The Duality of Becoming

Medium: Watercolor on paper

Date: 1979

For this week’s blog, I am excited to introduce “The Duality of Becoming,” a profound personal piece that captures my reflections on a transformative journey to Japan in 1979. As a guest of the Japanese government, I was immersed in the country’s rich cultural landscape, exploring everything from serene temples to the dramatic arts of Kabuki and Noh. These experiences were profound and multifaceted moments of quiet, subtle beauty juxtaposed against sudden, startling bursts of intensity. This artwork is a response to those encounters, an exploration of the complex interplay between chaos and calm, destruction, and creation. It is a visual meditation on how opposing forces shape us, just as my time in Japan reshaped my understanding of art, architecture, and the self. 

"The Duality of Becoming" 

Visual Elements: 

I created this piece shortly after returning from Japan, where I was invited as a guest of the Japanese government alongside museum curators and prominent American architects. This journey profoundly influenced me, exposing me to the strong yet subtle beauty of ideas and constructions in some of the quietest, yet most startling places. The artwork captures the contrasts I experienced—split into two distinct halves that reflect my encounters in Japan. 

On the left, jagged red and black shapes explode outward like a solar flare, a violent burst of energy encircling a dark void—a black hole that consumes light, reminiscent of the chaos I witnessed at the Kabuki Theater. During a 6.7 earthquake, I found myself trapped in a third balcony seat, watching the massive red walls of the sets flap violently as actors in fabulous costumes scrambled to save them. The flurry of movement, the frantic energy, and the raw panic of that moment are all captured in the aggressive strokes and fiery colors of this side. It symbolizes not just the earthquake’s physical violence but also the sudden upheaval of the human spirit in moments of crisis. 

In contrast, the right side of the artwork is a muted, ghostly hemisphere that feels like a half-formed moon. I drew inspiration from the quiet yet profound experience of attending the Noh play "Kaki Tsubata," my favorite. The play, written in poetry, unfolds on the themes of the iris flower robe from a long-past event of love. This ancient theater, with its mysterious and deeply touching meditative pacing, leads slowly to an explosive climax that lingers in the soul. Here, I used faint, skeletal lines to sketch birds or spirits, suggesting the ephemeral and the transformative. It is a quieter, introspective side that captures the slow, deliberate beauty of Noh—the long meditation before its sudden, breathtaking release. 

Symbolism: 

The left side represents the primal forces of creation and destruction, drawing directly from the violence I felt during the Kabuki earthquake—a metaphor for how quickly our constructed worlds can crumble. The spiked forms and swirling void reflect the fear and chaos of that moment: actors hurrying, seats teetering on collapse, and the feeling of being trapped in a beautifully constructed yet precarious reality. The eye at the center is a dark void, symbolizing introspection, the unknown self, and the confrontation with forces beyond our control. 

On the right, the pale, delicate forms evoke the subtlety of inner transformation, much like the slow and poetic unfolding of "Kaki Tsubata." It speaks to the quiet, yet profound emotional journey of the play—a slow build of tension that culminates in a powerful release. The ghostly lines suggest the quiet persistence of memory and spirit, an echo of the themes of love and longing that resonated deeply with me. This side is about the delicate, almost spiritual process of becoming, reflecting the introspective nature of Noh theater and its ability to hold space for both beauty and sorrow. 

Techniques: 

I employed sharp, angular strokes on the left, using bold reds and blacks to capture the intensity of the Kabuki earthquake scene. Each line is aggressive and raw, breaking the boundaries of the canvas, echoing the panic of that flapping red set and the frantic energy of actors trying to maintain control. On the right, I softened my approach, drawing with a light hand to create an ethereal, almost ghostly quality that mirrors the slow, deliberate pacing of Noh. The subdued creams and faint yellows create a sense of incompletion, as if these forms are still in the process of emerging, much like the quiet spaces that Japan revealed to me. 

Emotional Impact: 

This piece is a dialogue between the chaos of outer turmoil and the quiet intensity of inner reflection. It evokes a powerful tension—the uneasy balance of confronting both external calamities and the softer, more hidden transformations within us. It speaks to my personal journey in Japan, witnessing the startling contrasts of theatrical violence and meditative stillness, and finding harmony between these opposing forces. 

Life Lesson: 

"The Duality of Becoming" captures how our identities are shaped by the interplay of destruction and creation, chaos, and calm. It reflects my deeply personal experiences in Japan—from the violent beauty of the Kabuki earthquake to the meditative quiet of Noh theater—reminding us that we are forged in the dance between passion and reflection, the fierce and the fragile. As Carl Jung said, "One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious." This artwork challenges us to acknowledge and harmonize the dichotomies within us, finding our true selves in the ever-evolving dance between chaos and stillness, fragility, and strength.