Old Books and Movies

I am posting a drawing I made over 40 years ago. There is no meaning to the drawing other than a sappy story of a man who likely ran into some sort of obstacle in life holding a balloon a little boy handed to him. I suppose the boy and the balloon represent “hope.” I kept this over the years because it reminds me of the many wonderful things my mother shared with me. She loved western literature as well as culture. She was the one that told me about Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Gustave Flaubert - you know, all the classic authors. I was a superficial follower of my mother’s passion for literature. I read a lot of the classics (not Les Miserables, however, it’s way too long); I believe I read them to either impress her or just because I believed I would become sophisticated like her. In my case, only a small portion of the readings really sank in. It was the movies that she took me to see that really spoke to me. When I was growing up in Tokyo, they had many movie theaters that played old European and US movies. You could easily find a theater playing double features of classic movies. We watched Alain Delon, Jean Gabin, Gerard Philipe, etc. Without her, I would never have known about the earlier accomplishments of someone like Silvana Mangano who I later saw in Pasolini’s Oedipus Rex. Through Gerard Philipe, I learned about the great painter, Modigliani which he played in “The Lovers of Monparnasse.” As a teenager, my mother probably was star-struck by many of these good-looking actors! 😁 As I write this blog, a lot of what I was taught by my mother is popping back into my memory. Right now, the music from Alain Delon’s “Plein Soleil” is playing in my head. It’s such a haunting melody. My mother rarely taught me how to cook or showed me the ways of Japanese traditions. She took care of her mother and was a dedicated wife to a very conservative husband who did not share any of these cultural interests she had. Sharing her many passions for literature and culture with me may have been her way of holding on to her own, unique identity. I wish I had treasured those moments a little more…

It is for these memories that I hold onto this drawing.