Last night I had the opening of my first solo exhibition in Harajuku, Tokyo. The gallery was full of a selection of drawings, illustrations and sketches I have done in the last 3 years. A little bit like exposing my guts and showing them proudly, hoping nobody looked disgusted. The opening happened in a beautiful afternoon, mere minutes I finished setting up the lights and fine tuning the details on an exhibition that felt I had worked all my live for. No critics came, no big potential clients, no important or famous people. I didn’t shake hands to someone I might get jobs from, no fashion models, no famous actors and no big brand CEOs telling me I was going to make the graphics for their next worldwide ad campaign.
Most of the attendees were friends: drawers, artists, photographers, musicians, designers, art directors or software engineers, but also wedding sales agents, interior designers, office managers, and one architect. All of them I know by name and most I have known for years. They brought their best smiles and some flowers with beautiful cards carrying lovely handwritten messages and I couldn’t be happier I knew their love and praise was true and well meant. For this I am grateful and consider myself the luckiest person of the night. Worldwide, I mean.
Thanks to all of you who came and all who couldn’t make it but told me they would have loved to.
I am a fucking lucky guy.
Thank you Yulia Skogoreva for the lovely photo.
Life in Tourtour.
The Tokyo model, 1:1000
The wishing tree
Early evening. Blinding light as I ride home. Old men protesting war in front of Sendagaya Station. So it goes.
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A present to remember a week I will never forget.