The most irreplaceable feeling
a sentimental confession after exhibiting at Art Book Osaka
At the end of May, I flew to Osaka with my biggest luggage filled with my art books, art prints, piles of stickers, and display props for Art Book Osaka.
It had been a long time since I last participated in an overseas art event or fair. My suitcase was obviously overweight, but I assumed that it was only because I had packed everything with my overloaded excitement, and that the weight might magically disappear when they measured it during check-in.
I don’t know how physics works mentally, but I did end up taking out 5kg art prints and turning them into my carry-on luggage in reality.
Back to February, when I got the email saying my application had gone through, I immediately started making a list of artworks that I wanted to bring to Japan. The list included works that were not even printed yet. At the same time, my brain had a hard time turning off many possiblities for how to present my table.
Many questions about the choice of formats came into mind naturally:
“Those could be really fun if folded this way!“
”I want to make these prints as petite as possible.”
”Flip-book!”
Some outside voices from my past tabling experiences also resurfaced:
“Why don’t you print your character on a tote bag?“
“This is so cute! If this was a T-shirt, I’ll definitely buy it.“
“What is this for? Is it a card or… how can I use it?“
These are some questions and comments I received repeatedly in person. Instead of feeling offended or judged, I remember that I was, often, surprisingly intrigued. (Have to say, I’m also a mystery to my own reactions sometimes.) I was truly curious about what made it so easy for them to state their needs directly to the person who wasn’t making ends meet, and wondered whether they ever walked into a bookstore and asked to have a poetry book recorded by the author as an audio file so they could download and listen to it.
“It’s just an illustration. You can place it anywhere you like, like a movie poster.“ I don’t know why I said just—it has meaning to me.
“Does the price including the frame?“
“Sorry, but no, only the artwork.“
And they would put my work back on the table and walk away.
To this day, I still feel unease with rejections like this sometimes; however, the time I used to spend on unaware self-doubt has shortened as I’ve gotten better at accepting similar situations. Also, I became more and more okay with the fact that my work is not for everyone.
No matter how deeply my emotions bond with my work, they could be nonsense to other people; and this understanding has strengthened my appreciation for decent artworks and people who really took the time to see my work. The respect I have for one’s determination and dedication to a craft has helped me stay in check with my work and with the artist I want to be for many years, especially in times when most people still mistake simplicity for an easy process.
By the way, decent doesn’t automatically mean serious; it could be sophisticated, silly, or seriously funny.
I was pondering if “decent” is the most precise word choice I could make. Good, thoughtful, meaningful, honest, good again… I just hope that when I said decent artworks, the images that appear in people’s minds included artwork they see in everyday life made by humans, not just art in the museums or big names mentioned in best-selling books.
There were over a hundred exhibitors coming from 15 different countries. During the event, I noticed that I felt a sense of belonging to a community that is warm and welcoming. I also found myself feeling content in the middle of things that seemed aligned. That feeling mostly happened when I was behind my table, seeing my work touched and held by people. Their care and curiosity felt intimate to me.
The moment could be very brief, but in those few seconds, I got to see what it looks like to be included in someone else’s world—to be connected.
Before I even began working in an industry that depends so much on validation, the education system and family structure I grew up in had already conditioned me to build up a pattern of negative, tyrannical self-talk. I was trapping myself in a tunnel vision that served as a survival mechanism for almost 30 years. At the core of that vision was a belief: If the things I make aren't useful, I have no value and am not worthy of love. The unfortunate part was that I only ever wanted to be an artist.
It took me decades to unlearn that belief and to tell myself that it is not an artist’s job to be useful or to have answers. The most important responsibility to me should be to figure out ways to express things and to keep asking questions as the world goes on.
I had put my old agonies of self-doubt and anxiety to rest before the trip, and everything that came after the departure was beautiful.
The last time I visited was also work-related, but I think I’ll talk about it in another newsletter. 🥰 Big thank you to friends who had helped me and companied me along the trip, because of you, Osaka now has a very special place in my heart.
Love,
Angel
Love this so much!