importance of system thinking的八卦，Yahoo名人娛樂都在討論

英文文宣 - 為何我們戴口罩 2.0

Why Asians are so radical in containment of this virus and why should everyone be doing the same?

Why do I write this post? Because as a healthcare professional, I had to do a COVID-19 test so that I can ensure I won’t be passing it to the patients I have contact with. And guess what? HALF OF THE PATIENTS waiting for COVID-19 test at the lab ARE NOT WEARING a mask and are coughing like crazy.

Previously I talked about the rationale of asian wearing masks in a public health point of view.

Today, I will talk a bit more from a humanity perspective, why you should wear a mask if you have one, perform social distancing as much as possible and minimize unnecessary outdoor activities.

Again, the beauty of history is for us to learn, so we don’t step on the same shit over and over again.

Yes, we had a huge shit in 2003 during SARS epidemic where hundreds of lives were lost, economy took a huge toll, millions of jobs and businesses are gone, countless people went bankrupt. And today, we don’t want to step on the same shit ever again. Here are what we learned and why we think you should not take this virus lightly.

It is not uncommon to see the following arguments from westerners, DESPITE the outbreak is imminent and uncontrolled currently in the UK, EU & USA.

1. Stop reporting number of cases, this is fear mongering

-> I wonder whether you should fear more if every country is not reporting cases and try to suppress all relevant information like what China did in Nov and Dec 2019.

A. Introduction to public health 1001 teaches us that it is incredibly important to remain high transparency between the health authority and public so that the public can ADJUST their LIFESTYLE according to the degree of outbreak. If there are many community transmission cases, one should refrain from attending and public events and minimize public exposure so that they can reduce the risk of infection and the risk of passing to other people should they be infected.

B. Reporting cases transparently is to allow other coutries to implement appropriate border control and screening measures to ensure that when you travel to other countries, you are not BRINGING THE VIRUS an INFECTING other people in those countries.

C. When someone says giving briefs and reports everyday or every few hours is fear mongering, it just reflects how inconsiderate and irresponsible you as a person in this society are. Because you NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT OTHERS, you only THINK OF YOURSELF that the news and reports are making you nervous. If you are responsible and considerate, you would have understood that, this COVID-19 is not small thing, it has the potential to wipe out a significant proportion of our population if not dealt with vigilantly. If you have thought about these repercussion, you wouldn’t say it’s fear mongering, you would be actively advocating for containment of the virus.

2. Why are you forcing people to do social distancing and limit their activities?

-> why? Because these are the most EFFECTIVE MEASURES that cost NO MONEY.

A. No one is telling you to hoard toilet paper or soap or hand sanitizer. We are only telling you to be vigilant, stop going out for bars, pubs, clubs, sports activities. Does that cost you an arm or leg to not go out? NO! It even save you a couple of hundreds if you do it for a few weeks. What does it bring us? LESS, A LOT LESS, A LOT A LOT LESS community transmission cases which are extremely difficult to contain in a public health point of view.

B. second, if you are now living in a deserted island by yourself, I honestly couldn’t give two shits whether you isolate yourself, perform social distancing and minimize social contacts or not. But you are LIVING in a HUMAN COMMUNITY where you are not the only one that want to survive and live happily ever after. Everyone has his responsibility in public health, you not doing your part is essentially putting other at risk of serious health repercussion which I don’t think anyone is entitled to do so.

3. This is just another flu, most young folks are in mild condition

-> Surely at-risk population such as elderly, patients with chronic diseases and cancers, immunocompromised patients don’t quite matter in this society. Might as well get rid of them? Are you seriously that selfish?

A. Sure, you probably can survive this virus if you are a young and fit individual. But guess what? Continue going out when you are asymptomatic it mildly symptomatic, thinking that it’s just a flu so not even wearing a mask, shaking everybody’s hands and kissing everyone’s cheek, you probably bring a few down to ICU if not the morgue. The mortality rate between ar-risk population is incomparable to the general population. You are just a selfish prick if you believe that this is just a flu because you never even thought about how other lives may be affected and love ones of others may be gone because of your actions. Yes, SELFISH PRICK.

B. I couldn’t reinforce enough on the importance of education and reading in this dreadful moment. Whoever believes this is just a flu, please spend an hour and read the publication in various medical journals such as Lancet and NEJM and for once in your life, read the mortality and complication rate of patients NOT YOUR AGE AND CATEGORIES, then we can talk again on the ridiculous perception of “this is just a flu”

C. Some people think that as long as they don’t die, it’s not serious. Ever heard of the term “complication” and “sequelae”? Again, spend an hour and go read, then you will know why it is not just a flu and how your inconsiderate choice of actions in this community can permanently damage someone’s lung +/- testicles. Yeh, go read if you don’t know, education is very important these days.

No, I personally am not super worried of COVID-19, because I consider myself young and fit and I perhaps exceptionally high standard of infection control. But I’m worried about the patients that we have in the hospitals, I’m worried about my parents who have chronic diseases, I’m worried about the general public who may not be able to access medical services should this outbreak continue to be uncontrolled because our medical system is heavily overloaded now.

Yes, mortality rate is not super high if we have hospital beds, if we can provide critical care services to patients with complication, if there are enough manpower to handle all severe cases so we don’t need to end up like Italy and make that painful decision to choose who to live and who to go.

Please, wake up and start preparing for it. Be a responsible and considerate person in this dreadful moment.

【 黎安友專文 l 中國如何看待香港危機 】

美國哥倫比亞大學的資深中國通黎安友（Andrew Nathan）教授最近在《外交事務》（Foreign Affairs）雜誌的專文，值得一看。

黎安友是台灣許多中國研究學者的前輩級老師，小英總統去哥大演講時，正是他積極促成。小英在美國的僑宴，黎安友也是座上賓。

這篇文章的標題是：「中國如何看待香港危機：北京自我克制背後的真正原因」。

文章很長，而且用英文寫，需要花點時間閱讀。大家有空可以看看。

Andrew這篇文章的立論基礎，是來自北京核心圈的匿名說法。以他在學術界的地位，我相信他對消息來源已經做了足夠的事實查核或確認。

這篇文章，是在回答一個疑問：中共為何在香港事件如此自制？有人說是怕西方譴責，有人說是怕損害香港的金融地位。

都不是。這篇文章認為，上述兩者都不是中共的真實顧慮。

無論你多痛恨中共，你都必須真實面對你的敵人。

中共是搞經濟階級鬥爭起家的，當年用階級鬥爭打敗國民黨。而現在，中共正用這樣的思維處理香港議題。

文章有一句話：“China’s response has been rooted not in anxiety but in confidence.” 這句話道盡階級鬥爭的精髓。

中共一點都不焦慮。相反地，中共很有自信，香港的菁英階級及既得利益的收編群體，到最後會支持中共。

這個分化的心理基礎，來自經濟上的利益。

文中還提到，鄧小平當年給香港五十年的一國兩制，就是為了「給香港足夠的時間適應中共的政治系統」。

1997年，香港的GDP佔中國的18%。2018年，這個比例降到2.8%。

今日的香港經濟，在中共的評估，是香港需要中國，而不是中國需要香港。

中共正在在意的，是香港的高房價問題。香港的房價，在過去十年內三倍翻漲。

文章是這樣描述：
“Housing prices have tripled over the past decade; today, the median price of a house is more than 20 times the median gross annual household income. The median rent has increased by nearly 25 percent in the past six years. As many as 250,000 people are waiting for public housing. At the same time, income growth for many Hong Kong residents has fallen below the overall increase in cost of living.”

無論你同不同意這些說法，都請你試圖客觀地看看這篇文章。

有趣的是，黎安友在文章中部分論點引述了他的消息來源（但他並沒有加上個人評論），部分是他自己的觀察。

#護台胖犬劉仕傑
Instagram: old_dog_chasing_ball

新書：《 我在外交部工作 》

**

黎安友原文：

https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/china/2019-09-30/how-china-sees-hong-kong-crisis?fbclid=IwAR2PwHns5gWrw0fT0sa5LuO8zgv4PhLmkYfegtBgoOMCD3WJFI3w5NTe0S4

How China Sees the Hong Kong Crisis
The Real Reasons Behind Beijing’s Restraint

By Andrew J. Nathan September 30, 2019

Massive and sometimes violent protests have rocked Hong Kong for over 100 days. Demonstrators have put forward five demands, of which the most radical is a call for free, direct elections of Hong Kong’s chief executive and all members of the territory’s legislature: in other words, a fully democratic system of local rule, one not controlled by Beijing. As this brazen challenge to Chinese sovereignty has played out, Beijing has made a show of amassing paramilitary forces just across the border in Shenzhen. So far, however, China has not deployed force to quell the unrest and top Chinese leaders have refrained from making public threats to do so.

Western observers who remember the violent crackdown on pro-democracy demonstrators in Tiananmen Square 30 years ago have been puzzled by Beijing’s forbearance. Some have attributed Beijing’s restraint to a fear of Western condemnation if China uses force. Others have pointed to Beijing’s concern that a crackdown would damage Hong Kong’s role as a financial center for China.

But according to two Chinese scholars who have connections to regime insiders and who requested anonymity to discuss the thinking of policymakers in Beijing, China’s response has been rooted not in anxiety but in confidence. Beijing is convinced that Hong Kong’s elites and a substantial part of the public do not support the demonstrators and that what truly ails the territory are economic problems rather than political ones—in particular, a combination of stagnant incomes and rising rents. Beijing also believes that, despite the appearance of disorder, its grip on Hong Kong society remains firm. The Chinese Communist Party has long cultivated the territory’s business elites (the so-called tycoons) by offering them favorable economic access to the mainland. The party also maintains a long-standing loyal cadre of underground members in the territory. And China has forged ties with the Hong Kong labor movement and some sections of its criminal underground. Finally, Beijing believes that many ordinary citizens are fearful of change and tired of the disruption caused by the demonstrations.

Beijing therefore thinks that its local allies will stand firm and that the demonstrations will gradually lose public support and eventually die out. As the demonstrations shrink, some frustrated activists will engage in further violence, and that in turn will accelerate the movement’s decline. Meanwhile, Beijing is turning its attention to economic development projects that it believes will address some of the underlying grievances that led many people to take to the streets in the first place.

This view of the situation is held by those at the very top of the regime in Beijing, as evidenced by recent remarks made by Chinese President Xi Jinping, some of which have not been previously reported. In a speech Xi delivered in early September to a new class of rising political stars at the Central Party School in Beijing, he rejected the suggestion of some officials that China should declare a state of emergency in Hong Kong and send in the People’s Liberation Army. “That would be going down a political road of no return,” Xi said. “The central government will exercise the most patience and restraint and allow the [regional government] and the local police force to resolve the crisis.” In separate remarks that Xi made around the same time, he spelled out what he sees as the proper way to proceed: “Economic development is the only golden key to resolving all sorts of problems facing Hong Kong today.”

ONE COUNTRY, TWO SYSTEMS, MANY QUESTIONS

Chinese decision-makers are hardly surprised that Hong Kong is chafing under their rule. Beijing believes it has treated Hong Kong with a light hand and has supported the territory’s economy in many ways, especially by granting it special access to the mainland’s stocks and currency markets, exempting it from the taxes and fees that other Chinese provinces and municipalities pay the central government, and guaranteeing a reliable supply of water, electricity, gas, and food. Even so, Beijing considers disaffection among Hong Kong’s residents a natural outgrowth of the territory’s colonial British past and also a result of the continuing influence of Western values. Indeed, during the 1984 negotiations between China and the United Kingdom over Hong Kong’s future, the Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping suggested following the approach of “one country, two systems” for 50 years precisely to give people in Hong Kong plenty of time to get used to the Chinese political system.

But “one country, two systems” was never intended to result in Hong Kong spinning out of China’s control. Under the Basic Law that China crafted as Hong Kong’s “mini-constitution,” Beijing retained the right to prevent any challenge to what it considered its core security interests. The law empowered Beijing to determine if and when Hong Kongers could directly elect the territory’s leadership, allowed Beijing to veto laws passed by the Hong Kong Legislative Council, and granted China the right to make final interpretations of the Basic Law. And there would be no question about who had a monopoly of force. During the negotiations with the United Kingdom, Deng publicly rebuked a top Chinese defense official—General Geng Biao, who at the time was a patron of a rising young official named Xi Jinping—for suggesting that there might not be any need to put troops in Hong Kong. Deng insisted that a Chinese garrison was necessary to symbolize Chinese sovereignty.

Statements made by U.S. politicians in support of the recent demonstrations only confirm Beijing’s belief that Washington seeks to inflame radical sentiments in Hong Kong.

At first, Hong Kongers seemed to accept their new role as citizens of a rising China. In 1997, in a tracking poll of Hong Kong residents regularly conducted by researchers at the University of Hong Kong, 47 percent of respondents identified themselves as “proud” citizens of China. But things went downhill from there. In 2012, the Hong Kong government tried to introduce “patriotic education” in elementary and middle schools, but the proposed curriculum ran into a storm of local opposition and had to be withdrawn. In 2014, the 79-day Umbrella Movement brought hundreds of thousands of citizens into the streets to protest Beijing’s refusal to allow direct elections for the chief executive. And as authoritarianism has intensified under Xi’s rule, events such as the 2015 kidnapping of five Hong Kong–based publishers to stand trial in the mainland further soured Hong Kong opinion. By this past June, only 27 percent of respondents to the tracking poll described themselves as “proud” to be citizens of China. This year’s demonstrations started as a protest against a proposed law that would have allowed Hong Kongers suspected of criminal wrongdoing to be extradited to the mainland but then developed into a broad-based expression of discontent over the lack of democratic accountability, police brutality, and, most fundamentally, what was perceived as a mainland assault on Hong Kong’s unique identity.

Still, Chinese leaders do not blame themselves for these shifts in public opinion. Rather, they believe that Western powers, especially the United States, have sought to drive a wedge between Hong Kong and the mainland. Statements made by U.S. politicians in support of the recent demonstrations only confirm Beijing’s belief that Washington seeks to inflame radical sentiments in Hong Kong. As Xi explained in his speech in September:
As extreme elements in Hong Kong turn more and more violent, Western forces, especially the United States, have been increasingly open in their involvement. Some extreme anti-China forces in the United States are trying to turn Hong Kong into the battleground for U.S.-Chinese rivalry…. They want to turn Hong Kong's high degree of autonomy into de facto independence, with the ultimate objective to contain China's rise and prevent the revival of the great Chinese nation.

Chinese leaders do not fear that a crackdown on Hong Kong would inspire Western antagonism. Rather, they take such antagonism as a preexisting reality—one that goes a long way toward explaining why the disorder in Hong Kong broke out in the first place. In Beijing’s eyes, Western hostility is rooted in the mere fact of China’s rise, and thus there is no use in tailoring China’s Hong Kong strategy to influence how Western powers would respond.

IT’S NOT ABOUT THE BENJAMINS

The view that Xi has not deployed troops because of Hong Kong’s economic importance to the mainland is also misguided, and relies on an outdated view of the balance of economic power. In 1997, Hong Kong’s GDP was equivalent to 18 percent of the mainland’s. Most of China’s foreign trade was conducted through Hong Kong, providing China with badly needed hard currencies. Chinese companies raised most of their capital on the Hong Kong stock exchange. Today, things are vastly different. In 2018, Hong Kong’s GDP was equal to only 2.7 percent of the mainland’s. Shenzhen alone has overtaken Hong Kong in terms of GDP. Less than 12 percent of China’s exports now flow through Hong Kong. The combined market value of China’s domestic stock exchanges in Shanghai and Shenzhen far surpasses that of the Hong Kong Stock Exchange, and Chinese companies can also list in Frankfurt, London, New York, and elsewhere.

Although Hong Kong remains the largest offshore clearing center for renminbi, that role could easily be filled by London or Singapore, if Chinese leaders so desired.
Investment flowing into and out of China still tends to pass through financial holding vehicles set up in Hong Kong, in order to benefit from the region’s legal protections. But China’s new foreign investment law (which will take effect on January 1, 2020) and other recent policy changes mean that such investment will soon be able to bypass Hong Kong. And although Hong Kong remains the largest offshore clearing center for renminbi, that role could easily be filled by London or Singapore, if Chinese leaders so desired.

Wrecking Hong Kong’s economy by using military force to impose emergency rule would not be a good thing for China. But the negative effect on the mainland’s prosperity would not be strong enough to prevent Beijing from doing whatever it believes is necessary to maintain control over the territory.

CAN’T BUY ME LOVE?

As it waits out the current crisis, Beijing has already started tackling the economic problems that it believes are the source of much of the anger among Hong Kongers. Housing prices have tripled over the past decade; today, the median price of a house is more than 20 times the median gross annual household income. The median rent has increased by nearly 25 percent in the past six years. As many as 250,000 people are waiting for public housing. At the same time, income growth for many Hong Kong residents has fallen below the overall increase in cost of living.

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….