Art of Your...Wooorrld!

A couple of years ago I started thinking about grad school.  I'd previously never thought much about this topic besides a.) a resounding "Hell, no!" and when I was in a less rigid frame of mind, b.) that if I ever did go back to school, I'd study art, not education.  But, well, life is funny.  After teaching for 11 years I started thinking maybe there was more I needed to know, that I could become a more effective art teacher if I had more education.  So when I heard about the University of Nebraska - Kearney's MA in art education (and more to the point, saw the courses and realized they were almost all things I wanted to study), I figured the time had finally come to return to academia.

"The Floating World"

That said, academia isn't exactly my favorite thing.  When I was at UMKC, my art classes were effortless.  My education classes, on the other hand...I struggled with them.  So when I was signing up for my first class last summer, I decided to start with one of the two studio courses that were part of my program - painting.  This may seem like the kind of course that needs to be taught in a traditional setting, but our professor structured it so that each of us completed our own work each week, then uploaded it to the class blog, and provided feedback to each of our classmates about their work.  In this way, we got to know each other pretty well, and seven of us decided we wanted to keep in touch through facebook to continue working.

"Triggered"

One of the aspects of the class that was really interesting to me was that we each chose our own objectives and developed in the direction we chose.  A big one for me was exploring new media - most of my painting has been in acrylic, and didn't really experiment with layering or using mixed media, so I wanted to work with those.  Having just moved to Japan and being sort of a weeb, I decided I wanted to explore Japan's art and culture through my paintings.  I tried to be relatively mature about it and not jump straight into anime characters, but I also wanted the influence to be clear.  I started on my first piece shortly after seeing the Harajuku Super Yosakoi.  I thought it would be an interesting challenge to try to capture the energy of the day, and their expressions...but it kept falling flat.  I wanted to have more going on than just the central figure, so I started building up the background with some dancers and repetitive shapes and colors using washi paper.  It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but I guess I wasn't entirely sure of what I wanted.

My second piece was to be a tribute to the Kawaii Kingpin - not only did he get me hooked on anime (and, by extension, on the idea of living in the motherland), but when I thought I was going to be unemployed this year he still had faith that I'd not only find a job, but that I'd be in Japan.  His dragon came together pretty quickly conceptually - I've drawn enough dragons in the course of my life, and seen plenty in Japan.  Executing the damn thing, on the other hand...somebody got it into her head that it would be awesome to try and weave the painting in and out of the washi paper to try and show the depth of the water.  The length of the dragon led me to break it into a triptych, and after a first attempt, I decided that I would paint him in layers, transparently, adding layers of thin washi in between, gradually making him more solid as I came up.  It was a huge pain in the ass, and there are a few parts I still need to work out, but on the whole I'm pretty happy with it. 

When I got to my final piece, I'd restrained myself enough.  It was time to get animated.  After seeing painted ema at several different shrines, I decided to make my own.  You purchase these wooden votive tablets to write your wishes on, and so my final work would be a self-portrait expressed through my wishes - past as well as present.  I thought I might stop using the washi paper on these, but when I got the first painting done I realized I really liked what they added to the look of the work.

"May Our Fates Intertwine"

The thing about this piece is that I wanted it to be an installation - I've been interested in this kind of sculpture since I was in college looking at my first Chihulys and Skoglunds.  There's a park essentially in my backyard, Baba Kabokuen, and so for my final submission I took my (mostly) finished paintings over and hung them in a tree to kind of show the idea of what I was going for.  I'm planning to paint a lot more of these, though - I was really inspired by Shiota Chiharu's The Key in the Hand at the 2015 Biennale and would like to make it something much more immersive.  But that's in the future.  For now, I've got a 4.0 GPA (yes, this was only my first class in my master's, and I was only taking one class...nevertheless...), a drypoint plate downstairs ready to print, and the nagging feeling that maybe I should have gone back for art rather than education...I really, REALLY enjoyed taking the painting course and maybe have some dread about taking a more traditional class.

Art is Magic*

Don't listen to the Brony propaganda.  I'm here to tell you that the true magic is art, not friendship (by extension, if Deidara is right, and art is an explosion, then true magic is an explosion, which means my childhood inspiration that fireworks looked like magic was right.  Birdwalk complete).  I'd guess there are a lot of people in the world who don't get a kick out of making cool shit, but I was never their teacher.  Last fall I found myself feeling nostalgic for my art school days - some of my favorite times in college consisted of staying up way past midnight, drinking tons of Hy-Vee cherry cola and working on projects.  Printmaking students were granted 24/7 access to the studio, and there was more than one time when after dark - heedless of the numerous drug dealers and rapists who were undoubtedly lurking (joking!!!  Everyone knows that sort of thing happened on the other side of campus) - I walked down the hill from the Tropicana, across Brookside, between the Twin Oaks, and back up past the conservatory and student union to the art building, where I'd call a campus police officer to let me in.  (In actual fact, I think I did this once under a tornado watch.  Art makes me want to do crazy things....)

My favorite painting from Taka-san's

So I spent a goodly portion of my last year in Mongolia reliving the glory days.  This started after being exposed to all that art and otaku culture in Kyoto...I got back to UB with ideas and a need to do something.  All the professional development I did that year probably also had a hand in it.  I had actually been thinking about doing more of my own sketchbook work after Amsterdam - in my IB training, we learned about the comparative analysis DP art students do, and I was very flattered when our teacher asked if he could use my gallery work from the Stedelijk for a guide he was writing about DP art, but I wanted to actually try it myself with something I was passionate about.  And that's why I started sketching and writing notes about ukiyo-e prints, Impressionism, Art Nouveau, and anime and manga.  Call me crazy, but it's FUN.  I learn something new, and it sends me off looking up something else.

I actually started with the paintings I saw at Taka-san's, which made me wonder about other artists creating "fine art" using the anime style.  This led me to Takashi Murakami's Superflat works, and his establishment of Kaikai Kiki.  As I looked up some of the artists in this collective, I found Aya Takano's Keisai Eisen with Oiso Station 9th on Her Back, which directly referenced the ukiyo-e prints I fell in love with back in my wild college days.  From there, I started comparing ukiyo-e with modern anime - the use of line!  The color!!  The compositions!!!  At the same time, I was finishing up a plushie.  Ironically, it was the only non-anime one I made, which I kind of hated, but while I was working on it, I had to make it a tie, and I ended up painting a plain scrap of silk to do so, which made me remember how much I liked painting silk.  At some level I knew this, or I wouldn't have had all the materials I needed for it, but actually getting my lazy ass in gear and doing it forced me to notice the way you can use line and color in silk painting.  After a lot of sketches and a little frustration because male characters are way harder to make artistic, not least of all because they tend to be less colorful), I finally made a painting...but I still haven't taken a picture of it - maybe I'll add it to this post once I get back to Yomaha.

Finally, I planned to share my resume.  I got this idea last December that I should make an illustrated resume, in manga style since I was hoping to get a job in Japan.  When I was living in Shanghai, with dreams of becoming an illustrator, I did the late night art party pretty regularly, listening to the deed-o deed-o of people coming and going from the Seven-Eleven across the street, which blew in on my cross-breeze. Sitting in my parent's dining room over the holidays last year wasn't really the same thing, but then again, having my Dad in the next room watching tv in his recliner and my mom bustling in and out as she worked on whatever - to some extent, it had that same way of demonstrating that I wasn't the last person alive.  It was comfortable, working on my resume in those circumstances. 

I ended up being ridiculously proud of the damn thing, but it still took me til June to get the job I'd been praying for.  The layover in Narita a year ago was a twisting knife in my gut - I read the newest chapter of Shingeki No Kyojin, smelled curry, was overwhelmed by enlargements of some of my favorite Hokusai prints, and teased by a duty-free shop called Akihabara...so close, and yet so far away!  I actually didn't get to do much more art the rest of the year, because I was so busy wrapping things up in Mongolia, but that just meant that when I started working on the first class for my master's degree, a painting course that I just finished, I was full of ideas and raring to go. 

*So...this was sort of a flashback post.  I wrote most of it last year in Mongolia, but never finished it.  I figured it was a good lead in to writing about the work I did this semester, so went ahead and published it - albeit with a few tense-changes and slight tweaks.

China Days

When I lived in Shanghai, I had a lot of what we used to call "China Days."  That was when living in China put you in such a rage that you couldn't shake it off.  Everything from pushy old ladies and people spitting literally EVERYWHERE could trigger a China Day.  By contrast, I didn't really have Mongolia Days.  While the cold and the pollution were more awful than I have words for, even when something annoyed me, I got over it relatively quickly.  This is probably why I still miss Mongolia.

I don't miss China.  I missed my friends, when they lived there, and I miss my tailor (oh HOW I miss my tailor!), but I have no lingering nostalgia about any "good old days."  This is probably most of the reason why Yokohama's Chinatown had no particular attraction for me.   I didn't need to spend time in Chinatown, because I've actually spent more than enough time in the real China.  But when I was wondering how to round out my blogging for the year, Chinatown was part of the answer.  When I started following Hozuki on Twitter, I found out that the Kinokuniya in SOGO department store at Yokohama station was having a special exhibition the week before I left, complete with (of course) special merch.  So I waited none-too-patiently for the day to arrive - fortunately I was part of the winter concert committee, which kept me busy enough that I didn't go too crazy waiting.

One of the reasons why I'm in love with this anime is the fact that the art is just that good.  The mangaka, Natsumi Eguchi, is actually a fully-trained artist, rather than someone who studied manga.  For your average nerd, this may not make a lot of difference, but as an art teacher it's like day and night - the way he uses lines, the details...there's so much more substance there than in an average manga.  The special character designs for this exhibition really demonstrate that.  And since one of Yomaha's main draws is Chinatown - we were the first port to open to international trade - the special illustration for the event showed the characters in Chinese dress, standing at the main gate of our Chinatown.

So.  I visited the exhibition, bought a couple of things (I finally tried the bath salts, and immediately regretted only buying one pack) took photos of the artwork.  Ate Mexican (unrelated, but El Torito is in the tower next door).  It was not actually as exciting as I'd thought it would be, but I didn't complain - there are little otaku boys and girls all over the world who wish they had the opportunities I had.  With one Saturday left before I was home for the holidays (where I am writing this now), I decided that I would visit that Chinatown and make this my (maybe) last post of 2017.

Now, I wandered into Chinatown once before.  The night I met Flower Boy for the Harvest Moon he was a little late, so I went exploring, finding the temple pictured in the first photo.  This time it was under renovation, so it was just as well that I wasn't looking to pay my respects to the Sea Goddess.  No, my first order of business was lunch.  I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but when I almost walked past a signboard showing fried dumplings with soup inside, I knew I'd found it.

My friend Meen tells me these are not xiaolongbao, but that is what I called them for two years in Shanghai, and another five years in my dreams, because nothing would have warmed up Ulaanbaatar like a bite of one of these babies.  Because they have soup inside, you can't just pop them in your mouth - instead, you have to take a little nibble and suck the soup out before devouring the rest of the dumpling.  Its the kind of experience that in a certain anime would result in your clothes exploding off and some awkwardly sexual sounds...and that anime is the reason I bought the bun pictured (to be honest, although I enjoyed the Hozuki cafe, what I really want is to see someone make a Shokugeki no Soma cafe...every time I watch that show it makes me hungry).

After lunch I wandered down the streets.  It was pretty busy with people shopping, and the goods for sale mostly looked like what you'd expect to find - kitschy golden dragons and chopsticks, although I did find one shop selling some really nice hand-printed tenugui.  At first I wondered why a shop in Chinatown would be selling quality Japanese handicrafts, and then I mentally smacked myself, because it's a shop in a tourist attraction in Japan - of course they sell Japanese souvenirs.  Maybe it was the xiaolongbao talking, but for a moment my suspended disbelief had kicked in, and I was convinced I was in China.  But then reality took over, and I realized that everyone's behavior was way too polite for China, and I hadn't caught a single whiff of stinky tofu.

Autumn Leaves

In Mongolia, Autumn comes and goes within a week.  One Sunday you're on your way to church and you notice the trees next to the Tuul are turning gold.  By the following Sunday, there ARE no leaves.  If you count the changing of the larch, you might manage to sneak some more time into your fall, but it will be snowing before that happens.  By contrast, it seems like Japan's autumn just keeps playing the hits.

I feel like fall officially started the night I went to Sankeien with Flower Boy for tsukimi.  I mentioned a few posts back that the Japanese are the kind of people who think that sitting out at night to watch the moon is a great activity, and I can't disagree.  I like being out at night, anyways - no sun, so I don't burst into flame, and I feel like that magical feeling is stronger at night, although admittedly I like being a little closer to home than Sankeien is when things are over.  Still, the Harvest Moon only comes along once a year, so trek home or no, I made plans to visit this classical Japanese garden with him.

We finally got there around 8 o'clock.  It was kind of sad, because it had been an overcast day, and although we were thankful that it at least hadn't started raining (yet - we pushed up our visit one day because it was in the forecast), we were bummed because we didn't think we'd get to see the moon.  We paid our 700 yen and went in, and immediately started looking around for the music.  There was supposed to be a performance, but we weren't seeing it and couldn't even hear it.  We kept wandering, though, and eventually discovered that the house/museum section was open, and that night, at least, it was free.  And it turned out to be where people were sitting on the lawn, watching a woman play the biwa.

We sat and listened, and I tried to keep an eye on the sky - I still held out hope that the moon would put in an appearance, and I was not disappointed.  It managed to break through the clouds long enough to say hi, and for a few minutes, I stared up at the moon instead of the biwa player (turns out biwa isn't really my thing, anyways - no good for dancing, not much good for singing, either).  But sitting in a classical Japanese garden at night under the moon, listening to Japanese music with friends...that was my thing.

At that point, though, the leaves really hadn't begun to turn - it was Autumn in name only.  The real autumn actually kind of snuck up on me - it seems like I spend most of my time going between school and home.  One Sunday I walked past the park behind my house - I still hadn't been inside because it always seemed to be closed - and some of the trees were almost bare, and it seemed like the rest were never going to lose their leaves.  I almost went to an autumn illumination on the 24th of November, but the day before I went to Tokyo for the Hozuki cafe, and I decided I didn't want to do that two nights in a row.  Priorities, you know?  I'm sure Rikugien will light up their gardens next year, too.

It wasn't until the final day of November, when I was on a field trip with my seventh graders to an exhibit in Ueno Park that I thought, "Oh look, golden leaves!"  (There's a ton of ginko in Ueno, so it's a good place to check them out - I kind of wanted to ditch the kids and go play in the leaves.  Bad art teacher!)  That made for a good weekend, especially with the Chichibu Night Festival.

When I was stalking Tokyo for upcoming events - which, by the way, I think is a thing for me.  I feel like I spend enough time (particularly on Friday nights) reading up on what's happening in Tokyo that it qualifies as stalking.  Sorry, Tokyo - I realized I was going to miss out on some cool stuff by going back to the States (winter Comiket and a fox parade at one of the many Inari shrines around town most notably).  So when I found out I had the chance to see one more festival before I went, I jumped at the chance, even if it was far enough out of the way that it justified getting an AirBnB.

Chichibu is a fairly small town up in Saitama, but they host a night festival the first week of December.  Apparently Sunday was the day to go, but there was work the next day, and although I haven't had a rough day at school for a while, I also don't feel quite comfortable enough to pull a sickie so I can go to a festival (not that I've ever done that, but I was tempted yesterday, since I could have gone to the 47 Ronin ritual at Sengaku-ji).  Which was okay, since Saturday night still had the mikoshi parade, and still had fireworks, and street food.  The yakisoba, by the way, was delicious!

I was actually about to enter the shrine when I heard sounds floating down the street, and decided I would see what was going on.  Cutting through a parking lot I was able to get to the street a little before the first float - and it was huge.  I've been to at least a couple of festivals here at this point, and these were serious floats.  Huge crews were carrying them along, and they had lots of people on them, even on the roofs...

Although the leaves have been taking their time, the cold definitely hasn't.  It was quite chilly waiting on the platform for the train that would take me back to my AirBnB - probably because I don't have a decent winter coat.  When I bring this up in conversation, people look a little confused and say, "But...weren't you living in Mongolia last year?"

I assume most people ask rhetorically, since I almost never miss a chance to talk about Mongolia.  It's true, though, that I came without a coat - my trusty red cashmere was wearing thin long before the end of last winter, and I felt like, really, after 5 years in Mongolia, what could Japanese winters really do to me???

In fact, I remind myself often what the temperature is like back in UB, because it helps me to appreciate that Yokohama is really not that cold.  Unless it's raining.  Or dark.  Or, you know, I've just come home to my apartment.  When I first arrived in UB, I bemoaned the loss of the ondol floors in my Shanghai apartment.  Now I'd give anything to be warming my back against the radiator in the teachers' apartments at ASU.  My apartment - which I love, don't get me wrong - is none-too-well-insulated and heated by an AC unit.  It works well enough that I can't complain, but at the same time, I kind of miss sleeping with a fan year round - even when it's -40 out- because the heating system works that well. 

On the other hand, in UB I wouldn't walk more than a couple of blocks outside in winter if I could avoid it, so I guess there are trade-offs.