Matsushita Studios

A Tree in the Marsh

2009-07-14T13:36:00.003-04:00

Born in the lowland
protected from the wind
this tree was living
a good life always...

blossoming out in the spring breeze,
giving shades to summer birds,
dressing up in gold in autumn,
sleeping in peace through wnter;

and now...
he is awake and content.

Many years have passed.
It has been an ordinary life
with happiness and sadness;

and now...
the lowland is sunk in water.

Standing there valiantly
is this old tree,
no more flowers and golden leaves;

and now...
only offering
proud silence
in the marsh.

t.m.s.

...........................................

Please turn to other sections for translation into
Japanese and Spanish.

Rainy season

2009-06-15T09:18:00.007-04:00

The rain cloud still hangs over my area... and dampens
everything. Basho's following haiku reminds me of my
house in the rainy season.

さみだれや　色紙へぎたる　壁の跡

rainy season...
the wall shows
old shikishi that peeled off

"Shikishi" is a square piece of fancy paper for writing
poems on.

The following are my haiku :

daybreak...
softly tapping my dream
spring rain

暁闇の　夢を叩くや　春の雨

alborada...
golpecitos a mi sueno
lluvia de la primavera

gardenia
tight and molded...
no end to the rain

花の命　かびて開かず　長雨に

gardenia
blotes apretados...
lluvia interminable

Finally Summer!

2009-06-07T15:20:00.003-04:00

Approaching mid June... cold days lingered on for so long
in New York area. But finally, the last Sakura turned to
leaves and the graceful Iris holds up the pods, promising
next year's return.

birds chirping
earlier than usual
forcast of a very hot day

小鳥まで　早起きするや　酷暑の日

ceiling fan...
afternoon nap,
a slow day of June

扇風機　眠りをさそう　六月の午後

It's been many years since Mother passed away.
But her Kimono still bears scent of camphor.

rearranging the closet
mother's kimono
bears camphor still

ころもがえ　母の着物の　樟脳のかおり

2009-05-30T19:10:00.003-04:00

Husband died; the only son married;
a liberated woman am I?
No... loneliness creeps in
when I cook dinner.

　　　one cup
　　　of rice washed...
　　　the pot too large

夫は逝き、一人息子は結婚。
私は解放されて
自由な昔にもどれるだろうか？
いいえ.......　一人暮らしの淋しさが
夕餉の支度をするたびに
じわじわと寄ってくる。

　　　一杯の米　電気クッカー　大きすぎ

Wisteria Season (continued)

2009-05-26T12:08:00.003-04:00

I am still struggling to learn about blogging. The second
part of "Wisteria Season" was cut off for some
reason
I don't know!

　　　　　. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The following haiku is mine.

evening walk...
following
the sent of wisteria

藤の香に　つられて歩く　ゆうべかな

distant thunder...
wisteria racemes
ripple

春雷の　とどろくゆうべ　藤の波

Wisteria Season

2009-05-26T11:55:00.002-04:00

The wisteria season is about to end. I'm going to cite
a couple of haiku on fuji (wisteria) before the season is over.
The most famous may be the following:

草臥れて　宿かる頃や　藤の花　　　　　芭蕉

ehausted
looking for a place to stay...
scent of wisteria

風入れて　めざめかぐはし　藤の頃　　　　秋桜子

waked up...
the scent of wisteria
in the breeze

Town of Asakusa

2009-05-20T15:22:00.007-04:00

Asakusa is located in north-east of Tokyo, and it is
famous for wholesale stores and the Asakusa Kannon*.
This heavily populated town reminds me of Saigon
and Hongkong. I was born and lived mostly in
the west side of Tokyo so that a visit to Asakusa
always stimulates my curiosity.

Noises...
cars
town folks
crows

騒音... 自動車人声町鴉

Clamores ruidos...
carros
voz-voz-voz
cuervos ciudadanos

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

tentative rain
street lamps
an umbrella for a pair

夜の街　相合傘に　雨が降る
la lluvia de pronto
por a calle a la noche
un paraguas de los amantes

* Goddess of mercy

Spring Rain

2009-05-12T16:28:00.003-04:00

daybreak...
softly tapping my dream
spring rain

暁暗の　夢を叩くや　春の雨

la madrugada...
golpecitos a mi sueno
lluvia de la primavera

A Storm is Coming

2009-05-02T10:06:00.003-04:00

The Sun comes up behind the premordial trees in Nassau County, NY. Over the shingle roofs, the sky streches out to the ocean.........

morning stillness
the sky abraze
a storm is coming

Evening Stroll

2009-04-22T17:22:00.005-04:00

"Moonlight Sonata"
faintly traverses
the pavement whose house?

To my bloggers, walk with me and send me your poems!

tms

Cradle of My Life

2009-04-16T12:45:00.004-04:00

I lived in Central California from 1989 to 2000, the most peaceful and artistically productive time in my life. Born a Piscean, the sea was a cradle to me, comforting, cleansing, and healing. The following haiku is from that period:

fogs sailing by my window...
the horn at the harbor
starts to toot

2009-04-15T06:36:00.004-04:00

So much has happened in the past decade in my life. The glorious yamazakura still blooms when spring comes. But she stands alone now... a blessed freedom, maybe... nonetheless a life of a lone travelor.

Soy una peregrina... l'etragere... a stranger... maybe not destined to settle down anywhere. A tanka of Wakayama Bokusui comes to my mind:

幾山河　越えさりゆかば　淋しさの　果てなむ国ぞ　独り旅ゆく

"Crossing mountains and rivers, / I make a lonesome journey... / will there
be a place where / this loneliness dissipate?"

I shall keep going on this solitary road, knowing that there are other "peregrinos" like me all over the world.

Tei Matsushita Scott

Impersonal Summer

2009-04-14T15:16:00.004-04:00

Breeze...
August...
the white sun...

The wheel of time
keeps turning without chiming.

Man is born and Man is gone;
the life keeps churning.

Impersonal summer...
September...

Adieus!

A passing rain

2009-04-13T10:31:00.003-04:00

a passing rain...

crows in the woods

hush to listen

A green tomato

2009-04-12T18:22:00.004-04:00

dried up vine
a green tomato hangs on...
an orphant in the Sun

Old Sakura Tree

2009-04-10T18:27:00.004-04:00

Bloomed
and danced
through many rains and winds,
aged and
lying down now
this old sakura tree.

Dreaming to be
the Yoshino in full bloom,
shakes her limbs
to make blizzard of petals
to reach out gently
to adorn children's hair.

Spring again...
unexpected sign
of life in her too.

Collects her strength once more
to dance and sing
her last song.

let me live
to the end...
flowers in my song

Kaleidoscope

2009-04-08T21:24:00.002-04:00

kaleidoscope...
holding hand
full of age spots

New Life

2009-04-05T18:33:00.005-04:00

April Fool's Day...
beginning of
brunt new life

Thoughts, Then and Now

2004-03-14T18:55:00.000-05:00

My career as a painter began with what might be called "benign compulsion." In 1961 I was a graduate student at New York University, Buffalo, studying for a degree in literature and philosophy and aiming toward employment in publishing or in a museum. Much to my surprise, the Degree Committee asked me to include some form of artistic expression in my thesis. What to do? I could neither sing nor dance. And, though I had some exposure to studio art, I wasn't sure I could paint either. I did have some strong views about aesthetics, however, and decided that I had been given an opportunity to demonstrate the depth of those views.

The result was 20 canvases which I then presented to the committee. This was my first solo showing. Critics in New York City, where I later exhibited, labeled my work Abstract Expressionism. That style continues to shape my work although, over the years, Japanese subject matter has increasingly emerged as a significant element in my painting. Perhaps this should not be surprising because, as I grow older, memories of happy childhood days in my native land become ever more precious. Despite having spent half of my adult life in the United States, this reflection of Japanese roots has become noticeably pronounced. Indeed, as I contemplate a completed work, I often feel that I have come home at last after years of wandering.

Though subject matter is an important element in my painting, I do not start a canvas with it. I begin with non-committal, free-flowing brushwork using any color at hand. At this stage, my main concern is composition, because I believe that it serves as the formal dynamics of all art. For example, if you eliminate the subject matter of a painting and erase the color in your mind's eye, a message still remains if the composition is strong. In the early stages of a painting, therefore, I try to build a good foundation of composition. The process is like constructing a theatrical stage where later I will perform.

Normally I attempt to capture the essence of poetry while building forms and colors within the framework of the composition, and then follow it to a point where that essence becomes a message. In the case of my painting "YAMAZAKURA" the poetic message began to take shape as I painted the first of several blossoms on the built-up background. I chose the title then, and concentrated on expressing the glorious moment in the life of a cherry tree when it bursts into full bloom.

* * * * * *

A decade has passed since I wrote the above essay. My style and method of painting has not changed much. But my life has changed a great deal. The glorious yamazakura still blooms when spring comes. But she stands alone now... a blessed freedom, maybe... nonetheless a life of a lone traveler.

Soy una peregrina... l'êtrangere... a stranger... maybe not destined to settle down anywhere. A tanka of Wakayama Bokusui comes to my mind:

幾山河　越えさりゆかば　淋しさの　果てなむ国ぞ　独り旅ゆく

"Crossing mountains and rivers, / I make a lonesome journey... / Will there be a place where / this loneliness dissipates?"

I shall keep going on this solitary road, knowing that there are other "peregrinos" like me all over the world.

In Virginia,

Tei Matsushita Scott

Fall Festival

2004-03-14T18:47:00.005-05:00

36" x 28"

It is time to celebrate. Worries over weather, fear of bugs… now all those are behind.

harvest time--
festive hearts
beat into the drums

The sound of the drum is a declaration of all that went into the season's long, hard labor, and a celebration of its completion. Across the clear sky, the sound reaches the dazzlingly colorful distant hills, and bounces back to the villagers.

in the fulgent hills
the joyous sound
reverberates

Meditation

2004-02-14T18:49:00.001-05:00

36" x 26"

Eyes half closed, breath deep and slow, total focus on the moment… how grateful I am to be alive!

closing eyes--
awareness
only of my breath

Then… let my consciousness return to my surrounding… How lucky I am to feel the breath of Nature all around my being!

Indian summer--
meditation ended
the chirping of birds

Arcos in Andalusia

2003-03-13T12:42:00.001-05:00

19" x 19"

In Andalusia, in Spain, a chain of mountains runs from Arcos to Ronda, rising... falling… undulating. At one time settled by shepherds from Africa, the area became the frontier between the Kingdoms of Castile and Granada. Constant wars were fought here, beginning in about 1250 and ending in 1480 when the Catholics expelled the Moslems and took control of the area.

sky ablaze—
still the echoes
of war cries

Ronda in Andalusia

2003-03-12T12:45:00.001-05:00

19" x 19"

high in the sky
white towns of Andalusia
warriors’ dreams

Traveling eastward from Arcos, on the hilltops white towns appear and disappear - until we come to Ronda, the last link in the chain. Ronda is the most popular white town of Andalusia, where the warrior’s blood still courses through the veins of proud matadors.

Lonesome Journey

2003-03-11T12:47:00.001-05:00

34" x 26"

To a lone traveler, lights in a strange town offer only impersonal twinkles. Now that I have reached a certain plateau in life, feelings of loneliness and envy are ever more real... loneliness because I am an outsider in that place, envy because the lights suggest a family life which I no longer have.

long journey--
lighted windows
my unlit heart

Spring in Monterey

2003-03-10T12:49:00.001-05:00

18" x 23"

The Highway 1 in California runs along the coast between San Francisco and Los Angeles. At the height of the spring, a traveler would see mustard fields on both sides of the road— some spreading towards the ocean as if lured away by the waves. There are more breathtaking sceneries than mustard fields, but in mass this lowly plant offers as much joy as others better known on the Highway 1.

mustard fields
melt into the sea
spring in Monterey

Flower Without Name

2003-03-09T12:51:00.001-05:00

21" x 36"

Wind-blown seeds found homes in the marshland. Here crabs gathered in May to shed their shells. Here geese flocked on frosty mornings, kids spying on them from shacks hidden in the reeds. All is changed now, all faded away. The Black Walnut Point* on the Chesapeake Bay has become a bed and breakfast inn.

marshland--
stakes rotten, but a haven
for flower without name

* The artist’s country house from 1965 to 1976.

Lights in the Woods

2003-03-08T12:53:00.001-05:00

2003, 18" x 20"

For half of the year, thick foliage hides the houses in the Virginia woods. It gives such a pleasure, therefore, to see the lighted windows among the leafless boughs, although of course it has been expected. On one such evening, in the distance, I saw a single light slowly moving up… and up…

lights in the woods…
one inching upward
--the yellow moon

Wisteria II

2003-03-07T12:59:00.001-05:00

25" x 21"

When most of the spring flowers passed their zenith, wisteria blooms with mature beauty and fragrance so discreet.

evening walk—
following
the scent of wisteria

Somewhere far off the thunder rumbles as the wind begins to rise.

distant thunder—
wisteria racemes
ripple

Old Cherry Tree

2002-03-14T13:02:00.001-05:00

14" x 18"

The life of a tree sometimes surprises me. I had thought this tree, the one bending and reaching for the ground, to be long decayed and forgotten. Yet, as spring returned, on some of the branches I saw flowers blooming.

let me live
to the end -
flower for my song

Before the Dawn

2002-03-14T13:01:00.001-05:00

14" x 18"

Just before the dawn there is a moment when the sky is still pitch black, a moment when there is only a hint of the sun’s presence on the horizon. All is still but for the rising of the sun and the breathing of the living things.

dawn stillness
pulsing through it
breath of eternity

Orange Orchard

2002-03-14T10:37:00.001-05:00

22" x 22"

Traveling through the islands of Japan, we see rows of fruits and vegetables cultivated on the mountain slopes. Terraced farming is a common practice in this country, where arable land is scarce.

climbing steps to heaven
aroma of oranges
Izu peninsula*

* Located in the southwest of Tokyo, it runs into the Pacific Ocean.

Autumn in Japan

1996-03-14T22:58:00.001-05:00

48" x 30"

soundlessly
leaves falling
... November

falling... falling... falling
Nature's last show of abundance
the Karma

Vision of Summer Vines

1996-03-14T22:57:00.001-05:00

36" x 24"

Kitahara Hakushu, a Japanese poet of the early 20th century, was known for his sensual and prosodic poems. Later in his life, he lost his sight, but kept on producing powerful work reflecting his own adversity. The following Tanka is one example:

“Like a flame of fire
summer trumpet vines climb high
in the back of my comatose eyes.”

“Vision of Summer Vines” is dedicated to Hakushu with my prayer that should I become similarly impaired, I might still paint what I “see.”

corneas impaired--
trumpet vines
flames of fire

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. William Yee.

Sunset in Rosslyn

1996-03-14T22:52:00.001-05:00

35" x 28"

The afterglow of sunset moves our heart regardless of the season. But the most gorgeous sunset display may be that of summer, when at last the heat burns out and the sun sinks into the horizon. Sharp against the red western sky, the outline of the sun-burnt buildings and the copious summer woods make a unique collage. In this moment is the promise that tomorrow will be another hot day.

a moment’s lull--
heat of the day
gone down in the Potomac

“Sunset in Rosslyn” was painted with a vision of a hot summer day along the Potomac River. Several years have passed since I moved from the area around the city of Washington, and in my memory the place has taken on a quality something like a fairy-tale. When I painted this canvas, I often closed my eyes to capture this quality.

The Daybreak

1995-03-14T22:57:00.001-05:00

12" x 42"

Before the daybreak, before the hustle and bustle of daytime activity, there are a few hours of stillness in the dark. The Novelist Inoue Yasushi describes it as follows: “The darkness before the daybreak… is like the darkness around the stage, where all is set for performance and filled with great expectation and excitement before the curtain goes up."

The night landscape in my mind was not the glitter and colorful like the one in Las Vegas. Rather, it was of a city like San Jose, surrounded by hills, unadorned, but pregnant with day’s excitement. I hope this painting conveys such feeling of a dawn.

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Sundar Subramanian.

Summer's Shade

1995-03-14T22:56:00.001-05:00

34" x 26"

In Haiku, the shortest poetic genre, the Kigo (a word that indicates the season) plays an extremely important role: It can incorporate several seasonal observations in fewer than five syllables!

For example, Ryokuin (a kigo for summer) means the shade that green trees create. It means cool air beneath the trees in a garden or a park, rather than dark shade in mountain depth. Essayist Yamamoto Kenkichi writes in his Haiku Anthology: “[It] signifies shadows that trees cast in the bright sunny spot in [an] early summer garden…. The sunbeams seep through the trees and display a beautiful tapestry woven in stripe in the air.”

On this canvas I tried to paint a cool, refreshing atmosphere of woods in early summer, as suggested by the above Kigo.

spread in the woods
tapestry of sunbeams…
summer’s shade

Sakura Banquet

1995-03-14T22:55:00.001-05:00

48" x 30"

Sakura season… it’s party time! The air is warm, and the long winter is over at last. Everyone wants to enjoy life. Banquets are prepared in the buildings overlooking cherry groves; picnic blankets are spread under the cherry trees. It is a centuries-old tradition to gather with friends to admire Sakura. Haiku Master Basho once observed:

“Under the tree,
soup and salad
on the picnic spread,
covered with pale pink petals.”

What a joyful feast! I wanted to capture the excitement, perhaps by including the presence of children:

touch football
pink petals
on children’s hair

The Pink Cloud

1995-03-14T22:53:00.001-05:00

28" x 54"

The Sakura season starts with Yoshino-zakura, pale pink with single petals. Yama-zakura follows, with its multiple petals of deeper pink. By this time it is April. The soft sun, hazy sky, and blossoming cherry-trees all melt into one.

The 17th century poet Basho wrote the following famous Haiku:

“In the pink cloud
traverses the sound of temple gong
Is it from Ueno or Asakusa?”

Using the sound of the gong and the names of two temple locations miles apart, the poet described the extent of the geography.

Inspired by Basho, and challenged by the same geography, I selected a narrow horizontal canvas. But I could not paint the sound of gong! Once again, I feel humble before the power of words. With the same humility, I present mine...

temple gongs
echo
in the pink cloud

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick M. Overholt.

Scent of Apples

1995-03-14T22:52:00.001-05:00

48" x 37"

Kitahara Hakushu, a poet of the Romantic School of the early 20th century, wrote the following Tanka:

“She is leaving…
thrashing snow on the pavement.
O snow, the falling snow,
embrace her, please,
with the scent of apples!”

Hakushu was known for his sensuous and rhythmical verses. This poem is no exception. Without using too many words, it tells us of the emotion and the movement of two lovers who spent a night together.

Morning came. The woman is leaving the house. During the night, snow started to fall… persistently and cheerfully it keeps falling, and the world stands still. He listens to her footsteps breaking into the fresh snow, and thinks of the sweet, refreshing smell of apples… and tells the snow to embrace his lover with the fragrance.

The unexpected combination of snow and apples stimulates my imagination. I sense that their rendezvous was a heart-warming one. In “Scent of Apples,” I wanted to express such a romantic, blissful feeling framed by the fresh morning snow.

Courtesy of the Princeton Review, New York.

Rain in Metropolis

1993-03-14T19:02:00.001-05:00

28" x 22"

I like rain. When I moved to California from Washington, D.C. and landed in a seven-year drought, I was made doubly aware of the dryness in the surroundings. I missed rain. I missed the sound of rain and the stillness of rainy days. In “Rain in Metropolis,” I wanted to paint the late spring rain and the nostalgia expressed by Ishikawa Takuboku in the following poem:

“Memory of the rain
in the fields of my home town,
of pale purple potato flowers
soaked in the rain…rain… in metropolis.”

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Timothy Larkin.

February Thaw

1993-03-14T18:54:00.001-05:00

34" x 22"

Winter does not last long in Tokyo. In February, spring creeps in under the cover of chill. The early spring snow is flaky, feather light, quick to melt – and not even cold to touch.

tiny shoots
in the melting snow
footprints of the spring

New Year's Kimono

1993-03-14T12:28:00.001-05:00

30" x 24"

New Year’s joy…
colorful kimono
tells it all

I remember with nostalgia the ritual of my family at the New Year. We gathered in our formal Tatami* room, with my father seated before the Tokonoma **. Everyone wore their best clothes. I was given a new kimono, and I greeted my father formally, with a deep bow. Then the festivity could begin with the special Sake and delicacies of the New Year’s feast.

* Straw mat.

** Alcove where a painting and flower arrangement were displayed.

YAMAZAKURA

1992-03-14T18:57:00.001-05:00

65" x 45"

Among typical Japanese flowers, Sakura is the most popular, the most cited in poetry, and perhaps the most respected. Poets extol its beauty at every stage: budding, full bloom, even the decay… but most of all, they celebrate the falling petals caught up in gusts of wind. One such beautiful moment is captured in the following Haiku by Takahama Kyoshi:

“In full bloom…
Not a single petal
on the ground!”

Wisteria

1992-03-13T19:01:00.001-05:00

45" x 60"

…then arrives the season of wisteria, when spring reaches its finest hour. The air in the garden is filled with the abundant scent of raceme. As opposed to the gaiety and motion that cherry blossoms signify, wisteria is the flower of elegance and silence. The poet Mizuhara Shuoshi wrote:

“Midday nap--
Awakened by the gentle breeze…
the scent of wisteria!"

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. William Yee.

The Tale of Genji

1991-03-14T22:48:00.001-05:00

48" x 35"

Through the centuries, white has been the most revered color in Japan. But, the color equally respected and popular at the Imperial Court of Heian (794-1192) was the color ‘almost-black’.

Deeper colors expressed a higher rank within the same grade. Everyone wanted to have garments dyed in deeper color, so much so that scarlet looked like almost purple, and purple became so deep that the imperial assembly would look almost black.

In “The Tale of Genji,” I tried to express the sense of colors of the Heian court while evoking the stories of the graceful and romantic court life.

Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. William Yee.

Wind Chimes

1991-03-14T22:40:00.001-05:00

48" x 40"

In the old days on the streets of Tokyo, the vendors’ songs marked the time of the day. Natto-uri came in the morning, selling fermented soybeans in thick straw tubes. By afternoon, Takezao-ya was calling out the virtues of his bamboo laundry poles. Often he was followed by Medicine Man, whose appearance was heralded by the sound of the metallic drawer handles beating a rhythm against the chest he carried on his back.

Toward evening, the wind-bell vendor came on his tricycle. The sound of his colorful chimes seemed to cool the air. The poet Takahama Kyoshi observed:

“From the eves
the peal of chimes filled the air…
the wind is rising.”

I wanted to paint “the peal of chimes” on this canvas.

HARI-KUYO

1991-03-14T18:51:00.001-05:00

27" x 24"

In the old days, in Japan, the kimono was the customary attire for men as well as women. Thus kimono sewing was a popular cottage industry. On February 8, broken needles were collected and offered to Awaji-sama, the guardian deity of women for continuing guidance. Legend has it that the needles were stuck in tofu to wrap them with tenderness in gratitude for their service.

day of gratitude--
in the tofu
broken needles

I wanted to capture the atmosphere of this custom, and express it on the canvas with a tactile sensation of fabric against wintry background.

Copius Summer

1991-03-13T22:43:00.001-05:00

60" x 40"

At the height of summer, the trumpet vine blooms with its yellow-red hanging flowers. It climbs up the fence, to the eaves, down the siding, and attracts hummingbirds.

At the height of summer, the colors of plants seem to soak up the warmth of the sun. No wind... only the hummingbirds stir the air in the afternoon garden.

The opening lines of John Keats' poem, Sleep and Poetry, comes to my mind:

"What is more gentle than a wind in summer?
What is more soothing than the pretty hummer
That stays one moment in an open flower
And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower?"

In "Copious Summer," I wanted to reflect the sense of contentment that I feel at the height of summer.

Last Leaves

1990-03-14T22:47:00.001-05:00

36" x 48"

"Falling leaves" has been a popular subject in poetry for many centuries because it is a counterpart of the human life's drama. I came across the following Haiku some years ago. I do not know who wrote it.

"A lone leaf
in winter sky.
Is there any difference
between this dried-up leaf
and me?"

I wanted to evoke the pathos of this Haiku in "Last Leaves." The drama reflected upon is the beauty of consummation, an ultimate end, represented by bared branches against the wintry sky.

After the Harvest

1990-03-14T22:46:00.001-05:00

50" x 58"

Driving through the farmland in the fall, we see rows of corn stalks standing high in the Indian summer sun along with the unsold Halloween pumpkins.

change of guard--
cornstalks
to scare the crows

On this canvas, I wanted to express the sense of fulfillment of the harvest time.

Mountain Flowers

1990-03-14T12:30:00.001-05:00

31" x 41"

From 1989 to 1991, I lived in Carmel Valley, California, in a house on the side of a mountain. I took daily walks, following the deer trails up the mountain, enjoying the view from the mountaintop. In early summer, the valley was somber with black-green oaks, but the hillside was alive with color – wild orchids, masses of California poppies – a profusion of mountain flowers in countless varieties.

deer trail
to the top of the hill
chasing flowers

Winter Woods

1989-03-14T22:50:00.001-05:00

24" x 30"

I lived at one time in a house perched on a hill surrounded by oak woods typical of Carmel Valley in California. I enjoyed watching the trees at close range through the change of seasons.

Old white-oaks are particularly majestic; they look regal even when bare. Proudly they spread gnarled boughs against the open sky, as if to give a benediction to the world around.

old white-oak
boughs gnarled
commander of winter woods

The Misty Moon

1988-03-14T22:45:00.001-05:00

40" x 30"

Deep in the night, the houses among the trees silently stand under the round, misty moon. Sasaki Nobutsuna wrote:

"The circle moon in the sky...
The houses sunk in silence
behind the doors."

I used to think that Dr. Sasaki was a very pompous scholar of Man'yoshu, a collection of poems of the 8th century. When I read this poem, however, I was delighted to note a relaxed quality reminiscent of a nursery song.

In "The Misty Moon," I wanted to paint a landscape to suggest the atmosphere that the poem describes.