關於 straight line drawing art ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

เรื่องของจังหวะ...

บทความนี้ได้ข้อมูลมาจากหนังสือที่ดีมากๆๆๆๆเล่มนึง อรอ่านหลายรอบมากเพราะเขียนดีจริงๆ หนังสือชื่อ The Practice and Science of Drawing โดย Harold Speed
แนะนำว่าให้ไปหามาอ่าน คนที่ชอบศิลปะจะสนุกสนานไปกับมันมาก. ไม่จำเป็นต้องวาดรูปได้ก็สนุกเพราะมีข้อมูลลึกๆชวนคิดเกี่ยวกับศิลปะมากมายแบบที่หาเล่มอื่นเทียบยากค่ะ

ขออภัยถ้าอ่านแล้วงงๆ อาจจะแปลเป็นภาษาไทยไม่ค่อยถูกต้อง ช่วย comment แนะนำได้เลยนะคะ🙏

คำว่าจังหวะในบริบทของศิลปะนั้นพูดถึงพลังของลายเส้น, น้ำหนัก และสี โดยคำนึงถึงการจัดวางของมันว่ามีผลต่อความรู้สึกของเราอย่างไร เปรียบง่ายๆเสมือนกับเสียงของโน้ทดนตรีในบทเพลง
ทำนองในดนตรีนั้นส่งผลต่อความรู้สึกของมนุษย์แบบไม่ต้องการคำอธิบาย. ดนตรีและจังหวะในภาษาของเส้นและสีสันในโลกของศิลปะก็ทำงานแบบเดียวกัน. มันคุยกับเราได้เหนือการใช้ภาษาพูด
บางทีการเขียนภาพเหมือนจริงมากๆก็เป็นอันตรายต่อการสูญเสียจังหวะไปเพราะถ้าหากศิลปินให้ความสำคัญกับการคัดลอกสิ่งที่เขียนมากไปก็อาจจะส่งผลทำให้เขาลืมเรื่องของจังหวะในลายเส้นและสีซึ่งถ่ายทอดออกมาจากภายในและเป็นหัวใจสำคัญของการสื่ออารมณ์เหนือคำพูด

การพยายามหาความสัมพันธ์ในธรรมชาติระหว่างรูปทรง, สี ,ลายเส้นและ น้ำหนักเพื่อนำมาสร้าง ‘จังหวะ’ ในรูปภาพนั้นเป็นงานของศิลปิน. คุณไม่ควรที่จะลดละความพยายามนี้แม้ว่าคุณกำลังหมกมุ่นกับดีเทลวิจิตรและเหมือนจริงขนาดไหน
ภาพที่ไร้จังหวะก็ไม่ต่างอะไรกับดนตรีไร้ทำนองที่น่าเบื่อ

Line and mass
ถ้าเราถอดชิ้นส่วนของรายละเอียดในรูปภาพทุกรูปและมองทุกอย่างแบบ abstract เลย เราก็จะเห็นได้ว่ามันมีส่วนประกอบหลักๆคือ เส้น(line) และ กลุ่มก้อน (mass) บางคนก็พูดว่าเส้นนั้นเป็นแค่ขอบของกลุ่มก้อน หรือกลุ่มก้อนนั้นเป็นเพียงพื้นที่ระหว่างเส้น. จะคิดหรือมองแบบไหนก็ตาม 2 สิ่งนี้คือส่วนประกอบหลักๆของทุกๆรูปภาพ

ภาษาของเส้น
Unity and Variety
ภาษาของเส้นนั้นสามารถทำงานได้ด้วยตัวของมันเองโดยไม่ต้องอาศัยความเป็นรูปธรรมลองนึกถึงเส้นเรขาคณิต มันสื่ออารมณ์แบบ abstract ได้ด้วยตัวของมันเอง ตามธรรมชาติส่วนใหญ่แล้วภาษาของลายเส้นก็มักจะทำงานเป็นเรื่องเดียวกันกับสิ่งที่มันเป็น ยกตัวอย่าง ลองนึกถึงภาพของแม่น้ำเราก็จะนึกถึงเส้นแนวนอน คงประหลาดถ้าพยายามใช้สามเหลี่ยมอธิบายความเป็นน้ำ

ทีนี้เวลาพูดถึงคุณภาพของลายเส้น อยากให้คิดเป็น 2 แบบหลักๆคือ
1. Unity - ความสามัคคีกันเป็นหนึ่งเดียวกัน
2. Variety - ความหลากหลาย

*สองอย่างนี้ดูจะขัดแย้งกันแต่มันขาดกันไม่ได้ *

ความสามัคคีเป็นหนึ่งเดียวกันคือทักษะการบริหารเอาหลายๆสิ่งเข้ามาอยู่รวมกันได้อย่างมีเอกภาพ แต่ก็จะไร้ชีวิตชีวาหากขาดความหลากหลาย

ยกตัวอย่างของภาษาของความสามัคคีก็คือ เส้นที่มีความซ้ำๆ เส้นที่เว้นเท่ากันหมด เส้นตรง วงกลม เส้นขนาน เป็นต้น
เส้นที่มี unity มากที่สุดจะเป็นอะไรอย่างอื่นไปไม่ได้นอกจากวงกลมและเส้นตรง

ยกตัวอย่างความหลากหลายของเส้นนั้นอาจจะง่ายกว่า มันก็คือความไม่เท่ากันในรูปทรงต่างๆไม่ว่าจะเป็นอะไรก็ตาม แต่ถ้าพูดถึงรูปทรงที่มีความหลากหลายที่สวยงามก็คงหนีไม่พ้นรูปไข่ ตัวอย่างที่ดีคือรูปทรงของใบหน้ารูปไข่งามๆ เพราะการเลี้ยวตัวของเส้นรอบไข่นั้นไม่มีความเหมือนกันเลยแม้แต่จุดเดียว ต่างจากวงกลมซึ่งเลี้ยวในจังหวะเท่ากันเป๊ะรอบวง

ในหนังสือมีการยกตัวอย่างยาวเหยียดมากๆในเรื่อง unity และ variety แต่ขอยกแค่บทเดียวมาพูด

แล้วจังหวะแบบไหนหละถึงงาม
พูดตรงๆว่าเรื่องนี้ไม่มีกฎตายตัว สิ่งที่หนังสือเอามายกตัวอย่างนั้นก็เป็นเพียงแค่ตัวอย่างที่นึกตามได้ง่ายและมีให้เห็นในธรรมชาติ

หน้าคน
ผู้อ่านลองนึกถึงใบหน้าคนที่ดูดี มันจะมีการจัดวางที่มี 2 หลักการนี้ผสมเข้าด้วยกันทั้ง unity และ variety
ใบหน้าของคนเรานั้นจะมีความเท่ากันเป็นสมมาตรของซ้ายและขวา ผนวกกับระยะห่างของการจัดวางนั้นก็ดูมีระเบียบเท่าๆกันแต่รูปด้านprofile ของใบหน้านั้นจะมีความหลากหลายอยู่มาก มีการยึกยือไปมาของเส้นที่เลี้ยวเข้าออกแบบไม่มีอะไรเท่ากันเลยก็ว่าได้
นี่คือตัวอย่างของการทำงานร่วมกันอย่างลงตัวของ unity ความสามัคคีและ variety ความหลากหลาย
นึกเล่นๆดูว่าหากหน้าเรามีความหลากหลายมากเกินไปก็คงจะไม่น่ามองสักเท่าไหร่ อาจจะน่ากลัวด้วยซ้ำ

สรุปคือ
ความหลากหลายแบบไร้ขอบเขตนั้นก็ทำให้เกิดความยุ่งเหยิงและไม่น่ามอง แต่ความนิ่งเกินไปแบบเส้นตรงนิ่งๆก็ช่างน่าเบื่อไร้ชีวิตชีวา

ฉะนั้นจะสังเกตได้ว่าความงามมักจะเกิดเมื่อความหลากหลายนั้นอยู่ภายใต้กฏเกณฑ์ของความสามัคคี

ขออนุญาตแบ่งเป็นหลายๆตอนนะคะเพราะมันยาวเหลือเกิน เดี๋ยวอ่านแล้วจะหลับเสียก่อน
The story of the rhythm...

This article is informative from a very good book. I have read it many times. It's very good. The Practice and Science of Drawing by Harold Speed.
I recommend that you go to read this. People who like art will enjoy it very much. There is no need to draw a picture. It's fun because there is deep information. I think about many art. It's difficult to find other books.

Sorry, if I have read this, I may not translate it in Thai. Please comment and suggest. 🙏

The word beat in the context of art speaks about the power of doodle, weight and color. Considering how it affects our feelings. It's simply like the sound of a musical notebook.
The melodies in music affect the human feeling without explanation. Music and rhythm in the language of lines and colors in the world of art work the same way. It talks to us beyond the use of speaking language.
Sometimes writing a very surreal image is harmful to losing a beat. If the artist focuses on copying the writings, it will make him forget about the beat in the lines and colors that are broadcasted from the inside and the heart of the media. Emotions beyond words.

Trying to find a natural relationship between shapes, colors, patterns and weight to create ' rhythm ' in the photo is the artist's work. You shouldn't lose this effort, even if you're obsessed with Fine and Real Detail.
A can't translate picture is no different than a boring music.

Line and mass
If we take off the detail in every photo and look at everything abstract, we can see that there is a main ingredient in line (line) and group (mass). Some people say that the line is just the edge of that group or group. Just a space between the lines. Whatever you think or look, 2 of these are the main components of every photo.

Language of lines
Unity and Variety
The language of the line can work on its own without concrete. Think of the geometry, abstract emotion by itself naturally. Most of the language of the stripes are the same thing. It's for example, thinking of the river's image. We think of horizontal lines. It's strange if we try to use a triangle to describe water.

Now, when I talk about the quality of the pattern, I want you to think about 2 types. Mainly,
1. Unity - Unity is united.
2. Variety - Diversity

* These two seem to be conflicting but they can't be separated *

Unity is unity. Management skills bring many things together unity. But lifeless without diversity.

For example, the language of unity is repeated, the same line, straight line, straight line, parallel circle, etc.
The line with the most unity will be nothing else, nothing but circles and straight lines.

For example, the diversity of the line may be easier than it is, the unequalities in various shapes, whatever it is. But if you talk about beautiful diversity shapes, you can't escape the oval shape. The good example is the shapes of the face, beautiful oval because of turning. The egg circumference is not the same at all. The same point is different from the circle, which turns in the same rhythm.

In the book, there is a very long example in the unity and variety. But I just lifted up one chapter to say.

What kind of beat is this? It's beautiful.
Frankly speaking, there is no rule. What a book has taken for example is just an example that it is easily recognized and naturally.

A human face.
Readers, think about the face of a good looking person. There will be alignment with these 2 principles mixed together with unity and variety.
Our faces are equally as symmetrical of left and right. Annexation with the distance of the alignment is equally organized. But the profile picture of the face is very diverse. There is a lot of the trending. The lines that turn into design are nothing equal.
This is an example of how unity, unity, unity, and diversity variety.
Just for sure, if our face had too much diversity, it wouldn't look at it. It would be scary.

In summary,
Unbounded diversity is messy and unlikely. But too stillness is boring, lifeless.

Therefore, it is observed that beauty is often born when diversity is under the rule of unity.

I ask permission to divide into several episodes because it's so long. I will read it and I will fall asleep.Translated

到了韓國蔚山的一個Art Stay program，
大家要用兩天時間做一件作品和佈展，
第三天展出。
他們提供了一堆畫紙和畫筆，
我說我畫畫很差，
於是便跑到工作室外買逛街和買街頭小食。
-
第一天 - 身份形象的交流
我發現在韓國很難用語言溝通，
於是跑到髮型屋，
用手勢夾雜一點英文單字，
要求剪一個韓國男人髮型，
韓國髮型師反問我韓國人的形象是什麼呢？
我才發現，形象是給外人看的，
所以外人應該比自身更了解自已的外在分別。
-
我們一起苦思了一陣子，
因為語言問題，
我唯有簡單的說，
「把我變成K-Pop Star吧！拜托你！」
她用Ipad找了一位明星做參考說，
「就Big Bang隊中的 T.O.P 吧！」
之後我便讓她發揮，
期待著一個地道的韓頭。
-
因為時間不多，
她和助手二話不說把染髮劑塗在我頭上，
這是我第一次在髮型屋染髮。
過了一會，
頭髮變成Mk-pop旺角金！
她和助手又把染髮劑再一次塗到我頭上，
過了一會，
頭髮變成了灰金色，
她說這是她最喜歡的顏色。
-
她拿起剪刀說，
韓國男生不會有參差不齊的髮尾，
手起刀落把我的髮尾剪成直線。
之後她向我的頭狂噴髮蠟，
又細心地用風筒把額前的頭髮吹成高高的波浪，
她說要成為韓國男生這個很重要。
-
髮型完成了，
她拿起剃刀，往我眉頭刮呀刮，
這是我第一次修眉，
她說要成為韓國男生這個都很重要。
-
完成後，
她們好像很滿意，
我問，
假如你在街上需要問路，
你會覺得我是本地人問我嗎？
她們答：「一定會！」
-
我說T.O.P 的髮型配合我的面型，
感覺很 L.O.W，
她們沒有反應，
究竟是認同還是沒幽默感呢？
-
離開時她說要和我合照，
用在髮型屋的Instagram，
我發現她對著陌生人都可以高速擺出奇怪姿勢。
-
離開後，
我匆忙在當地找到一家專業攝影公司，
跑上去跟他說，
「我將要去一個電影試鏡面試，請把我拍得像Big Bang隊中的 T.O.P 吧！拜托你！」
他打電話問朋友K-pop是要如何拍，
他顯得不耐煩。
-
他要求我戴上眼鏡，
擺了大約20個不同姿勢。
完成後他讓我選出最佳的一張作沖曬，
我要求他幫我決定。
-
照片沖曬出來了，
細看下，
他們下了苦功幫我修圖，
皮膚很滑很亮，
我臉上很有個性的幾粒痣都通通被消失。
-
第二天早上，
因為個人對頭髮造型的技術有限，
經已變回香港人，
在韓國沒人向我問路了。
-
第一天完
******************
I joined an Art Stay program in Ulsan, Korea.
We have to make a work in 2 days.
Present it on the third day.
They provided some papers and pens to me.
I said I am bad at drawing.
So I went out for some Korean local snacks.

Day 1 - Identity exchange
I had hard time communicating in Korea.
So I went to a hair salon.
Using body language asked for a typical Korean haircut.
The hairdresser asked me what is a typical Korean haircut.
I realised one's identity is recognised better by an outsider.
-
Me and the hairdresser thought about the typical identity of a Korean for sometime.
I made a simple decision by saying
"Turn me into a K-pop star please!!"
She found a K-pop star as the refernece on Ipad.
"Let's do T.O.P's hair from one of the K-pop group Big Bang"
I looked forward to my K-head
-
We didnt have much time.
She and her assistent quickly apply the dye to my hair.
That is my first time dying hair in a salon.
My hair turn blonde after a while.
She and her assistent quickly apply the dye to my hair again.
My hair turn dark grey after a while.
She said that is her favorite color.
-
She pick up a scissors told me,
Uneven fringe is not a Korean thing.
She trim my hair fringe into a sharp straight line.
Then applied huge amount of spray to my hair.
And used the hairdryer to make the fringe high.
She told me that is essential for the Korean male haircut.
-
The hair was done.
She picked up a razor and trimmed my eyebrowns.
That is my first time trimming my eyebrowns.
She told me that is essential for a Korean male.
-
They looked satisfied when it was all done.
I asked if they would think I am a local and ask for directions.
Definitely they answered.
-
I told them I felt the T.O.P hair combined with my face
actually look very L.O.W
No responese from them.
Does it mean they agree or just dont have that sense of humor?
-
She asked for a picture for the shop's instagram.
I found that she can make a weird pose in a second with stranger like me.
-
I leave and run to a local photoshoot studio.
I told them
"I need an excellent picture for a movie casting. Turn me into T.O.P from the Big Bang please!!"
He called his friend asked about the style of K-pop photo shoot.
He felt annoyed.
-
He asked me to put on my glassed.
Directed me for about 20 poses.
He needed me to pick the best one for the final develop.
I let him do it for me.
-
The photo was developed.
I looked at the details
They paid extra effort photoshop my face.
My skin is smooth like tofu.
My outstanding facial moles are all gone.
-
The next morning,
Due to my lack of styling skills,
I turned back to a Hong Kong-er.
No one asked me for directions in Korea anymore.
-
End of day 1

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

しょしぽよとアンナ先生が炎モチーフのアートメイクを紹介！

ファイヤーモチーフの鮮やかペイント！！上手に発色させて、長時間ヨレない工夫も教えてくれますよ！！あんな先生のピカチュウも必見？！

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