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I’ve traveled to Japan many, many times.
Even though they were only journeys, they left me with countless memories.
Soaking in the centuries-old hot springs hidden deep in the mountains of Kurokawa.
Riding an old wooden train as it slowly climbed the hills of Kumamoto.
Carrying a guidebook to neighborhood bathhouses while wandering through Kyoto.
Cycling through the countryside of Nara with my three-year-old son.
Walking beside the Uji River, talking about The Tale of Genji.
Watching Kyoto’s ancient Aoi Festival.
Sketching beneath the eaves of a shrine in Hida Takayama while waiting for the rain to stop.
And wandering through the May Craft Fair in Matsumoto.
Looking back, years of travel can somehow be distilled into just a few lines.
Today, I’d like to introduce the little bear that traveled with me to Matsumoto.
A friend who makes traditional Japanese handbags once mailed me a collection of tiny fabric offcuts from Japan. Each piece was only just large enough, but together they became a perfect pair of bears.
While staying in Matsumoto, I found myself picking up a needle every evening. I hand-stitched simple lines across the white fabric, wanting the bear to carry visible traces of the work itself. By the morning of the craft fair, the stitching was finally finished, along with the embroidered word “Matsumoto” as a small keepsake of the journey.
Where is Matsumoto?
After flying into Nagoya, it took another long train ride to reach this quiet mountain city.
Many people know Yayoi Kusama, the artist affectionately known in Japan as the “Polka Dot Lady.” Matsumoto is her hometown.
It is also home to Matsumoto Castle, one of Japan’s National Treasure castles.
Walking through its enormous wooden halls in socks, looking out from the small windows toward the peaceful town below, I found myself falling quietly in love with the city.
It felt like the kind of place where every destination could simply be reached on foot.
Not far away, in Shinano-Ōmachi, preparations were underway for a large outdoor art festival.
It hadn’t opened yet.
I simply took the train there to wander for a while.
For long stretches, I hardly met another person.
The silence itself became part of the journey.
Then the weekend finally arrived.
So did the Matsumoto Craft Fair.
It was the place I had been looking forward to most.
Ceramics.
Glass.
Metalwork.
Basketry.
Leather.
Some of Japan’s finest craftspeople had gathered there,
each standing behind their own table.
There were shy craftsmen.
Young mothers holding babies in their arms.
Artists with wonderfully eccentric styles.
And makers who bowed again and again, thanking every visitor with quiet sincerity.
One of my favorite moments was choosing a cup or a small handmade object, placing it into the maker’s hands, watching them wrap it carefully, and receiving it back with both hands and a heartfelt “thank you.”
Those were not simply things.
They carried the warmth of the people who had made them.
And somehow, both the maker and the person taking the work home seemed equally happy.
Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t only visiting a craft fair.
was quietly imagining the kind of maker I hoped to become someday.
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