Tag Archives: quote

Individuation is a bitch!! – a postscript.

A Fishing Cormorant with Gardenia.

The wound of the unloved, is that of the human existence. – Peter Schellenbaum

A Fishing Cormorant with an Anklet.

After contemplating and experimenting on various available options (since May 2015), I made the first Zine, in digital format, earlier this month (November 2018).
It is available for purchase here.
Below you find additional info, in a form of postscript / artist statement. I will keep it short, sweet and straight forward.

Format

PDF – viewable on any and all devices.
Aspect ratio – 2:3 (as 35mm films – I felt it is the optimal balance for this issue’s gentle monochromatic look).
Put out independently – ie. outside the ISBN system – like a flower in the field, I’d say (smiles).

In the future I may make available in other formats / ratios, or even with ISBN. But for now, above is the middle ground I decided to place the book on.

That being said…my ears are open to your suggestions and requests, and I appreciate heads ups.

Grey and Grey

All photos were (re)edited in October – November, 2018.
Pure whites / solid blacks were mostly eliminated from the black and white images – they seemed too immutable to me. While editing, I was thinking of soft, understated sheen from graphite pencils, as the suitable range of tones for telling this particular tale.

Large Sized

Both in dimensions (1600 x 2400 pixels) and in file size (nearly 20mb for 20 pages). Images are web-optimized but left in high quality, in hopes they’d carry all the nuances I had woven in in those grains.

The subject matter – the psychological process of individuating – comes with much subtleties. I made a clumsy attempt at including, as much as possible, what cannot be adequately expressed otherwise.

Why this subject?

I made a journal post back in July 2016, with a line “#ownyourshadow, it’s a political act.” Felt strongly about it then, and still do to this day – as I continue to notice a seeming increase in reactivity among us humans, the kind that leaves us (figuratively) beating on each other, making us as a whole, weak.

This book is meant as a gesture, of my sharing hopes and encouragements, for the blossoming of us, the mankind, and the beauty of our individual uniquenesses, when fully owned, would truly unite us.

Are you Individuated?

Years ago I embarked upon an escape route from the state of deep discontent and ended up falling for the process itself.

In other words, I no longer care where I’m at on an individuation scale of 1-10. Try to figure that one out, I discovered thru trials and fails, I’d end up tripping on a type of self consciousness, which acts as an enemy to my creativity.

I only know, and talk about what I experienced. I intend to stick with the stance to the best of my ability.

Lastly.

I dedicate this book to a special friend who left the human plane last July, no doubt to be joined, on the other side, by her “partner in crime” – if courage motivated by love is a crime in this realm, by quoting from a book I found in her storage back in 1994, in Sun Land, California, where I spent a pivotal few, fortunate years immersed in desert sunsets and coyote howls, sensing there is, within myself a seed, I alone could water.

How can I believe there’s a butterfly inside me when all I see is a fuzzy worm? – Trina Paulus “Hope for the Flowers”

A Fishing Cormorant with Sun Flower.

Photos, all from the Zine, from top:
Career Cormorant, a portrait with Gardenia (2018)
Career Cormorant (Anklet) (2018)
Flower. (2018)

P.P.S. I am not a master marketer – in fact I suck at sales pitch. If you happened upon this page and think you know a soul or two who may like this book, please help me out by letting them know it exists.
Your support as such is muchas appreciated.
Thanks!!

Monochrome Diary, June 2018.


A leaf on sand at dawn.
Natural objects in studio.

A honeysuckle flower.
A close up of Agapanthus Lily.

A hand painted dress.
Art works in studio.

A coffee cup with found objects on waterfront.
Art studio view.

“No amount of time will erase the memory of a great dog.” – Internet Meme

Images: Late May to early June, 2018. 4th from top is of an agapanthus bud. 5 and 6 are details from Wing Dress (Velocity) and Spider Lily Red (Flare 1), respectively.

Sea Sip Solo.

Evidently, I do this a lot. The “operation guerrilla cafe” (OGC hereafter).
That is, to bring my beverage to the location of the day, of my choice. Strictly solo.

Why, join me, come along for a virtual tour of Cafe Solitude.

(Beneath each photo is the time photographed / social post details.)

Picnic scene at sunset shore.
2019.07.31 at 18:55 / VSCO on 2020.04.19. The color of sunset was actually that pink.

A folding stool on concrete under blue sky.
2017.10.03 at 15:27 / VSCO on 2017.10.03.

A coffee cup placed at water front.
2017.11.11 at 12:16 / VSCO on 2017.11.11.

A coffee cup on a marine bollard at a port.
2017.11.05 at 15:06 / VSCO on 2022.12.06.

Harbor view with a folding stool under bright orange sunset.
2018.07.13 at 19:14 / IG story fall 2022.

Many had asked, “why so solo, lonely lady?” 
Well, let me tell you you inquisitive lot. These are one of the most un-lonely times I’ve ever spent in my life.
 Ever felt “lonely in a crowd”? On the wrong planet?? Imagine the absolute opposite.

(In facto, the question always made me a little sad; if being alone with yourself means “lonely”…)

During OGC what’s being set aside is “society”. Sitting by the Water, I am in direct contact with the Big Container. Look.

Illustration of a woman perched at the edge of water.
Conception sometime in Oct.-Nov.2022, drawn/photographed on 2022.12.27 / first time posting.

By mid 1990’s, I was at it for several years, digging up piles of debris that were burying alive the creativity I may or may not possess. Operating on blind faith, what guided me was the utter sense of suffocation.
Around that time someone suggested me a work book for (blocked) creatives called “The Artist’s Way”. Although I didn’t quite click with the writing style nor its cult-like status in the city of industry I resided in at that time, with the core concepts I did, so gave a diligent try through early 2000’s.

One of the exercises in the book is called “artist’s date”, as in, you take yourself out on a date, solo. No one gets to come along.
The practice was a familiar one. Since I was a young child I wandered the streets of suburban Tokyo, to be alone with wonder-full and awe-some, and I found them in little patches of untended lands between buildings. But too many others around me framed my such inclination as anti-collective hence negative. I was somehow, instinctively doing the right thing, to cultivate my creativity, to water the seed that was trying to sprout. The suggestion in the book was a validation arrived a little later, that told me I was not the only one. Not “anti-social” but “pro-creativity”- what I always knew in my heart, but doubt snuck in and stole my clarity.

By around 2006, the suffocation subsided. As of late 2022, I no longer care to know how I am doing as a “creative”. One thing I can say for certain: I did all this simply because I could not not to.

The book has a ton of very helpful quotes, and out of the ton the following stuck with me through my trying times, trying – to reclaim my creative freedom.

One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.

– Andre Gide (The Artist’s Way, p.199 Week12. Recovering A Sense Of Faith)

…And please allow me to add:

You are the captain who knows the way.

– me, 2022.

A silhouette of a person having a tea on the beach at sundown.
2009.03.10. / on my website around the same time.

Published on December 29, 2022 at 17:39

Dried persimmons from Sado Island made me think of.

Sea gulls over water surface.

Here’s a joke. Don’t feel offended.
A Turk
goes to see a doctor.
He tells him:
“When I touch my body with my finger, it hurts.
When I touch my head, it hurts,
my legs, it hurts,
my belly, my hand, it hurts.”
The doctor examines him then tells him:
“Your body’s fine
but your finger’s broken!”

    – Abbas Kiarostami, Taste of Cherry (1997)

Sea gulls over dark water surface.

I decided December will be a movie month. I’m gonna watch as many Kiarostami films. Maybe not all though, save some for later, ‘cause no more coming from the maestro.

Photos are from my trip to Sado, early August 2003. Shot, with a single use camera I got in a hurry at a kiosk somewhere, from the last ferry boat of the day, my way back to Tokyo. On the isle time passed like a deep sea current, with the kind of depth that does not weigh. I watched for a long time the fading silhouettes, its picturesque rocks and the dark sea widening between us.

Yesterday I closed my eyes and consumed a semi dried persimmon from the island. Sugar in the fruit spoke to me in Sado, and the characters I met there came to life again: silver-scaled sushi fishes in clear teal sea that gets cold at 3pm sharp, a crane with black and red design who had to nearly brush this tourist’s windshield, a coffee at the goldmine that came with a surprise gold flake floating.
Then I thought of the film, words between a man and his third passenger, the depth that doesn’t bind. And the director who passed last July, the way he used time as his medium, and the subtext that does not force meaning.

(The persimmon in question is sold under the name “Anpo”. Melty on the inside, look for the ones from the island.)

An Ally, a process.

“An Ally”, self portrait as a child – 2014, pencil on paper.

Face of a child drawn by pencil in progress.
May 10, 2014

Face of a child drawn by pencil in progress, with a quote.
May 11, 2014

“Souls who are closely related in one lifetime tend to meet in another lifetime. If the relationship was one of love, then the love persists. If one of enmity, enmity must be overcome. If one of obligation, the obligation must be met.”

Face of a child drawn by pencil.
May 16, 2014 (completed)

Top photo is made public for the first time, the two others uploaded to Flickr around the same time as were taken.
The words in the middle photo is supposedly (ie. I wasn’t present when he did) uttered by Edgar Cayce, jotted down years ago as they appeared in a 70’s film.

This is drawn from a photo of me circa 1974.

As seen in the first photo, initially me the girl was looking directly at you. Then I was inspired to add a bird, a fragment of it, and as I added the “winged messenger”, somehow the girl’s eyes progressed into the gaze-into-space look.
It was not intentional; I was in the flow so to speak, that’s what took me there.

I harbored a rather uncanny intention since quite early on, that stated itself firmly, “this time around I am going to choose all my educational materials. I will feed myself only what I feel drawn to and see what kind of person I am gonna turn into. It’s an experiment!!”

This time around. That’s right, you heard me right.

No, I dunno what that means. Several decades since, haven’t figured out the secret of the Universe just yet.

However, there have been handful plus instances / recollections of the similar sentiment, that tells me not only of the possible multiple lifetimes bit but also of me having memories of the future. Which made me ask a very uncomfortable question: how does the ‘time’ work then?*

I was a thinking kid, gazing into the space looking for answers.

Several decades since, as a solution to my such predicament I’ve developed skill set of letting the question marks hang in the air so I can gaze upon them like they are flashy Christmas ornaments.

I’ll know what’s what when I’m done with the “this time around”.

Until then, I be busy with the physicality of me; the ways they make me feel, the colors, the flavors, of despair, of delight, the sand beneath my feet, a chocolate I wasngonna eat. Fatigued by gossipy rural Japan towns people**, comforted by a small number of you who support me/my work***…

My heart that sunk, may soar again any minute. I came back, just perhaps, to arrive at the most important question of my life: how does it feel to come alive, to savor it all, to birth again and again into the purity of the moment as if nothing could deter me, nothing could taint me.

Grammatically incorrect, the last sentence does not end with a question mark; they’d all gone out of stock, every single one of them.

*”There is only one time. There is no timeline you cannot rise above and see the entire timeline and every part of it is alive.” – John Van Auken, Edgar Cayce Foundation, on Ed’s take on the subject of time, from a YouTube video about Atlantis that I cannot find. Interesting input I thought, who wouldn’t want to hang more question marks.
**Just thought I’d throw that in there, as the issue seems to trouble too many people. Lemme propose this important idea: your assumptions about me reveal more about you. And wrong is wrong, even if everyone around you is doing it.
***Just so that you know; you are profusely thanked by me without your knowledge.

Written: November 08 – 30, 2022.
Published on: November 30, 2022 at 18:19 JST.

Edits:
December 08, 2022 at 14:11-20:11 JST.
Edited out the film name from the paragraph 1. For the following reason but also, to simplify. Objectivity oft. arrives with a lag.

Prior to publishing this post I somehow didn’t think to double-check the movie plot as I usually would, to make sure that the mentioning of it won’t sound like I am passive-aggressively ill-wishing someone. Although not an angel, I don’t go there with myself, I take care so that I don’t have to. I was thinking about how ‘karma’, for lack of a better term, too often gets repeated as if nothing could be resolved. “Collective learned helplessness” may as well be the term. And from that place we then end up striking at each other…

Furthermore, the internet seems to have descended into a hotbed of trolls, haters, and otherwise very nosy people. Understandably as a result, many of us may have grown jumpy-tender-triggered weary. But here’s the thing:
It wasn’t like we were living in utopia until internet. Rather, the net brought our woundedness to the fore, more so than ever. In my line of thinking, that then means an opportunity. For there, in every wound is a seed, no matter how deep / old the cut, of our potentiality to become more, than ever before because of it.

In any case there are so much more to the story, anyone’s life story, than meets the eye, and those who take sickly interest in someone else’s life might really wanna have a look, instead at your self. You may eventually find your best friend lookin’ right back at you. Yes, you may be that lucky after all.

Miss California

Blurred traffic lights at dusk in the city.

“You can’t take California out of the girl.”

– A Modern Proverb

Tail lights in blur at sunset.

Last time I was in California, I took a long lone ride across the southern half of the state. Came alive in the open land where no one knows what I am. Beneath the desert sun the earth and the ether met at right where I stood.

Distant city scape and freeway traffic lights in blur.

Photos from my too few/far between visits, from top:
P1 – The first time in San Francisco, Christmas 2011, practicing my “light calligraphy” technique near Union Square. Posted the monochrome version on my then Tumblr around 2017.
P2 – The car was not moving but my camera was; the early incarnation of the above-mentioned “Light Calligraphy” thing. Northridge California, September 2006. Posted the diptych version of this photo titled “Miss LA” on my website, Flickr, and MySpace shortly after I returned.
P3 – Don’t try this at home: holding a camera on a freeway riding back from Half Moon Bay, into SF city, also 2011. Never posted this one anywhere simply because I don’t think it’s that good, but “the feel” is there; the California night, going places.

A quote in decorative letters from a conversation I had earlier in the day, as the other party, noticing the change in my tone as I spoke fondly of Calif. good-natured jokingly said, “Is that it, the ‘you can take a girl out of California but you can’t take California out of the girl’ thing?” And I laughed with her remembering that girl I once was, the girl who fought a long, lonesome battle against Creativity Itself.

Written and published here on May 23, 2022.

Also from the last trip: a photo journal post on vsco: “California 2011”
What’s this Light Calligraphy thingy? Explain!! : Light Calligraphy

Where Angels Dare to Tread

Reflection of a woman in camera in a mirror.

“The path of love is a dynamic balance of opposites, a painful creative tension of uncertainties.”

Table surrounded by artworks.
Night sky of Los Angeles with blurry lights.

All photos are of the apartment I lived in in Los Angeles, California, 1997. Initially posted on my website, possibly on MySpace and Flickr as well, around late 2006.

The jacket in the top pic is a meticulously patchworked circuit-board inspired abstract design, precursor to my “Dyed Threads” series. The piece is called “Mao Jacket”, as it was designed after the socialist Chinese uniform, there, my own variety of un-obvious socio-cultual commentary and conceptual twist in their budding stage. The person in mirror is my then-self, to whom I will give a warmest, sweetest bear hug after I’m done writing this.

The fancy text below the photo 1 is a line from “People of the Lie” (M Scott Peck, 1983, p.267, Chapter 7. The Danger and The Hope / A Methodology of Love).

The second from top is a snap shot of my dining table, in small kitchenette by the window where I did lots of stitching. My bestie Sofi who was a canine creature at the time of photographing used to take refuge beneath it. Facing right, half showing is one of my 2D abstract (acrylic on cardboard, 1995-ish), using lines in multiple colors attempting to depict Energy/Movements I see in my mind’s eye.

The last one is the view from the rooftop, taken on one of those warm southern California evening. I moved there in late 1980’s when West Hollywood Oki Dog was still in its original location. When there were not much tall buildings so the sky above greeted everyone open and wide, when the city of Angels itself was the wild side in its own right, offering the likes of me about a ton of spaces to jump in, be silly to the max, and push it to the edge. I am a firm believer that, if aspired to create beauty one cannot just look at pretty things in Light*. I wanted to feel the otherwise, come alive in it, not so that I will rot in a swamp but to survive it somehow and bring the experiences to the creative table where I’d stitch, draw, paint, freely envision while my toes resting on the soft thick coat of the beautiful creation I had the honor to share residence with; a potent reminder of what is True overseeing lovingly, the painfully petit existence of mine.

*Please be noted: what I share here is my experience. Each of us, as you may be well aware, is in charge of keeping oneself safe.
Simply because no-one else can know your strength: psychological, spiritual, physical, emotional and more. Knowing that oneself is hard enough. From my experience tho, my soul/heart would know, and to be guided from within I need only to ask. In order to sense/hear It’s subtle directions however, to the best of my ability, I’ve got to not lie to myself about the realities of my existence. That, between me and Me, I must enough-grasp, at very least not look away from, my own truth. Then I have the best chance at keeping myself “safe” – as Life is not always safe, and clutching onto safety too tightly it seems to negatively affect one’s creative freedom and quite paradoxically, punch security holes in the person’s existential firewall.

History

Published:
13Oct22 @20:32 JST
Edits:
16Oct22 Added the quote in fancy text.