À la recherche du temps perdu —What Lies Beyond the Line

A collection of lines from my youth etched onto traditional large-format French "Raisin" paper. St. Sulpice Church is on the left, and that memorable Rue Mouffetard is on the middle right.

During my student days, I spent my time entirely absorbed in drawing and sketching. Plaster busts, nude sketches, and drawings outdoors. I turned my gaze upon various things, capturing and transferring them to paper. Every day, I ran my pencil or pen across the page in a trance.

One day, I went out to sketch in Rue Mouffetard. Each of us found our own spot, secured a place to sit, and held our carton (sketchboard). I was drawing a building with a café on the ground floor, and wanting to check the fine details, I stepped closer to the building. A car was parked there, and the hood in front of me became a desk at just the right height.

A collection of lines from my youth etched onto traditional large-format French "Raisin" paper. St. Sulpice Church is on the left, and that memorable Rue Mouffetard is on the middle right.

As I placed my carton on the hood and gripped my pen, a Madame relaxing right in front of me was about to speak out. She was probably the owner of the car. However, the Monsieur sitting next to her gently blocked her with his hand and smiled brightly at me.

In France, admission to many museums is open for free or at a discount to students, young people, and those seeking employment. It is recognized so that anyone can easily immerse themselves in beauty whenever they wish to touch something beautiful. No special right is needed to touch beautiful things. Anyone can equally receive the blessing of Venus. Perhaps there are very many people in France who possess this awareness not as something instilled, but inherently dormant within their bodies from birth.

It is the ultimate joy to create coats while remembering those drawings, which created light and shadow with just simple black lines and even stirred emotions.

White Tsumugi "SAGIRI". The days spent fiercely analyzing structures on those Parisian street corners give life to these hand-stitched straight lines.

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You may never wear a kimono. But you can wear the art of Wasai.

On ne porte pas forcément un kimono. Mais on peut porter l'art du Wasai.

— PASSIONEER

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