The reason

A young Japanese student, not more than 19, came by the gallery today.  He was visiting from Kanagawa, outside of Tokyo.  He had come to Kyoto alone for a few days to explore the art and culture of the city.  That morning he had been to a museum and seen some Picasso paintings.  He had read about my exhibition on-line somewhere and wanted to see it before heading back to Kanagawa that evening.  It was the last day of the exhibition and he arrived a couple of hours before closing.

He spoke very good English, despite having never lived or even traveled outside of Japan.  He had some seriously intelligent, probing questions for me, the kind academics or maybe Barbara Walters might ask.  "What are you thinking when you paint these pictures?"  "What does art mean?"  When I realized he wasn't taking the piss, and had a real grasp of the English language I tried to answer.  These are the kinds of questions an artist stumbles around, the kinds of questions that we often ask ourselves.

He listened and was grateful for my time.  Not in an ingratiating way.  I could see it in his eyes; he had a real yearning to understand art even though (or maybe because) he was studying English and computers.  As he told me, he did not have the opportunities to meet or talk with artists.  This was his first such experience.  Later I got an e-mail from him in which he thanked me for "a great memory".

I remember years ago my old friend, the painter Daniel Joseph, responded to the question, "why do you make art?" by saying, I do it for the kids.  At the time I thought it was a bit corny.  But yeah, that's it.  If today's 30 minute conversation with this kid from Kanagawa didn't validate everything I do, if it wasn't a reason to keep making art, well I probably shouldn't be making art.

More from Sinmachidori

Yagi-san and I

Daisuke and I

Sasaki-san, Kasuga-san and I

Imai-san, Iku-san and I

Koichi, Kumiko, their son Souta and I

Keiko and I

Asako and I

Emma, Emiko and Genki Nishimura and I

The opening

I was a bit nervous beforehand.  You are always stripped bare as an artist when you invite people to see your work.  This was my first exhibition outside of the US and I wouldn't have my New York crowd.  There is comfort in the old familiar faces.  You chat, have a few drinks, laugh, forget that you are in a gallery and your art is hanging on the wall.  Most of my friends in Kyoto had never seen my work before.  How would they react?

The opening was a success.  It was well attended, more people than I expected.  Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.  And everyone seemed to like my paintings.

The Japanese view art so differently than Americans; they really look at it, spend time with it.  I had friends reject my offer for a beverage because they didn't want any distractions from the paintings, they wanted to go through the show first, piece by piece.  

The Japanese are also very gracious.  People were thanking me for sharing my art with them, for inviting them to the opening.  People brought me flowers and sweets.  No one left without saying goodbye, and most people wanted a photo with me.  These things do not happen in New York. 

Perhaps the most interesting experience, for me, was my inability to communicate anything verbally.  Your work really has to do the talking for you when you get outside your native country.  There is no embellishing or camouflaging the exhibition with bullshit.  "Well, let me tell you about this piece...blah-blah-blah..."  All these people came to see my art and all I could say was "arigato".  Funny.

Emiko and I

Gallery director Okamoto-san, owner Junichi Uchiyama, their daughter Koyumi and I

Koyumi and I

Artist Komori Fumio, Natsumi, Taka and I

Akane and I

Andre, his wife and I

Sage, his wife, their two friends and I

Lee, Manuela and I

Natsumi and I

The exhibition

My friend Emiko found be-kyoto gallery.  We went together to see it back in October.  I liked the space immediately - a lovely old machiya house converted to a gallery and event space - but I wasn't sure exactly how my paintings would work there.  First of all, in October I was only just finding my groove again as a painter having been off the brush for more than nine months.  As much as I wanted to have an exhibition in Japan, I wasn't sure if these new pieces I had completed were really good enough to show.  The other obstacle for me, as an ex-New Yorker, was that be-kyoto did not look or feel like a gallery (i.e. "white cube").  This place looked like somewhere I wanted to live.  It was warm, friendly, somehow almost residential.  Could I have an exhibition in such a place?

Well, the dialogue between the director Okamoto-san and I, with Emiko translating, began.  After several weeks the exhibition was confirmed.  The paintings meanwhile were piling up in my Uji atelier.  After a long holiday in Los Angeles I was ready to hang the show.

As soon as Emiko and I began placing the paintings I knew that be-kyoto was absolutely the right gallery for this exhibition.  All my misgivings were allayed when I saw how the paintings and the space complemented each other.  For me it was as if they belonged together, one was created for the other.  It worked.

Be-kyoto is unlike any gallery I've ever been in on any continent.  I feel terribly lucky that my first show in Japan is in such a wonderfuly unique and charming space.

Installation

First Impressions | be-kyoto gallery

I am pleased to announce "First Impressions", an exhibition of new paintings

at be-kyoto gallery January 25 - 30, 2014.

Opening reception Saturday, January 25, 18:00 - 20:00.

I will be available at the gallery for a few hours each day.

Call or e-mail for an appointment.

be-kyoto gallery

429 – 1 Anrakukouji-chō Kamidachiuri Shinmachi-dōri 
Kamigyō-ku Kyoto 602 - 0064
Japan

〒602-0064 京都市上京区新町通上立売上る 安楽小路町429-1
    

I'm back!