關於 forgotten meaning in english ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

我哥之前因為陪朋友去考街頭藝人證照看到一些評審對街頭藝人的態度發聲 而上了新聞。我覺得他很勇敢的去做了一件對的事。

希望政府不會時間過了就不關心這些事情。希望我們都可以更客觀的去看藝術，尊重不一樣藝術和藝術家。我覺得以下我哥說的非常好，想跟大家分享。

想知道之前的事可看新聞連結：
http://www.storm.mg/article/270611

親愛的大家：


我想感謝所有支持我、以及給予我鼓勵意見的每個人；同時也要感謝熱情關注此事、協助揭露街頭表演者們應試處境問題的許多媒體與記者們。我很抱歉這些日子我保持著沉默—僅有一個原因：我並不希望這件事情，在台北市文化局正式給予溝通管道之前就發展到無法控制的程度；我很抱歉遲至今日我才發表這篇文章，但我確實需要一些時間來沉澱彙整我心中的感受和想法，而我也需要時間及一些協助使這篇文章能夠以中文來呈現。

在我採取更進一步的行動之前，我其實未曾預料到這件事情在媒體與社交媒體上的感染力如此龐大；我受寵若驚的感動能夠聽見發自你們每個人內心的聲音，而我也著實感到抱歉，面對著如潮水般湧來的各種訊息，似乎超過我所能負荷。請原諒我未能夠逐ㄧ去回應每個人的訊息，但我真的想讓你們知道，你們每ㄧ個人都讓我感到不可思議、帶給我深深的感動及感謝。

我不認為自己是一個勇敢的人，我也自知自己並非街頭藝人的代表或者發言人。但我是一個藝術創作者，一個表演藝術家，一個教育者，而最重要的，我身為一個 "人"。我的家人、朋友及師長們，總是教導我應該為正確的事情挺身而出。

我明白事情有時候總是不像我們所期待的永遠是非分明。但發生在5月21日星期天的街頭藝人評審事件，是對藝術群體的一種「極不尊重」。不論反面評論者所提出的藉口、理由或是文化差異等緣由，這些應試的表演者們，很顯然是被視為次等公民，或者（經驗與技能不夠成熟？）的學生等級。而與此同時，同樣非常清晰的是，街頭藝人評審制度或許是立意良善，但其審查過程的執行層面，卻是嚴重缺失連連。

藝術並非一種特權的這件事情如今已完全被遺忘。台北市文化局本應提倡所有具有文化及藝術可能性的事情，但它並未做到這ㄧ點。很顯然的，一個「對表演者的基本尊重」並不存在 — 許多表演者都如此感覺，有些人則深感受傷。

就算是得到全世界所有理應被如此對待的原因及理由，他們仍然感受到自己的不被尊重；因為這就是事實。

再一次的我想強調我並不是認定台北市文化局與該評審是一個「壞人」，我想強調的只是這個評審街頭藝人表演的執行環節，究竟有多麼的不妥當與糟糕。

我試著回應一個反面評論者所提到的觀點：若街頭藝人證照是ㄧ場「考試」、考試就會有考試的規則。評審無需與應試者惺惺相惜，掉頭就走是因為模擬街頭現場環境以及時間到了。再一次的，在我描述現場狀況的前ㄧ篇文章中，大家或許還記憶猶新：許多表演者根本沒有完整的短至一分半鐘的時間可以好好表演，遑論是超過2-5分鐘的時間限制了。

而這樣的回應是否也指出了另一個值得我們去思考的問題： 為什麼我們會將它視為一種「考試」，而不是ㄧ個表演者的「試鏡」呢？

首先，這些表演者們並不是學生。事實上，許多人更可能是一個專業的音樂家、舞者、或者正從事著表演藝術的人。當然，我不否認也可能會有些正在學習中的族群。但，最重要的是，當他們「在屬於他們應得的演出時間與機會裡 (而且還是付費才有的），他們就是ㄧ個真正的表演者。」

他們不應該被看待成一個不成熟的學生或者次等的公民。而就算一個人擁有著學生的身分，這個身分也不應該影響或侷限他或她，作為一個藝術創作者的身分及所有可能性。「藝術家」並非是透過一個人的職業身分或者社會地位來定義的。

所謂「考試」的這個字眼指涉著ㄧ個學術教育機構，而我們都知道台北市文化局所應該扮演的角色與作用，並非一個學術性的教育機構，也並非是用來教育藝術創作者們該知道些什麼？該怎麼表現？藝術教育及審美的養成也從來不是在追求填鴨式教育裡的ㄧ個標準答案。將街頭藝人的徵選視為「考試」的視角，或許本身就有待商榷。

評審的場所是在一個公共場合，許多居民與遊客都會圍觀欣賞著表演，其中有些人或許不了解藝術；因而這些人也許會將在場的評審們，視做為某種藝術的衡量標準；試問，當這些人看到評審對待表演藝術家的行為與態度，當他們看到評審總是任意打斷演出，並且掉頭就走不帶ㄧ句回應時，人們日後還能懂得尊重街頭表演藝術家嗎？

沒錯，我們都知道這是一場「考試」，我們也很清楚這些手上拿著計分表的人們就是評審；因此，事實上評審們根本無需「模擬」街頭現場那些會隨時走掉的陌生人們。

這些評審以及相關單位的人員，理應提倡藝術，並且作為ㄧ種示範與典範，讓普羅大眾都能夠看到該如何去欣賞ㄧ場演出。一個表演者並不會因為他選擇在街頭表演，就因此比不上一個在大舞台演出的藝術家。我自己就曾在世界各地超過百個不同的絢麗舞台演出過，但我仍然汗顏自己可能也不比這些街頭藝術家們來的優秀。

我曾擔任過ㄧ些國際比賽的評審，我也曾舉辦過專業的試鏡；我從來沒有聽過關於尊敬一個人的這件簡單事情，會需要在時間充裕的前提下才能夠發生。

如果一點表情會洩漏出評審成績的好惡，其實也真的可以不用笑或是無需在表演結束時說一聲謝謝。而評審也真的「不需要」與考證照的街頭藝人感覺惺惺相惜，因為這些都不是我想討論的重點。

我在意的是，表演者所需要的，只不過就是一個對人與對一個演出者的「基本尊重」而已。這樣的尊重存在與否，如人飲水冷暖自知，在人與人的接觸中就能直接感受的到，著實無需仰賴規則或語言的贅述。

我作為一個藝術創作者和教育者，穿梭各地工作超過15年的職業生涯經驗，或許會因此被視為一個外國人，但我的身分就是一個台灣公民。身為一個39歲的成年人，我可以分辨何謂尊重，而表達尊重甚至不需要浪費到任何一秒鐘。如果一個人會需要至少五分鐘以上的充足時間才有可能表達出對另外一個個體的尊重的話，那他可能需要重新再思考一下，尊重對他而言意謂著什麼？


再度回應一位也曾擔任過街頭藝人評審的老師所提出來「中途要求更換曲目或要求表演者改唱另ㄧ種語言的歌」的理由，是因為評審們不會希望一個街頭藝人一整年下來只會唱同一種語言、甚至是只唱同ㄧ首歌。

我所思考的是當一個街頭藝人遵守規定，付費且努力準備去應試時，他ㄧ定會準備了符合完整時間長度的、同時也是自己最擅長、最喜歡或者是最期待能被看見的那些內容；表演一首歌曲或者ㄧ種風格並不代表他就只會唱那ㄧ首歌；而且就算是當做他只會唱ㄧ種語言、ㄧ首歌，如果他能把這首歌反覆演繹的淋漓盡致時, 又有什麼不好呢？

難道我們不曾注意到百老匯的音樂劇就是同樣的那幾部，而獅子王也已經在舞台上展演了20年了嗎？許多同樣內容重複的音樂劇票房始終歷久不衰，持續帶給觀眾們心靈的滿足。而人氣歌手愛黛兒從頭到尾也只會用英文唱歌，而且幾乎都是類似的曲風，我們可曾在乎過她有沒有能力去唱中文歌呢？

ㄧ部舞蹈作品光在荷蘭本土就能有至少五十場大大小小的演出機會。但在台灣，ㄧ部作品如果能有五個場次的演出，可能已經算是很長壽了。這樣的環境迫使藝術創作者們必須不斷快速的「生產新作」，而將舊有積累的作品與經驗拋在腦後。就所有對於藝術的挹注與投資（不僅僅是金錢）來說，這樣的情況對藝術的生產是ㄧ種過度消耗與浪費，也並未真正教育到民眾如何去看待藝術的價值。

而最終，這樣的評審過程與態度並不僅僅是對街頭表演藝術者的不尊重，同時也是對於藝術的不尊重。

台北市文化局星期ㄧ曾經聯絡過我，親切向我表示將與我進一步聯絡並討論這件事情；他們要求我先將評審的照片拿掉—我答應取下照片，但前提是他們必須確實誠意的允諾一個面對面的溝通。這幾天我也暫時迴避了一些報導媒體的詢問（還請大家見諒）只因我衷心希望能先與台北市文化局及該評審當面談一談。我ㄧ直等待，但我也持續的看到了相關機構或人員回應給媒體的諸多理由與藉口； 自從將照片從網路上取下之後，直到今日都沒有人再跟我連繫過。慢慢的我突然明白星期一的那通電話，或許純粹只是ㄧ個希望我能將照片取下的操作手法，而並非真的試圖去了解整個經過以及解決問題。我對這個本應提倡藝術與文化的機構感到無比失望。

我知道我並非一個公眾人物，而我也不能代表所有想要考取街頭藝人執照的表演者們；自從我的臉書網頁訊息爆炸之後，我就不斷的在思考這件事情，我反覆思考自己是否該繼續爭執此事，這似乎並非與我切身相關的事情，然而，身為一個藝術教育者，我卻又感受到深切的責任。

經過反覆的思考以及與朋友們的討論，我意識到不論我們的展演形式如何不同，我們同樣都是表演藝術群體中的一分子。台北市文化局最後很可能將持續充耳不聞，而這位被我所抱怨的評審也可能繼續做他這些年來ㄧ直在做的事—用他ㄧ貫的態度。除非他們願意傾聽與改變，否則我無法改變任何人。

我真心相信有些事情值得改善，也可以改善。我必須強調我並不是想要攻擊或羞辱任何人。我只希望能有機會去討論如何讓審查的過程變的更適當。我看到台灣有許多優秀的藝術家，但環境對藝術和藝術家的不尊重不但打擊同時也限制了他們的發展；更遺憾的是，這一切可能是在許多疏忽之中造就出來的環境。

許多評審過程如果能夠在尊重藝術的前提之下思考和進行，事情或許會截然不同。
只要有一點點可能去拋開面子的問題，或許也就有機會明嘹我們所期待的結果其實是一樣的。

事實上我之所以說了這麼冗長的話語，並非是要不尊敬所謂的評審或師長，而正是因為我對藝術的尊敬，使我更深切的關注身為一個教育者所代表的意義。今天我看到了街頭表演藝術家是如何被不當的對待，而很顯然的我也不會是唯一的目擊者。某個程度上我的聲音似乎被放大了，但我也知道我的聲音並不是唯一的一個，我是許許多多的聲音中的ㄧ份子。

William

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Dear All,

I would like to thank you for all the encouraging messages and supportive comments. I would also like to thank all the journalists and reporters who are passionate about this issue and are so willing to expose the problem that was faced by these street performers. I am sorry that I have been quiet but with a reason: I don’t want it to get much bigger than it already was until I talked to the Taipei Cultural Affair. I apologize that it took me a while, but I needed some time to gather my thoughts and help to translate my writing into Chinese.

Before I go on any further, I never expected my story would go viral on the media and the social media. I am humbled and touched to hear from many of you. All the messages I’ve received have been overwhelming. I am not able to reply to all of them, but I’d like you to know that I am honored, thankful, and touched by every single one of them.

I do not consider myself as a brave person, nor do I consider myself a representative for the street performers. BUT I am an artist, a performer, educator, and most of all I am a human being.I have always been taught to stand for what’s right by my family, friends and mentors.

I understand things are not as black and white as we all wish sometimes. However, what happened on Sunday 21st of May was a disgrace to the art community. Regardless of all the excuses that were given or cultural differences, it was very obvious these performers were treated like lower-class citizens; if not, students. It was also very clear that the intention might be well, but the execution of the busker’s exam was done horribly.

Somehow the idea that ART is NOT a privilege had been forgotten. Taipei Cultural Affair is supposed to be advocating for all things cultural and artistic but it was not conveyed that day. It was very clear the respect was not there. Many felt it and some got their feelings hurt. Even with all the excuses there are in the world, many experienced the disrespect. That was the truth. Again I have to emphasize that I believe Taipei Department of Cultural Affair and its adjudicators are good people, but the execution of the exam was poor.

It brings to the question…. why is it called an exam? Shouldn’t it be an audition?

These performers were not students when they took the exam. Some of them were actually professional musicians, dancers, or performers. Just because one is a student, it doesn’t make him or her less of an artist. Artists are not defined by their social status or occupation.

The term exam suggests an educational institution, but we know Taipei Department of Cultural Affair is not an educational institution. They do not decide what these artists need to know. These performers were not given any materials to study, thus the term exam is very misleading.

The exam took place in a public space. Many tourists and residents were there to enjoy the event. Many do not understand arts. So they may look up to these adjudicators as role models who are experienced in the arts. When they saw how this exam was being done, do you think they would have any respect for these performers afterwards? They saw these adjudicators interrupting the performers and left without saying a “thank you.” We all knew it was an exam, we all knew these people were adjudicators. They did not need to pretend to be street spectators who just walk away. They all carried their score boards in their hands.

Just because a performer performs on the street, it doesn’t make that performer any less of a performer than someone who is performing on big stages. I myself have performed over hundreds of stages around the world and I do not dare to think myself better than these performers.

I have judged a handful of international competitions. I have also held professional auditions. I have never heard an excuse that respect can’t be shown when time is limited. You do not need to smile to simply say “thank you.” Since when, a smile means “I favor you.” What a performer need is respect. Over the 15 year span of my professional career as an educator and artist, and 39 years of being a human being, I know what respect looks like. It doesn’t take more than a second to show it. If it takes longer than 5 minutes to show what respect is, I think you may need to rethink what respect means to you.

Another excuse that was presented was that they don’t want a street artist performs only one kind of songs or genre throughout the year. Don’t they know broadway musicals? Lion King has been performed over 20 years. They’ve been doing the same musical numbers for years to sold out audiences. Adele has been singing the same genre of music and always in English. Does it matter that she doesn’t sing in other genre or sing in Chinese?

One dance production in the Netherlands can be performed up to 50 performances within the Netherlands itself. In Taiwan, a dance work only performed 5 times the most. They are forced to constantly create new works and leave the old works behind. That is a waste of arts funding and it doesn’t educate the public on the value of the arts. These performers is old enough to decide what they want to show these judges with their limited time.

In the end it wasn’t just disrespectful to the performers, but also to the arts.

I was contacted by the Taipei Cultural Affair on Monday, the representative spoke nicely promising that they would discuss further with me. He asked me to take the adjudicator’s picture down, I agreed with the condition of meeting in person to further discuss what could be done better. I have refused to talk to reporters for the last few days. I have been waiting but I then heard the excuses given to the media. Since I’ve taken down the picture of the head adjudicator, they haven’t made any attempt to contact me. I came into a realization that when they made the call, it wasn’t to address the problem but simply to manipulate me to take down his picture. I’m disappointed at this institution that was supposed to promote the arts and culture.

I realized I am not a public figure, nor am I responsible for the well being of all artists who want to get a busker license. After my Facebook post went viral, I’ve been thinking so much about this issue. I kept going back and forth questioning whether I should keep fighting for this. It doesn’t feel like my fight, but at the same time I feel responsible as an art educator.

I truly believe this can be fixed. I need to emphasize, I am not attacking anyone. And I don’t want to shame anyone. I want to start a discussion how to make it better. Taipei has some of the best performers I’ve seen, yet the lack of respect for the arts and artists has suppressed their ability to excel. And ironically, it’s often done unintentionally.

If the exam is done based on respect for the arts itself, things might have come out differently. And just maybe if we all let go the “face” culture, we could possibly see further to realize that we are all wanting the same thing.

I saw mistreatments towards performers that day. It was very obvious I wasn’t the only one witnessing it. It was not that I don’t respect these adjudicators/teachers, but because I respect the arts and the meaning of a teacher that is why I had to speak up. Somehow my voice had been amplified this week. But my voice wasn’t and isn’t singular. I am simply a voice amongst many.

Sincerely,
William Lü

Taipei National University of the Arts 國立台北藝術大學
寶藏巖國際藝術村 Treasure Hill Artist Village
Taipei National University of the Arts
臺北表演藝術中心 Taipei Performing Arts Center
National Theater and Concert Hall, Taipei
中正紀念堂 Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall
National Taiwan University of Arts
Department of Cultural Affairs, Taipei City Government

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….

今日は、皆さんからたくさんのリクエストをいただいた、映画『君の名は。』のエンディング曲であるRADWIMPSの「なんでもないや」を英語でお届けします♪
Enjoy( ^o^ )✩

By request, here is my English cover of "Nandemo Nai ya" by Japanese band RADWIMPS! This is the ending song for the popular movie "Your Name." Enjoy the cover :)

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曲情報 / SONG INFO
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RADWIMPS / なんでもないや
アルバム：『君の名は。』サウンドトラック(2016)
作詞曲：野田洋次郎
英語詞：渡辺レベッカ

RADWIMPS / Nandemo Nai ya (Never Mind)
Album: "Your Name" Soundtrack (2016)
Music/Lyrics: Yojiro Noda
English Lyrics: Rebecca Butler Watanabe

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リンク / LINKS
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■HP⇒ http://BlueEyedUtaUtai.jimdo.com
■Facebook⇒ http://facebook.com/blueeyedutautai
■Twitter⇒ @BlueEyedUtaUtai

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歌詞 / LYRICS
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The sorrowful gust of wind that blew right between you and me
Where did it find the loneliness it carried on the breeze?
Looking up at the sky after shedding a stream of tears
I could see for miles of blue, it’s never been so clear

Speeches my father gave to me would always make me despair
Finally, today, I feel a warmth and comfort there
Your ever-kind heart and your smile, even how you talk about your dreams
Now I see I’ve emulated you to the extreme

Just a little bit longer, now
Only a little bit longer, now
Let’s stay here a little longer, now
Just a little bit longer, now
Only a little bit longer, now
Stay here with me just a little bit longer

Oh, and we’re time flyers
Scaling the walls of time, climbing higher
Tired of playing hide and seek with time
And always coming just short

If you cry when you’re happy and
Honey, if you smile when you’re feeling sad
It’s because a part of you
Has made it here before the rest has

I’m wishing upon the stars above, the toys that I once adored
Forgotten now, are rolling 'round the corners of the floor
Today I dreamed up a hundred dreams I want to make come true
Someday, I’ll trade them all for just one with you

There’s a girl that I’ve seen in school, but never have told "hello"
After class today, I waved and said “See you tomorrow”
It’s good to try something new and different every once in a while
Especially if I can do it with you by my side

Just a little bit longer, now
Only a little bit longer, now
Let’s stay here a little longer, now
Just a little bit longer, now
Only a little bit longer, now
Stay here with me just a little bit longer

Oh, and we’re time flyers
Oh, and I, I knew who you were
Way before... way before I was even born
‘Fore I knew my own name, I swear I knew yours

And I know a world where you’re not around
Surely it would have some important meaning
But I know that any world where you’re not around
Would be like the month of August without summer break free
And I know a world where you’re not around
Would be like Santa Claus without any glee
I don’t want a world where you’re not around

Oh, and we’re time flyers
Scaling the walls of time, climbing higher
Tired of playing hide and seek with time
And always coming just short

No, never mind that
No, never mind what I just said
'Cause I’m on my way right now

僕らタイムフライヤー
bokura taimu furaiyaa
時を駆け上がるクライマー
toki wo kake-agaru kuraimaa
時のかくれんぼ はぐれっこ はもういいよ
toki no kakurenbo hagurekko wa mou ii yo

Oh, and you’re quite a showy crier
Want to stop your tears, see your eyes drier
But when I went to wipe your tears dry, you refused
And when I saw them pouring down your face, I knew why

If I cry when I’m happy and
Honey, if I smile when I feeling sad
It’s because a part of me
Has made it there before the rest has

嬉しくて泣くのは
ureshikute naku no wa
悲しくて 笑うのは
kanashikute warau no wa
僕の心が
boku no kokoro ga
僕を追い越したんだよ
boku wo oi-koshita n' da yo