MHS SP, part trois

Artist Research Paper: Audrey Kawasaki

Born and raised in Los Angeles, California, rising artist Audrey Kawasaki is finding herself placed in the spotlight more and more, despite her naturally withdrawn manner. Born on March 31, 1982, the notoriously shy painter is known for refusing to do face to face interviews; opting instead to do an interview over email, taking advantage of both the solace that’s provided in the comfort of her home and the chance to think long and hard about her answers, rather than shooting off a response in a limited, given amount of time. Despite this however, Kawasaki’s work is a rather loud contradiction of the artist herself. Beautiful yet controversial, Kawasaki’s paintings are a blend of styles from Art Nouveau to manga, fusing together to create a look that is uniquely and distinctively Kawasaki’s (“Info: Bio”). Like a character in a story, Kawasaki’s paintings are a careful balance of light and dark, of the innocence image of her young girls mixed with the erotic undertones of their eyes, and occasionally their suggestive and outright sexual actions; in turn this creates not only a breathtakingly beautiful work of art, but causes the viewer to struggle within their own thoughts about the piece as well.

Like a well written character in literature, Kawasaki work is in a way, flawed; rather than being a “perfect” piece of art, beautiful and conventional, Kawasaki instead portrays her innocent looking girls with lidded bedroom eyes, providing a source of conflict. Like in literature, a perfect character with no actual flaw or Achilles heel is not only unrealistic, but it provides for no conflict in a story. There is no goal, no purpose, no journey, no meaning behind the text. This same principle and idea applies to Kawasaki’s work by not only mixing both erotic and childlike elements in her work, but by also painting them on wood. By allowing the natural wood grain to show through, Kawasaki ends up highlighting the idea that rather than striving for perfection, a delicate balance between light and dark is natural, and in turn, so is a flawed, but balanced character.

First influenced by Japanese mangas as a child, Kawasaki first started drawing when she was young, but was not truly immersed in art until middle school, where she began taking private fine arts classes (Mitchell, “Audrey Kawasaki”). After weeks, which grew into months, of lessons, Kawasaki experimented with different drawing mediums, as well as subjects, but always found herself back to the same subject that started her interest in the beginning. Pulled in by manga, and the “girls with the big dreamy twinkle eyes,” (Mitchell, “Audrey Kawasaki”) Kawasaki comments that ever since she was young, she was “attracted to female faces and forms” (Mitchell, “Audrey Kawasaki”). Constantly drawing, Kawasaki soon found herself in pursuits of a new surface to paint on; finding canvas being “too rough and textured” (Mitchell, “Audrey Kawasaki”), Kawasaki found herself choosing planks of wood, which is the current medium she uses today. Fast forward a couple of years, and after graduating high school, Kawasaki then proceeded to relocate several times: first to the rural Humboldt County, then back to Los Angeles, and then across the country to Brooklyn, New York, in order to attend the Pratt Institute with the intention of studying fine arts painting (Mitchell, “Audrey Kawasaki”). However, Kawasaki found herself only attending Pratt Institute for two years. With most, if not all, of those two years dedicated solely to getting the required course work done, Kawasaki found herself with no real opportunity to fully immerse herself in the style that she wanted to pursue. Finally finishing one of her own personal pieces during the summer breaks, Kawasaki presented it to her professors, only to be greeted with confusion. Giving her a “‘why would you be doing this!?!?’ sort of look,” (Owens 24) her professors strongly suggested that if Kawasaki wanted to pursue art, that she should stay away from the style that she was creating. One of the main contributing reasons for Kawasaki’s departure from both the East Coast was the fact that at the time, “her professors, [as well as] the New York art scene at the time, focused on conceptual art and resisted her figurative, illustrative style” (Herman, “Interview with Audrey Kawasaki”), leaving Kawasaki with a head full of ideas and no audience to show them to.

One of the most unique, but not entirely new aspects that Kawasaki entails in her work is the fact that unlike most painters, Kawasaki paints her pieces on planks of wood, rather than the traditional rough white canvas. The process itself is long and detailed, with Kawasaki first having to pick the actual panels to work with. “I’m very picky when choosing the wood panels to work on,” Kawasaki states in a Hi-Fructose magazine interview. “I choose by the quality of flow and lines of the wood-grains,” she continues to explains, as her work often varies between thick and thin layers of paint, showing that Kawasaki indeed wants the grains to show, to be a part of the painting as a whole. Going through a process of cutting the wood to a particular length, and sanding it down until it is smooth enough to act as a canvas, Kawasaki then draws the general image itself with pencil, and in between every few lines or so coats the piece with a couple layers of acrylic gel medium; this process not only seals the drawing, but the wood as well, making the surface as a whole more receptive to the paint. Once the wood is taken care of, Kawasaki then begins her slow, tedious process of layering thin washes of both light and dark, while slowly adding color, in order to make refined lines and shades (“Audrey Kawasaki” 32).
The use of wood rather than canvas provides an interesting thought into both Kawasaki's mind, as well as the mind of her work. As previously mentioned, the choice of using wood, and ultimately the technique of allowing the wood grain to show through, rather than being hidden by the paint, is an interesting choice. While never directly explaining the purpose, other than its aesthetic value, the purpose of showing the wood grain could be taken in several different interpretations. Keeping literature in mind, a well written character, as previously stated, is only realistic if the character in question is flawed. A character with no flaws is unbalanced. Light creates shadow, and shadow in turn cannot exist without light; the two only live by balancing each other out. Despite this however, people continue time and time again to strive for perfection. Seeing as perfection is simply an unobtainable goal (and really, one that has never been truly defined), Kawasaki's paintings in turn reflect that ideology. Rather than covering up the wood and striving to create a perfect painting, Kawasaki instead lets the wood grain show through, like a “translucent fog or mist in the background” (Owens 26). By doing this, Kawasaki emphasizes the fact that the wood grain is part of the wood, a physical manifestation that naturally occurs in life. In turn, her characters, her nymphs, her girls, even her occasional boys, are drawn as seemingly a contradiction within itself: innocent yet erotic, potentially perverted or potentially beautiful, her girls are like any other thing in life, flawed, but natural.

In the topic of the paintings themselves, Kawasaki is known primarily for three things: her unique style itself, the fact that her paintings are on wood, and finally, the subject of her paintings: her “girls.” The girls themselves have been known to have a rather ambiguous look to them: Kawasaki's admirers often see the girls as simply that, girls, with no particular age in mind, and they accept them for what they are in the heat of the moment. However, Kawasaki has often been blasted by her critics, claiming that not only are her images borderline, if not completely pornographic, but that her girls are clearly underage; a common thought that the girls themselves appear to be only twelve, fifteen at most (Rogers, “Audrey Kawasaki vs. Bill Henson”). Similar to another artist that caused a commotion several years ago, photographer Bill Henson received a huge amount of criticism after unveiling a show in Australia that “depicted youths in various states of undress” (Rogers, “Audrey Kawasaki vs. Bill Henson”). While Henson received a large amount of flack at the time, the fact remains that despite the exhibition, Henson is all and all still a remotely successful photographer, and with that in mind, it stands to reason that Kawasaki should remain the same, despite the supposed concern of her girls appearing underage.

While overall the idea of Kawasaki depicting young, adolescent girls in seemingly sexual situations and positions seems like a legitimate concern, the idea that should be remembered here is that, putting it simply, art is art; as long as art is art, it shall be open for interpretation. In that sense, the openness of the girls shall always, ultimately be a source of conflict between Kawasaki's supporters and opponents; like a well written character, her girls have two sides to them. While one side is seemingly innocent, childlike even, and causes the reader to fall in love with them, once you look at her face itself, it all seemingly changes. With bedroom eyes nearly calling out to the viewer, the audience feels drawn in, and that in turn generates a feeling of discomfort, of whether or not they should feel this way, drawn in to the point where they cannot help but stare like a voyeur of sorts.
In regards to Kawasaki's style, it has been repeatedly described in the small amount of interviews that she's done, as well as her Wikipedia entry page, that her style has time and time again been described as a fusion of Art Nouveau and manga. With Art Nouveau being defined on Wikipedia as being “characterized by organic, especially floral and other plant-inspired motifs, as well as highly-stylized, flowing curvilinear forms,” Kawasaki pulls heavily on these influences. Many of the subjects in her paintings are missing limbs, and Kawasaki stated that “the flow [of the lines] is very important to me” (Owens 26). She later goes on to explain that “if an arm or leg interrupts that flow, I take it out” (Owens 26).

Similar to the traditional Japanese woodblock printing, Kawasaki uses bold outlines and thin coats of oil based paint; rather than attempting to realistically portray each piece of the picture as if it were a photograph, Kawasaki instead chooses to make the faces realistic, against an extremely minimal, two-dimensional background. With most, if not all of her pieces containing flowers or plants in some shape or form, Kawasaki's pieces consistently use either no background at all; at most the paintings usually contain images of flowers or plant life sprouting up, a light color backdrop, or an abundance of wave patterns, similar to the old Japanese woodblock images of wind or water, continuously flowing and looping around each other. By using a minimalist backdrop, Kawasaki forces the viewer to acknowledge her girls, since not only is the viewer looking at them, but Kawasaki regards that most of her girls are looking back, and that they “are definitely aware that [they] have an audience.” Not only do they know they have an audience, but the fact is that “most of them directly stare back” (Owens 26). It is a challenge of sorts, from Kawasaki to her viewers. To stare directly into the eyes of her girls, directly into the emotion that they make you feel, and confront them, as Kawasaki finds that people who enjoy her work are able to connect with it on some deeper level of emotion, that perhaps they too feel the confusion that her girls feel, that they feel aroused by something, and they're not quite sure if they should be.

In this piece titled “Oiran,” Kawasaki's Japanese roots present themselves at their finest. A Los Angeles native, as well as a second generation Japanese-American, Kawasaki fully embraced her culture as a young girl by taking weekly Saturday Japanese classes, as well as growing up to “reading manga and watching Japanese TV shows, [and] listening to Japanese pop music.” (Mitchell, “Words”) Kawasaki makes full use of her experiences, by taking them and making them their own; whether it is by utilizing the large, wide eyes that Japanese manga are so well known for and twisting it into a pair of lidded bedroom eyes, or pulling directly from the style and history of Japan with what appears to be a kimono. Styling the girl’s hair into an exquisite headpiece, similar to the typical thought of a traditional geisha headgear piece, also showcases Kawasaki’s native roots. One of Kawasaki's more subtle, yet nevertheless beautiful pieces, “Oiran” can be seen as a showcase of the influence that Kawasaki's heritage has on her.

The colors, as well as the backdrop can also add meaning to the overall story and meaning that the painting is trying to portray. While the colors seem somewhat bleak at first, with light and grayish blues, the color blue itself is often associated with stability, symbolizing wisdom, confidence, and intelligence (“Color Meaning”). The color gray in turn can be associated with a lack of emotions, or isolation (“Color Gray Meaning”). Considering they are the most prominent colors shown, if you were to analyze the oiran herself in terms of her positives and negatives, it can be interpreted that as a flaw, she’s seen as emotionally distant, and isolated within herself. To balance that out however, she is confident with herself, as well as smart.

Even the title brings a more significant meaning to the piece; oiran were a type of yūjo, and literally translated, yūjo means “women of pleasure.” In today's terms, an yūjo would be along the lines of a prostitute. However, the oiran were different from the yūjo in the sense that they were more than just sex workers; they were entertainers as well, the image of the high class geisha of sorts. Qualities that were highly valued to become an oiran was having an educated wit, which was then shown in the etymology of the word, which comes from the phrase oira no tokoro no nēsan, or “my older sister” (“Oiran”). In most, if not all Asian cultures, older siblings and elders in general are regarded with respect, and is a generally accepted fact that they are usually wiser due to the longer years they have lived. With this in mind, Kawasaki has us regard the fact that the oiran is so much more than a typical prostitute; her talents go beyond her beautiful body, her beautiful face. Since the oiran to begin with were a rather small group, and they were more along the lines of upper class yūjo, a few of the oiran went on and became famous outside the pleasure houses; oiran in general would often set the latest fashion trends among the wealthy (“Oiran”). With this in mind, Kawasaki has the audience keep in mind that while her occupation may be flawed in the sense that she is essentially selling her body, and that in America’s society is essentially considered a slut (whereas in Japan, high class geishas and yūjo would be treated with a degree of respect, and in turn potentially be in ownership of wealth), she refuses to sell her mind, her spirit, and her charisma that ultimately is her greatest asset.

“Hush” is a piece of Kawasaki’s that would typically gain some criticism, if only for the discomfort that some viewers may feel upon gazing at it.

The colors themselves are very neutral; simply taking advantage of the natural golden hues of the wood, combined with darker shades of brown, as well as a lighter shade to account for skin tones, the natural colors and minimal background causes the audience in turn to immediately zone in on the two faces and concentrate on the emotions held there. While there are no flower motifs, the influence of the Art Nouveau style is once again shown; with a disembodied hand and a set of joined heads, Kawasaki focuses on the flow of the lines, which creates an interesting symbol of sorts. By having the two faces connected, in turn Kawasaki has the two alluding to being one entity in itself, connected together; and by having the hand disembodied from both the head, and any actual physical body itself, represents wild abandonment, in a way. By having it unattached to any body, and essentially any form of control, the hand is in turn giving in to it is desires, it is passions; essentially, the hand is doing what it wants to. It is acting on unconscious or repressed emotions or actions without any restrictions or limitations.

The image itself highlights the idea and meaning behind the Chinese yin and yang symbol. While the detail can be overlooked, at a second glance the viewer may notice the fact that while the two girls are locked in an embrace of sorts, the two girls are startlingly similar in appearance; in fact, it could be argued that the two girls are the same girl. Rather than be interpreted as narcissistic however, and that the girl is in love (or lust) with herself, Kawasaki encourages viewers to think of the idea that the two girls are one in the same, the innocent and erotic halves of one person. Like the balance of light and dark in the yin and yang symbol, Kawasaki makes the girls a balance of any normal person; the side that they let everyone see, the clean, “normal,” average person, and the darker side. The side that the innocent side has her eyes closed to, the side that the innocent side is “blind” to; the side that holds the secret desires, and thoughts of the person. By being drawn as one shape by the connecting line, Kawasaki emphasizes the idea that the two sides are in balance and therefore make up one whole, functioning, sentient being, rather than two people functioning separately.

Another aspect of the image is that the audience cannot help but feel as if they are intruding on an intimate moment between the two (or is it one?) girls. Their discomfort is then intensified at the gaze of the second girl, who seems to almost be staring straight into the eyes of the audience. The audience feels as if they have suddenly been afflicted with a paraphilia; more specifically, the viewer suddenly feels as if he is a voyeur, feeling arousal or emotion at the two girls about to kiss, and in turn find it disturbing that he may find interest in the two girls. However, if taken into context of today's society, it is arguable that in turn, most, if not all human beings are afflicted with voyeurism to some extent. With the rapid rise in popularity of reality television shows, as well as a love for dramatic teen shows such as Gossip Girl or One Tree Hill that reflect real life (to a certain extent), the fact is that we watch the so-called “couples” make out or have sex with each other on the television all the time; one would suspect us to have become desensitized to it by now. However, when confronted with a still image of an intimate, if somewhat lustful action, as well as having one of the characters break the fourth wall and gaze piercingly into the viewer's eyes, the audience cannot help but find themselves in a situation of sorts: should they look away, or should they continue to gaze into the painting's eyes? Should they accept it and acknowledge their discomfort, or should they criticize it, pushing their uneasiness to the back burner of their minds in an attempt to forget it? By having the audience question themselves, Kawasaki makes them question and realize their supposed perversion of voyeurism; people find comfort in watching it on the television since they have the knowledge and comfort of knowing that the viewing glass is strictly one-sided. Having the girl gaze back is the equivalent of being caught watching, which in turn spurns on the feelings of guilt and shame.

Also, not only is the audience faced with the proposed dilemma, but the title itself does not ease the situation; the word “hush” could take on a variety of meanings in each given context. Is the audience supposed to “hush” in an effort not to interrupt a special moment between two lovers? Is this a forbidden affair that is not to be spoken of? The secret desires and thoughts personified into two sentient beings? Or is it simply the personification of a secret that the viewer themselves have hidden deep in their mind?

Making “Hush” look rather tame in comparison, “Yuuwako Bana,” one of Kawasaki's more provocative pieces, uses Art Nouveau elements to the nth degree. Kawasaki entails the use of both floral images, as well as the flow of lines to the point where as the eyes travel lower and lower down the painting, the image begins to slowly fade away; despite fading off, the image clearly alludes the audience to both the image down there, as well as what the girl is doing to herself.

The colors Kawasaki uses in this palette are similar to a majority of her works, which are in the lighter, neutral, tones and nearly transparent shades. Soft pinks blend in with the golden browns of the wood, creating a rather warm, loving tone, which is then highlighted by the delicate flowers. The flowers themselves appear to be white lotuses, whose symbolic meaning greatly contrasts with the title of the piece. As Kawasaki explained on her Charity Auction post on her i_seldom_do LiveJournal account, yuuwako roughly translates into seductress, and bana, a variation of the word hana, means flower. The title references to the fact that the girl is attempting to seduce someone (most likely the viewer), with the flowers next to her. However, white lotuses symbolize a complete and total state of mental purity and perfection. The fact that only one of the flowers is open, while the other is in the process of opening, is rather important. The relationship between a lotus and the sun is meant to represent one of love, that by having the lotus grow through the mud, upwards, towards the sun, a representation of the journey; by having the one white lotus open, the flower in turn could represent a love that’s pure, both mentally and spiritually; in turn, the opening lotus represents a love blossoming. The fact that it is a slight shade of pink also represents an important aspect. The pink lotus is widely regarded in Buddhism to be the supreme lotus, reserved for the highest deities only (“The Symbol of the Lotus”).

With just the given image, it is entirely possible that perhaps the young girl is meant to represent a virgin, attempting to seduce someone. However, once taken into consideration with the context of the meaning of the flower, it is entirely possible that perhaps the girl herself is represented by the white lotus, full of pure and innocent love. With that said, it is entirely possible that in actuality, she’s represented by the pink lotus; the ultimate deity translating into perhaps, the soul mate of the onlooker, and in turn trying to seduce us, trying to win the audience over.

“Shounen,” occasionally spelt shōnen or shonen, literally translated, means a “few years.” In the Japanese culture, the term essentially refers to boys from elementary school age, up to junior high school age. It is also a legal reference to a term of youth, the term for when someone has not legally reached adulthood yet, around age eighteen to twenty. (“Shōnen). With the meaning of the title in mind, as well as the context of the use of color and backdrop, the meaning of the painting becomes much clearer.

With subdued tones of green, which can represent positive and negative fate or randomness, as well as instability, the image takes on a whole new meaning once the perspective of both the title and the color palette are recognized (“Color Theory: Green”). With a rather young looking boy in front of what appears to be a rather aged, old tree, the title shounen, meaning a few years, would represent that while it may take a while, it will only feel like a few years to the boy, until he ages and becomes as old as the tree itself, as exemplified by the fact that with the Art Nouveau influence, the lines of the boy’s hair join with the lines of the tree branches itself. With what appears to be at least one broken bough, it is understood that perhaps with fate tied in, it might have been a misstep or mistake on his part. However, the fact is that green can represent two rather different things: randomness and fate. While fate is considered unchangeable, and set in stone, randomness is defined more along the lines of something that is taken to chance, something that may or may not happen, and that there’s no clear outlook on whether it will happen or not. With that taken into consideration, the image itself can be twisted in various ways.

The painting can be viewed as the shounen in front of the tree as a representation of his future. With the tree overall looking rather old, broken, and aging, it is entirely possible that in the future, the boy will go through some negative experiences. However, it is all up for interpretation of what those experiences are. He may have gone through something unchangeable, an event and reaction that was written long before he was born, or he may have gone through something that was a random instance of timing and location, of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. On the other hand, every decision an artist makes, is not one made for no reason at all.

At most, Kawasaki usually draws her figures nude, with the most accessories on them being trinkets, insects, or even the occasional animal entangled in their hair. With that examination, the fact that Kawasaki decided to place a thin choker-like necklace around the shounen’s neck is probably not there just for the sake of decoration. If one were to assume that it was intended to be a choker necklace, then the meaning of the painting significantly shifts, from being ambiguous in the sense that it is either fate or chance, to it being a solid representation of a permanent, unchanging fate. Representing the binding sensation, as if one were to be cut off from breathing, and essentially living, as the audience views the piece, they in turn would be encouraged to feel their own seemingly trapped lives, bound to a daily routine in order to irk out a living. By juxtaposing the young and old, Kawasaki in turn causes the viewer to think about all the what-ifs of their life: what if I studied this instead of that, what if I learnt this instead of that, etc.

One of the few paintings where the title is not in Japanese, the piece “She Who Dares” is a vivid contrast to Kawasaki’s more familiar work. Done in a dark, chocolate colored wood rather than the familiar, warmer butter-yellow tones of lighter woods, Kawasaki in turn changes the paint pallet too, doing almost the entire piece in a shimmering, illustrious silver tone, with light hints of pink. While at first it may seem that Kawasakichose silver in order for the color to contrast and stand out from the dark brown of the wood, each color is not chosen without meaning, without purpose. Silver is generally symbolized with the moon, and in turn considered an attribute of feminine energy. Silver can also stand for purity, clarity, vision, strength, and much more, which is highlighted by its bright and clear appearance as a metal itself (“Symbolism of Silver”). With that taken into consideration, this piece is probably one of the few pieces that uses minimal Japanese or manga influence, with the exception, as always, of the girl’s eyes. Kawasakialways favors wide, thin eyes, in reference to both the popular Japanese manga style, as well as what’s expected in Asian genetics.

That being said, with the minimal Asian influences in this piece, Kawasakitook on a new, European influence in the form of the ivy and vines that are subtly in the background. In Druid beliefs for instance, the ability of ivy was to cling and bind, marking it as a symbol of determination and strength to the Druids. The Celts associated ivy with their lunar goddess Arianrhod (linking once again with silver, which is associated with the moon), while old wives tales told of women carrying ivy with them for good luck and fertility. Most importantly however, in this context the audience is meant to look at the symbolic meaning that ivy is supposed to stand for the journey of the soul, and the spiral towards one’s self (“The Ivy”). Once this meaning is known, then the meaning of the overall picture is clear, with a goal towards self discovery. With the title of “She Who Dares,” the girl in the image is meant to take risks in her life, to dare her to do something significant in order to become strong, and to see one self with clarity, and by doing so discovering your inner self in its purist form. You’d be discovering your truest beliefs, your desires, and your purpose in life; and by making that journey, you would become stronger, wiser, and mentally purer.

With the added detail of her hair blending into one finite shape, but with different paths suggests the idea that by daring, by taking risks, she in turn opens up numerous paths for her to go down and in turn, open up choices for her to take, rather than being confined to one choice. Also, by having the painting itself fade away, and the lines open up into the wood in general allude to the idea of her possibilities being limitless.

Emerging in a time where the popular artistic style was realistic, concrete images, Kawasaki has blossomed into a successful artist, being one of the few to make it, and one of the fewer college dropouts to make it big. Her pieces are consistently selling out; in her Mayocho Michi solo show for instance, all of Kawasaki’s “pieces…were completely sold out before the opening, and most going for about $10,000-12,000” (“Audrey Kawasaki Mayocho Michi”) and the main source of her success is the deeper meaning behind the paintings themselves. Yes, Kawasaki’s girls (and occasional boys) are breathtakingly beautiful, but the inner conflict that the audience sees, or unconsciously sees, while looking at her pictures is the pull that draws so many to love or despise her work; the balance between the acknowledged innocent side to a person with the hidden, more twisted and often erotic side that many of us keep locked away. By emphasizing the balance between the two, Kawasaki creates a work of art that epitomizes the ideal example of a perfectly flawed character.