Spending time in the home of graphic/fine artist Yoshimi Yoshimoto in Kyoto was one of the highlights for me. My mood was to move in with all his stuff, but that was a sign of madness on my part. The combination of moderne, Showa-era, and mixed in with Western pop culture is a seductive mix. The five of us, Lun*na, Saori, John, and Jeff, felt this home was exceptional. Yoshimi’s grandparents were part of the Kyoto underworld, and their collection of paintings and books reflects a sophisticated lifestyle—a highly aestheticized world that is remarkably free of any iconic imagery but something of great originality. I don’t think a home like this could exist in Tokyo.
While Lun*na and John were figuring out where and how to shoot the show tonight in Yoshimi’s house, I was fixated on his books, specifically this book, which once belonged to his grandmother. The only date I saw in this book is 1925, and the cover is of a sleeping cat underneath a cherry tree.
It's day six since we returned from Tokyo, and I still feel the trip physically. My body is out of whack, and I gained ten pounds in Japan. I lost four by diet and mainly through my fascistic thinking of losing pounds. Mind over body is my technique when it comes to health and even mental issues. Yet, my mind goes back to Yoshimi’s home writing desk, thinking how I would love to write a Substack post on that desk.
For me, location is everything. One can use one's imagination, but one has to feel the place to get that imagination to wander. There is a restaurant not far from his home called 食堂おがわ (Restaurant Ogawa) that serves all sorts of Japanese dishes, sashimi as well as cooked. Their specialty, I think, is chicken, and this was the first time I ate a chicken in ten years.
When you walk in, there are only twelve seats by the counter. Yoshimi made reservations for us, the film crew, and some choice friends of his. It was a wonderful gathering. The intimacy of dining out or drinking in Japan is special, and I will never take that for granted. To be among such a company is an honor. It’s rare for anyone to visit others in their homes, and so, in that case, the restaurant/bar becomes a second home for many. One knows the chef, and here we can chat about the food being served to us. It’s a psychedelic experience where time flows, especially if one is drinking, and it’s hard to keep track of the dishes served to you. It’s like being in a movie theater, watching coming attractions, and thinking I want to see that. Here, you are not only seeing but tasting the goods.
This restaurant has a second floor, and climbing up steep stairs leads you to three tatami mat rooms. One could have a private party here, and I can imagine myself being here in the rain and thinking up a narrative that I will later write in Yoshimi’s office space at his home. Jeff, our director, is already considering moving to Kyoto, and I can understand his feelings. I like it here too much to move to Kyoto; it would be more of a pleasure to visit; therefore, I will always be that accidental tourist, dreaming of that perfect writing spot in Yoshimi’s home.
This is as good as it gets Tosh! Books and food, two of my passions. That house is so beautiful and that book as well. Thanks.