Dedicated Artists Are Keeping Japan’s Ancient Craft of Temari Alive 

Sanuki Kagari Temari balls are in a gift box in Eiko Araki's studio in Kawaramachi, Kagawa prefecture, Japan, on Sept. 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama) 
Sanuki Kagari Temari balls are in a gift box in Eiko Araki's studio in Kawaramachi, Kagawa prefecture, Japan, on Sept. 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama) 
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Dedicated Artists Are Keeping Japan’s Ancient Craft of Temari Alive 

Sanuki Kagari Temari balls are in a gift box in Eiko Araki's studio in Kawaramachi, Kagawa prefecture, Japan, on Sept. 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama) 
Sanuki Kagari Temari balls are in a gift box in Eiko Araki's studio in Kawaramachi, Kagawa prefecture, Japan, on Sept. 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama) 

Time seems to stop here.

Women sit in a small circle, quietly, painstakingly stitching patterns on balls the size of an orange, a stitch at a time.

At the center of the circle is Eiko Araki, a master of the Sanuki Kagari Temari, a Japanese traditional craft passed down for more than 1,000 years on the southwestern island of Shikoku.

Each ball, or "temari," is a work of art, with colorful geometric patterns carrying poetic names like "firefly flowers" and "layered stars." A temari ball takes weeks or months to finish. Some cost hundreds of dollars (tens of thousands of yen), although others are much cheaper.

These kaleidoscopic balls aren’t for throwing or kicking around. They’re destined to be heirlooms, carrying prayers for health and goodness. They might be treasured like a painting or piece of sculpture in a Western home.

The concept behind temari is an elegant otherworldliness, an impractical beauty that is also very labor-intensive to create.

"Out of nothing, something this beautiful is born, bringing joy," says Araki. "I want it to be remembered there are beautiful things in this world that can only be made by hand."

The region where temari originated was good for growing cotton, warm with little rainfall, and the spherical creations continue to be made out of the humble material.

At Araki's studio, which also serves as head office for temari's preservation society, there are 140 hues of cotton thread, including delicate pinks and blues, as well as more vivid colors and all the subtle gradations in between.

The women dye them by hand, using plants, flowers and other natural ingredients, including cochineal, a bug living in cacti that produces a red dye. The deeper shade of indigo is dyed again and again to turn just about black. Yellow and blue are combined to form gorgeous greens. Soy juice is added to deepen the tints, a dash of organic protein.

Outside the studio, loops of cotton thread, in various tones of yellow today, hang outside in the shade to dry.

The arduous process starts with making the basic ball mold on which the stitching is done. Rice husks that are cooked and then dried are placed in a piece of cotton, then wound with thread, over and over, until, almost magically, a ball appears in your hands.

Then the stitching begins.

The balls are surprisingly hard, so each stitch requires a concentrated, almost painful, push. The motifs must be precise and even.

Each ball has lines to guide the stitching — one that goes around it like the equator, and others that zigzag to the top and bottom.

These days, temari is getting some new recognition, among Japanese and foreigners as well. Caroline Kennedy took lessons in the ball-making when she was United States ambassador to Japan a decade ago.

Yoshie Nakamura, who promotes Japanese handcrafted art in her duty-free shop at Tokyo's Haneda airport, says she features temari there because of its intricate and delicate designs.

"Temari that might have been everyday in a faraway era is now being used for interior decoration," she said.

"I really feel each Sanuki Kagari Temari speaks of a special, one-and-only existence in the world."

Araki has come up with some newer designs that feel both modern and historical. She is trying to make the balls more accessible to everyday life — for instance, as Christmas tree ornaments. A strap with a dangling miniature ball, though quite hard to make because of its size, is affordable at about 1,500 yen ($10) each.

Another of Araki's inventions is a cluster of pastel balls that opens and shuts with tiny magnets. Fill it with sweet-smelling herbs for a kind of aromatic diffuser.

Araki, a graceful woman who talks very slowly, her head cocked to one side as though always in thought, often travels to Tokyo to teach. But mostly she works and gives lessons in her studio, an abandoned kindergarten with faded blue paint and big windows with tired wooden frames.

She started out as a metalwork artist. Her husband's parents were temari masters who worked hard to resurrect the artform when it was declining in the modern age, at risk of dying out.

They were stoic people, rarely bestowing praise and instead always scolding her, she remembers. It’s a tough-love approach that’s common in the handing down of many Japanese traditional arts, from Kabuki acting to hogaku music, that demand lifetimes of selfless devotion.

Today, only several dozen people, all women, can make the temari balls to traditional standards.

"The most challenging aspect is nurturing successors. It typically takes over 10 years to train them, so you need people who are willing to continue the craft for a very long time," Araki said.

"When people start to feel joy along with the hardship that comes with making temari, they tend to keep going."



Syria's Aleppo Set for Revival Despite War Scars to its Heritage

During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
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Syria's Aleppo Set for Revival Despite War Scars to its Heritage

During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP

The historic Baron Hotel in Syria's Aleppo is dilapidated and damaged by years of war but still standing and ready for a revival, much like the city itself.

Aleppo's old city, designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, was ravaged by the conflict that erupted after a government crackdown on protests in 2011.

Between 2012 and 2016, it became a battleground between Syria's military and opposition factions.

The army of now-ousted president Bashar al-Assad shelled opposition fighters from the ground and struck them from the air, supported by Russian firepower.
Opposition groups, meanwhile, used mortars and artisanal rockets, as the fighting turned ancient streets into sniper alleys.

During the four years of fighting before the government recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied.

Now, after Assad's fall following a lightning opposition offensive led by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, residents are looking forward to reconstruction.

"Unfortunately, more than 60 percent of the edifices in the old city, monuments of the old city of Aleppo, were devastated to ground zero," said Georges Edleby, a tour guide in the city for 35 years.

"Hopefully there will be a day that we see them again restored."

The ancient souks where Aleppo's famed olive oil soap is piled up in stacks for sale has been reduced in many places to little more than rubble.

- 'Hope for a better life' -

Aleppo's medieval citadel, however, remains relatively intact.

Opposition fighters, one with a rose slipped into the barrel of his gun, stood guard outside the ancient ramparts, which Syria's army turned into a stronghold during the war.

Most of the damage in the citadel was caused by a 2023 earthquake, locals say.

Below in the old city, a few alleys of the souk -- once the largest in the world with 4,000 stalls -- have reopened after being restored, including with Saudi financial aid.

Jamal Habbal, 66, has spent all his life under the stone vaults of the old city and reopened his macrame and rope shop there a year ago.

"We have so many memories here. It was a big market that was vibrant and lively. Girls used to come to buy items for their trousseaus. They could find everything," he told AFP.

"And then suddenly, the crisis," he said, reluctant to even say the word war.

"We had to leave. I returned in 2018, but it's still difficult," he added, speaking in a dark and largely deserted alley.

Fadel Fadel has also reopened his shop offering souvenirs, soap and mother-of-pearl inlaid boxes.

"It was completely destroyed here," said the 51-year-old.

He is hoping to see Aleppo returned to its status as a "center of commerce, industry and tourism."

"We hope for a better life."

- Museum ready to reopen -

Outside, dusty streets wind between ruins that await reconstruction and revival.

The Baron Hotel once welcomed Agatha Christie, Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser and France's Charles de Gaulle.

Visitors flocked to see the somewhat faded glory of its rooms, as well as its terrace and the unpaid bar bill belonging to one Lawrence of Arabia.

But now, several broken windows adorned with shutters hanging from a single hinge offer a view into a deserted building covered in dust.

The hotel's future is uncertain.

Its last owner, Armen Mazloumian, has passed away. He told AFP back in 2014 that he felt the hotel's glory days were behind it and it would "never be what it once was again".

Nearby, however, the National Museum of Aleppo is readying to reopen. Its courtyard was hit in shelling but its building and collection were spared.

Director Ahmed Othman said the museum "took lessons from the experience of our neighbours," including institutions in Iraq and Lebanon.

"We took the necessary measures to protect our collections," he said.

"The statues that were too heavy to move were encased in concrete and the smaller pieces were moved to safe places."

Treasures that trace nine millennia of history and the birth of writing in nearby Mesopotamia have been preserved unharmed as a result.

"We did many things in order to protect the museum as a whole," said Othman