Why Boro from Ōmi Is Often Expensive
Many people who become interested in Japanese boro textiles eventually look at the price and think:
“Why is boro so expensive?”
Perhaps what I am about to share offers one possible answer.
Most of the boro pieces I own come from Ōmi Province, present-day Shiga Prefecture.
Over time, I realized that I am particularly drawn to boro from Ōmi.
To understand why, we have to look at the history of the region.
The Merchants of Ōmi
Ōmi was famous for a group of merchants known as Ōmi Shōnin (Ōmi merchants).
They traveled throughout Japan selling textiles and dyed fabrics.
Carrying large cloth bundles filled with bolts of fabric, they walked from town to town, trading goods.
The merchants of Ōmi were known for their business skill.
Some of them became extremely successful.
When a merchant prospered, his life changed dramatically.
Large houses were built.
Storehouses (kura) were constructed.
Fine paintings, ceramics, and other objects were collected.
And most importantly, the family and relatives were generously hosted and cared for.
When Wealth Changes Everyday Life
Before becoming wealthy, families used their belongings until they were completely worn out.
Futons, wrapping cloths, clothing — everything was repaired again and again.
But once a merchant became prosperous, there was no longer a need to keep repairing the same old textiles.
They could simply buy new ones.
As large homes hosted gatherings for the New Year, weddings, and family celebrations, many dishes and utensils accumulated.
These items were stored in the kura, the storehouse.
When storing ceramics or fragile objects, something soft was needed to protect them from breaking.
Old clothing, worn futons, and heavily used textiles — the very things that had been repaired again and again — were placed in the kura as padding materials.
Why Boro Often Comes from Wealthy Houses
Because of this, many surviving boro textiles were preserved inside storehouses belonging to wealthy families.
When the family became prosperous enough to build a kura, time stopped for those textiles.
They were no longer used.
They were stored away.
And they remained there for decades.
On the other hand, the worn clothing of merchants who never became wealthy rarely survived.
Those textiles were eventually turned into:
- cleaning rags
- fuel for the hearth
- fire starters
And they disappeared.
The Beauty We See Today
Many people today — myself included — see boro as something beautiful.
Something artistic.
But originally, it was not created to be art.
When clothing tore, the owner patched the hole and went back to work.
When it tore again, it was repaired again.
And again.
Over time, the layers of cloth grew thicker, and the indigo tones formed beautiful gradations.
Because repairs were made with whatever scraps were nearby, the textiles often developed a natural visual harmony.
But the people who wore these clothes were not trying to create beauty.
They simply needed to continue using what they had.
In truth, they probably wished for new clothing or new futons.
Accidental Art
Boro is, in many ways, accidental art.
Born from necessity.
Shaped by time.
And preserved by chance.
This story is getting long, so I will continue in the next post.
Some examples of boro textiles from Ōmi are shown in the photographs below.
Each piece carries its own history — layers of repair, indigo fading, and the quiet traces of everyday life.
If you would like to explore more antique Japanese boro textiles, you can also visit my collection here:
https://www.etsy.com/shop/WantiquesStyle305?ref=seller-platform-mcnav§ion_id=26484723
