I don’t remember when I first heard about Letterform Archive—a non-profit museum and special collections library in San Francisco that focuses on type, printing, and graphic design—but my first actual interaction with them was when I mistakenly tried to visit their library without an appointment, and, despite my oversight, was met with nothing but charm. I’ve always felt a kinship with the Archive’s approach to collecting; just as Casual Archivist has covered both formal and folk design, their collection includes the seminal and the ephemeral alike, from the 1200s to present day So, when I read in a recent newsletter about an amazing collection of donated chopstick sleeves, I knew I needed to ask if I could share some of the images, and Angie Wang’s writing about them, here!
Letterform Archive treats both valuable and everyday objects with equal reverence. Rare books and type specimens live in the stacks alongside punk flyers and—thanks to a recent donation—chopstick sleeves. Though individually modest in their design and messaging, when considered as a whole, the 500 sleeves that comprise this collection map a singular history of Japanese ideology and aesthetics.
While chopstick sleeves date back to the Heian period (8th–12th century), paper hashibukuro (“chopstick envelopes”) emerged at the turn of the 20th century when disposable chopsticks and packaged meals gained popularity with the advent of train travel. In addition to ensuring cleanliness, printed paper chopstick sleeves became vernacular advertisements for shops and restaurants.
The collector, Susumu Kitagawa, was born in Fuji. He graduated from high school during World War II, and was immediately deployed to China. He survived the war — and imprisonment in a Siberian labor camp—and returned home to work for Fujikyu, a private railway company that operated the train line closest to Mount Fuji. Mr. Kitagawa traveled across Japan in his work for the Fujikyu tourism division. He fastidiously documented his trips with both written diaries and photographs that he carefully dated, captioned, and assembled into albums. (He would eventually compile over 175 photo albums, all prominently on display in his living room.) An archivist at heart, Mr. Kitagawa also collected sake cups and chopstick sleeves during his travels.
When asked what his collection — or the process of collecting — might have meant to her grandfather, Taiyo Kitagawa speculated that her grandfather’s habit of documenting and collecting may have been related to his experiences in the war. “He rarely talked about it, but I know it left an imprint on him,” she wrote. “He was trained to run into vehicles with explosives strapped onto his body but fortunately missed a battle by days. He was then captured and became a prisoner of war.”
A desire to extend the life of objects may also have compelled Mr. Kitagawa. Mottainai is a Japanese adage expressing regret that “something is being discarded needlessly”— a familiar impulse for the generation of Japanese who lived through the deprivations of war. Taiyo recalls, “We probably used the same Christmas wrapping paper and ribbons for at least a decade. My grandfather would lecture me if I left even one single grain of rice in my bowl — every grain takes a year to grow and one must not waste it.”
You can read more about the Kitagawa Collection, including the stories of restaurants and writing styles featured on specific sleeves here.
Letterform Archive’s recommended archive is India Street Lettering, where Pooja Saxena documents street signage in her home country. Besides the photography, the Archive appreciates how she tags each example with a location, script, material, technique, and type of business so you can navigate by typology.
I’m sure I’m not alone when I say how devastated I was by the fires in LA this past month—so I’ll be matching donations up to $150 to help those affected by the disaster, split between the Los Angeles Fire Department Foundation and the California Community Foundation—just email me a receipt to any non-profit organizations supporting fire relief.
I had no idea that the Letterform Archive had such unique and diverse collections like printed chopstick sleeves.
That was such a lovely issue, thank you for all your work, I love receiving your articles in the mailbox !