The goal here is anything but elaborate craftsmanship. US influences have been a major factor in Miyairi arriving at a more detached view, where it’s okay for the work to be laughed at. When San Francisco artist Barry McGee exhibited at Perrotin in Paris, works by Miyairi were hung in a room displaying artwork made by friends, in what felt like an expression of randomness. What sets these artists apart from popular opinion in Japan, and the usual Japanese temperament, is that they view craft and art as unrelated and are unconcerned with the success of the work. It’s made without artifice or flourish; what you see is what you get. This may sound similar to the perennial wisdom of Mingei, but growing up in Tokyo’s Ikebukuro district, Miyairi was immersed in a world of skateboarding and the graphic arts that differs in noteworthy ways from what we think of when we think of folk art in the traditional sense.

Lessons, legacy, and the colour red

“Isn’t this red great?” asks Miyairi, in reference to how Yunoki taught him not to mix his colours. He also taught him how to make nori. Helping out at Yunoki’s shows, he would occasionally be blessed with a few words with the master, one on one.

“In Yunoki’s view, it’s best to get by with six or so colours, no more than eight. He also said to let yourself be clumsy. He wouldn’t want to hear this, but I like to add secret ingredients to my paints, so that the colour is unique to me. It makes my colours bright. They come alive. I have kind of a dark side, so that’s something I like to express. About ten years ago, we renovated the house and set me up with a makeshift workspace. If you’re dyeing a long piece of fabric, you need to hang it up to colour it then let it dry in place, but my family slept right under that, and I kept getting poked in the back with the sharp ends of the shinshi (bamboo ribs used for keeping the weave straight). Yunoki turns one hundred this year, and the Japanese Folk Crafts Museum is planning a retrospective show for early next year. You can be sure I’ll be there, tidying up the slippers or helping people park, but I’m hoping that I’ll have the chance to show him some of my more recent works.”

UNIQLO tote bags Miyairi dyed using katazome stencils hang from the wall. “I like to keep it simple,” says Miyairi. We were delighted to hear that he wears UNIQLO all the time. By the window of his workspace is a print from Soetsu Yanagi that he was given when the Japanese Folk Crafts Museum had a clean-up day. It says: “Clear Skies Ahead.” On clear days, Miyairi often walks down to the Koishikawa Botanical Garden to sketch plants. If his daughter Cho is free, she’ll often join him. She’s still in elementary school, but she’s already started making katazome, rivaling her father’s expertise. Miyairi keeps in touch with Barry’s assistant Tyler Ormsby. They motivate each other to keep going with their work. Recently, a friend in Kagoshima sent me some fresh tea grown in the town of Chiran. When I took a closer look at the can, I realised that the design on the label had been made by Miyairi.