It's important, making things together
Trembling Aspen | Series_02 Hey, Koganecho! | Issue_03
“Yes! We’ll try, even if we don’t have the books.” Thus began a whirlwind week.
Let me rewind and set the stage for those who don’t know the story. A few years ago, my friend Aki and I published a children’s activity book called “Let’s Make A Scribble Drawing!” I wrote it, Aki illustrated. She and I met in Vancouver about 10 years ago, Aki was one one of the charter members of Tasai, the artist collective I’m part of. She moved back to Tokyo, we kept in touch. After a few years of kicking the idea around, we got the book done. Yay us! The Tasai collective is about what we can make, across cultures. Friendship through collaboration, is our motto. The book was one of those projects that was worth doing, just to do it.
An original character created by Aki, Irodorikuma (Colouring Bear), guides readers through a fun and simple drawing activity. Because Irodorikuma is Japanese—in as much as a fictional cartoon character can be one nationality or another—a Japanese version of the book seemed inevitable. I had loose plans to finally tackle the Japanese version while here in Yokohama, and guess what friends, thanks to the Mycelium Council and our crowdfunding campaign, it got done! Yay us!
Back to the opening sentence and the whirlwind week just gone by. Once I had the book done, I started discussing a book launch party with Koganecho Art Center staff. It was a simple, easy to execute idea. Two days of drop-in scribble drawing for kids in the neighbourhood. We had settled on the Saturday and Sunday of April 29 & 30, which, back in March, seemed far enough away to get actual physical copies of the book safely in our author and illustrator hands.
Nope.
As of last Tuesday, April 25th, for a variety of reasons I won’t go into here, we had zero copies of the book we were to be celebrating. I was pretty sure we were going to push the workshop back to May, and then I got the text from Aki...
Okay, we have three days, let’s do this!
Locations were finalized (my studio), posters were made, supplies gathered, social media was notified and (whew) by Saturday we were ready to go.
On Saturday morning we had no idea how many people would show up, if anyone. There are 4 or 5 shonen (young boys) who practice skateboarding outside my studio most afternoons. I told them about the drawing workshop and asked them to tell their friends. “Okay!” They said, in their politest Japanese. So, maybe we’d have 4 or 5 participants, or maybe they were being as polite as they needed to be and subsequently laughing hilariously at the thought of some gaijin grown up thinking they’d spend a Saturday afternoon drawing silly pictures. Turns out they weren’t just being polite. One of my favourite pictures of the day is one of the boys in his baseball uniform—they came straight from a 3 hour baseball practice—talking about the drawing he just made.
A scribble drawing is simple. You can try it without having to buy the book. (But, you know, you could buy the book if you really wanted to, English and Japanese versions now available.) To make a scribble drawing you take a pencil, and make a scribble. Then, take some crayons and colour in the shapes. As long as you’ve got something to colour with, you always have a DIY meditation colouring book for adults. Seriously, try it. As several (adult) participants noted, it’s quite calming.
The workshop consisted of either Aki or I reading through the book with participants (who we expected to be children), and then said participants (again, target audience, children) making a scribble drawing. Our very first participant was Seiichi, one of the Koganecho AIR artists. I don’t know exactly how old Seiichi is, but he isn’t 5-10 years old. He is a grown ass man, and bless his heart, he sat there patiently through the whole reading and then made a scribble drawing.
Seiichi set the tone. After that, whoever showed up, adult or child, got a book reading in either English (by me), or Japanese (by Aki)—except for once when she was busy talking to a friend and I read the whole thing in Japanese. やった！ (Just writing about it makes my palms sweat)
Aki’s friend and her daughter came by. This was scribble drawing as it is meant to be, the unbridled fist-grip drawing power of a four year old.
The four skateboarding/baseball playing shonen drew and chatted with the easy energy that only young boys their age possess. The weekend ahead is theirs for the taking, this but one stop around the bases of laughter and shouts, sliding into Sunday night home plate. Safe!
We had a family of four—Mom, Dad, daughter and son—stop by. They all sat down and drew together. It was wonderful. The son, who was maybe 7 or 8, drew a really complicated and detailed scribble. He didn’t yet know he’d be colouring in all of the little shapes. When he found out, the look on his face, and his sister’s good natured laugh was my favourite moment of the weekend.
Dad asked if he could take home the scribble drawing I had made earlier in the day. “Um...okay?” Maybe he thought I was some famous artist? I had signed my name in katakana (スティーブ), maybe that was the draw? Anyway, if you see a drawing signed スティーブ on the scribble drawing black market, that’s me.
Aki worked on a live painting over the weekend. The painting style is colourful and, well, scribbly, which meant kids could help paint the bright colourful elephant. As you can imagine, it was a hit.
Lot’s of Koganecho AIR artists stopped by. Artists, I am warmheartedly reminded, are generally in it together. Whatever it happens to be, including children's drawing workshops. As we sat drawing in a way we hadn't in years, we (artists) wondered if there was research backing the cathartic benefit to first scribbling—getting one’s frustrations out if that’s what one needed—followed by a necessarily more deliberate colouring in, which tends to be rather calming. Maybe. We didn't need research to know it was worth doing. One of the more important assertions artists make every time they make art is "not only did I do this, but it was worth doing." It's sometimes difficult to remember, yes, it is worth doing, just sitting down and making something.
As an artist, it’s hard to take yourself too seriously when you write your name in crayon. Crayons actively resist expressions of technical acumen. Crayons are, it turns out, a great leveller. Looking at all the definitely-worth-doing drawings it was difficult to tell which was made by an artist and which was made by a four year old. They were kind of similar, and also wildly different. It was a reminder to us all—mothers, fathers, children, artists and skateboarding baseball players—how much each unique one of us have in common.
On Sunday I posted this on Instagram: I gathered together all the drawings from yesterday and I asked my computer, “What is the relationship between all of these drawings? Which pixels resonate through time?” This was the answer.
The drawings are all a snapshot in time, and that snapshot says something about the person who drew it, and simultaneously about the world they inhabit. This image has gathered all the snapshots together, layered them, and highlights the resonant bits. The more a particular area of paper was marked by everyone, the more it shows up in this image. The more a particular colour was used by everyone, the more it shows up in this image. It's a Turner-esque landscape of imagination which is, to my mind, an affirmation of the importance of sitting down and making something, together.
As I continue to catch up writing about all that's been happening, I’ve started posting on Instagram. It's a slightly more timely if less in depth way of staying in touch with the work being supported by you.
Speaking of the work you are supporting, recent artwork of mine has been selected for a group show here in Koganecho. Go in depth and behind the scenes with up coming issues.
My participation in the Koganecho Artist in Residence program, the resultant art work, the art work's inclusion in the group show, and this very newsletter were all made possible by members of The Mycelium Council. If you enjoy Trembling Aspen, a topical series of pop-up newsletters from me, Steve Frost, please consider joining.