I opened my computer this Saturday morning to do more on line teaching stuff. Before I started I ventured into a file of paintings. This was 2016, down the hill in Ameyoko. I never exhibited this one. The black and white version went on the wall that year.
Father's Day /
What’s to be done with Father’s day?
I feel these days are foisted upon us. What dance are we supposed to do? Which memories do we choose to remember? Loudon Wainwright lll sung, “Having a father is the most dangerous game,” just the first half of the couplet.
I haven’t painted since April, been too mired in on-line educationing. Here is a five year old painting.
Middle Valley /
Yanaka, the part Tokyo where I live is a temple town. The name, Yanaka, translates Middle Valley, though half of Yanaka is on a hill. This makes for many little roads leading down. The locals don’t much name the roads but they name every slope. This is from the top of SansakiZaka, Three Slopes Slope .
Painting everyday /
Two and a half months to paint everyday
The more I paint, the rougher it gets, and the better I like it.
Mujina zaka, 2020
Outer moat around the castle, 2020
Brushes I use /
Ink painting, sumie, is ink, brush and paper. Paper is the most important.
I'm enjoying the washi I found in Asakusabasi. It is thick and soft. It allows great depth in the image and fine nijimi, ink flowing. Because the paper is extreme I have had to change the brushes I usually use. These work best for me. A brush is an intimate tool. Each has a story.
I’m also using the longer brushes on the wall. I've been happy to find that a brush I made from hair my sister sent is useful now. She raises sheep. She was brushing out winter hair and sent a wad in an envelope. It was stiff and full of wax-like lanolin. I had to boil it three times to make a brush. It is the one in the center. The one on the left I made from my youngest son's first haircut. The white one on the right was made by the great old craftsman down the hill.
Why paint? Why ink? /
A group of 8th graders came to my studio for a school project. One of their questions - What do I like about ink painting? I didn’t answer clearly. I had been having a personal crisis wondering where painting fits as our culture changes so radically. It was hard to put things into words, especial with painting, which is a language not easily translated into another.
With the plague raging I have been home painting every day since. It has reminded me why I like ink painting.
A good ink painting does not tell you what to think or to see. A good ink painting allows you, required you, to create meaning. It is like a zen puzzle. It is not didactic. There is no answer and none the less you create it.
This sort of abstraction has not been mainstream fashion here for five hundred years. There are no bright or pretty colors. No sound. It doesn’t move. You can’t push buttons to get points.
It is silent., still, and only has the meaning that you can bring to it.
Enoshima