Oh wow! I just realized this guy sounds so much like me!! Long long post! But good read though! (:
The phone rang.
She was sobbing badly on the other end of the line.
“I’m going over,” I told her and hung up before she could protest.
1am. It was going to be a long night ahead..
She was still crying when she opened the door. She looked so broken, so vulnerable. I didn’t have to know what was wrong, I just held her in my arms. She cried even more.
“He broke up with me,” she finally said.
I just kept quiet as she let it all out.. questions, tears, anger, hurt.
“Why does love have to hurt so much?”
“No, love.. doesn’t hurt,” I said gently.
“So says the guy who’s been single forever? What would you know about love,” she jabbed.
“So says the guy who’s been your friend though Mr now-ex-#4,” I grinned. “Love doesn’t hurt you.. it’s the person that doesn’t know how to love or appreciate love that hurts you. But love never hurts,”.
“You won’t understand, Matt,” she sighed, “you’ve never been in love…”
“That’s not entirely true, you know..”
“Wait what- so who’s this girl I’ve never heard abou-“
“What did you love about #4 anyway?” I interjected.
“I don’t know… he is just perfect. And I love him so much,”
“But you don’t know what it is that you love about him?”
“It’s just.. the feeling when I’m with him. It always felt right with him. He made me feel loved and I loved him too,”
“That’s it? Just a feeling?”
“Well.. yea. What were you expecting me to say?”
“.. something more specific, maybe? I mean, if you thought he’s so ‘perfect’, why’d he still chea- erm, why’d he leave you?”
“Because I’m just not good enough for him? I don’t know..” she paused. “What is love to you then…”
“Hmm.. to me, being together or in love with someone should be more that just a feeling.. it should also be about mutual understanding, acceptance, respect, commitment and trust.”
“That’s what all couples would hope and want their relationship to be like, Matt. But expectations and reality don’t always go together..”
“Or maybe.. someone’s just not trying?”
“Well if you think love is so simple.. why haven’t you been with anyone all these years?”
“I never said love was simple.. but I guess the reason why I’ve never been with anyone yet is because.. I already know exactly what I want,”
“You have.. a checklist?”
“Sorta. It’s not the typical kinda ‘I’d like a girl with long hair, nice smile, etc’ superficial checklist though,”
“Oh. What kind of list is it then?”
“It’s like.. a concept of love. Of what it is about a girl that will make me fall completely in love with her. A concept that has more than three specific reasons that would answer any question as to why I love her.”
“You have a concept of love?” she laughed. “Love isn’t a theory, Matt.. you can’t just classify love by a concept or definition, you simply feel it with your heart..”
“But you see.. the reason why I think there are so many broken hearts, is because people merely jump into a relationship when their heart feels a certain something towards someone. But I don’t think that’s love, that’s merely an infatuation. Personally, I believe there are more than three reasons and aspects that actually determines whether we really are truly in love beyond the superficial ‘I don’t know why I love him/her.. I just do’ reason,”
“That makes sense. So what exactly is this.. ‘concept’ of yours about?” she asked, genuine curiosity replacing her initial skepticism.
“I call it the 4+1 theory. The aspects that will determine if it’s true love or just a fickle infatuation. It’s based on this idea that whenever we like someone, if we really go deeper into what is it that draws us to him or her, we’d be able to find that one specific reason. That’s not love though. That’s merely an attraction or infatuation. But when more than three of the aspects from this theory are present, you’ll be pretty sure that it’s more than just a feeling. For me personally, this determines if I’ll ever fall in love with a girl…”
Mind. Heart. Body. Soul.
The mind aspect, to put it simply, is her intellect. But I don’t mean the academic smarts.. it’s the way she thinks, processes and analyzes things way beyond a shallow self centeredness. It’s the way she puts across her thoughts, not for winning an argument’s sake, but to really try to understand or even sensibly debate opposing views that might leave anyone reflecting on her words or challenge me to think differently. It’s the way she carries herself off with an aura of sophistication and enigmatic charm and no matter how much I might think I already know her or have her figured out, she’ll still surprise me with something unexpected. Good surprise. I like intellect. Personally, it takes a little more to intrigue me and stimulate my senses. If I can connect with someone and talk endlessly about the concept of nothing, then, only then, will we be able to talk about everything else.. and I think that’s incredibly alluring,”
“Ooh.. so my best friend’s sapiosexual too,” she teased. “But what about her likes and dislikes or like her personality.. does that go under the mind aspect too?”
“Well, that’s where the heart aspect comes in. The heart represents who she is by what she values or cares about. The things she likes, the things she dislikes. What really matters to her, as well as her insecurities and fears..”
She bit her lower lip - thinking. “But what if him knowing about my past and all my insecurities scares him or drives him away? Or what if he ever uses all of these against me if someday things go bad between us?”
“Erm.. you do realize that it doesn’t really matter now because whether or not he ever knew, he already chose to leave you right? But.. if he still or ever tries to hurt you in any way, then he is a fucking bastard and I will punch his face,”. I really meant it.
“I don’t think he even cares about me anymore,” she sighed, “maybe he never really did.. we were so.. different. I don’t know why I never actually realize it before,”
“Maybe because then, you were too ‘blinded by love’ to see, or you chose to conveniently ignore the differences. Honestly though, I think it’s critical for two people to understand each other’s heart and learn to accommodate each other’s differences rather than simply turning a blind eye or deaf ear ‘because I love him and that’s all that matters’. Because if two people are too different in the way they think, behave or live.. I reckon it will become a huge problem when the infatuation bubble bursts.”
“I don’t really understand..” she said.
“Let me just ask you this.. does he know how passionate you are towards the arts and music?"
“Well, no.. not really. He’s more the sports kind of guy and doesn’t like theatre and stuff so I didn’t want him to get bored if I talked to him about things he isn’t interested in..”
“Then i’m guessing he probably also doesn’t care or know the little things about you. Like how you’re afraid of the dark and why you’re actually scared of darkness.. how family and relationships are really important to you.. that ice cream is your happy pill. You know, I’m even going to bet that he doesn’t know you go to bed every night, clutching your phone just hoping and waiting for him to text you goodnight..”
She started to tear again, but I continued..
“You see, it’s not a matter of whether it bores him or not.. it’s a matter of whether he bothers or not. I mean, if he doesn’t even know these things about you, then he really doesn’t know you at all. How then can he say he loves you?”
“But I really loved him,” she murmured softly to herself .
“I know you did. I know you still do and it’s hurting you like shit. But you need to know that for any kind of relationship to work.. two people need to give and take. Sadly, with him, it seems like you’re the one who was always giving. If he actually really loved you back as much, he’d make a greater effort to close the gap and bridge the differences between you two. He’d want to hear what you have to say, he would actually consider your opinions, your needs and your feelings. He’ll not just tell you or text you that he loves you.. he’ll show it by the things he will do or be willing to do no matter how inconvenient or silly it might be, just because.. he knows it’ll make you happier or better. To me, when it comes to a relationship, the heart aspect isn’t just a feeling or who you/he or she is anymore. It becomes two hearts beating as one. Two people wanting to understand each other.. sharing the good, the bad and possibly a future together; actually bothering and supporting each other’s feelings, values, dreams, thoughts, emotions,”
She stayed silent for a long while before she looked up, holding my gaze.. there was this unspoken tension building before she finally spoke again.
“But.. what if something that’s important to me, is not something the guy might feel same way about?"
“Then I’ll try-” I caught myself. “I mean, if I were him. I’d try. I’d make the effort.. because it’s important to you and you’re important to me,”
She remained silent again. She wasn’t crying anymore but this time, the prolonged silence was starting to grow even more deafening.
“Matt,” she finally spoke - softly, “do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No.” I said flatly.
“Oh..” she sighed. “You know what you said about mind and heart.. it’s actually starting to sink in and I’m beginning to realize that maybe these two aspects weren’t exactly a big part of my relationship with him,”
“So what made you fall in love with him then?”
“Well.. don’t laugh, but I’ve always thought that with him, it was love at first sight. I mean, there was just this spark between us from the very first time we met,”
“Cos he was hot?” I scoffed.
“No.. don’t be an idiot,” she tried to hide her smile but failed. I rolled my eyes. “Okay fine, yea maybe that. But it wasn’t the only reason!”
I raised an eyebrow.
“He was really nice too! And he was always sweet to me,“ she began her defense case. “He always made me feel happy, secure and loved without even having to try, you know?” I just continued staring at her waiting for her to go on. “Oh never mind, you’d never understand..”
“Actually.. I do. And I think I now understand what it was that made you fall in love with him.
The body aspect.
The body aspect is about physical attraction, intimacy and presence.
I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe you can just “instantly know” you’re in love or that someone’s THE one just by “first sight”. No offense, but I think the whole love at first sight concept is bullshit that only exists in movies and fairy tales. In reality, it isn’t love. That very first attraction.. is probably lust. Lust at first sight”.
“What nonsense! It’s not like I was lusting over him from the very first time I laid eyes on him! Maybe it’s the case for guys.. I mean, sex is always on a guy’s mind whenever he meets a girl right? But it’s different for girls, Matt..” she protested.
“Okay. You know what.. since you brought up the age-old guys and sex debate, I’ll tell you this secret to clarify something about guys for the first and last time.. probably 99% of guys are naturally sexual. If you ever meet any guy who tells you he isn’t sexual at all, it’s not that he’s gay – no, gays are even more horny .. he’s likely to be a liar and you should be more wary of him. BUT! Here’s the thing.. even though guys are sexual by nature, it isn’t always the only or most important thing to a guy,”
“Really?” now she raised her eyebrow with that annoying smirk on her face.
“Oh come on, you girls know how it is, plus you aren’t exactly saint-like innocent either.. sometimes you see a hot guy and you start fantasizing or making statements like ‘omg have my babies’..”
“That…” she started blushing.
“That.. is exactly my point. It’s the same with guys. We might talk and think about sex a lot more openly than girls but it isn’t always the only thing on our mind. When I said it’s lust at first sight.. I didn’t literally mean you want the guy naked and in bed. What I meant is the momentary attraction or desire– he might be hot, he might be charming, he might have smiled at you that made you feel a certain way.. but that’s not love. That’s really just a superficial physical attraction. Saying “I’m in love” right there and then just completely takes the special meaning out of the word ‘love’. If you ask me, I personally think the process of loving or falling in love with someone involves discovering the person and then perhaps developing feelings. It could happen quickly or over a longer period of time, but not at first sight,”
“Hmm.. that does make sense,” she paused and then her lips curled up forming that annoying smirk again. “Oh wow, this is the first time you and I are talking about sex huh..”.
“You never asked..”
“Tell me then.. what is sex to you?”
“Sex.. to me, is merely a physical act. I am not part of the whole “sex is sacred/taboo” camp but then, I don’t take sides with the whole bed hopping culture either,”
“I can’t believe you just said that sex is merely a physical act..” she began in a disappointed tone.
“But sex really is just a physical act if it’s without emotions or feelings. And that is why I distinguish between sex and making love, the same way I clearly differentiate ‘loving’ and ‘being in love’ with someone,”
“Oh.” this time, she smiled. She understood.
“Don’t get me wrong.. I think physical intimacy is very important in a relationship but for me, the one physical aspect that matters the most.. is the physical presence. That, is also what I reckon made you fall in love with him.
“Okay this, I really want to know…” she said.
“The physical presence is simply being there. You want him to be with you. You want to be there for him. Because just being there with or for each other makes your day, or you as a person, a little better. You may act or behave a little different when you’re with him, but in a good way – in a way that you actually feel completely comfortable, safe and you. Perhaps even without you knowing, you smile more and laugh harder. You feel real, genuine joy. And even on days when the smile can’t happen, you know you don’t have to pretend to be okay or be self conscious in front of him; because its perfectly okay to be the way you are and feel when you’re with him. He cares about you and you feel loved when you’re with him. Sometimes, there are no need for words or explanations.. just his presence, him being there for you, holding you.. makes you feel better or believe that it’s going to be okay again. Because you’re not just holding on to someone for attention or sympathy.. you actually feel and believe that you’re holding on to a part of or the rest of your life..”
Which leads to the fourth aspect – soul.
The soul aspect to me, is the deepest form and the final affirmation that should answer any remaining doubt or questions as to whether we’ve truly fallen in love with a person.
It’s when you start noticing but still appreciate all the other little things, even the flaws - especially the flaws. It’s when you truly know a person stripped down of all their walls, exposed to their soul and yet still accept and love him or her. It’s a level of understanding and acceptance that goes beyond the “honeymoon everything is perfect” period.
It’s when you finally realize this one person is someone you can always and want to tell everything to, and you want to ask and know everything of him or her as well. It’s when you actually want to share your life and trust your secrets with this person; and you can. This someone is the first person you think of when you’re happy, sad or when something significant happens. This same person is someone you can call at 1am in the morning and they’d drop everything to make time for you, staying by you till the sun rises or you’re better again - as you would for him or her as well. This person cares and will listen. Will really listen, giving you their undivided attention and genuine love; not necessarily every time but any time you need him or her. This one person makes your problem their problem and they go through it together with you just so you don’t have to go through the pain and tears alone,”
It was at this moment, for the very first time, she looked at me in a different way but said nothing.
“You see, the soul aspect..” I continued, “is when you start to see and want to share the rest of your life with this one other. And not in a clingy “I can’t live without you” way, but in a way that I can still live my life without you as I have before I met you, but now that you’ve come to exist in my life, I see the possibility of a life with you and now I actually want to make decisions and live a life, continuing to create more moments and memories together with you”.
“Well.. so.. have you met this one person yet? I mean, I’m sure it’s almost impossible to find that ‘perfect’ girl who fulfills all of your four aspects of love right?” she mumbled. I could barely hear her. She wasn’t even looking at me anymore.
“No, it is not impossible and I don’t think its asking for too much. You see the thing about these four aspects is, we often and will find one or two aspects in many different people. And that alone may be enough to make us attracted to them or develop a crush on them. But really, that is not love at all. If we like a person because “he’s cute” or “the way she thinks”, that’s just us liking the body and/or mind aspect of a person. The reality is, we are always going to meet many people who possess these different aspects of mind, heart, body or soul. But on a rare occasion when you do meet someone who possess all these four aspects.. you’ll almost definitely know that he or she is not one of many but may just be the one. So personally, I won’t settle for anything less unless she possess more than three qualities. You know people write the symbol of love as < 3 (less than three), I actually think love should be more than three.. I define it as 4+1. “
“So what’s plus one?” she asked, still not looking at me.
“Plus one…” I trailed off – unconsciously.
“Matt?” she placed her hand on top of mine, finally looking me in eye again.
“Plus one.. is something only the one who's meant to be will ever know and hold the answer to”.
end.
-
Some time Feb, I experimented writing in a different way.
I wrote a story.. 4+1.
It's a story that took me more than a month to 'finish' writing. It's a story that's personally very close to my heart - then and will always be.
Truth be told, it was a story written as a confession and answer.
To you who've followed and related to 4+1, I thank you for reading and allowing me to share this intimate chapter with you.
If you'd like to read my future writing, you can follow my facebook if you want to.
Love,
Matthew Zachary Liu
-
同時也有10000部Youtube影片,追蹤數超過2,910的網紅コバにゃんチャンネル,也在其Youtube影片中提到,...
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gaze point meaning 在 VOP Facebook 的最佳貼文
▲▲ VOP 新 刊 發 行 ! ▲▲
Voices of Photography 攝影之聲
Issue 8 : 物件夢遊 Trance Amongst Objects
為什麼觀看「物」? 攝影給予我們一個凝視的機會,將物件從生活的脈絡抽離、放大,使我們對日常物質的注目,建構為一個新的物語。我們的目光在物件裡探索,或在物件裡迴避,似是更為貼近,似又更為疏離。
在這期的《攝影之聲》中,陳曉雲以虛構的《墜枯錄注》文集,在擺弄枯枝與標題文字的影像文本(image-text)裡,展開意義追探的遊戲 ; 蔣志寄情於引火的花木,燒出一封封稍縱即逝的情書私語 ; 岸幸太撿拾路邊的廢棄物重新造相,拼貼出物相與物的對話 ; 陳維則將日常物件作為一個沉默劇場,演示物件在日常裡的非日常。
本期的Artist's Showcase,特別介紹攝影家菊地智子,在甫獲木村伊兵衛攝影獎的「I and I」系列中,她長年紀錄中國變裝皇后(drag queen),以攝影觸碰當代中國壓抑敏感的性意識問題。此外本期的Q單元,我們也專訪日本攝影評論家飯澤耕太郎,暢談攝影評論的角色觀點 ; 並與資深設計師深澤直人和攝影家藤井保對談,一探物件與攝影的中介關係 ; 以及,透過太田康介深入311福島核災警戒區的鏡頭,發現核災煉獄裡被世人遺忘的無辜動物,所敲起的人類文明浩劫警鐘。另外,本期也催生由攝影家蕭永盛撰寫的「台灣攝影史」,將以分期連載方式,追溯台灣攝影脈絡的歷史足跡。
Why do we look at “objects”? Photography gives us a chance to gaze and contemplate, to displace objects from their usual roles in our daily lives, and then re-focus our attention onto these everyday objects, evoking new dialogues between these objects and us. Our gazes fall upon them, sometimes exploring, sometimes avoiding certain things – which seem closer to us at times, and more removed from us at other times.
In this issue of VOP, Chen Xiaoyun starts a game of searching for meaning through fiddling with fallen branches and titles of his photos as image-texts in his fictitious book Zhuiku Tablet Annotations; Jiang Zhi expresses his burning feelings through flowers in flames; Kishi Kota constructs images with discarded items that he salvaged, presenting to the audience a mosaic of relationships between objects and images; Chen Wei uses everyday objects to create a silent stage, displaying the exceptional qualities of these common items in our daily lives.
This issue of Artist’s Showcase introduces Kikuchi Tomoko, who is recently awarded the Kimura Ihei Award with her I and I series of photographs. She has been documenting drag queens in China for a long time, exploring the sensitive and much repressed issue of gender consciousness in China through her lenses. In the Q columns, we interviewed Japanese critic Iizawa Kotaro, who talks about the point of views in photography critiques. In a dialogue with designer Naoto Fukasawa and photographer Tamotsu Fujii, we examine the relationship between photography as a medium and the objects it presents. Following this, we are reminded of the destructions caused by the human civilization through the pictures by Yasusuke Ota, of innocent animals abandoned in hells of the 311 Fukushima Nuclear Evacuation Zones. Also, this issue of VOP will kick start a series on “History of Photography in Taiwan” written by Hsiao Yong Seng, probing the historical footprints of photography in Taiwan.
-----目錄 Contents-----
◎編輯台報告
◎Features
▲ 陳曉雲 Chen Xiao Yun
── Zhuiku Tablet Annotations
▲ 蔣志 Jiang Zhi
── Love Letters
▲ 岸幸太 Kishi Kota
── Barracks / Things in there
▲ 陳維 Chen Wei
── More
◎郭力昕專欄|再寫攝影 / 物件、戀物與虛無
◎顧錚專欄|雙月書記 / 物 : 攝影的光譜
◎蕭永盛專欄|台灣攝影史 連載一 / 從一張老照片說起
◎Artist’s Showcase
▲ 菊地智子 Kikuchi Tomoko
── I and I
Q|飯澤耕太郎 Iizawa Kotaro
Q|深澤直人 Fukasawa Naoto x 藤井保 Fujii Tamotsu
Q|太田康介 Ota Yasusuke
◎Books
◎Exhibitions
-----------------------
購買VOP#8 :
www.vopmagazine.com/vop008shop
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gaze point meaning 在 YOSHITOMO NARA Facebook 的精選貼文
Nobody’s Fool ( January 2011 )
Yoshitomo Nara
Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.
It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.
But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.
While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.
As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.
In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.
Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.
Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!
I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.
Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.
By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.
After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.
And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.
Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.
But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.
The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.
Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.
After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.
Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.
After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.
I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….