Kikuo Morimoto hopes that by reviving traditional textile production in Cambodia, the impoverished villages will once again be self sustaining units. Photos by ART CHEN, CHIN MUI YOON and courtesy of ROLEX AWARDSSunday September 16, 2007
By CHIN MUI YOON
The Star (Malaysia)
Cambodia's silk was once among the region's finest, until 30 years of armed conflict destroyed the ancient art. Now, thanks to one man, the beautiful textile is making a comeback.
WHEN Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime ended five years of genocide across Cambodia in 1979, it left two million people dead and the Khmer people’s culture, arts and traditions decimated.
In implementing his brutal Year Zero plan to create a new society, Pol Pot exterminated an entire generation, including Cambodia’s artisans and artists.
While the ancient Angkor kings had built temple monuments for Cambodians to inherit, which draw millions in tourist revenue today, Pol Pot left only poverty, suffering and a devastated culture.
The years of turbulence have resulted in Cambodia becoming among Asia’s poorest countries today.
When Japanese silk expert Kikuo Morimoto first arrived in Cambodia in 1993 to conduct research on traditional Khmer textiles for United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (Unesco), he found a population almost devoid of those aged between 30 and 50.
This unbalanced demography resulted from Cambodia’s history of armed conflicts since Lon Nol’s reign in 1970, then the Khmer Rouge in 1975, followed by the Vietnamese intervention in 1979. The transitional government came only in 1993.
Kikuo Morimoto with three of the five ‘silk grandmas’ who taught the craft to Cambodian village women. It was a skill that had been traditionally handed down through the generations.
A vital bridge to pass on traditions from old to young such as textile production was lost. Little information existed due to the craft’s 25 years of absence.
When peace returned to Cambodia in 1990, traditional handwoven textiles were gradually revived in Takeo, near Phnom Penh, and in Kampung Cham along the Mekong River.
Merchants supplied villagers with raw silk imported from neighbouring Vietnam to be woven into cotton cloths, as the practice of sericulture (growing silkworms) had long stopped. The impoverished villagers were paid a pittance for their labour and so they tried to produce as much as possible to earn more money.
Instead of the traditional delicate geometrical designs or natural motifs the villagers resorted to bigger patterns as quantity replaced fine art.
I had heard of Thai and Laotian fabled silks, thanks to the efforts of the legendary American, Jim Thompson. But Cambodian silk was unknown to me.
These silk hankerchiefs, neatly rolled up in boxes of woven pandanus leaves, are sold at the retail outlet above the workshop.
Then I heard about “The Japanese silk man” from Cambodians, which led me to seek out Morimoto on a recent visit to Siem Reap.
Morimoto had remained in Cambodia after completing his research. He quit his job with Unesco to study the economics of cottage textile industries and started the Institute for Khmer Traditional Textiles (IKTT) in Phnom Penh. His goal was to help villagers revive traditional silk production, which he believed would alleviate their poverty.
His simple vision has led him to planting new forests of mulberry trees and plants to sustain the silkworm production. Morimoto’s next step is to start a silk village as a model to revitalise rural Cambodia. He moved IKTT to Siem Reap in 2000, close to the countryside to position his rural renewal idea.
“Cambodia was never rich but it always had a self-sustaining rural economy until war ruined it,” explains Morimoto, 58. “People were starving. I wanted to do something and textiles were the only thing I knew.
“But neither art nor hope can exist on an empty stomach. I hope to develop a practical model of providing art and livelihood in a devastated region.”
Morimoto comes from the rich cultural background of Kyoto, known for its preserved traditional arts and temples. He trained in the Japanese art of yuzen, silk dyeing for kimonos, and has worked as a dyeing specialist for a large Thai textile factory. He once owned a silk business in Bangkok, taught at refugee camps and was a Unesco consultant, which had led him to Cambodia.
With sharp, perceptive eyes set in a long, gaunt face, Morimoto’s credo is “Do not fear risk.”
He first sought out five elderly “silk grandmas” who were experts from villages to help teach the craft. It was a skill that had been traditionally handed down through the generations.
“Traditional Cambodia silk fabrication must be preserved because it is a beautiful hallmark of an ancient culture and bedrock for the economic viability of the village unit,” he says.
The IKTT has trained over 500 people today, primarily women. Many once had to beg for a living. After the trainees complete their three-year training and return to their villages, the IKTT continues to help sell their work for them.
In 2003, IKTT embarked on an ambitious five-year project called Project for Wisdom from the Forest (PWF). It reflects Morimoto’s ardent belief that “nature holds the resources to provide for mankind”, as Cambodia’s self-sustaining villages have proven in the past.
Morimoto wants to restore the natural environment to produce materials for traditional textiles. His plan includes building a silk village on the site comprising an art school, a weaving workshop, a mulberry plantation and the entire silk production process.
“It is crucial for man to live in harmony with nature,” says Morimoto. “The project is meant as a model of income generating activity in the rural areas through a cooperation network with the villagers.
“This means we do not have to purchase materials to produce textiles. The success of the project relies solely on human capacity and Cambodian spirit. My master plan for PWF combines traditional and modern wisdom.”
Together with villagers, Morimoto sought out old people who once made silk. They made traditional tools used in the craft. He obtained silkworm eggs of the yellow tropical species from Thailand which were of Khmer origins near the borders.
While yellow silkworms hatch up to seven times yearly, they produce less than 1gm (about 300m ) of raw silk from one cocoon compared to the more popular white variety from Japan and China, which produces 2gm (1,400m). Morimoto stubbornly sticks to yellow silkworms, as the silk from them is softer and more pliable, he explains.
His work has not gone unnoticed: he was awarded a Rolex Enterprise Laureate Award in 2004 and he used the US$100,000 (RM370,000) prize, as well as his own savings, to purchase the 5ha (now 15ha) piece of land in Chot Sam, northeast of Siem Reap for the PWF project.
The area was once lush tropical forest which had become a wasteland after desperate villagers chopped the mulberry and other native trees for firewood during the war.
Morimoto has planted 1000 mulberry trees to cultivate the production of silkworms and native plants to obtain natural dyes.
He wants to grow Lac insects next year, which when, crushed, were traditionally used to provide the royal red ochre dye.
“Many of my 150 staff at the forest site is from the Kampot province, 420km from Siem Reap,” says Morimoto. “IKTT started a sericulture project in a village there in 1995. The villagers have agreed to help us with the forest regeneration project as we badly need their sericulture expertise.”
Many risks are involved, not least the problem of landmines left by Pol Pot, who termed them “the perfect soldier”. One mine exploded near the PWF site last year. It is unknown how many more remain hidden in the land.
Morimoto is hopeful. He expects to release the first batch of Lac insects in the forest next year.
He also plans to relocate IKTT’s main workshop to the site to centralise operations and create more items to sell to the hordes of tourists visiting Angkor Wat.
The International Trade Centre, a United Nations and World Trade Organisation agency, has reported that silk is enjoying a renaissance in Cambodia and may well be the way to reducing poverty.
Cambodia is exporting US$4mil (RM15.2mil) worth of silk annually and there are over 20,000 weavers today.
After a sudden rainstorm, the earth exhales a fragrance of freshness, and to Morimoto, of hope.
“This bloodstained land still provides for its people,” he says. “Agriculture must be regenerated. The Cambodia people need to revive the traditions of their motherland to become a cultural pride once again. It is a step to heal their past.”
WHEN Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime ended five years of genocide across Cambodia in 1979, it left two million people dead and the Khmer people’s culture, arts and traditions decimated.
In implementing his brutal Year Zero plan to create a new society, Pol Pot exterminated an entire generation, including Cambodia’s artisans and artists.
While the ancient Angkor kings had built temple monuments for Cambodians to inherit, which draw millions in tourist revenue today, Pol Pot left only poverty, suffering and a devastated culture.
The years of turbulence have resulted in Cambodia becoming among Asia’s poorest countries today.
When Japanese silk expert Kikuo Morimoto first arrived in Cambodia in 1993 to conduct research on traditional Khmer textiles for United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (Unesco), he found a population almost devoid of those aged between 30 and 50.
This unbalanced demography resulted from Cambodia’s history of armed conflicts since Lon Nol’s reign in 1970, then the Khmer Rouge in 1975, followed by the Vietnamese intervention in 1979. The transitional government came only in 1993.
Kikuo Morimoto with three of the five ‘silk grandmas’ who taught the craft to Cambodian village women. It was a skill that had been traditionally handed down through the generations.A vital bridge to pass on traditions from old to young such as textile production was lost. Little information existed due to the craft’s 25 years of absence.
When peace returned to Cambodia in 1990, traditional handwoven textiles were gradually revived in Takeo, near Phnom Penh, and in Kampung Cham along the Mekong River.
Merchants supplied villagers with raw silk imported from neighbouring Vietnam to be woven into cotton cloths, as the practice of sericulture (growing silkworms) had long stopped. The impoverished villagers were paid a pittance for their labour and so they tried to produce as much as possible to earn more money.
Instead of the traditional delicate geometrical designs or natural motifs the villagers resorted to bigger patterns as quantity replaced fine art.
I had heard of Thai and Laotian fabled silks, thanks to the efforts of the legendary American, Jim Thompson. But Cambodian silk was unknown to me.
These silk hankerchiefs, neatly rolled up in boxes of woven pandanus leaves, are sold at the retail outlet above the workshop.Then I heard about “The Japanese silk man” from Cambodians, which led me to seek out Morimoto on a recent visit to Siem Reap.
Morimoto had remained in Cambodia after completing his research. He quit his job with Unesco to study the economics of cottage textile industries and started the Institute for Khmer Traditional Textiles (IKTT) in Phnom Penh. His goal was to help villagers revive traditional silk production, which he believed would alleviate their poverty.
His simple vision has led him to planting new forests of mulberry trees and plants to sustain the silkworm production. Morimoto’s next step is to start a silk village as a model to revitalise rural Cambodia. He moved IKTT to Siem Reap in 2000, close to the countryside to position his rural renewal idea.
“Cambodia was never rich but it always had a self-sustaining rural economy until war ruined it,” explains Morimoto, 58. “People were starving. I wanted to do something and textiles were the only thing I knew.
“But neither art nor hope can exist on an empty stomach. I hope to develop a practical model of providing art and livelihood in a devastated region.”
Morimoto comes from the rich cultural background of Kyoto, known for its preserved traditional arts and temples. He trained in the Japanese art of yuzen, silk dyeing for kimonos, and has worked as a dyeing specialist for a large Thai textile factory. He once owned a silk business in Bangkok, taught at refugee camps and was a Unesco consultant, which had led him to Cambodia.
With sharp, perceptive eyes set in a long, gaunt face, Morimoto’s credo is “Do not fear risk.”
He first sought out five elderly “silk grandmas” who were experts from villages to help teach the craft. It was a skill that had been traditionally handed down through the generations.
“Traditional Cambodia silk fabrication must be preserved because it is a beautiful hallmark of an ancient culture and bedrock for the economic viability of the village unit,” he says.
The IKTT has trained over 500 people today, primarily women. Many once had to beg for a living. After the trainees complete their three-year training and return to their villages, the IKTT continues to help sell their work for them.
In 2003, IKTT embarked on an ambitious five-year project called Project for Wisdom from the Forest (PWF). It reflects Morimoto’s ardent belief that “nature holds the resources to provide for mankind”, as Cambodia’s self-sustaining villages have proven in the past.
Morimoto wants to restore the natural environment to produce materials for traditional textiles. His plan includes building a silk village on the site comprising an art school, a weaving workshop, a mulberry plantation and the entire silk production process.
“It is crucial for man to live in harmony with nature,” says Morimoto. “The project is meant as a model of income generating activity in the rural areas through a cooperation network with the villagers.
“This means we do not have to purchase materials to produce textiles. The success of the project relies solely on human capacity and Cambodian spirit. My master plan for PWF combines traditional and modern wisdom.”
Together with villagers, Morimoto sought out old people who once made silk. They made traditional tools used in the craft. He obtained silkworm eggs of the yellow tropical species from Thailand which were of Khmer origins near the borders.
While yellow silkworms hatch up to seven times yearly, they produce less than 1gm (about 300m ) of raw silk from one cocoon compared to the more popular white variety from Japan and China, which produces 2gm (1,400m). Morimoto stubbornly sticks to yellow silkworms, as the silk from them is softer and more pliable, he explains.
His work has not gone unnoticed: he was awarded a Rolex Enterprise Laureate Award in 2004 and he used the US$100,000 (RM370,000) prize, as well as his own savings, to purchase the 5ha (now 15ha) piece of land in Chot Sam, northeast of Siem Reap for the PWF project.
The area was once lush tropical forest which had become a wasteland after desperate villagers chopped the mulberry and other native trees for firewood during the war.
Morimoto has planted 1000 mulberry trees to cultivate the production of silkworms and native plants to obtain natural dyes.
He wants to grow Lac insects next year, which when, crushed, were traditionally used to provide the royal red ochre dye.
“Many of my 150 staff at the forest site is from the Kampot province, 420km from Siem Reap,” says Morimoto. “IKTT started a sericulture project in a village there in 1995. The villagers have agreed to help us with the forest regeneration project as we badly need their sericulture expertise.”
Many risks are involved, not least the problem of landmines left by Pol Pot, who termed them “the perfect soldier”. One mine exploded near the PWF site last year. It is unknown how many more remain hidden in the land.
Morimoto is hopeful. He expects to release the first batch of Lac insects in the forest next year.
He also plans to relocate IKTT’s main workshop to the site to centralise operations and create more items to sell to the hordes of tourists visiting Angkor Wat.
The International Trade Centre, a United Nations and World Trade Organisation agency, has reported that silk is enjoying a renaissance in Cambodia and may well be the way to reducing poverty.
Cambodia is exporting US$4mil (RM15.2mil) worth of silk annually and there are over 20,000 weavers today.
After a sudden rainstorm, the earth exhales a fragrance of freshness, and to Morimoto, of hope.
“This bloodstained land still provides for its people,” he says. “Agriculture must be regenerated. The Cambodia people need to revive the traditions of their motherland to become a cultural pride once again. It is a step to heal their past.”
1 comment:
Good Initiatives to alleviate poverty among villagers. Good idea and practical application!
A Khmer student in US
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