inspired by proverbs

As the number of etegami I am committed to send in any given month keeps increasing, and the time I can spare for drawing them keeps decreasing, I find that doing a series on a particular theme helps me move forward at the desired pace. I had been doing this in a vague and limited sort of way all along, but exposure to the world of international mail artists, and their frequent topical mail art "calls," has given me a new appreciation for choosing specific themes to propel my work.

Last year, a brief obsession with geta inspired me to produce several etegami illustrating sayings having to do with these traditional Japanese wooden clogs. They turned out to be quite popular with my friends in both the East and the West, so I decided I would set myself a goal to produce 150 proverbs-themed etegami in 2010, at the rate of three per week. I was a little worried that setting such a long-term goal would become burdensome and take away the spontaneous pleasure of making etegami. But no-siree, quite the contrary! It seems that everywhere I look I see things that remind me of another proverb or saying, and I can hardly wait to get it on paper.

The most effective etegami is one that represents a concept considerably larger than you might expect from a simple, close-up drawing of what is often a single item, or sometimes even a fragment of one item. The accompanying words make this possible. But the whole concept doesn't need to be-- nor should it be-- spelled out. A little indirectness is best. Like haiku, there should be empty spaces for the observer to fill in with his own imagination.

The etegami I've posted above illustrates the saying: Warau kado ni wa fuku kitaru (Good fortune comes to the home where there is laughter). The image shows a cup of tea and a partly peeled tangerine. Imagine the low table around which the family is gathered--perhaps watching a funny show on TV. Whenever someone laughs, it shakes the table and spills the tea. It is a very famous proverb, so I wrote only the first half of it at the top of the card. In the bottom right corner is the character for good fortune (fuku). What do you think? Is that too indirect?

I've posted other examples of etegami from my Japanese proverbs series on the right side of this page. If you have time and interest in turning a favorite saying of your language or culture into an etegami, let's see what you can come up with! And don't forget the new Food/Recipe- themed mailart call I posted on the right (near the top) side of the page. I'm counting on you (yes, you!) to participate. he he :p

inspired by haiku

My etegami are often accompanied by fragments of poetry. No, not my own. Poetry that other people have written. Sometimes the drawing will bring a poem to mind. Other times a poem I've read or heard will compel me to express it in etegami. This is especially true of haiku poetry, and even more true of the haiku of Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), the internationally renowned wandering poet of Japan. When I drew this closeup of a single white flower, it was his haiku on the sound of the temple bell that came to mind. Maybe the numerous yellow stamens reminded me of the knob-ended sticks that are used for hitting some kinds of gongs or temple bells. Whatever it was that went through my subconscious thoughts, the simplicity of the image and the simplicity of haiku seemed to be a perfect match. Try pairing an etegami drawing with one of your favorite haiku, or compose one of your own for the purpose.

all kinds of tigers

While I was delighted by the number of nengajou (traditional Japanese New Year cards) I received this year, the percentage of hand-drawn cards was probably the smallest in decades, and has me puzzled. I had imagined that the ailing economy would result in an increase of hand-made cards, but apparently this does not follow. Of the three cards I've posted here, only the one in the center was done by traditional etegami method-- with sumi ink on soft washi cards. I don't know if you can tell that the sender used gold paint on this card. Gold and silver gansai paints are not included in standard gansai sets. They have to be ordered separately, and are used for special occasions such as New Year's.

The card on the right is a block print. Yes, the cards depict tigers. Not kitty cats. It seems that in these modern times, people hesitate to use ferocious images on their felicitous greeting cards. I've noticed this in other years, whether it be the year of the mouse or the year of the dragon. Images tend to be cute or humorous. The card on the left was made on a computer, but I included it because it is an original design by an elderly sculptor friend of mine. Notice the stripes hanging off the tiger's body. The accompanying words declare the sender's intent to lose weight in 2010.

etegami recipe cards

While I wait impatiently for the chance to post some of the Etegami New Year's cards I expect to receive on New Years Day (fingers crossed), let me tell you about yet another fun use for etegami: Etegami Recipe Cards. This is something that evolved out of my habit of sending etegami thank-you cards to several friends who send me yearly presents of the agricultural products their home prefectures are famous for.

Many years ago, when I first started sending out etegami thank-you cards, I simply drew a picture of the gift received with some appropriate words of gratitude. Later, for variety, I began accompanying my drawings with the names of the dishes I had made from their gift, and still later, I started writing down entire recipes, either alongside the drawing or on the other side. My friends know how enthusiastic I am about cooking, and that is one of the reasons they enjoy sending me the produce. So what better way to show them my appreciation than by sharing the recipes for the yummy dishes made possible by their gift?

The Potato Etegami above is one of the earliest thank-you cards I sent to a woman who sends me a big box of potatoes every year from a potato-growing region of Hokkaido. This particular one is the first time I accompanied the drawing with the names of all the dishes I made from her gift. The Udon Etegami (noodles in a bamboo basket) is one I drew for a woman in the US who has a keen interest in cuisine from around the world. I did not include a recipe, but on the other side, I explained the culture of udon and the different ways it is served depending on the season of the year.

At the same time that my thank-you cards were evolving, I had begun to attach etegami drawings to the recipes I was posting on my food blogs. Although I didn't write the recipes on the cards themselves, they were meant to illustrate the recipes. The Banana Etegami shown above is one that I drew to illustrate my "Screaming Banana Chocolate Fondue Pie." The strawberry-stuffed rice cake drawing was the first one that illustrated a completed dish, rather than just the main ingredient from which the dish had been made. It was initially the last drawing in my Strawberry Diary series, but I later used it to illustrate a recipe I posted on my food blog. Since then, I have drawn many etegami of the results of my cooking, and these days I usually write the recipe on address side of the card. One recent example is the etegami showing Lotus Root Cakes. I posted the recipe, along with photographs of the cooking process, on my Wagashi (Japanese confections) blog.

If any of this stimulates your creativity, please try making a hand-drawn recipe card (etegami if possible) and send it to me. I'd LOVE to see what you all come up with.

new year's cards

Japan has a long tradition of exchanging New Year's greetings in writing, apparently going as far back as the Nara period (AD 700s). It wasn't until 1873, when the Japan Postal Service began to print standardized postcards requiring less postage than an ordinary letter, that the idea of postcard greetings began to catch on. In 1899, the current system of nenga yuubin (New Year mail) was conceived, in which all mail marked as New Year's greetings, and which is posted within a specific time frame in December, will be delivered en mass on New Year's Day. There are lots of other delightful historical details on the subject that I don't have room to post here, but maybe you can read them for yourself on Wikipedia Japan (in Japanese only, sorry).

There are many cool things about traditional Japanese New Year's cards, not the least of which is how images and words are used. Certain images are associated with the New Year holiday specifically, and with spring (which New Year's day is symbolically the start of) in general. For example, the etegami I drew for New Year's 2009 depicts sprouting water chestnuts (water caltrops). The sprouts make it a felicitous image and conducive to word play, a common device with etegami in general, but especially at New Year's. The accompanying words translate roughly to: [the new year brings with it] the sprouts of new possibilities.

For New Year's 2010, I made several new designs. One depicts a toy top, symbolic of the new year because it is one of a group of traditional toys that children used to play with during the New Year holidays. The accompanying words say: May 2010 be a well-balanced year [for you]. Word play again. The rest of my holiday etegami are variations on tiger images, because 2010 is the Year of the Tiger. I've posted one of these here. The animal representing a particular year is probably the most common motif for Japanese New Year's cards.

Not all New Year's cards are etegami, of course. These days most people whip up greeting cards on their computers, using stock images and formulaic words. If you have over 100 people on your greeting card list, as I do, it really is too much to expect of yourself to hand-make each one. What I do is draw several original designs, and color-copy my favorites to send to the people on my list. For my fellow etegami artists, though, I do make an effort to send original cards only.

Tell me what kind of cards you will be sending this year. Something hand-made I hope. After the holidays I plan to post a sample of some of the etegami cards I receive from my Japanese etegami colleagues.

christmas cards

Time passes very quickly for me these days, but never so fast as when I notice that it's time to make my holiday greeting cards. I try to get Christmas cards posted before the end of November, because at this time of the year, even air mail delivery to overseas addresses can be delayed beyond belief.

The etegami pictured here is the one I drew for Christmas 2007. It depicts the berries of the mountain ash (rowan) tree, each berry covered with a cap of snow. Mountain ash is one of my favorite trees, and while they grow profusely in the mountains of Hokkaido, they are also a favorite for planting along city streets. The berries start out pale and yellow, hardly noticeable in the green foliage, but by the end of fall, when the leaves have dropped off the branches and it begins to snow, the berries are bright, bright red.

Snow is a tricky thing to depict on a white card. I added blue shadows to make the snow more distinct, but this didn't show up very well in digital form. Nevertheless, it remains one of my favorite etegami. In my next post, I want to write about nengajou, the New Year cards that are traditionally exchanged in Japan. All the mail art I do now has its roots in the tradition of nengajou. Stay tuned!

redefining failure

I once received an email from a woman who confessed she had gotten discouraged by her brief encounter with etegami because it was a "one-shot deal." I assume she meant that the success or failure of a piece often becomes apparent with the first few strokes, and there's simply no way to un-do the damage. Not to mention that a perfectly good drawing can be ruined when you add the words. Or sadder yet, a poorly placed or mis-pressed name seal can mar an otherwise well-balanced piece at the very, very end. I am familiar with the frustration this causes, and have filled numerous trash bags with torn-up etegami to prove it.

When I first started Etegami, I was advised that if I was unhappy with a piece, I should set it aside for a time. It often happens that a piece which seems all "wrong" will not look wrong at all when you come back to it later. I've saved a lot of etegami from oblivion this way. But I came to realize that there was something else-- something more troubling-- going on each time I judged one of my etegami a success or failure. I was looking at my work and thinking: "Does this piece reflect well on me?" or, "Will the receiver admire me for this?" And I recognized that there was something very wrong, very un-Etegami, in those thoughts. Etegami is not about making yourself look good. Etegami is about enjoying the process, and about wanting the receiver to feel good, amused, comforted, or maybe stimulated to thought.

I've mentioned before that the motto of the modern Etegami movement can be summarized as: "Clumsy makes good Etegami." Anyone can draw etegami. You certainly don't need to be an artist, and you don't need to have what the world calls talent. The more unselfconscious the mind and unrefined the skills, the more charm an etegami often has. I confess I am weak. Praise is as sweet as honey. But in craving honey I am in danger of losing the Etegami spirit.

This is all by way of explaining the attached photo. Many things went "wrong" with this drawing of a small orange and yellow pumpkin. Almost from the beginning, I was unhappy with the shape. Then I didn't wait for the sumi outline to dry before I started coloring it, so the outline got smeared. By the time I added the words, I had given up on it, so I wrote sloppily and overlapped the drawing, which I usually try not to do. I set it aside for a time, and later decided the squashed drawing and sloppy writing had a sort of charm. Then, as I was writing out the address of a new friend, I inadvertently laid the card face down on a surface spotted from a rubber air mail stamp, and the red ink transferred to the drawing. There was no way to un-do it. What to do? What to do?! I caught myself thinking, "How is this etegami going to reflect on me?" And that did it. I was not going to let my vanity keep me from sending this card. "You don't need talent to draw etegami," I had written in my brief message on the other side. So there was no reason to hesitate. Hopefully this clumsy card will encourage my new friend to give etegami a try. And if not, it may at least amuse her.