crafts” by Jiaodong. Published by Kyotoka Institute for Culture and Art, the Korea Museum Association, and the Japan-Korea Cultural Exchange Project Implementation Committee. “Embroidery and Cloth in the Yi Dynasty Period: an Hommage to Nameless Artists”. Published by the Kyotoka Foundation, International Art and Culture Promotion Committee.