expressing movement in etegami

In Japan, we are now smack in the middle of Golden Week, the period from April 29 to May 5 and whatever weekends can be roped in to expand its duration. There are four national holidays during this period, and since many companies chose to close for the in-between days, for much of the labor force it is the longest vacation period of the year. The etegami I posted today commemorates Kodomo-no-hi (Children's Day), which is celebrated every year on May 5. It is a drawing of a koi-nobori, one of the many huge carp-shaped windsocks that fly from tall poles next to homes, schools, and community parks all across Japan from April to early May. The custom honors children (originally only boys), and represents the hope that they will grow up healthy and strong like the carp, which is said to swim against the current. The number of koi-nobori flying from any one pole depends on the number of children (or sons) in the household. They are strung in the order of larger to smaller, and come in various colors. The largest one at the top represents the father of the family. Koi-nobori can be gorgeous works of art with beautiful details, and are treasured family heirlooms. They are made of soft fabric, with metal rings placed in the mouth openings, on which the string that connects them to the flag pole is tied. I wanted to convey the power and energy symbolized by the koi-nobori. So rather than showing how they look from afar --as pretty a sight as that is-- I chose to try a close-up of the Daddy Carp. Since the mouth isn't inside the frame of the card, someone unfamiliar with koi-nobori might think I was trying to draw a real live carp. But I was actually trying to show a koi-nobori whipping about in the wind, like a real live carp might swish and leap against a fast-moving river current. The accompanying words can be translated roughly as "with great vigor."

one part of the whole (crab claw)

One of my personal favorites among etegami I have received over the years is this one from Ogawa Yoko. The card she used is pinkish-brown rather than white. The subject is one crab claw reaching out from the bottom edge of the card. It stimulates the imagination in several ways. For one thing, you can almost feel the bumpy texture of the claw with your fingertips. And because only the claw is visible, while the main body of the crab is hidden from view, your mind is stimulated to imagine how the rest of the crab looks. Really interesting etegami seldom show the whole subject. Like this one of the crab claw, some part--or even most-- of the subject is left outside the "frame" of the card. I often do this myself by laying the card on a large sheet of cheap washi (the kind Japanese children use for writing brush practice). I start the drawing on the card, then spread outside the card onto the washi paper to complete the picture. This way, the part of the drawing that is on the card is more believable as a segment of the whole, and the imagination is stimulated to "see" beyond the frame of the card. Yoko accompanied her drawing with the words: " let's sit and talk a while." The words make you imagine that the claw is beckoning invitingly.

etegami and the 5 senses (see)

Newcomers to etegami are often advised to start by drawing a green pepper. I'm not completely sure why. Maybe because the focal point (the stem) is easy to identify. Maybe because the shape is hard to ruin beyond recognition. Lots of wobbles and irregular coloring only serve to give the subject greater character. I used a reed pen to draw this pair of bell peppers, so the lines are smoother than they would have been if I'd used a writing brush. One problem with a reed pen (at least the cheap ones I use), is that it tends to drop most of its ink as soon as the tip touches paper. Knowing this tendency, I tried to make swift clean lines starting from the rounded end (near the stem) and moving to the narrow end for each of the puffed segments running lengthwise along the body of the peppers. The pen dropped most of its ink at the start of the line, just where the pepper bulges, so the line is thickest there, contributing to the roundness of the bulges. Laying the paint on each of the bulges (leaving the main body of the pepper relatively pale) is another strategy for emphasizing the roundness of the bulges. I figured this out by trial and error, discarding at least twenty attempts before I managed this one. My sense of sight came into play again when choosing the accompanying words. Though it was simple coincidence that I drew one red bell pepper and one green bell pepper, my brain associated the colors with a traffic light, and the image of the traffic light brought Shel Silverstein's humorous rhyme to mind. The whole thing goes like this: When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns to blue with orange and lavender spots? I take it to mean that life is more complicated than they told you in kindergarten. And so it often is.

etegami and the 5 senses (taste)

I'm not sure what to call it. A vegetable? A fresh herb? An edible flower bud? This harbinger of spring is myoga (Zingiber mioga) which, according to Wikipedia, is "an herbaceous, deciduous, perennial native to Japan that is grown for its edible flower buds and flavorful shoots." The flower bud shown here is usually shredded finely and used as a garnish. It has a distinctive crunchy texture and a fragrant, fresh taste that cleans the palate. The bulb shape, the pretty color, the crunchy texture, and the singular taste of myoga is very familiar to the Japanese friends with whom I exchange etegami. The accompanying words are a quote from Job 34:3, "For the ear tests words as the tongue tastes food."

etegami and the 5 senses (smell)

Last summer, we received a case of peaches from a friend. These were top-of-the-line peaches of the hakuto (white peach) variety, from the part of Japan most famous for cultivating them. Fresh hakuto find their way into my mouth only once every few years. I think the giver intended for me to share the peaches with my neighbors, the usual custom around here when one receives a whole case of something yummy. But greedy me. I just couldn't bear to part with a single one of them. I could have peeled them right away, and frozen them in batches for later eating, but that didn't occur to me till it was too late. The peaches got riper and riper. They were beautiful to behold. The sweet juice was luscious to the mouth. The aroma was fragrant to the nostrils. My husband, the poor man, is allergic to peaches, so I had to bear this tasty burden all myself. (grin) At last there was just one over-ripe peach left, and that's when I realized it was begging to be made into an etegami. Did I convey its juiciness? Did I convey its fragrance? I hope so.

etegami and the 5 senses (touch)

This is a drawing of a bitter melon, one of the bitterest vegetables cultivated for human consumption. Very nutritious though. And a taste you can get hooked on. We eat a lot of it in the summer when the heat drags us down and makes us lose our appetites. The exterior of this oblong vegetable is deep green and extremely warty. Most of the bitter melons we get around here have been shipped from way down south in Okinawa or thereabouts, and I never saw one when I was growing up in northern Japan. Nowadays you can find them in any Japanese supermarket, and almost everyone has seen, touched, and tasted one at least once. Unlike the spiky bumps on a just-picked cucumber, the round and oblong bumps on a bitter melon are smooth to the touch, and they cover the vegetable thickly and completely. I tried to convey the texture of the bumps, but it was a difficult challenge.

etegami and the 5 senses (hear)

Recently, I was flipping through one of my growing collection of etegami books and my eye caught the phrase "drawing etegami with each of your five senses." I may have been doing this all along, but doing it consciously and doing it unconsciously are two different things. It's probably a concept one learns in Art 101, but I am not an Artist with a capital A, and I guess I never did take that class. What little I know about etegami is like the treasures and tools a character in a role-playing video game wins, or stumbles across, during his heroic adventures. I looked through the etegami I've done up till now and picked out a few that attempt to communicate a particular sensory perception. The one posted here is of a shakuhachi (Japanese bamboo flute). The shakuhachi is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, made from a whole segment of bamboo, and this particular one incorporates the actual root end of the bamboo plant at the wide end (opposite the end you blow into), giving it even more character than usual. I've taken shakuhachi lessons. It's a notoriously difficult instrument to master. The sound it produces is like the wind-- like the real wind blowing through real forests and real canyons. And like the wind, it whispers, sighs, moans, howls, screeches, and croons. Sometimes rich, deep, and melodic. Sometimes weak and ephemeral. The drawing-- and the words-- will surely convey this aural sensation to those who are even slightly familiar with the references. For those who are unfamiliar with either, it may be more of a struggle.