This audio is generated by AI, so pronunciation and expressions may not be fully accurate. The narration is only in English.
The exact origins of byobu remain unclear, but the earliest written reference is generally believed to appear in The Chronicles of Japan, a historical text compiled in the early eighth century.
"Byobu were brought to Japan from mainland China, and they are thought to have a history of at least 1,300 years. They served three principal purposes. The first was as everyday necessities and interior furnishings. Makura-byobu, or pillow screens, were placed beside one's head while sleeping to keep out drafts. The word byobu itself derives from a term meaning 'to block the wind,' so this use was true to its name," says Kataoka. "The second function was as a visual screen. Many homes at the time lacked built-in storage such as closets, so bedding and other items were folded away and concealed behind folding screens. The third use was as a room divider—essentially what we would now call a partition."
However, from the Warring States period (15th century to early 17th century), byobu spread even more widely as they began to be used for different purposes.
As painterly schools such as the Kano school rose to prominence, byobu also came to be used as surfaces for painting, much like sliding-door panels and hanging scrolls, Kataoka explains. Feudal lords retained painters to produce large numbers of works, and folding screens proved especially practical: unlike sliding doors, which were easily damaged, byobu could be folded and stored when not in use. From the Edo period (1603-1868), their use spread beyond the warrior class to ordinary households. As demand increased, specialist mounting shops also came into being. The screens that circulated among the general public, however, were not the works of elite painters such as those of the Kano school, but simpler, more affordable designs intended for everyday use.
Making a byobu involves a large number of steps. The process begins with constructing a wooden frame from domestically sourced Japanese cedar. Cedar is used because it is lightweight and, compared with other types of wood, highly absorbent and quick to dry—qualities that make it well suited to Japan's climate, with its distinct four seasons.
"In China, the frames were made with heavy core materials, so the hinges had to be leather straps or metal," Kataoka explains. "That made the screens very heavy, and gaps would form, which meant they couldn't effectively block the wind. In Japan, craftsmen developed their own solution by using cedar. The hinges, too, are made by layering washi paper. This makes the screens lightweight and free of gaps, yet still durable."
Handmade washi paper is then applied in a process known as shitabari, or underlaying, in which the paper is layered about four times. The front surface is covered with the main sheet of washi, called honshi, while fabric is applied to the back. Strips of woven cloth are attached around the edges to form the border, and finally, wooden battens are fixed to the top, bottom, left, and right of the frame and fitted with decorative metal hardware to complete the screen.
Between each stage of the process lie numerous finer tasks, all requiring intense concentration, Kataoka explains. Applying paste evenly to the wooden frame during the washi underlaying, for example, demands both technical skill and careful attention. Even the slightest wrinkle in the paper cannot be allowed, and the way the paper will stretch as it dries must also be anticipated. These are operations that ultimately put a craftsperson's skill to the test, he adds.
Kataoka Byoubu was founded in 1946. Kataoka's grandfather, the second son of a mounting-shop owner, established the workshop to create byobu for seasonal displays, including those featuring hina dolls—ornamental figures displayed for Girls' Day.
After Kataoka's father became the second-generation head of the business, orders for gold-leaf byobu used as ceremonial and decorative backdrops at hotels and wedding venues grew toward the end of Japan's postwar economic boom, and the workshop began producing a wider range of screens beyond those made for seasonal displays.
Growing up in a family steeped in the trade, Kataoka was already writing in his kindergarten yearbook that he wanted to become a folding-screen maker.
Even so, he recalls having no clear memory of consciously deciding to take over the business. Stepping into the role felt like a natural progression, he says, and he never felt any particular pressure as the successor.
The shop is located just a few minutes' walk from Tokyo Skytree.
Byobu-making tools are on display at the Byoubu Museum inside the shop.
Byobu with the refined beauty of fine art.
Byobu are also popular among international visitors for their beauty.
A small byobu displayed behind a set of hina dolls.
Byobu created through collaborations with manga and anime.
Many works also feature ukiyo-e as their subject.
A collaborative byobu created with the artist Solid. Photo: courtesy of Kataoka Byoubu
Byobu in the making. Photo: courtesy of Kataoka Byoubu
Kataoka with collaborators during a project in Sweden. Photo: courtesy of Kataoka Byoubu
Overseas, displaying byobu on the wall has become a popular style. Photo: courtesy of Kataoka Byoubu
The experience that awakened his sense of purpose came during a period of study abroad while he was a student. There, he developed a growing interest in music, fashion, and American culture, and was especially drawn to Black music, above all, hip-hop.
During his time abroad, Kataoka met fellow students from many different countries, all of whom spoke with pride about their own cultures. By contrast, he found himself unable to articulate anything about Japan's culture or history, despite having grown up in a family that carried on a traditional craft. The realization came as a profound cultural shock.
The experience marked a turning point and clarified his resolve to take on the family craft in his own right. At the same time, his interest in music never waned. After returning to Japan, he continued his training in the family business while pursuing his activities as a hip-hop DJ in parallel. Through this dual path, he also began to gain new insights.
"Hip-hop often takes popular songs from the past and reworks them through sampling to create something new. In that sense, I feel a strong connection between hip-hop and the world of byobu, which is rooted in traditional culture," Kataoka says. "You have to value and preserve what has come before, but at the same time keep incorporating new sensibilities. For example, we sometimes create designs inspired by manga or anime. I think having an avant-garde sensibility that resonates with the present day is important as well."
What resonated most with him after taking charge of this business—which has continuously created byobu in Mukojima, Sumida City, since its establishment—was the vital, enduring spirit of tradition.
With Asakusa nearby, he explains, the neighborhood has a strong sense of culture and history, and is home to many artisans, shops, and small workshops that have long sustained the craft of making things. Being part of that community, he adds, is a source of encouragement for him.
In recent years, overseas customers have come to account for about 30 percent of sales, with a growing number of them returning as repeat buyers.
"Many of our overseas customers tell me they first became interested in Japanese culture, learned about byobu, and searched for older pieces at antique shops. But when they looked for a specialty shop that still makes them today, they found that ours was the only one," Kataoka says. "After they return home, they often send me photos. Sometimes the screen is displayed prominently on a living room wall. It's an approach that Japanese people who are familiar with byobu would never think of. In that sense, we're the ones being inspired. Being able to have these kinds of experiences is probably thanks to Tokyo itself. It's a major global metropolis, yet traditional culture and techniques with long histories—like byobu—continue to be passed down here, and we can share them with the world. That's something truly unique to Tokyo."
