It is the finest sort of a day in Yanaka.
Sitting in my exhibition in our lingering pandemic I feel like a wallflower at a dance, wondering if anyone will approach.
It is the finest sort of a day in Yanaka.
Sitting in my exhibition in our lingering pandemic I feel like a wallflower at a dance, wondering if anyone will approach.
It is good to have a cold rainy Friday at the exhibition. It gave me a chance to clean around the edges and get stuff done.
I made a short video of the show.
I do this ,,, every year. It is a measure. I put things on the walls to see what I have done. It gives me a chance to clean year old dust, and to live in empty rooms.
Magic happens. Magic on the wall, magic in the door. New people, people I haven't seen in a long time.
An early surprise this year is this painting. I had painted it at the beginning of summer, but it slipped off the wall. It was hidden behind a heap of papers. I had forgotten I had made it until last week when it reappeared.
This year's exhibition opens Friday. Please stop by.
It takes practice to photo a painting, lighting, various adjustments. The bigger the painting the worse it is. But even a small one like the little oil I chose for my invitation card took time. Finally I got it the way I wanted and sent it to the printer, and the e-photo the printer sent back looked good. The card did not.
Every invitation card I have ever made has been wrong. People like to point this out at exhibitions, holding cards up to paintings, pointing out the differences. From painting, to photo, to print, lots of places to slip. It unavoidably goes wrong, but never so wrong as this year.
It is remarkably difficult to get a good photograph of a painting. I spent most of this week trying to get a photo for the invitation card to the October show. In the end the dragon helped.
I blunder on. Today I took photos
Golden Sumida