Portrait in Linen

Tonight’s sketch:
untitled pencil on paper (right)

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No King Owns My Lovely Knight’s Magic Hand.

Ni’ihau, Kaua’i, O‘ahu, Moloka’i,
Lāna’i, Kaho’olawe, Maui, Hawai’i.

Did it. Memorized the eight major islands of Hawai’i from northernmost/oldest to southernmost/youngest. Small victory, huge serotonin boost. Next, I’ll learn to recognize each island by sight.

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Now embarking on my educational journey into Shotokan karate. The place to begin is with the founder, Gichin Funakoshi. All I know at this point is that the style has its roots in Japan, and the local master is third or fourth generation from the founder.

Sensei Sage recommended Karate-Do: My Way of Life, Funakoshi’s autobiography, so that’s where I’ll begin. I’m hoping to gain some insight into the author’s personal life, his early training, the formative years of Shotokan, on to the height of the system while he was still living.

Once I have some concept of all those things, I hope to learn more about the local master and his past, and see just how and where he connects to Funakoshi.

I believe that a serious artist should know the origins of her art, whether it’s karate or dance or a certain strain of literature…. Lineage is important. We should always look back to the creators of a certain art form–not just for edification and wisdom, but also out of respect for the people who came before us.

I think this is what I find so inspiring about my study of Shotokan. With hula, the kumus who are still living are inaccessible to me, by distance, and social and cultural divides. I’ve been unable to overcome those obstacles to a satisfactory degree in order to learn much about my kumu’s history, his kumus’ respective histories, their kumus’ histories…. It’s frustrating in a practical sense, but it also drains from me inspiration and morale. Lack of inspiration and morale could be the death of an educational endeavor.

But, I haven’t abandoned my quest for hula knowledge; it’s just slowed down considerably.

Studying Shotokan might be more fruitful. The local experts aren’t so many hours away that I can’t go to them for information. Talking to the local master may be daunting, though. I expect approaching him may be a lot like approaching a kumu hula–they choose the time and place to impart their knowledge, and then, only as much as they’re willing to share. They do–after all–have a great responsibility to guard the art, the culture, and the people. Maybe speaking to Mr. Master will be the same way?

I don’t know. But I do know I’m not ready to approach him, and I won’t be for a long, long time. So, no rush on that.

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I revisited a portrait of Gichin Funakoshi (haven’t been able to find out the date of the photograph). It’s a rather famous portrait of him, and I recognize it from when I had to study him for my thesis years and years ago. I think I’d very much like to draw his portrait, probably when I begin reading Karate-Do.

Feodor Tamarsky drew a gorgeous portrait of Funakoshi (pictured left) based on what appears to be the same photograph. (I write “drew,” but I think it’s watercolor and charcoal on paper.) I doubt my work will have the same quality and soul, but it’s the drawing experience I crave.

Tamarsky’s “martial arts art” is just beautiful. So much movement and energy. He seems to take the darkness and tension of conflict and sweep it up into something hypnotically luxurious. I could never convey that kind of power, but maybe in drawing Funakoshi, I might connect with some sense of who he was as a man.