Professor Ken Yabuno

Some moments are lost, never to be remembered again. Others are etched into memory, never to be forgotten. The moment I saw Professor Ken Yabuno was one of those moments. I am unsure, but I feel as though perhaps it was for him as well. I was waiting for my interview with the school director to decide my future for the next few years, when he walked in front of me. He looked a little like a very kind, Japanese Einstein. But then I looked into his eyes. I felt as though I was looking into a mirror, which is a strange feeling when the person is so physically different. His kind eyes held mine as he walked past. At first interested, then questioning. I think he might have been wondering, "Where were you?" I was later told the truth about his speech. At first, they were kind, and told me that he had only talked about the university. But then a student told me that he had talked about things they way I had talked about Hundertwasser just a few weeks before. And as he talked, he had sketched a vision of Karatsu Castle, which was complete when he had finished. What beautiful symbolism, for a school of students just beginning, whose students will someday be important members of this society. A reflection of his contemplation that the stars in the ceiling in the auditorium at the university are a reflection of each of the students below. I wonder if any of the students at this school realized the connection between them and the beautiful castle.

In Okuma Auditorium, the central skylight of the ceiling contains the sun and the moon, and the smaller lighting fixtures are all stars. This creates the image that students are being watched over by things which are sacred and eternal. I believe that the ceiling is a symbol that students themselves, not Okuma Shigenobu, are the main characters of Waseda.

-Professor Ken Yabuno


I am writing this post as a response to his article Thinking About the Past and Future Drawing Cities Which “Don’t Exist Today”. He had been in Madrid, and a hugely influential museum for him was the Prado, as it was for me. For different reasons, he believed it impossible to be an artist... A strong interest in architecture and cities. And we believe in the interconnected nature of the disciplines. There were more... There were in fact, so many references to my own inner experience in this short life, that I now understand why I felt as though I were looking in a mirror, or that I already knew the person who I had seen. Perhaps it is possible to see yourself in someone else because of their experiences or their thoughts being similar to your own, without ever even speaking to them. That must have been it, there is really no other explanation. My deepest interests are a little different, but their base is essentially the same. I believe our similarities lie in architecture, art, and the connection of the disciplines as being essential for true understanding of the world. My interest in green roofs and rooftop gardens must have begun long ago. There a was a period of sublime development that went unchecked in my mind. As a small child, I built stick houses on the beach, and never forgot that joy. But it wasn't then. Nor was it when I discovered Japanese art, and it's reflection in a possible future. And it wasn't when I made soap with herbs found on the roadside with my friend, and knew I would study elements of ethnobotany. Nor was it when I designed houses in high school, with courtyards, and pools coming into the master bedroom. But it was already quite developed when I volunteered for three months for Sustainable Monterey Bay, and designed apartment complexes for them, all having roof gardens, community spaces, and other passive design and sustainability elements, always working with nature. It could have been around the time when I first saw the Hunderwasser Haus, or when I discovered green building and passive design books at book stores in college... whenever it was, it forged a path into this time, this place, my present life with my passion for nature, buildings, people, and life. It is the river from which the source is a great desire to heal this Earth which we call home. If I ever have the chance, I would like to speak to Professor Yabuno. I would like to just sit, relaxed, over a cup of tea or a meal, and discuss life. The places where paths cross, where there is no time. The places inside our minds, and outside the walls. In the green, in the silver, in the blue, in the brown, in the rainbow. Begun 2012, Finished 2013

Why I came to Japan in the first place

This is kind of a response to what my friend Danielle just wrote about, seeing completely new patterns versus creating patterns using old ones. It is about why I originally came to Japan.

When I was a child, I was really very concerned about the environment. I thought a lot about what we could do as a group, as humans, to change our ways. I often cried about the situation. Then my grandparents came to Japan to visit Hiroshima and they brought me back a book on Bonsai. I saw the pictures as something very different from your average topiary or garden tree. Then I found a book on Ikebana (Japanese Flower Arrangement) at a yard sale, and was shocked. The same rhythm could be found there.

It was a movement, a flow; a thought and then a silence and then a change in direction, and again. I saw that the Japanese must appreciate this art form, and since popular art is a reflection of people's hearts, they must think in the same way. I compared it to the noisiness and fullness of Western Art, and thought that if we could possibly learn to not be quite so aggressive and be more thoughtful in our movements, that we could save our world. So that is the original reason why I decided to come to Japan, hoping to learn it so that I could take it back and do something with that knowlege. What I know now is that that Wabi-sabi, Do and Sei, are uncommon in modern Japan, and an equivalence to Western Art is what is popular here now. I can't say that I haven't learned anything about it, but it is much harder to learn than anticipated, and I wonder if it is actually possible. There is, however, an underlying feeling that lingers, but the culture is so complex that it might have been more likely if I had come as a child.

First of all, it is probably not about taking from something or using something, but more about paths, and this is something that I did not understand in my youth. For me, the feeling in Japanese traditional art and life is something like this: it is like a silence that says that there are only a few correct paths that one can take, and that you must decide or be lost in the situation. But no one actually every comes out and says what someone must do, it is something that you have to feel out. Some people tell you, but they are your in-group(family or good friends), and very few. It would be very, very hard to try to teach how to move in this silent, thoughtful way to people who are used to being open and honest and not depending upon a particular path, but who can see that there are more options in the open air. I think that one of the difference in the cultures is that the Japanese think very hard about what the best path to take is, and if not, just stay on the one that they are on. For example, most people have no hobbies or only one, which they do to perfection. Ask them if they are bored. They aren't. In my home country, however, most people have several things that they enjoy doing, and if they aren't then they are bored. Most Japanese people have few friends. This is desirable. They can be silent, simply happy, appreciate the simple things in life, moving nowhere fast, thinking about everything before doing it, perhaps never stepping out of a comfort zone. But when they do decide to move, it is decisive and very strong in its direction. Most of my foreign friends have a lot of friends, and this suits them. Enjoying a variety of different people, working with different ideas, moving forward, somewhere, everywhere, quickly.

The long, slender, silent branch, with a single leaf and two berries, rising out of a small garden of leaves, versus a big bouquet of roses with smaller and bigger other flowers and colors, comes to mind. Many modern Japanese people however, might choose the bouquet over the simple arrangement, if you were to ask them to choose.

A mix of both might be best for our world, if it were possible. A seeking of a path, and then a blossoming into an area, but not too much, and then a change of path, and another blossoming into another area. I think, as in the very beginning at seven years of age, that if we take our time, and stop to think, that we might be able to change.

Festival of Art and Music

I somehow pulled through not being able to talk on Friday to singing onstage on Saturday.
Last week and the previous, I had a horrible cold, but I had put a lot of effort into translating the school song and memorizing it so that I could sing it in the Music and Art Festival on Saturday. I went to the doctor on Friday, he gave me medicine and the miracle of modern science laid its blessed hands upon my destiny. On Saturday I could talk!
I had also been working on a huge painting of my grandma and I, and for about a week, had not been able to paint her face. It eluded me. How to paint her face?? With what technique? What lighting? 15 minutes before leaving the house, I worked on her face, and was able to finish it.

My students were waiting at the event. We were to sing the Phonics ABC song that I composed and recorded for their lessons. Then I would sing the school song, and then I would do live painting to a song that Shinpei produced for me the night before, and to another song.

It was the fifth and sixth graders waiting there. They were so cute and excited. We went onstage and they sang. I felt bad because when they were done, they asked me what to do, and I didn't clearly know, so I suggested that they get off stage so the show could continue. I didn't tell them to bow, so I felt bad. I am wondering how I can apologize to them...

Anyway, the show moved on to me singing the school song. I had painted a painting for the song, since I didn't think I could sing it. The painting portrayed the elements of the song.

Finally, the last song came on. I was ready, Japanese paintbrush in hand, to do the watercolor. It was a nice live-paint session. This is the 3rd time that I have done live-painting, and it was really relaxing. I really love the song that Shinpei made. He used a voice sample of mine to make it. The second song was one that I recorded ad-lib in Kurume with a guy named Masato. He palyed the guitar and I sang, and we recorded it. I really love that song. It was so nice to paint to those pieces, and I got a lot of positive comments about the painting and about how it made people feel at peace. I was also told it had a healing effect. I am so glad that things worked out.

The rest of the festival lasted until 12 midnight. There were all sorts of musical performers. Rock bands, folk guitar, classical guitar with vocals, karaoke with no words cover songs, and more. There was a duo from another town who will have a play in a month. There was a guy from Takanabe who played the Jamisen, an okinawan instrument, and the flute. And finally, there was a Kagura performance. It was very beautiful.

Cheers to everyone and thank you Ogawa-san for putting together a great event!

Past, Present and Future

My stepmother, Lidija, called me last night. She said that my grandma had a stroke. She can't move half of her body, and she can't talk.
My mother's mother and father I often worry about. They have been getting older.
Lidija recently had a baby.
My brother's wife is pregnant.
He and his wife just got married.
I just got married a year ago.
I miss my family.
I feel like at this time, past and present and future are at a crossroads.
There are many people being born. People getting married. People near death.

I am painting a painting for the Geijitsusai, an art and music exhibit.
It is called memories. It is a memory of my mother's mother when she used to rock me, and all the memories of her life behind her, like a map. We are being watched over by a sparrow.
She loves sparrows, and so do I. When I was a baby,I used to sleep at her house. Early in the morning, the sparrows would come to play in her driveway and the roses below the window. They would wake me up with their joyful chatter. So at 5 AM in the morning, I would wake up and run to her bed and say,
"Mama Nene, Mama Nene! Los pio pios estan cantando!!" which means Mama Nene, Mama Nene! The pio pios are singing! (Time to wake up) To which she would sleepily respond, "Go back to sleep, Sofia! Its 5:00 in the morning..." I would go back and watch the birdies for hours until she woke up.