The Memory of Colour: Traditional Japanese Colours in Interiors and Textiles
Kimono fragment
late 18th century, Kyoto
When we travel, we often remember places through images — architecture, food, landscapes. In Japan, what stayed with me most was colour.
It revealed itself gradually, through surfaces. Timber deepened by weather. Indigo fabric softened at the folds. Plaster holding warmth from the sun. The tones felt settled, as though they had grown into their surroundings rather than been applied to them. That sensation led me to look more closely at how colour is understood in Japan. Many traditional colour names refer to seasons, materials, or very specific moments. They are not abstract labels.
Sakurairo evokes the pale tone of cherry blossom.
Ruriiro refers to a deep lapis blue.
Kogecha suggests the brown of roasted tea.
Aijiro carries the faintest trace of indigo.
Each name anchors colour in experience. It connects tone to something tangible — something that has existed in the world.
Summer robe (hito-e) with cranes and pines
Meiji period (1868–1912)
ca. 1870–80s
There is also an idea about blue that moved me deeply. Certain shades of indigo are considered most beautiful after time has softened them. The colour develops through wear, through exposure, through living. It cannot be rushed. It matures.
Terraced rice fields, Kyushu, Japan.
When I recognised this philosophy, it felt familiar. I have always been drawn to Munsell — a Western colour system that feels natural and organic in the way it arranges tone and light. It never felt mechanical to me. There is a calm logic in it. In Japan, I sensed that same respect for colour, extended further into memory and material.
Colour, in this way of thinking, shapes experience.
It influences how a room holds light, how it settles at different times of day, how it affects mood without announcing itself. The spaces that remain with us are rarely defined by novelty. They feel grounded. They feel layered.
Custom Wallpaper for a Georgian House, Kensington, London
In my design Bird Fable, I worked with warm oranges that are slightly muted and textured. I didn’t want them to feel flat or freshly printed. I wanted the surface to feel layered, as though warmth had gathered into it over time.
Japan reinforced something I already believed: colour is not a trend, and it is not a decorative afterthought. It is one of the most powerful tools in design. It can create atmosphere, shape memory, and influence how we inhabit a space.
Perhaps the real question is not which colour we prefer this year.
It is how a colour will live with us — and what it will become.
Sakura blossoms, Tokyo
For readers who want to explore further, the Nippon Colors archive presents a wide range of traditional Japanese colour names with links to nature, season and material — offering a sense of how deeply colour has been woven into Japanese visual culture.
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Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Hand-prepared natural pigments and brushes.
Perhaps the real question is not which colour we prefer this year.
It is how a colour will live with us — and what it will become.
If you are exploring bespoke wallpaper for a private home or hospitality project, you can view current collections here.
