Sometimes a simple word has the power to open up the mind, unlocking doors that you didn’t know were there and didn’t realise were locked. Art has a similar power, and plays with the subconscious levels that stir something in you and either push you into action, or creates a feeling that sits dormant until the right conditions arrive, allowing it to blossom in some form.

I can recall two particular instances where I felt I found a key that opened up a new perspective. Both instances occurred in an art gallery. There are many, many more instances that have also happened outside of an art gallery, but in this post I am going to highlight just two, as I can see a clear correlation between that moment I saw that work of art, and the art I started to make after that. There is a real clear source of inspiration.

The first instance happened in the Morohashi Museum in Fukushima, Japan. My husband and I visited here in 2013 as I was a huge admirer of Dali, and this was the only permanent exhibition of Dali's art in Asia. It’s a bit of a unique place and is not opened during the colder months of winter. The heavy snowfall in the colder season hinders access to the museum so it is shut for all of that time. You can read more about the place here https://www.japan.travel/en/spot/1742/

There are a lot of Dali’s significant works housed here, included large oil paintings, bronze sculptures and lithograph prints. But the one artwork that I couldn’t walk away from was the “Portrait of Ana Maria Dali” (1926), in pencil on paper. There was a marked gentleness, light-handed use of graphite, a tenderness that really touched me and made me see the importance of a light-touch for pencil drawings. I had always thought I had to be forceful and hard with pencil drawings, because that’s what I learnt about contour drawing in art class. Seeing this piece gave me permission to be light-handed and gentle in my own drawings. There was also an obvious contrast between this sketch and all the other surrealist works, large sculptures and flamboyant furniture. It felt to me, a tender and vulnerable side of Dali that was very different to the showman persona he had for the public audience.

Seeing that portrait in person, there was a light energy that can’t really be captured through a screen. I pushed me forward into exploring a lighter hand with pencil drawings. I spent hours drawing from references books, and finally found paper and pencils that I liked to work with to get a similar feel of energy. Some of the drawings are below.

The second experience I had was at the Toyota Municipal Museum of Art in Aichi, Japan. We visited here in 2016 and it was a beautiful exhibition space. I didn’t know much about it but a few of my students in Nagoya recommended it. This is the place I discovered Lee Ufan. Walking through the gallery, there is a turning space where you enter a large room with his “Correspondence” pieces. I honestly felt like I had entered a vibrating room, the feeling was visceral. I stayed in that room for a long time. I only learnt about his process and Korean dansaekhwa art afterwards. But it was the first time I had experienced simplicity so powerfully. It was very much a deep-rooted feeling that is hard to explain. The brushstrokes were so beautiful and felt like they were communicating to each other from the walls. After seeing these works, I really wanted to learn more about Lee Ufan and his process. I was delighted to see Youtube videos of him (though only very short ones or very long ones in Korean). He spends a lot of time thinking and practicing the brushstrokes before the final delivery. There is a lot of energy emitting from those brushstrokes, something metaphysical and even spiritual. I feel very lucky to have stumbled upon his works and to see the paintings in real-life as opposed to on a screen. It was an experience.