The Winter of ’94, before I moved to Japan for the first time, was the most brutally cold I’ve ever experienced. It began with a week of -40 degree arctic chill on top of our little mountain, not counting the wind. A freezing rain coated the roads with six inches of ice that stubbornly lasted until after I left in March. Driving to work was an exercise in agility, trying desperately to keep the tires on the narrow strips of pavement that showed through. A new layer of snow or ice fell every other day, like reinforcements filling the breach left by their icy fallen comrades. I seem to recall a blizzard at some point too.

All of which left me about as eager to venture outdoors as a hibernating vole. Glaciers, by way of contrast, are always in motion. Just not at a particularly rapid pace. I can empathize. After all, it’s more than easy to become hitched to your environment, to the status quo, to the familiar sway of the everyday tides. Until, that is, the call comes.

Until That Day, My Drift is Glacial was one of two commissioned pieces designed to complement another. I suppose, in the end, no rock is an island. It’s an interesting challenge; returning to a theme without copying it too directly, utilizing all the skills learned since without separating the pieces too much. The foundation paper (the piece I use as the border and the anchor for the artwork) was a godsend which I had received as a gift only a few days earlier. The whitish plants embedded in it reminded me of frost and served as a major inspiration. It was also one of the toughest papers I’ve ever worked with, thick and soft and hell to cut cleanly. Totally worth it.

In a frame!

Since moving to Fukuoka last year, my wife and I have been scouring the city, searching for the most excellent galleries and museums in a bid to get involved in the local art scene. The first fruit of that quest has ripened at Galerie RECOLTE’s Tokay Gecko Award 2012.

Out of 326 entries, the work of 24 artists was chosen to grace the gallery’s walls from April 10 – 22 (yes, the show began a few days ago – there were so many entries this year that judging went long). I’m honored to be among that group, with 2 pieces hanging in the show. You can check the whole show out online (although, sadly, the photos don’t quite do the work justice).

What’s more, everyone is encouraged to vote for their favorite pieces! Just use this form after viewing the work. Feel free to vote and comment in any language you want (日本語 and English are probably best). The best review wins a free iPod Touch! You can also enter a review when you visit the gallery.

On the final day of the show, a grand prize (グランプリ) winner will be announced. The prize is a solo show later this year. I’m not sure how or if the voting/rating affects the prize, but it certainly can’t hurt.

Dates: April 10 (Tues) to April 22 (Sun) 2012 (* closed 4/16)
Time: 11am to 7pm (closes 5pm final day)
Place: Galerie RECOLTE website
Address: 5-10 B1F Jyosuidori, Chuo-ku Fukuoka 810-0028
Phone: 092-521-6293
Map: right here

日付: 4月10日(火)〜22日(日) 2012 (* 4/16休廊)
時間: 11am to 7pm (最終日17:00まで)
場所: ギャラリーレコルテ ホームページ
住所: 810-0028 福岡市中央区浄水通5-10 B1F
電話: 092-521-6293
Access: 最寄り駅 地下鉄七隈線 薬院大通駅　バス 教会前停留所(56,58番)

To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) – Pete Seeger, from the Book of Ecclesiastes, as sung by The Byrds

The spinning of a wheel, the spreading and curling petals of a flower, the encroaching and receding tide; patterns mesmerize me. The often-colliding patterns of man and nature are among the most fascinating, pushing and pulling at each other in a constant state of unrest and upheaval.

A few months ago, gifted and magnanimous paper artist, Béatrice Coron introduced me to Landfillart.org, an organization which is encouraging ecological thinking via the recycling of over a thousand hubcaps into original works of art. Given the recurring themes of cyclical nature in my work, I had to take part. Plus, turning an old hubcap into art is just so cool.

The circle of the hubcap-canvas became the primary design element in the work. That shape repeats in the patterns of ol’ Ebb’s clothes, the shape of his hunched shoulders, and in the overall flow of the work. Not to mention the kamon.

Kamon are elegantly-designed, highly-stylized Japanese family crests. There are a lot of them (the website is in Japanese, but that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying it). The only things that fascinate me more than patterns are symbols (and metaphors, and folk tales, and fables, and fuzzy bunnies… but I digress). Marrying the circular symbolic kamon to the cyclical wheel to the recurrent tide seemed a natural (if somewhat polyamorous) union.

The kamon, in this particular case, are the calm and raging sea (top+bottom left), an Ouroboros eel (bottom right), and the morning glory – which has about a million different metaphorical meanings, my favorite being its cycle of endings and beginnings.

The LandfillArt project is still looking for artists to mangle and re-shape old car parts. While you’re there, check out the 800+ cool pieces already completed (mine is on page 17 right now). Some other angles:

I should thank the good people who ordered the Artist Edition of the 2012 Cut Paper Art Calendar for giving me the opportunity to re-learn the pleasures of this kind of drawing, and of having indelible ink dyed into the bottom of my hand. Actually, I should thank them for a heck of a lot more. Without them, and 70-odd other folks who supported my campaign on Kickstarter, the Calendar would never have come to be.

Typically, I enjoy talking about my work and the ideas behind it. Every once in a while a piece comes along that requires a bit of discretion; that asks for a touch of privacy. This is one such piece. So, let’s softly close the door and hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob as we tiptoe away down the hall.

To make up for my rare hush (seriously, you’re going to want to enjoy this calm before my usual verbosity roars back), I thought I would treat everyone to a good WIPping.

First up – a view from inside the mind of our perturbed dark stranger, showing some layered paper construction.

Here, we take a side trip into an alternate dimension to witness the work that almost was. It always astounds me how much of an effect color has on the emotional content of a piece, and by extension, the concept. This stormy image has an entirely different meaning. In the end, I chose the brighter background for its heat and the way it made the other colors pop.

We’ll finish up at the very beginning, with the sketches. I’m usually more comfortable pulling back from an image and showing it with a bit of dispassionate perspective. Cropping in for a close-up drags us into a somewhat uncomfortable proximity.

In the interview, we talk about the origins of my artwork and of my life in Japan. Its always a challenge to find the exact right words to explain art, and the concepts or emotions behind it. Often, because instinct drives so much of the creative process. Ms. Kosaka managed to pick her way through the scattered rubble of my digressions to the core.

From my past, we move on to the future. Below, the foundation of my next piece waits. Actually, I finished the artwork last night (which should give you an idea of how long ago I started writing this post). This is the first time in ages that I’m using a material other than wood or paper. What is this, anyway? fiberglass?

Take a gander at the LandfillArt Project and the multitude of amazing recycled and reclaimed new pieces of art. Special thanks to my good friend, Mr. Nishi for helping me acquire a ホイールカップ with much textural character.

There was a time, eons upon eons ago, before the earth had fully cooled or I had graduated from junior high school, when I drew dragons. Daily. In math class. Typically surrounded by broken swords, shattered shields, and bristling with spent arrows. I’m fairly sure this is the first dragon I’ve drawn since those hallowed days of yore.

One of the things I enjoy most about doing the artwork is the research, long before pencil touches paper. Often, pieces such as this, where I know ahead of time what the subject will be, but not the concept or emotion, are the most difficult to get a firm grasp on. I have to ask myself, “What does a dragon mean to me, metaphorically, conceptually, emotionally?”. Aside from my inner (and still very much alive) middle-schooler who just thinks dragons are awesome.

Thus begins the research into the myth, mythology, and symbolism of the subject matter. Granted, it might appear that I’m wasting vast amounts of time surfing the web, but I assure you, that is not so. For example, The Japanese dragon is usually drawn with three claws. The Chinese dragon has five – at least the one which represents the emperor does. In both traditions (and Japan’s draws heavily from China’s, while also making it uniquely its own), the dragon is associated with water.

One of the thoughts inescapably running through my brain for the past couple months has been the earthquakes and tsunami of the past Spring. In my original sketches, I played up the ideas of a more violent clash between earth and water, along with a morally ambiguous wyrm. In the end, it is more appropriate that 2012 be represented by an auspicious water deity.

I’ve been playing alot recently with layering. It’s most obvious in the waterfall, which becomes more multi-hued and complicated where it merges with the dragon. The big lizard itself is an experiment in layers to push and pull certain parts of the creature back or pull them forward. Some areas of scales are above the line-work, while others are beneath.

To rip a page from the incredible Karl Kerschl, here are some of my favorite dragon-y things:

• The Hobbit
• The constellation Draco
• Dragonball
• My coolest belt
• this calendar:

(you didn’t really think I’d be able to resist the self-promotion, didja?)

After moving to Fukuoka, it took a little while for me to get my aging engine warmed up. Happily, that period seems to be sliding behind with the new year, and I am fully revved and roaring into 2012.

We begin with the 2012 Cut Paper Art Calendar. It began its life as a project on Kickstarter, where it was successfully funded. Printing is finally done, and the first few batches to the Kickstarter backers have all been shipped out. Happily, there are still a limited number of calendars left!

Calendars are available from the shop at US $30 apiece, including shipping. Jump on over and click the red “Buy International” button for everywhere outside Japan. If you want to buy more than one copy, please contact me; maybe I can help you save a little money on shipping! For those of you in Japan, the cost is ¥2500 (shipping included). Just select the “Buy Japan” button.

まだ切絵カレンダーの在庫に余裕があり、1点2,500円（送料込）で販売していますので、お買い求め頂けます！口座振込みでのお支払いをご希望の方は、Eメールでご連絡ください。Paypalでのお支払いをご希望の方は、下記にある赤字の「Buy 日本」ボタンをクリックしてください。

Next up is the 新春クラフトマルシェ / New Year’s Marche Crafts at Seibu Shibuya. This group show of some of my newest art was a last minute addition to the schedule, and I’m afraid that I didn’t have much time to let people know about it. I myself was unable to take the trip north to Tokyo, but one of my good friends snapped a photo of some of my work. You can see it here.

Coming Soon, there’s a bunch of new art that very few people have ever laid eyes on. There’s a very cool interview I had the pleasure to do recently that I can’t wait to share with everyone. Not to mention all of the little, secret projects that are coming together to make 2012 an amazing, art-filled 366 days.

Kechi (けち) is one of the most useful Japanese words you’re ever likely to find. It means cheap or stingy, but isn’t limited to just money. It expands to include emotion, time, and helpfulness among others.

Futakuchi-onna (two-mouthed woman) is all about the kechi. In one tale, faced with a food shortage, she stuffs her own child while letting her stepchild waste away. In another, she withholds food from herself, trying to please either her miserly husband or her own stinginess. Self-denial manifests as a separate ravenous mouth on the back of her head, grumbling and mumbling and, finally, satisfying itself.

It’s difficult not to associate the Futakuchi-onna with modern eating disorders and standards of beauty. Hunger-abstained bursts out from the flesh gibbering and gnawing – a metaphor for either the cause or the disease. All grabbing tentacles and unthinking appetite, the jellyfish seemed the perfect choice for the zoological avatar.

Details:

Thus, with no further ado: Pre-Orders for the 2012 Cut Paper Art Calendar are now being taken.

update — The 2012 Cut Paper Art Calendar is now available for purchase. Please check the Calendar Shop for a preview and to order. 2012年切絵カレンダーご購入頂けます！カレンダーのショップからご閲覧・ご購入頂けます。

Of course, for those who backed the campaign; your copy is already being held for you. If this is the first you’ve heard of the calendar tho, there are still a bunch unreserved. Want one? I don’t blame you. Here’s how you reserve a copy or two:

• Hop on over to my contact page.
• Send me an email with your name, email address, and the number of copies you want reserved.
• Wait a bit.
• I’ll email you with payment details when the calendar has been printed.

That’s it. Easy, huh? It looks like the calendar will go for around $30 USD, worldwide shipping included. I was hoping to offer it for less, but the exchange rate isn’t playing nice.

As for the calendar itself, the first draft was sent to the printer two days ago. The first (and, God willing, the last) color proof should arrive tomorrow. I’ll make any corrections necessary to the color, and fix any dumb mistakes I may have made (I haven’t found them yet, but they are surely in there). Then a week or so later, I should have the calendars in my hands. There may be a second color proof in there too. Time will tell.

Until then, enjoy the front and back covers (above), and the March spread below. Those are the right dates, yes?