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!

End of Part I

So much has happened, and at the same time almost nothing has happened.  I've found my places and I've found my people in Kyoto.  The likes are many and the dislikes few.  I have discovered a pace and sensibility that agrees with me.  We get along, Kyoto and I.  It is not without struggle.  But the struggle is reasonable, grounded.  It is not egomaniacal or absurd, aggressive or cynical.  There is a beauty to Kyoto that is almost disquieting.  Not since my sojourn in Paris have I felt this kind of fondness for a city.

My relationship with my art has changed.  In New York it was somewhat combative, which really mirrored my relationship with the city.  New York was mostly a battle, the city always trying to defeat me.  In Kyoto the painting comes easier.  I do not labor over paintings and fight with them like I did in New York.  I think this is maybe because life here is less complicated.  That is not to say my life is easy, but the bullshit that runs so thick and deep in New York doesn't seem to exist here.

I have made some inroads into the Japanese art world, somehow accomplished more in three months than seventeen years in New York.  Strangely, despite my extreme difficulty with the language, I find myself a little more outgoing and willing to approach gallery managers and directors.  I also find that they are more receptive than their New York counterparts.  Hell, in New York you can't get the intern at the front desk to greet you, let alone get the owner to sit down and talk with you, hear what you have to say, look at your portfolio.  It comes down to respect, really.

But this is not an essay comparing and contrasting New York and Kyoto, the US and Japan.  It is rather my reflections on three incredible months.  I am grateful for the experience, to the Itos, to Mineko and Aki and the amazing people I met through them.  I feel terribly lucky.

I came to Japan because I wanted to go somewhere where I didn't know a thing.  I wanted to remove myself from everything that is comfortable and familiar.  To grow as an artist, or indeed as a person, one has to shake things up every now and again, break out of the routine.  I did that.  Oh man, did I do that.  But I learned that we quickly establish new routines.  And a new comfort zone is constructed.  This is human nature I suppose.

This is the last post until January.  I'm spending Christmas in Los Angeles.  So I will say arigato gozaimas and akemashte omedeto (happy new year).