關於 best way to learn german ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

[Books / 書訊] Yann Brys 與 François Perret 主廚出版新書、 Fou de Pâtisserie 食譜書將出中文版 / Chef Yann Brys and François Perret publish their first books, Fou de Pâtisserie book launch traditional Chinese version soon (for English, please click “see more”)

我想法國主廚們跟書商完全沒有要讓消費者喘口氣的意思，11 月好書連發，最近輪到陀飛輪（tourbillon）創始人、擁有法國最佳工藝職人（MOF）頭銜的 Yann Brys 主廚和巴黎麗池酒店 Ritz Paris 的主廚 François Perret 出新書；甜點雜誌 Fou de Pâtisserie 去年出版的同名食譜書也確認即將推出中文版。

Yann Brys 主廚過去的資歷顯赫，他師承 MOF Philippe Urraca、在 FAUCHON 時在有「甜點小王子」之稱的主廚 Sébastien Gaudard Pâtissier 底下工作，接著經歷巴黎數個豪華酒店，包括宮殿級酒店（palace）的 Hotel Le Bristol Paris，然後前往 DALLOYAU。他在 2009 年發展了現在聞名世界的「陀飛輪」擠花手法，2011 年通過一系列的嚴格比賽與鑑定、獲得法國最佳工藝職人的頭銜，並在同年被任命為 Dalloyau 的創意總監。Yann Brys 主廚在這本即將在 11/27 上市的書中分享了以陀飛輪手法裝飾的多種蛋糕、還有其他或經典或創新的精彩作品。

現任 Ritz 酒店甜點主廚的 François Perret 的經歷也不遑多讓，他幾乎在巴黎所有宮殿級酒店都工作過，一開始在 Le Meurice、接著在 Four Seasons Hotel George V Paris，然後在 Hotel Lancaster Paris 擔任甜點主廚。2010 年他協助巴黎香格里拉飯店 Shangri-La Hotel, Paris 開幕，並很快幫後者的 L’Abeille 餐廳取得米其林二星。接著他加入 Ritz，這個歷經四年整修的巴黎傳奇宮殿級酒店在他與主廚 Nicolas Sale Officiel 的協力合作下，一年之後便分別為酒店內的兩個餐廳取得米其林二星（La Table d'Espadon）與一星（Les Jardins d'Espadon），他和 Nicolas Sale 也分別奪下 2017 年由《Le Chef》雜誌頒發的年度甜點主廚與年度主廚獎項。上月 François Perret 主廚再獲肯定，被 Les Grandes Tables du Monde 協會選為「meilluer pâtissier de restaurant du monde」（「全球最佳餐廳甜點主廚」）。如同書名「Instants sucrés au Ritz Paris」指明的，本書是以「Rtiz 的甜點時光」規劃，從早餐、午餐、下午茶、晚餐等都有相應的作品。François 主廚的的知名創作如瑪德蓮蛋糕、蜂蜜等都收錄其中。另外有一個好消息要跟台灣讀者分享，本書的繁體中文版已經被 大境文化&出版菊文化(生活美食地圖) 簽下，大家再稍等一下就能看到囉！

最後則是甜點雜誌 Fou de Pâtisserie 去年十月出版的同名食譜書，近日剛剛發表了德文版，同時也宣布簡體和繁體中文版即將推出。這是一本想要認識法式甜點經典、同時一覽法國主廚們各種精彩重新詮釋版本的讀者們必定要收藏的作品。書中精選了 17 種最經典的法式甜點，如 Baba 巴巴、Opéra 歌劇院蛋糕、Saint-Honoré 聖多諾黑泡芙、Tarte au citron 檸檬塔等，每個主題前先解釋該甜點的起源、並以詳細的步驟圖介紹一個最具代表性的作品，接著介紹該甜點的重要組成元素、然後呈現四五個不同的變化版本（全部由知名主廚提供），最後提供一個能夠使用市售商品與簡便方法，在家快速重現經典的食譜。能夠一次飽覽當代最知名的40 位甜點主廚們的作品、領略法式甜點不斷推陳出新的活力，大概也只有 Fou de Pâtisserie 可以辦到。

以下就請大家點開照片、也開始存錢準備囉😆👇🏻

🔖 延伸閱讀：

甜點食譜書推薦與介紹：#yingsbookreviews

法式甜點經典重生、歷久彌新的秘訣——「重新詮釋」：https://tinyurl.com/y5xenfqz

如何鑑賞 François Perret 主廚的瑪德蓮蛋糕？https://tinyurl.com/y54dacbu

巴黎麗池酒店下午茶體驗：https://tinyurl.com/v4hqj5g

深度專訪 Fou de Pâtisserie 創辦人與總編輯 Julie Mathieu：https://tinyurl.com/vss89b3

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This November is marked by beautiful pastry recipe books. If you still remember that we’ve talked about the books of the chef Yann Couvreur, Angelo Musa, and Michelin Guide, now there’re some more! The MOF chef Yann Brys and François Perret, head pastry chef of Ritz Paris are publishing their books this week as well. Moreover, Fou de Pâtisserie has just announced that their great recipe book is going to have its traditional and simplified Chinese versions soon.

Even if you don’t know the chef Yann Brys, you must recognise his world-renowned gesture “tourbillon” still, a technique to pipe cream on a turntable to create a whirl effect. He learnt a wide range of skills from another MOF chef Philippe Urraca, and then worked with Sébastien Gaudard, the “petit prince de la pâtisserie” when he was at Fauchon. He then went through several luxury hotels such as Concorde Lafayette (current Hyatt Regency Paris Étoile) and Hotel Bristol Paris. After that he joined Dalloyau and was named the Creative Director in 2011. He passed through a series of competitions and got his MOF title the same year. In this book “Tourbillon”, the chef shares with us lots of beautiful cakes employing the technique and his other creations as well as the know-how as a Meilleur Ouvrier de France.

Having worked at most of the Parisian palace hotels, François Perret, current chef pâtissier of Ritz Paris also boasts impressive experiences at Le Meurice, George V before he was appointed as the head pastry chef at Hotel Lancaster Paris. He joined Shangri-La Paris in 2010, assisting its opening and contributing to the Michelin two stars gained in two years for L’Abeille, the fine-dining restaurant at the hotel. He then joined Ritz and has been collaborating with the chef Nicolas Sale ever since. The legendary hotel situated on Place Vendôme reopened in 2016 after 4 years of renovation, but the duo has gained the hotel 3 Michelin stars in total in just a year - La Table d’Espadon got two stars and Les Jardin d’Espadon got 1 star in 2017. The both were further awarded as “Pastry chef of the year” and “Chef of the year” by the magazine “Le Chef” in the same year. François was elected as “Best restaurant pastry chef of the world 2019” last month by Grandes Tables du Monde. The book “Instant sucrés au Ritz Paris” presents those sweet moments offered by the hotel, starting from breakfast, wonderful pastries and desserts served in lunch time, tea time, and on dinner tables are all included. The chef’s signature desserts like the entremets Madeleine, Miel, Île flottante are also covered. Good news is that both the English and traditional Chinese version of the book are on their way. English and Chinese-speaking readers will only need to be patient for little while to learn more about the sweet universe of the chef.

Last but not least, the Fou de Pâtisserie book published last October is now having its German version. The traditional and simplified Chinese versions will be available soon, too. Collaborating with 40 great French pastry chefs, this book offers pastry passionates a wonderful opportunity to learn about those great French classics as well as their creative variations. 17 classic like baba au rhum, Opera, Saint-Honoré cakes, etc are presented. Their origins and legends are well explained, followed by a signature recipe illustrated step-by-step and presented by one famous chef, followed by four to five variations with real recipes provided by influential chefs. Then finally an express version using existing products sold in shops or supermarkets is featured. This is a fantastic book to glance through some of the best creations of our time and to learn the spirit of creation.

Click on the following photos to have a closer look!

🔖 You might also be interested:

More book reviews: #yingsbookreviews

Revisiting classics, the fountain-of-youth secret of French pastries: https://tinyurl.com/y5xenfqz

How to appreciate French pastries (with an example of the “Madeleine” of the chef François Perret): https://tinyurl.com/y54dacbu

Tea time at Ritz Paris: https://tinyurl.com/v4hqj5g

Interview with Julie Mathieu, founder and editor in chief of Fou de Pâtisserie: https://tinyurl.com/vss89b3

#yingc #françoisperret #yannbrys #foudepâtisserie

Nha Trang, March 29, 2015
Dear Mr. Felix Schwartz, Political Officer at the German Embassy in Vietnam,
Dear Professor Norbert Lammert, President of the Bundestag,

My name is Nguyen Ngoc Nhu Quynh. I am writing to apologise to you for failing to attend the meeting in Hanoi with the Delegation of the Bundestag on Sunday, March 29, as planned. I am extremely sorry because an undesired incidence has prevented me from going to Hanoi, though I have tried my best to get there on time.

Yesterday (March 28), on the way to the airport for our departure to Hanoi, my companion – blogger Vo Truong Thien – and I were stopped by two traffic policemen. Then a group of plainclothes security officers openned the taxi door, pulled us out, pushed us into another car, and took us to the police station of Khanh Hoa province, located at 80 Tran Phu street. They did that without showing us any official paper or even their ID card.

One of those officers grabbed my mobile phone so that I could not contact you, my lawyer or my family to notify you of this arbitrary detention.

I remained silent for more than four hours. Afterwards, they asked me to take back my private belonging, ie. a battery charger that they had confiscated of me since last July.

Then they showed me a printout of a letter advocating for the 2015 Campaign for Freedoms, Democracy and Human Rights for Vietnam, of which blogger Vo Truong Thien and I were two of the initiators. They asked me about this letter, but I declined to say anything and just remained silent.

The 2015 Campaign for Human Rights for Vietnam is one of the topics I was planning to present to you in our meeting so that you could introduce it to the Bundestag Delegation as well as the diplomats attending IPU 132 in Hanoi.

Blogger Vo Truong Thien and I were detained for more than ten hours. In the end, the security forces quietly released us and had us get out from the back door of the police station. Some bloggers and friends of mine had been waiting at the front door to call for our release. That may be the reason why we were made to leave from the back door, and the street light there was cut off, so that our friends were unable to meet or photograph us.

Notably, the head of the security forces said to me in a low voice, “Do not try to leave for Hanoi in the next few days.”

Dear Mr. Felix Schwarz and Prof. Norbert Lammert,

I am so sorry about what has happened to us as mentioned above, and I also learn that many bloggers, as members of the Network of Vietnamese Bloggers, and some other religious and human rights activists, were put under house arrest by plainclothes security forces during the event of IPU 132.

Even until now, I cannot think of any effective way to stop arbitrary detentions in our country. As blogger Vo Truong Thien told me today, “It is unacceptable when we, as Vietnamese citizens, are maltreated.” This is the first time my friend was kidnapped in the street, and the fourth time for me.

Once again, please accept my sincere apologies for I have failed to go to Hanoi and tell you what is happening in my country and the efforts by Vietnamese people to fight for freedom, democracy and human rights, especially the 2015 Campaign for Human Rights in Vietnam.

Nguyen Ngoc Nhu Quynh
Member of the Vietnamese Bloggers Network
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Kính gửi ông Felix Schwarz tham tán chính trị Đại sứ quán Đức và giáo sư Norbert Lammert - trưởng phái đoàn Quốc hội Liên bang Đức

Tôi, Nguyễn Ngọc Như Quỳnh, xin lỗi quý vị đã không thể có mặt tham dự buổi gặp gỡ với phái đoàn như đã hẹn vào Chủ nhật ngày 29 tháng 3, 2015. Tôi lấy làm tiếc về sự việc ngoài ý muốn này mà không có cách nào thay đổi dù đã cố sắp xếp công việc để có mặt tại Hà Nội.

Hôm qua, thứ 7 ngày 28, 2015, trên đường ra sân bay từ Nha Trang để ra Hà Nội, tôi và bạn đồng hành của tôi là blogger Võ Trường Thiện đã bị hai cảnh sát giao thông chặn xe lại. Sau đó, một nhóm an ninh gồm 9 người mặc thường phục ập vào xe, không xuất trình bất kỳ giấy tờ nào và họ lôi chúng tôi ra khỏi xe đang đi, tống lên một xe khác và đưa về trụ sở công an tỉnh Khánh Hòa, số 80 đường Trần Phú.

Một người đàn ông trong số họ đã giật lấy điện thoại của tôi và giữ nó cho đến khi về trụ sở, ngăn cản tôi không thể liên lạc để thông báo với luật sư của tôi, gia đình và quý vị về sự bắt người trái phép này.

Sau hơn 4 tiếng im lặng, họ yêu cầu tôi nhận lại tài sản cá nhân của mình, đó là cục sạc pin mà họ đã tịch thu từ tháng 7/2014.

Tiếp sau đó họ in sẵn trên giấy thư vận động về Chiến dịch Tự do, Dân chủ và Nhân quyền cho Việt Nam năm 2015, mà tôi và blogger Võ Trường Thiện là hai trong số những người khởi xướng để yêu cầu tôi giải trình về nó. Tuy nhiên tôi đã từ chối và giữ im lặng.

Chiến dịch Vận động Nhân Quyền 2015 là một trong những đề tài mà tôi dự trù sẽ trình bày cùng quý vị trong buổi gặp gỡ để quý vị có thể truyền đạt đến phái đoàn Quốc Hội Liên Bang Đức cũng như những đồng nghiệp ngoại giao đang tham dự Đại hội đồng Liên minh Nghị viện Thế giới IPU132 đang diễn ra tại Hà Nội.

Chúng tôi đã bị giam giữ hơn 10 tiếng và an ninh đã lặng lẽ thả chúng tôi ra bằng cửa sau của trụ sở công an tỉnh. Một số blogger và bạn bè tôi đã có mặt ở trước của đồn công an để đòi tự do cho tôi và blogger Võ Trường Thiện. Có lẻ vì lý do đó mà họ đã thả tôi ở cửa sau và tắt đèn đường lúc thả tôi ra để tránh cảnh chào đón, chụp hình bởi bạn bè chúng tôi.

Điểm đặc biệt là người chỉ huy công an đã nhắn nhỏ với tôi: đừng tìm cách ra khỏi nhà để đi Hà Nội trong vài ngày tới.

Thưa ông Felix Schwarz và giáo sư Norbert Lammert

Tôi rất tiếc về sự việc đã xảy ra như đã trình bày ở trên, và tôi cũng được biết là nhiều blogger, thành viên của Mạng Lưới Blogger Việt Nam, cũng như một số các nhà hoạt động Nhân quyền, Tôn giáo khác cũng bị an ninh thường phục bao vây, canh gác, ngăn chặn không cho ra khỏi nhà trong thời gian IPU132 đang diễn ra.

Đến giờ phút này tôi vẫn chưa nghĩ ra cách nào hữu hiệu để chấm dứt tình trạng bắt giữ tùy tiện tại đất nước tôi. Hôm nay, blogger Võ Trường Thiện đã nói với tôi: Không thể chấp nhận được khi chúng ta là những công dân mà bị đối xử ngược đãi tuỳ tiện kiểu này. Đây là lần đầu tiên bạn tôi bị bắt cóc giữa đường và lần thứ 4 xảy ra đối với tôi.

Một lần nữa, tôi chân thành xin lỗi quý vị là đã không thể có mặt tại Hà Nội để trình bày cùng quý vị những gì đang xảy ra trên đất nước Việt Nam và những nỗ lực tranh đấu cho Tự do, Dân chủ và Nhân quyền của người Việt chúng tôi, đặc biệt là về Chiến dịch Vận động Nhân Quyền 2015.

Nguyễn Ngọc Như Quỳnh - Thành viên Mạng Lưới Blogger Việt Nam
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Em cám ơn chị Đoan Trang đã giúp sức

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….

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Advice for Japanese learners based on my experience and the experiences of exchange students.

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