There aren’t many colors in nature that I don’t like, but I especially love every shade of white from the purest snowy whites to the murky muddled milky colors that hint toward alabaster, bisque, eggnog or ecru. But white is tricky and having worked in fine art and residential/interior/product design since university, I accept that white needs a foil to really be appreciated. You can only see that whisper of yellow or touch of purple when the white nudges up against a deeper color, like an earthy burnt siena or rich chestnut. And don’t get me started on brown….Maybe one day I will write an homage to brown and it will be a New York Times’ best seller? Or not and all my friends will say, “I told you so, no one likes brown.”
While on an artist residency that required us to sail about Svalbard on a tall ship for three weeks at the beginning of the Polar Night, my cabinmate L, looked at me like I was on holiday from an insane asylum when I mentioned how much I love brown. I like to think my stellar interpersonal skills, snoreless sleeping, and painting portfolio swayed L to at least not reject the idea that brown can be beautiful if not downright intriguing, evocative, and sophisticated.
That all said, I bring up white and brown because over Thanksgiving sitting around our living room, my college friend V, suggested I start a blog or newsletter that knitted together all the things I have done and love to do, from architectural and industrial design to cooking, baking, sewing and traveling. And to also include thoughts on my art practice which is the one type of making that makes me feel most vulnerable and exposed. V is one of my dearest friends in the world and I cherish her influence as a business badass (which I am not), and her comradery as a friend who walks between two cultures. In her case, she is Greek, but living in Texas, and in mine, I am half-Japanese.
But back to white and brown…
When I picture V it is with a backdrop of whitewashed Cycladic buildings with exploding fuchsia bougainvillea tumbling from around a corner. The crisp sunlight causing a vivid distinction between shadow and light. Here in New Mexico we have a similar solar intensity in part because of our climate, but also because of our altitude. But this high desert landscape also provides an endless supply of brown.
Over the past decade my painting practice has included using soil pigment in the work which is sometimes collected and applied by me, or sometimes randomly absorbed by the raw linen canvas that I “walk” over the landscape. This bio-supplied color palette suits my constitution which can be a bit somber. And I think the influence of my Japanese heritage becomes evident in the materiality of my work.
But my brown is V’s white. Her candor, wisdom, the radiant Greek island palette, and the foil of friendship spanning across all the joys and pains of life have given me such deep gratitude for her white to my brown…
crinkle cookies + my painting
Once in awhile I make food that looks like my art and so I photograph them side-by-side…