The art we hang on our walls at home may become personal and meaningful. It may even deepen understanding of who we want to be.
The other day, I had a Proustian flashback of my earliest memory of looking at art as a child.
The Gleaners by Jean-Francois Millet (1857)
I was born in my maternal grandparents’ house and lived there until the age of six, when my parents built their new house a short walk away. My grandparents’ lived in a modest, traditional Japanese house with a huge Japanese garden. I vividly remember every tidy corner. The floors of…
“Your mother’s last moment was a sublime culmination. She gave us the gift of courage,”
said my uncle Tetsurou, my mother’s youngest brother, over a video call. He lives on the other side of the Pacific, one click away on my iphone.
“I know. She was strong and noble,”
I replied, my eyes glistening and my throat constricting. It has been a year and a half since I lost my mother to cancer, but each time I remember her last days, raw emotions erupt.
“A victorious ending,”
I whispered. Her words, movements, facial expressions, even her breathing were a gift…
What is art for?
We are repeatedly reminded that, in times of crisis, we turn to art. From everyday aesthetics to political art, like the examples seen from BLM, it’s inspiring to witness how the act of making generates so much interest around the world. I, for one, find refuge in painting and exploring Goethe, Kant, and Nietze this year. As 2020 comes to an end, I am reflecting on what the pandemic has taught me about the community I work in. What questions emerged during the pandemic that are worth pursuing next year?
What is the value in learning to draw portraits? This question goes, unexpectedly, to the heart of the shared roots of art and science. In this essay, I aim to fertilize the soil for growing a new dialogue on the role emotional engagement plays in the relationship between art and science.
I have recently been watching YouTube videos on portraiture. It is fascinating to watch master artists create portraits out of a blank sheet of paper, with only a pencil or stick of charcoal. If done well, the artists can explore their own feelings about the human condition. …
How can we cultivate energy and harmony in late life? What does it mean to flourish? Now I am in my early 50s, wondering what I still need to learn.
I will start by summarizing and integrating my reflections and revelations concerning the creative life of my grandfather, Konosuke Masuda (1916–2000), to find — and share — inspiration. Curious about Masuda’s construction of a beautiful, involved, and extensive worldview, I discovered certain sustained practices of his that act as missing pieces of my puzzle. These involve the development of creativity in late life by applying a core assumption of embodied…
Ms. Goldwynn wrote:
“Hi, Keiko, I am happy to know you are getting the 2nd [COVID Vaccination] shot, I get mine next Monday… if you can’t come to my place then please let me come to visit you and we can make palettes together. I think you might enjoy all the fun one can have with a tin and some oven bake clay… Here is my latest one… I am going to fill it with the colours that Van Gogh used for his landscapes…”
Me: “お背中流しましょうか? (Osena-ka, nagashi-mashou-ka?)”
May I wash your back?
Random woman: “お願いします（Onegai shimasu)”
Thank you very much
How many times have I had this exchange in my life, starting from childhood? This is a normal everyday conversation and practice of Japanese people engaging with their family members, as well as total strangers, in every public bath and onsen (hot spring) for over a thousand years. And it is a key to a perennial question:
How can we cultivate the body and the senses to learn intrinsic values of understanding and respect between generations and, consequently, foster community cohesion?
“The inside has to be white,” said my beloved grandmother, when choosing a cup to serve me sencha — everyday green tea. Most of my fondest childhood memories involve my grandmother, whom I grew up with and loved dearly. Although she is no longer with us, I continue wanting to become like her.
The other day, I suddenly remembered how she used to routinely soak all the teacups in bleach to remove tea stains. In my youth, I used to wonder why she bothered. I had never really thought her effort had any meaning, other than expressing her habitually clean…
On the arrival of the new year, I am pondering the Japanese word 寄り添う[yo-ri-so-u], one of the most beautiful Japanese expressions. The direct translation is to “snuggle up” with someone or stay close. But it carries more than a physical meaning, implying acting together in solidarity, connecting with people’s lives and hearts, or coexisting harmoniously. In short, it’s about symbiosis, care, understanding, and empathy, all together.
Disturbingly, however, it is easier said than done. In the past, I’ve experienced some unsettling situations in my work, such as sloth and turnover from a few of my collaborators. The more people we…
Scientist (Ph.D. in Public Health, NYU & post-doc in Cancer Epidemiology, Columbia University), Founder of Vancouver Arts Colloquium Society, & Social Artist.