About Kamaro'an

The sea breeze swayed the umbrella sedges field, along the old tribe.

I remember Nacu sitting on a sasa, relaxed talking with her mom about the memories of watching grandma weaving when little.

As night falls, they lay a sedge mat on the roof, sleeping under the stars.

In the backyard kitchen, Sawmah squatted by the fire, silently observing grandpa as he meticulously crafted weaving tools.

Every night, people come and go, sharing stories, and then we weave objects, passing down the stories one by one.

Like Imay once shared, her early field notes were a diverse array of topics—traditional dances, thatched roofs, ancient melodies. 

But a simple reminder from an elder evoked her: "The sea is ever-flowing, writing it down and it stopped. You should take part in it." And so, she started weaving, everyday.

As if the beautiful oral histories in the old maritime world, we absorb the stories and myth, fabricate the threads of the past and future, and then become a part of the flowing culture.

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海風輕輕吹在輪傘草田上，沿著海，是古老的部落。

我記得 Nacu 坐在草席上，說著她和媽媽聊天，還有小時候看阿嬤編織的回憶。夜裡，草席鋪在屋頂，她們在星空下入睡。

後院的烤火，Sawmah 蹲在火旁，靜靜地看著阿公製作要給她的織布工具。

每天，人們來來去去，説著各自的故事，然後我們手裡編織這些物件，一個接一個地傳承著這些故事。

Kamaro'an 這個 project 誕生於 2013 年，已經走過十年。最早的時候，我們沈迷於布迪厄與班雅明的文字，好奇美學與文化之間的關係。是透過柳宗悅的文字，飄忽的心才落定，起而行，工藝來自日復一日的實踐。

Imay 説，以前好多田調——傳統舞蹈、茅草屋頂、古老歌謠——有一天阿公說，海是流動的，文字寫下來就停住了，要參與其中，而不只是紀錄，於是她開始每天編織。

也像是過去在航海的路徑上，口述史的人們，吸收了故事與神話傳統，編織過去與未來的敘述，然後成為文化流動的一部份。

I think we've always been talking about diaspora—those gaps in time and space where we enjoy every part of life. It’s like what Imay’s father told her: the tides are a memory in our bodies. Diaspora makes us realize that as long as our family history is passed on, wherever we are, every moment is a living cultural practice.

For the past decade, we’ve been weaving. It makes me think of a “botanical existence": the mimicry of growing up, the deep-reaching roots of craftsmanship, the slow, simple layering of time itself—each one wrapping the complex present and past.

I used to wonder about Benjamin’s concept of "aura" in The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. A day I looked up the Greek root, αὔρα—for breeze or flowing air—something shifted in me. It was as if a distant presence, light as air, began to make itself known, letting me understand: aura is about a moment you touch but that stays distant. It's a sense that an object carries history and distance; a history that's there, but doesn't speak. It's not for you, but it’s always been.

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我想我們始終在討論的是離散，在時空的隙縫中，享受每一個生活實踐，像是伊麥爸爸跟她說的潮汐是刻在身體裡的記憶，離散這個事情讓我們意識到只要家族的歷史一直在家人的記憶之間流傳，無論身在何處，每個時刻都是當下的文化實踐。

這十多年來我們一直在編織，我想起「植物性的存在」，擬態，順應，但從根部自己默默長出自己的樣子，也許人們長大的過程也是植物性的擬態，也許工藝也是植物性的根向，也許時間也是植物性的，平淡簡單，但是一層一層包覆著複雜的當下與過去。

「感覺到此物帶有歷史與距離的那一刻，歷史在場但不直言，他不是為你而來，但卻一直在這裡。」

以前讀不太懂班雅明《靈光消逝的年代》裡的靈光 aura，後來去看 aura 的希臘字根 αὔρα，關於微風，流動的空氣，那樣輕盈擦身而過的存在感，才知道是 aura 是關於某個碰觸到了卻又遙遠的瞬間。

Kamaro’an, meaning “a place to live,” comes from the language of the Pangcah, an Indigenous people from Taiwan’s east coast.

Since 2013, we have been documenting Pangcah artifacts and everyday practices that shape a contemporary diaspora.

Each piece is handwoven by Pangcah craftsmen in our studio. Kamaro’an — where the sea flows and constellations flicker, we weave moments that flash across time.

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Kamaro'an，在阿美族語裡的意思是住下來吧，我們從 2013 年開始紀錄部落日常物件的編織與形制，每個物件都是由部落青年工藝師手工編織而成。

「大海給你多少東西，你只能接受，不能要求。」潮汐和海浪，是刻在身體裡的記憶，編織也是在每天的身體勞動裡刻下的，一代傳一代的身體記憶。

在部落，客人來家裡的時候，會招呼說 maro‘（請坐請坐）；回阿嬤家的時候，阿嬤說 kamaro‘ 是你坐這裡；對回家的青年，Kamaro'an，是就在這裡住下來吧，不要離開了。

Kamaro’an 曾獲法國巴黎家具家飾展「亞洲新銳設計師」獎，並長期於美國紐約當代藝術博物館 MoMA Design Store、西班牙畢卡索博物館、奧地利應用藝術博物館 MAK 等選品空間展售，銷售遍及巴黎、紐約、東京等城市。

We are happy to care and repair your aging Kamaro'an objects, they will be reconditioned by a craftsman. We hope every piece could be used for a very long time.

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我們很樂意保養與維修大家的 Kamaro’an 物件，希望每個物件都可以使用很久很久。