The final item in this History of my Archive in 10 Objects found in my father’s loft are two sketchbooks from my earliest days in Japan in 1987.
Just after I arrived in Tokyo in January 1987 I bought a number sketchbooks of various sizes and spent a lot of the first year in particular being the sketching tourist, drawing, painting and photographing downtown Tokyo, the people around me, the whole experience of being in Japan. I didn’t think any sketchbooks from early days in Japan had survived, I had a series of major purges for one reason or another over the 21 years I was there, the biggest down-size being at the very end when I left most of my belongings behind and threw away much of my commercial illustration artwork.
These two sketchbooks survived because I brought them back from Japan in the early ’90’s after buying a house in London, they stayed there until I later gave up the house, then found their way with a few other items to my dad’s loft.
Iidabashi, 6th May 1987. This old building stood near the West exit of the station (the Kagurazaka side), and was I believe demolished in the early ’90’s development of the area. pen & ink.
Street vendor’s cart, Yotsuya, 6th May 1987. pen & ink
There are so many memories wrapped up in these pages, that first year in Tokyo was a roller-coaster of experiences – I had a sponsor when I first arrived in the country, they had no real work for me but nevertheless required me to sit in their dingy downtown office every day, doing literally nothing except breathe in the permament fog of tobacco smoke (I was a non-smoker) and hope the editor would come back to the office and give me permission to go out. Initial joy at being in Tokyo was soon replaced by deep unhappiness, after six frustrating months of this our relationship finally unravelled, and I was out on my own in Shitamachi, free but penniless, fraught with fear over the future. These two sketchbooks cover that period.
The office, waiting for permission to leave, 17th June 1987. ballpen
Because I was under-employed (and yet tightly under the watchful eye of the sponsor), I leaped on any opportunity to slip out of the nicotine stained office in Iidabashi and study Japanese in the quiet of the British Council building, or go walk-about in downtown Tokyo. When I eventually found my own place to rent in Yanaka and parted company with the sponsor these sketchbooks were both a comfort and way to come to terms with Tokyo, it’s architecture, atmosphere, details, all things that would serve me well later on.
Roppongi, 18th April 1987, ballpen
On the Hibiya Line, 8th October 1987. ballpen
So these drawings were at a point of change for me, initially a creative escape from my sponsor’s office, they then became a comfort when I was on my own in Yanaka, it was a time just before things started to move for me, so looking back at them now brings a mixture of nostalgia and vivid memories of the turmoil I was in then.
Mishima village near Sendai, painted during a volunteer weekend with UNICEF, Summer 1987. watercolour
With these drawings I come to the end of the 10 pieces from my archives. Discovering all of these things in my late father’s loft has made me very contemplative about my current position in life, especially after his passing. They’re a reflection not only of my early development, but also how creativity tends to mirror physical changes in life. It’s never a smooth path, often creative progress happens in spurts, due to some factors affecting life or physical circumstances. But experience and volativity in circumstances alone can’t force your creativity either, it’s equally possible that change in the wrong direction can herald stagnation or artistic cul-de-sacs. There are no easy predictions.
If there’s anything these old archive things has taught me though, it’s that on the whole change is generally good, provided you establish a goal that’s just out of reach. Provided you maintain this goal and keep pushing towards it, things will most definitely get better!
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