The new Zhora pattern is named after an android in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner from 1984. Early on in the movie we find out that this "replicant" is "trained for an off-world kick-murder squad. Talk about beauty and the beast– she’s both." 

Joanna Cassidy plays  the role of Zhora to perfection, and when Harrison Ford meets her, she is performing burlesque with a python at a nightclub. One of the most stunning scenes in cinematic history unfolds when she gets shot in the back, crashes through four plate glass windows, and collapses– naked– except for thigh boots and a clear, vinyl raincoat. Gorgeous. And somewhat frightening. That’s what this pattern has in common with Zhora.  

My early drawings of Zhora were also inspired by a set of flatware produced by Liberty around 1903. Then (as now) there was nothing new under the sun. Though the "Tudric" style was quite current with Art Nouveau, it was also heavily influenced by British nostalgia for medieval and Celtic motifs. It was nostalgia, combined with Japanophilia, that provided the fuel for Art Nouveau, which was just kicking into high gear at the time.  

Japanese woodblocks prints, or ukiyo-e, were the sparks for the Art Nouveau flame. Originally imported into Europe as packing material for highly coveted Japanese porcelains, ukiyo-e happened to catch the attention of tastemakers like the Paris gallerist Sigfrid Bing and artists like Vincent. The boldness, simplicity, and naturalism of Japanese woodblock prints struck a chord in turn-of-the-century European aesthetes. They realized that nature no longer had to be tamed. Instead: it had to be unleashed. And so they gave birth to the visual vocabulary we now call Art Nouveau.

I happened to be working on this design in the spring, and I think that the allium pushing up in the garden were also sprouting in my imagination. In fact, I referred to this bulb with tendrils as "the exploding radish" for a while. The upper plant element in the design has a slightly menacing profile.  It looks as if the tendrils might ensnare an insect, or perhaps have razor-sharp edges. The silhouette is reminiscient of a Venus Flytrap, or some other jungle native with a hidden agenda. Thus, the other name for this pattern: Allium Hostilium. 

Designs from Timorous Beasties mine this territory as well, and I’m a big fan of their work. There’s a vaguely historical element to their patterns, but it’s always given a fresh, contemporary take.  Knock-off’s and re-treads have no place here, and craftsmanship never suffers under their watch.  

The Zhora pattern studies opposites.  Not only beauty and the beast, but also nostalgia and contemporaneity.   Zhora harkens back to the neo-Celtic flatware of Liberty and also looks forward to the neo-noir of Blade Runner. Nostalgia is totally understandable in uncertain times like these. And so is being trained for an off-world kick-murder squad. That’s what I like about Zhora.

The image of Daruma can be seen all over Japan, and yet his significance remains impressively amorphous. This roly poly figure looks like a children’s toy,  but he crops up in the most unusual places.  Outside a karaoke bar.  On the face of a pachinko machine.  Hanging from a reaview mirror.  Or dangling from a cellphone strap, next to Hello Kitty.

Daruma’s whiskers can seem menacing, and he sometimes snarls, but his countenance is usually benign.   And there’s an interesting story behind his blank stare.  In Looking for the Lost, Alan Booth provides the best description of Daruma I’ve come across.

"Daruma is the Japanese name for Bodhidharma, the Indian sage whom legend credits with having introduced Zen Buddhism to China.  He is said to have meditated for nine years in a cave and during that time his arms and legs atrophied; as a result the Japanese, being infinitely more comfortable with outward appearances than inward illuminations, associate him not with piety, but with roundness.  Thus a snowman in Japanese is a "snow Daruma" and a pot-bellied stove is called a "Daruma stove." One of the commonest talismans of good luck is an armless and legless Daruma doll, made of papier mache and sold at shrines and fairs.  The doll is eyeless as well as armless and legless (another legends credits Daruma with having cut off his eyelids in a rage because he had dozed off during a meditation; they fell to the ground and sprouted as tea plants) and purchasers of the dolls paint in one of the eyes when they make a wish and the other when the wish is fulfilled."

I love the idea of a do-it-yourself religious icon.  Therefore, my new "Dr. Daruma" design features one eye filled in and one eye empty.   A Japanese person seeing it would know that you’ve made a wish, and just might say say, "It’s your lucky day!"  I added streamers that overlap the rolling dolls which add to Daruma’s good-natured ways.,

Best of all, Dr. Daruma is a hooked cotton rug. That’s right– Old Japan meets homespun Americana. It seems fitting for a Buddhist household saint making the trip to Western soil. The humble rag rug was never meant to last forever, and, like Daruma himself. doesn’t mind showing its age.  

The good vibes from Dr. Daruma make it ideal for an entranceway or guest room.  He would also be a good candidate for a porch or playroom as well.  We’re stocking smaller sizes so it can be used as a throw rug, and the cropped versions are just as interesting as larger repeats.  

The document palette is violet, brown, and grey.  The violet reminds me of Japanese incense, and so I called this colorway Kyoto.  From what I hear, however, I think Dr. Daruma would be more at home in Berlin than Kyoto.  He’s seen enough of faded temples and tranquil gardens.  And, when he’s not meditating, I hear he likes to check out the underground music scene.

"During the vibrant, energetic, and flamboyant era of radical transformation dubbed by Mark Twain as the "Gilded Age," a phenomenon popularly called the "Japan Craze" swept the West.  In the United States, it spread from coast to coast, enticed everyone from robber barons to street vendors with its allure, and touched every aspect of life from patent medicines to wallpaper.  And, in an era that idealized domesticity, its greatest and most lasting impact occurred in and around the home: dining utensils, dishes, objects, furnishings and concepts of interior design that defined the very space by which people of the time most defined themselves.  In short, the Japan Craze typified its own era and initiated almost every direction that modern standards of domestic aesthetics have taken.  In having done so, it set the stage for the everyday world we now inhabit."

 For the garden at my house in the country, I’ve decided to go native.  With the plants, that is.  The house is carved out of the woods in Columbia County NY, and the first order of business was removing all of the packaged mulch and phony plants from Home Depot — or rather some mega-nursery in NJ or VA.   Lying dormant underneath the invasive groundcovers were mossy rocks, meadow grasses, wild columbine, Salomon’s seal, and Bee Balm, among other treasures.  

Simple editing (i.e. weeding) and some additions from Project Native nursery are restoring the hillside to its former natural, woodland glory.   The hummingbirds, butterflies, and dragonflies now have a reason to visit.  Although human visitors, used to pansies and geraniums, tell me I need to add some color.  As much as I love color, I urge them not to undervalue leaf texture and branch structure.

Russell Wright collected native plants as well — including once on the shoulder of the Palisades Parkway where he got arrested with a shovel in his hand.  He said the greatest compliment he received was from unsuspecting visitors to his home in Duchess County who asked how he ever found such a pristine piece of woodlands.  They of course had no idea that the entire landscape was designed: to look natural.

 I’ve been thinking about "native" on a national scale.  While working on a design called Stripes N Stars, I’ve been looking at early American samplers and wondering: what is it to be patriotic in the 21st century? For many people (especially in a recession) it means "buy American."    But what is American?  Anything that’s not imported?  If the founders of America had supported this ideology, we wouldn’t have wine (the vines were imported), but we might have bourbon (corn is native.)  But if "buy American" includes technology, we wouldn’t have distillation either.

I’m not a fan of bourbon, but a good white wine is really nice with oysters.  And so maybe "buy local" is a variation on "buy American" I can live with.  Certainly the freshest oysters are local.  And the vines may have come from France at some point, but now California is producing great whites. 

But wait a minute — if the first settlers of America had been so local-minded, they never would have left Europe.  But they did, and as a result America has become a multi-cultural civilization that is enriched by its trade of goods and ideas with other nations.  When it comes to buying habits, we go wrong with the glut of plastic from China making a detour through Wal Mart on its way to the landfill.  And we are right to recalibrate our fridges with our seasons and our climate.  Community supported agriculture farms are a great way to do so and an example of going native in the garden on a large scale.

 When it comes to patriotism,  Patrick Juvet’s brand comes closest to mine.  In his now immortal words, "All the different people/  From all over the world they’re living/ A magic fills the air/ There’s music everywhere/ I love America."  As he goes on to sing, it’s the mixture of rock, funk, salsa, and country western that makes our streets interesting.  Though protectionism might be tempting in a down economy, we can’t forget that pluralism and diversity are what make this country great. 

Back in the garden, I’m still committed to native plants and the insects and wildlife they support.  But I’ve also introduced a few non-natives on the patio.  The Oregon cypress and Japanese black pine are non-invasive, however, and they stay in containers, as befits their status as sojourners.  They enjoy enriched soil and a dependable water source, and the natives don’t seem too jealous.  If anything, they provide contrast, and might even spur a visitor to comment on what a pristine, natural woodland they have as a backdrop.

"The Roads to Sata: A 2,000-Mile Walk through Japan," Alan Booth, 1997.  An entertaining read, a sympathetic Englishman, and a rare look at Japan off the beaten track.

 "The Great Wave: Gilded Age Misfits, Japanese Eccentrics, and the Opening of Old Japan," Christopher Benfey.  A rich history of the first encounters between Japan and America and the cultural rewards for both.

 "Embracing Defeat, Japan in the Wake of World War II," John W. Dower.  A fascinating look at the postwar American occupation and the .

"Everyday Things in Premodern Japan," Susan B. Hanley.  Reveals the god in the details of traditional Japanese life.

"Inventing Japan, 1853-1964."  Ian Buruma.  A concise look at the rapid industrialization, militarization, defeat, and re-construction of the world’s second-largest economy.

"The Inland Sea," Donald Richie.   Well-crafted travel stories about unremarkable towns and ordinary Japanese.

"Lost Japan," Alex Kerr.  An unabashed Japanophile’s insightful essays share the love without sentimentality.

"Minka,: My Farmhouse in Japan"  John Roderick.  Wonderfully describes thhe travails and rewards of reconstructing a forlorn piece of Japanese rural architecture, and the many lives affected along the way.