和
Kazu Huggler
The Day the Mountains Move
Yosano Akiko (1911)
‘The power that clothes give to people comes from within, and I think the beauty of it when it matches perfectly is incredible.’
Kazu Huggler
和
Kazu Huggler is an internationally recognised fashion designer, artist, and cultural mediator. Her unique, bicultural upbringing–born in Tokyo to a Japanese mother and Swiss father, attending traditional Japanese schools before moving to Zurich at age eleven–has deeply influenced her work.
After completing her International Baccalaureate in Zurich, she studied Japanese art history and aesthetics at Keio University in Tokyo. Returning to Zurich, Kazu continued her education at the Zurich University of the Arts and completed her fashion design studies at Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design in London. Her professional career began with initial experiences at the silk house Fabric Frontline in Zurich and Vivienne Westwood in London before launching her own label, KAZU, in 2002. KAZU embodies Kazu’s philosophy of "WAKEI" (和敬), a Japanese term combining peace, harmony and respect. Inspired by the ritual of wearing her grandmother's kimonos, Kazu believes clothing channels harmony with oneself and the environment, simultaneously promoting respect for others and self.
Her designs have been featured at prestigious venues like the Museum Rietberg and Kunsthaus Zurich in Switzerland, as well as Hauser & Wirth. She celebrated her label's 10th anniversary with a fashion show at the Nezu Museum in Tokyo. In 2014, she participated in a fashion show and talk held at the Swiss ambassador's residence in Tokyo to commemorate the 150th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Japan and Switzerland, an event graced by Empress Emerita Michiko. Her TAN Couture collection, acquired by the Swiss Confederation, the Federal Office of Culture, and the City of Zurich, is now on permanent loan at the Museum für Gestaltung Zurich and the Museum Rietberg.
Beyond her artistic achievements, Kazu is a dedicated philanthropist. She founded the Three Cranes Association to empower women and support individuals in unstable living situations by creating sustainable job opportunities. In response to the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami, she launched the Tohoku Women's Crafting Project, providing facilities for elderly women in rural Japan to produce handcrafted textile goods. She now also supports the Fukura-an Project, a safe space for young people affected by Hikikomori—a severe form of social withdrawal in Japan. The initiative focuses on helping them reconnect with society and rebuild their lives.
Kazu’s mother, Miwako Huggler-Yasuda, was born in Tokyo in 1943. She represented the Art Front Gallery from 1981 to 1990 (founded by Fram Kitagawa). As part of this collaboration, she operated a gallery space in her home in Zurich, where she presented Japanese artists to a Swiss audience. In 1965, she married Peter V. Huggler, with whom she had three daughters. In 1980, she relocated with her family to Zurich, Switzerland. Holding both Swiss and Japanese nationalities, she moved to Japan as a permanent resident in 2019.
During a visit to Miwako at Fukura-an in Arasaki, Japan, Kazu engaged in a heartfelt conversation exploring their shared memories, traditions, and creative journeys. Captured for The Forgotten Her Story, this intimate exchange reveals the profound bond between a mother and daughter, offering a glimpse into their intertwined stories.
山の動く日
与謝野晶子 1
9
1
1
和と美和子の会話
帰 郷 と 創 造 の 継 承
Kazu in Conversation with Her Mother, Miwako
Homecoming & The Legacy of Creating Things Anew
Kazu: When I return to Arasaki, there are so many memories.
I've always come here whenever I have a break, since I was a child, but I was born and raised in Daizawa, Tokyo. When was this house built? Papi said it was built in the '60s.
Miwako: That's right. We got married in '65, '66, so that's when we built it together. We bought a vacant house and moved it here. It was all Papi's idea. At first, I wondered what he was going to do, but he tore the other house apart, the ridges, the pillars, and then brought them all here and rebuilt it.
Kazu: Originally, it had a Japanese thatched roof, and before we moved in, local farmers used to live inside.
Miwako: They said it was already 300 years old.
Kazu: Or the roof was, at least.
Back then, buying and dismantling old traditional abandoned buildings in Japan to rebuild them anew was a really innovative idea.
What I found interesting about the project was that it's like undoing old kimonos and turning them into clothes that women can wear today.
Wonderful kimonos are seen less frequently nowadays, and they seem to have little place in current trends. Additionally, having new kimonos made is very costly.
When Papi tore down that roof back then, he undid it and fixed the original material without destroying it. But he made it his own to suit his life. In the end, the original idea is the same, but it’s unique in the sense of doing things that haven't been done before.
Miwako: A lot of people are doing that now. There are many rebuilt houses in Kyoto. It's expensive to restore them nicely.
Kazu: It's expensive to preserve things.
Home, in the sense of coming back, is something that continues throughout generations. The theme of inherited creativity, of something that is passed down within the family, and how to make it your own as a creator, that theme stretches from mother to daughter. Papi wasn't an artist, but his ideas were always incredibly creative. He just was someone who did things that people hadn't done before.
Miwako: He wasn't an artist, but he was the son of an artist. That's where the inheritance unknowingly occurred, of creating new things. Regardless of economics or anything else, he was making new creations.
Kazu: ‘Homecoming’, that's what it's called in English. Even now, after living in Zurich for 50 years, you returned to Japan, correct? Even when the entire family was living in Switzerland.
When asked why you came back alone, you said, "I must go home.” You felt a need to return, and it was all because of this house.
最善を尽くし、自分でやり遂げよ
Miwako: It's not just the house. Many people feel that way, but ultimately, there's a saying that goes, ‘You bury your bones here when you get old.’ That feeling, that sense, was very strong. But what makes me really sad even now is not being able to see my children. They're all not here. It's really lonely, but it's something I decided upon, so I endure it. I'm very happy that you've come like this to visit.
Kazu: But that's how it is, isn’t it? After all, I have children too, and you had a mother as well. While everyone passes down those things, realising them in your life, and making them your own, is a lonely process. Whether your Mami is nearby or not, you still have to do it yourself. Coming back here, returning home, is something that makes me really happy—because you’re here. Japan is definitely where my roots are.
I love Switzerland too. It might sound strange to say that I'm using Japan for my craft, but if you ask why I'm focusing on Japan, it's because my inspiration and deep connections are really on the Japanese side, not the Swiss side.
There is a physical reason for this, a bodily connection: I was in my Japanese Mami's womb and was born in Tokyo; my Mami was also in her Japanese Mami's womb. As a baby and as a child, I had much more skin contact with my Mami than with my Papi.
I was in Mami’s belly, and back then, when I was born, Papi never changed diapers or carried me around, so maybe I felt closer to Mami because of that. It's totally different now. Mark always carried the baby while I worked, feeding and taking care of him, and they are very close. But that closeness I had to my child during pregnancy, I still think it’ll always be there.
Miwako: Yes, I think so too.
Kazu: In a subconscious sense.
In terms of creating things, the theme of this discussion, is repeatedly about receiving and inheriting, right?
Even for me, the theme of creating things is something deeply embedded in the subconscious. In what I'm creating now, using textiles to make clothes, it's not a skill that was passed down in my family. None of my ancestors made kimonos; they were the ones who wore them. So, why did it get passed down to me?
In a deeper sense, I think it's because of how Baba, my grandmother, and you both lived. Your lives. I've observed and absorbed them. Neither you nor Baba showed me the craft step-by-step. But your presence and how you lived your lives have shaped me nonetheless. Still, you never baked or crafted with me as mother or grandmother. I learned it myself.
Miwako: Not at all.
Kazu: You let us take responsibility for ourselves, saying, “Do whatever you want, but do it responsibly.”
Miwako: Yes, exactly. I never taught you anything directly, but I expected you to do something on your own. I always believed you would do something.
Kazu: In that sense, it's about what we've seen.
Do Your Best, Do It On Your Own
Baba’s Philosophy
Miwako: My mother, Baba, did that, too.
Kazu: Yuriko Yasuda Okubo is Baba’s name, right?
Miwako: Yuriko Yasuda Okubo, correct. I think it’s partly because she was raised in the West (she moved to Japan when she was 12).
There’s this concept of “individualism” there. It’s tough, but from an early age, it's about standing on your own and being independent.
I was raised that way from childhood, and my grandmother was the same; she wasn't very nurturing. The idea was, “Do your best, do it on your own””, which I believe is a Western idea.
In Japan, everyone works hard for their parents, thinking of filial piety and taking care of them for their whole lives. I don't want filial piety. I've been working hard on my own, so I want you guys to work hard too, and I think that's coming, from Baba's side, from Baba’s family. That's a Western thing.
Kazu: Baba never cooked or crafted with me; she was never the sweet grandmother type. When you and Papi were away from Japan frequently, I was often at home with my sisters and Toshko, our governess, and there were people to look after us. Baba never once said she'd come to stay and take care of her grandchildren while her daughter was away on business or had something to do in the West.
Miwako: Never.
Kazu: But Baba found her own role, her own responsibilities, and she found them herself and carried them out calmly until the end. It was about running an English conversation school in Japan, and she used her personal experiences to create something new in her life.
Miwako: She also translated old Japanese fairy tales to English. For example, Shita-Kiri-Suzume 舌切り雀 into The Tongue-Cut Sparrow. Everyone laughs because the name sounds funny, but there's no other way to say it.
Kazu: What really stands out to me is the English conversation school. What was its name again?
Miwako: Yasuda Eigo-kai.
Kazu: It was a really innovative idea: having a school not affiliated with any big institutions, but instead running it from her own home with clients who were mostly acquaintances' children.
Miwako: It's not so much about it being another English language school, but when you're a kid, if you don't know basic words, you can't speak at all in Japanese schools. Baba saw that. Ultimately, if you can't talk or do anything, even if you go to school. You can't make friends.
Kazu: That's the most important thing. It's about conversing as human beings.
Miwako: Yasuda Eigo-kai, in its own way, created a special way of teaching that wasn’t like a school at all but something completely different.
美和子の贈り物 - 和の独立への飛翔
Miwako’s Gift: The Flight to Kazu’s Independence
Kazu: The confidence your parents give you as a child is really important. You would talk to us a lot when I was a child, and even though you didn’t give us step-by-step instructions, like “Do this or that, Kazu”, whenever I did something, or talked about something, or wrote something, you found it really interesting and voiced that.
Miwako: It was really interesting; I wrote down everything you said.
Kazu: If you're a kid, you don't get it. If you say something really outlandish, normally you'd be told, “What are you talking about? You're being weird.” But instead, when you say something outlandish and your Mami says, “That's really interesting”, or “You're a really interesting child”, that encouragement is really important.
I do that a lot with my own children.
It’s about noticing something that no one else has said or thought of and creating it. It takes a lot of confidence to get to the stage of creating something, because as a child, you really don't like being different.
Miwako: Yes, that’s right.
Kazu: From as early as I can remember, you praised my peculiar statements, drawings, or ideas as very interesting. So, as a child, I developed a belief that I possessed unique qualities and could be proud of and confident in my ideas.
Miwako: But it's tough for the kids, isn't it?
From the perspective of a child, I left you alone. I told you to do it yourself, but I didn't help you with anything. You've been working hard all this time, and Mami is really proud of you for that. I didn't help you with anything, like introducing you to certain people or telling you which school to go to. You did everything on your own. If that's the reason you've come this far, Mami is really happy about it. Really happy.
In the end, whether it's a dog or a Tonbi (鳶 black kite), it's the same. Tonbis give birth to their offspring. They hatch from eggs, and then they grow wings and learn to fly.
Kazu: They become independent.
Miwako: Eventually, they do. In Japan, no matter if you turn 30, 40, or 500 billion, you have to be filial to your parents. It feels really unnatural.
If you can't become independent from your parents, your parents can't become independent from you either. I think that's really a terrible thing. You should just try to do your best on your own, like a Tonbi. If you can't fly, there's nothing you can do.
But you've been working hard all this time, Kazu.
Kazu: What can I say? You just have to keep going. It's not just about continuing, but it's about doing it your way.
I don’t really compare myself to others, and I don’t like being labeled or categorised as a fashion designer, artist, or anything else. As a child, people asked me if I was Swiss or Japanese and what my father did for a living—but the answer was never clear or typical. What matters to me is creating something unique and interesting, without having to fit into a specific label.
Miwako: You've tried Shishi-Ko-Otoshi* and many other things. In the end, it was probably both my encouragement and your drive to do interesting things.
* Shishi-Ko-Otoshi - 獅子の子落とし - a Japanese metaphor for resilience through adversity. It comes from the legend that a lion pushes its cub off a cliff to test its strength and ensure it can survive. If the cub climbs back up, it proves its resilience and capability.
This concept is often used to describe tough love, self-reliance, and the idea that overcoming challenges builds true strength.
アートフロント - 家はギャラリー、世界は教え
Art Front: The Home as a Gallery, The World as a Lesson
Kazu: It’s important for me to have someone I can rely on, someone who supports and protects me. In my case, that’s my husband Mark, the father of our sons. But it doesn’t have to be the same for everyone–what matters is having someone you trust, not the specific role they play.
The impact you and Papi had on me during my teenage years was strong. Normally, parents keep work and home separate to protect family life, but you invited all kinds of people into our home, leaving little room for privacy.
You introduced Japanese artists in Switzerland, and Western artists were introduced in Tokyo through the Art Front Gallery. You weren’t under the umbrella of a big institution, but you created this new idea of a home gallery, which I thought was really cool.
You taught me that art isn't just something you see in museums or galleries; it's something that harmonises and lives within your home. It's not just about where it goes in the kitchen, it's about showing how art fits into the lives and homes of children. That was really impressive to me, as well as being surrounded by the many artists and other strangers who would come in and out of the house.
And as children, we were taught to assert ourselves and respect others, no matter what kind of environment or upbringing they came from. It’s thanks to dealing with people from all walks of life from such a young age that I’ve developed a strong intuition and can read people well.
Miwako: There were all sorts of people there. It wasn't just one society. There were artists, and there were also people with nothing. All kinds of people were invited to come together and have a meal. I learned from Papi that our society is more than just the mainstream. I'm not a socialist, but still, there aren't many people who mingle in private like that.
Kazu: Usually, people protect their families. Normally, work and home are kept separate. But when you have a daughter, you worry—you don’t know what might happen. We were taught to assert ourselves and respect others, no matter their background. Ignoring them was not an option. We learned that.
If it was my daughter, according to the old way of thinking, I would have wanted to protect her more. It's not like that at all now, but you can't just leave her in a place with a lot of untrustworthy men, right? Papi knew that, and you knew, too. You knew there were risks, but still, you said, “Live within that, notice it yourself.” That's really important.
Miwako: It's tough. It's hard, but that's the way it is. Especially now, when women and men are becoming more equal, and there are so many young women who have worked really hard. But still, as a woman, if you get in the way, you’ll end up being taken advantage of. That's why I feel for Japanese women.
眠れる山を目覚めさせる
Kazu: What do you mean?
Miwako: In our house, all the women were allowed to be themselves. In Japan, only when they’re in the house, that is. If you go outside, you really have to be quiet, and you have to follow behind a man—even now.
They say we're ranked 118th out of 146 countries in the gender gap index, and even so, everyone is kind and gentle, and women are kind. They're kind to men. They're not like us, who speak out. I don't want to lose that kindness of women. But in terms of that ranking, it includes everything: the environment, education, politics, and companies.
Kazu: It's really frustrating, living in Japan and trying so hard but still not being able to speak your mind freely.
Miwako: The current generation has become increasingly equal, I think.
Kazu: You think it’s changed?
Miwako: It has changed.
However, in public settings, such as politics or when corporate bosses speak, Westerners are surprised because there aren't any women. They're not used to it.
Kazu: It’s quite frustrating in that regard, which makes it all the more remarkable that both Baba in her time and you in yours managed to create a lifestyle that didn’t conform to the norm. You both pursued your own path despite societal expectations and conventions.
Of course, there were limitations—financial realities, social pressures, and many things that couldn’t be done or were met with disapproval. But we all had certain opportunities that allowed us to carve out our own paths and push forward—though not without challenges.
Even within these constraints, I’ve always found it fascinating to create in my own way—and for me, that has always meant fashion.
Awakening the Sleeping Mountains: Fashion, Identity, and Women's Liberation
Kazu: Fashion isn’t just about wearing pretty clothes and looking good—it’s about your essence. For me, Baba mastered that best. She wore both Western clothing and kimonos in an exceptional way, which is rare, because she truly lived both cultures and created something of her own. You can see that in her style.
It wasn’t just about outer beauty; it was about what came from within. Her clothes weren’t just something she put on—they were a true reflection of who she was. It wasn’t like wearing a costume; it was a natural expression of her style and personality. And that’s what made her look so unique and authentic.
Having lived in both Western and Japanese cultures, Baba definitely faced her own challenges. She grew up in England until she was twelve and then returned to Japan. She married into a traditional family. But even with that, she maintained her own identity and expressed it through the way she dressed. She wasn’t just a Japanese woman in a kimono or a Western outfit—it was Baba, unmistakably herself.
That's where my TAN collection came from—unravelling kimonos and creating something new. It becomes neither Japanese nor Western, but rather whatever the wearer makes of it
The power that clothes give to people comes from within, and I think the beauty of it when it matches perfectly is incredible.
The piece I presented at the Museum Rietberg was made by meticulously taking apart a Taisho-era kimono and transforming its fabric into contemporary clothing, such as a bomber jacket and wide trousers. While modernized, the bomber jacket has evolved over time—originally designed for functionality, it later became a staple in sports culture, streetwear, and everyday fashion. It’s a style that carries history and energy, always dynamic and full of movement.
The Taisho era is really interesting. It was a lively period of women’s liberation, a fascinating time. That’s why I like Meisen (銘仙) kimonos, which were at their peak then. They embodied freedom. The large patterns and bold, unexpected colour combinations were striking. It wasn’t formal; it was the kind of thing you’d wear for lunch with girlfriends, full of energy and spontaneity.
Miwako: Pieces for everyday wear.
Kazu: I’m always fascinated by how the Taisho era absorbed influences from the most distant countries—things that would have been unthinkable during Japan’s long period of isolation. It was a time of change, a time of strong women. I want to bring that spirit into today’s world.
Meisen kimonos reflect the fearless energy of the women of that era. They were bold, with vibrant colours and dynamic patterns, completely different from the more traditional and modest kimono styles. They represented freedom and modernity, making them the perfect symbol of that lively time.
When I told you that I was creating something from a Taisho-era kimono for the Museum Rietberg, you recommended the poem ‘The Day the Mountains Move’ by Yosano Akiko.
When I read this incredibly visual and powerful poem, I was deeply moved by its energy. In it, Yosano Akiko encouraged the women of her time to awaken together and move forward as a collective force. This poem became a key part of my contribution to the Museum Rietberg. I translated and presented it.
Even Mount Fuji, still resting in its beauty, will one day erupt and change the world. But it’s not about destruction; it’s about an unstoppable force—when it is unleashed, everything shifts, like a volcano awakening. That power is inside all of us. And one day, the moment will come when women rise. It’s a beautiful thought.
Miwako: They're sleeping. I want them to wake up now.
"Hodoku - Unstitch,"
A collaboration with director Spencer Macdonald, cinematographer Fabian Kimoto, and Tasty Pictures production. Through a poetic and sensitive lens, this film explores Kazu's deep connection to the kimono, showcasing how she transforms its artistic and socio-historical heritage into contemporary fashion. The film premiered at the exhibition "KIMONO – Kyoto to Catwalk."
Kazu's passion for cultural exchange inspired her to found the Three Cranes Association, an organisation dedicated to nurturing connections between European and Japanese cultures. Guided by the values of longevity (長寿), harmonious relationships (和合), and beauty (美), TCA focus on craftsmanship, textiles, food, and art.
Your support enables TCA to bridge traditional Japanese culture with modern challenges through impactful initiatives. TCA supports the Fukura-an Project, a safe space for young people affected by Hikikomori—a severe form of social withdrawal that impacts approximately 1.46 million individuals in Japan, with suicide rates now at a record high. The initiative’s pilot event is taking place in March 2025.
TCA also launched the Tohoku Women's Crafting Project in the aftermath of the 2011 tsunami, providing elderly women in rural Japan access to community spaces in which they can handcraft unique accessories from upcycled kimono fabrics. Designed by Kazu, these beautiful pieces are for sale online. Finally, through the Kimono Culture Project, Kazu seeks to preserve both the fabrics and the craftsmanship of these historic garments for future generations.
和の物語の一部になろう