Since coming back to Yamagata, more and more things catch my eye in daily life.
The colors and shapes in my paintings come from small things like these. Here are a few recent ones.
Frying sata andagi in the kitchen
It is an Okinawan fried sweet I learned to make when I lived on Miyakojima.
When I drop the dough in, its color changes slowly in the oil. From white to golden brown.
There is a moment when it becomes just the right color, and I watch closely for it.
The dog knows where the sun is
Our dog changes where it sleeps depending on the time of day.
In the morning by this window, at noon around here in the Japanese-style room: it moves along with the movement of the light.
No one taught it, yet it knows with its body where the most comfortable place is. When I get stuck while painting, I sometimes sit down beside the dog.
Goldfish and pond snails
We have goldfish and pond snails at home, and I change their water often.
After changing the water, the colors in the bowl are easy to see. Orange, black, gold. The pink of the stones on the bottom, the green of the water plants.
Lately, I have been greatly soothed by the time I spend watching them.
I often go to shrines
Even without a reason, I stop by shrines.
Passing through the torii, climbing the stone steps, walking among the trees. That alone seems to tidy my mind a little.
Sometimes I go before starting work on a painting. It is less about asking for something and more like time spent going to remember my own outline.
What I see in Yamagata
The color of fried sweets, the sunny spot where the dog lies, the colors of the goldfish bowl, the sunlight filtering through the trees at a shrine.
Sometimes, a while later, what caught my eye on a given day has become a color in a painting.
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