The Complete Guide to Tatami, a Traditional Flooring Essential to Japanese Life

Plants have long been used as essential materials in everyday life in Japan. In addition to tatami, they have also been used to make bags and other items. The custom of living on plant-based floor coverings dates back to the Jomon period, which began around 13,000 years ago and lasted for approximately 10,000 years. The word “tatami” came into use around 1,300 years ago during the Nara period. The Kojiki, Japan’s oldest historical chronicle, completed in 712, contains a reference to suga-tatami, an early form of tatami. Shosoin at Todaiji Temple also preserves Gosho-no-Tatami, the oldest surviving tatami mat in Japan. It is said to have been used by Emperor Shomu during the Nara period (710–794).

During the Heian period (794–1185), tatami was used in the residences of aristocrats and other members of the upper class. Although it is believed to have gradually developed into its present form, tatami was not yet laid across entire rooms as flooring. Instead, individual mats were placed only where needed, such as beneath a person’s seat. Igusa rush was already being used at the time, and tatami was considered a luxury. It also served as a symbol of authority, with the thickness of the mat and the pattern and color of its edging indicating the user’s social rank or status.

Today, changes in the Japanese way of life mean that many condominiums and other multi-unit residences no longer have Japanese-style rooms. As a result, the supply of tatami-omote, the essential flooring material for these rooms, continues to decline. Annual production in Japan has fallen from a peak of 42.88 million sheets to around 1 million today. Because tatami remains essential to Japan’s traditional architecture and culture, various initiatives are underway to expand demand.

A tatami mat consists of three parts. Each part is made by specialized artisans through a division of labor, and a tatami shop completes the final process of assembling them into a single mat.

Genroku Tatami is a long-established Kyoto tatami shop founded in Genroku 3 and has been in business for 300 years. It manufactures and sells tatami. Since its founding, the shop has remained in the same location, preserving and sharing the traditions and culture of Kyoto’s tatami artisans. In addition to tatami for Japanese-style rooms in private homes, it manufactures and repairs mats for historic shrines, temples, ryokan inns, and other establishments.

Upon entering the workshop, you are greeted by the pleasant fragrance of igusa, the material used to make tatami. This familiar scent has a soothing and calming quality for many Japanese people. The workshop is lined with tatami-making machinery as well as newly made and repaired mats.

Hands-on tatami classes are held inside the workshop, surrounded by the fragrance of igusa. Two experiences are available.

We tried the 90–120-minute plan.
The experience began with a classroom lesson. We received a handout about tatami and listened as an artisan explained its history in detail. The handout is available in both Japanese and English, so international visitors can participate with confidence. Around 80% of participants are apparently tourists from overseas, and we were told that they approach the experience with great enthusiasm.

During the lesson, we learned that tatami has been used as flooring in Japan for 1,300 years and that its ability to regulate humidity makes it ideally suited to Japan’s humid summers and dry winters. One particularly interesting point was that tatami making follows various rules. Tatami is generally laid across an entire room, but rooms are often slightly uneven, making it impossible to simply fill them with perfectly rectangular mats. For this reason, one side of a mat is cut as a straight right angle, while the other is shaped to match the room’s irregularities. The straight, right-angled side is positioned toward the center of the room. This prevents the space from appearing distorted, which could happen if the cut side faced inward. Although tatami may look as though it has simply been laid across the floor, we learned that its placement involves careful calculations. Another fascinating point was that the arrangement of the mats can carry different meanings. Tea rooms, rooms used for ritual suicide, and rooms prepared for celebrations all have their own tatami layouts. Even the classroom portion alone taught us many things about tatami that we had never known before.

After the lesson, it was finally time to try hand-sewing tatami.
This shop combines machinery and hand-sewing techniques to make and repair tatami. This plan allows participants to experience the hand-sewing process. Making a single tatami mat entirely by hand takes approximately 5 hours.
We began by cutting the tatami-doko core. A ruler was placed along the section to be cut as a guide. Once the cutting line had been determined, it was temporarily secured with pins.

Two types of knives are used for cutting: an o-bocho, or large knife, and a sankaku-bocho, or triangular knife.

The large knife is used to cut the tatami-doko, while the triangular knife is used for more detailed work, such as cutting the tatami-omote and trimming thread. Because we were cutting the tatami-doko, we used the large knife. Cutting the core is physically demanding. You apply your full body weight to the blade and gradually cut through it with short back-and-forth movements rather than trying to slice through it all at once. The crisp cutting sound and sensation were surprisingly satisfying.

Next came kamachi-nui, a process in which a wooden board is inserted along the short side of the tatami-doko to reinforce the edge. After a thin wooden board is placed over the straw, it is covered with tatami-omote.

The next step was hira-zashi, the process of sewing on the tatami-beri edging. Because the palm is used to push the tatami needle through the mat, a triangular palm guard is worn for protection.

The tatami-beri is sewn on at regular intervals. Rather than pushing the needle straight down, it is angled slightly in the direction of the stitching. After the needle emerges from the back, it is pushed through toward the front again. This process is repeated many times.

The final step is kaeshi-nui, in which the tatami-beri is folded over and sewn into place.

We realized just how many steps are involved in making a single tatami mat, and that both cutting the core and sewing with the needle require considerable strength. Opportunities to try hand-sewing tatami are rare, making this a valuable experience.

After the hand-sewing experience, participants can make 1 palm-sized tatami coaster. The first step is choosing the tatami-beri. With a wide range of patterns and multiple colors available for the same design, it can be difficult to decide.

As we selected the tatami-beri, we also learned about the meaning behind each pattern. We chose a pale purple edging with a diamond-shaped design. The diamonds represent aquatic plants. Because these plants reproduce quickly, the pattern expresses wishes for prosperous descendants and the healthy growth of children. During the Heian period, when this pattern originated, giving birth and raising children could be life-threatening. People likely placed these wishes even into the tatami in the rooms where they spent most of their day. This also helped us understand why it is considered proper etiquette not to step on the tatami edging.
After choosing the tatami-beri, it was time to begin. The materials included the edging, tatami-omote, and a board serving as the tatami-doko core.

First, the tatami-omote is wrapped around the square tatami-doko.

The tatami-omote is stapled to the tatami-doko on the back. Pulling it tight while stapling prevents sagging and produces a smooth finish.

Tatami-beri is attached to the two sides of the tatami-doko not covered by the tatami-omote. The edging is placed face down and aligned with the edge. A narrow reinforcing strip is then placed along the edge, and the strip and tatami-beri are stapled together.

Once stapled, the tatami-beri is flipped over and pulled toward the back.

It is then stapled in place on the back.

Next, the corners are shaped. The excess tatami-beri fabric must be pulled firmly toward the back.

Pulling it tight creates a clean, defined corner. We were told that artisans also pay close attention to creating neat corners when making full-size tatami mats.

Once the corner has been neatly shaped, it is stapled in place on the back. The tatami-beri is then attached to the opposite side in the same way.

To finish, a piece of felt is attached over the staples on the back.

From the classroom lesson and hand-sewing activity to making a tatami coaster, we spent approximately 2 hours fully immersed in the world of tatami. Although tatami is a familiar part of life in Japan, there was a surprising amount we did not know. The hand-sewing activity in particular showed us how much effort is required to make a single mat. The palm-sized tatami coaster is easy to take home. It can be used for drinks, as a mat for displaying figurines, or as a place to keep keys near the entrance. It was a memorable experience that made tatami feel much more familiar.

Souvenirs are also available for purchase here. In addition to tatami coasters, the shop sells pouches, accessories, and other items made from tatami-beri. The coasters are available in igusa and resin versions. One appeal of the igusa type is watching its color gradually change to yellow over time. Taking a full tatami mat home as a souvenir may be difficult, but a coaster is easy to use in everyday life. Consider picking one up as a gift for friends or family. When presenting your souvenir, you can also share what you learned about the appeal of tatami during your experience in Japan.