Kenji, one of the guards who had become a friend, invited me to his home, where I met his wife. He took me on walks through the exotic countryside. I was a kid from Portland, Maine, and there I was, being guided through some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. These farmers became my friends, and they opened their hearts to share a fascinating perspective of their country I never could have experienced without their help.
Though Kenji, I learned about a Sensei, a teacher, who held a life drawing class at a nearby school. I went with him and two other friends. One was a very successful illustrator from Boston named Milt Johnson. He had a beautiful studio, and this guy was having the time of his life. He was a sergeant and was doing graphic design and other art-related activities for the military. He was to go back to Boston when his tour of duty was over.
Kenji, learning I wished to study figure drawing, took me to a kindergarten playground where a biology teacher had a life class. When it was a break time for the group, they all came out into the playground. Kenji, very politely, and bowing very low, addressed Sensei San, and explained that his friends were serious artists and wanted to join his class. Well, you may find it hard to believe, but not all of the Japanese loved us. We had recently dropped two nuclear bombs on their country and we had done a number on many of their friends and relations. So when Kenji asked if we could join, the teacher launched a fusillade of profanity at poor Kenji, speaking Japanese. I didn’t let it go on for too long. I then bowed very low and apologized, in Japanese, for having interrupted his class and having upset him. He was humiliated. I had understood everything he had said. He had lost face in front of all of his students. So, he instantly apologized profusely, and bowing more deeply, said my friends and I were welcome to join the class.
I told Milt we were going to show deep respect to Sensei and the other students. We would sit in the vast, last row and be the first out. When we went to the playground during breaks, we were going to the furthest corner of that playground, and turn our backs on everybody. We will not look at any of the girls, not one. I was not going to give anyone reason to believe we had anything other than the highest of intentions.
The person who organized the class was a biology teacher who contracted the models with a model master from Tokyo, and monitored the poses. As we entered the class, we saw we were the best dressed in the group. When we left our drawing boards and went outside to smoke, all these younger people came over to see what the Americans were doing. They gradually got the nerve to talk to us, and wanted to talk about American student drawing. In retrospect, I regret I didn’t ask them to teach us something about Japanese art. As it turned out, our drawings were the best in the class and when we left for a smoke, the other students were quick to gather around our drawings and admire them.
During the second break, many of those students introduced themselves and invited us to join them after class to buy yakimeshi, fried rice, a from the vendor who operated a food cart in the neighborhood. We became fast friends, which let us become members of their community. At the end of the session of classes, this group helped us to find a studio and contacts which allowed us to order models from Tokyo. We now had a foothold in a Japanese community. The students had girlfriends and families in the area. We belonged, we had links to this wonderfully exotic place.
They became dear friends, and would take us to meet their families. This opened up a whole new world for us. It was a wonderful experience.
