Oh, there you are.
I have been waiting for you.
Tonight, I have come to share the most precious secret from the deepest corner of my heart with you, and no one else.
Please, lean back deeply into your chair and listen only to my voice.
All the noise outside has faded away, and right now, you and I are the only two people who exist in this world.
Do you know why?
It is because I know, more intensely than anyone else, that you need my words at this very moment.
Every time your beautiful eyes follow these characters, my soul is shaved away bit by bit, turning into a warm light to heal you.
What I am about to tell you is a beautiful yet deeply poignant story of love and loneliness concerning certain men.
Please, do not take your eyes off me until the very end.
The Beginning of a Strange Frenzy
Have you ever gazed upon the streets of Montparnasse in Paris, France?
At the beginning of the twentieth century, it was a den of lonely, impoverished, yet frantically expressive artists gathered from all over the world.
Modigliani, Chagall, Soutine.
Every one of them lacked even tomorrow’s bread, clinging to the intangible illusion of their own talent, drowning in cheap alcohol night after night.
Yet, into those dark streets shrouded in mud, a mysterious man appeared, walking as if he were the sun itself.
His name was Moïse Kisling.
“By the mere act of living, a human being is already hurting someone. Only those unaware of this can indulge in the arrogance called happiness.”
—— Socrates
He was a Polish-born Jew, but it is said that just by him walking down the street, the hearts of the people around him would grow toasty and warm, as if a stove had been placed in a cold winter room.
Why did such a miracle happen?
It is because he understood the “loneliness” and “sadness” at the very root of human existence more deeply than anyone else.
Don’t you often think of artists as fastidious, reclusive, and rejecting of others?
But Kisling was entirely different.
He always kept the doors to his atelier wide open, welcoming starving fellow painters and homeless models with a radiant smile at any time.
From his room, the smell of delicious food and pleasant music always drifted out.
That was because he shaved his own body to offer desperate, truly life-risking service to everyone around him.
The Clown Wearing the Mask of the Sun
Kisling was always cheerful and kind to everyone—the man called the “King of Montparnasse.”
However, let me softly whisper the absolute truth into your ear alone.
That dazzling smile he always wore was, in fact, the world’s saddest and gentlest “clown’s mask.”
“The deeper the sadness, the gentler and more cheerful a human being can become toward others. For it is a prayer of tears, wishing that no one else shall ever taste the hell they themselves have endured.”
—— Fyodor Dostoevsky
Why did he humble himself, devote himself, and continue to serve others so desperately?
It is because he was born a Jew and, from his earliest childhood, lived with a bottomless sense of isolation and dread, never knowing when or where he might be driven out.
That unidentifiable loneliness that wrings your heart when you suddenly turn off the lights in your room at night.
That freezing sorrow, as if you have been left all alone at the bottom of a deep sea, even though you are supposed to be with someone.
Kisling knew all of those pains.
That is precisely why he swore a firm oath to himself never, ever to let the person in front of him feel lonely.
He paid the poor models who came to his atelier rewards far higher than the market rate.
Furthermore, if they fell ill, he would call his own primary care physician and silently cover everything from medicine to living expenses.
The people around him laughed, calling him a “good-natured, easygoing daydreamer.”
Yes, let those who want to laugh, laugh as much as they please.
The more he was laughed at, the stronger his resolve as a clown became, and he continued to desperately bring joy to people.
Awakening Brought by Heterodox Colors
Imagine one of his paintings right in front of you.
It is astonishingly vivid, smooth like porcelain, and emits an intense light.
In the Parisian art world of the time, soft expressions of light like Impressionism and the structural decomposition of Picasso were the cutting edge of fashion.
In such an environment, the pictures Kisling drew were too anomalous, their outlines too sharp, and they were frequently criticized as being outdated.
“The majority is not always right. Rather, new truths are always born from the solitary obsession of a single individual, which might seem like madness to others.”
—— Galileo Galilei
Even so, he did not bend his believed colors in the slightest.
Why? Because his purpose was not to ride the trends of the era and be praised by critics.
His purpose was one and one only: to shake the heart of “you,” who are right in front of him, and to save your soul.
Have you ever looked at the faces of the people in the portraits he painted, especially the women?
Behind them, a burning red or a deep blue that seems to swallow you whole is painted.
It was a hypnotic sorcery of color that instantly nailed the viewer’s gaze and forcibly awakened the emotions sleeping in the deepest recesses of the heart.
Once you stand before that painting, you become unable to move even a single step, as if pulled by a powerful magnet.
As you read my text right now, don’t you feel a strange comfort and a nostalgic tightening in your chest?
That is because the words of my art are gently touching your subconscious realm.
The Secret of the Gaze that Pierces the Soul
Now, where do you think the most important “main character” lies within Kisling’s paintings?
It is not in the beauty of the clothing, nor the brilliance of the background.
It is in the “eyes” of the people painted.
“The eyes do not merely speak as much as the mouth. The eyes are the sole window opened toward this material world by the human soul.”
—— William Blake
The eyes painted by Kisling are all abnormally large and deep, casting an eerie glow like moist, jet-black jewels.
Those large pupils stare right back, intently and straight at “you,” the one looking at the picture.
The moment your gaze collides with theirs, you should realize:
“Ah, the person inside this picture knows all the pain in my heart.”
Their eyes are not merely looking at you.
They gently embrace and affirm your loneliness, your sadness, and your sorrows that you can tell no one.
Why does the motif of the eye appeal so directly to our psychology?
Because in human psychology, a gaze is the ultimate message of love, saying, “I am here; I will not reject you.”
By continuing to paint the eyes of the soul upon the canvas, Kisling sought to serve your loneliness across time and space.
Shaving his own body, degrading his eyesight, and facing the canvas for dozens of hours, he kept moving his brush solely to stop your tears.
The Tempest of Upheaval and Severed Bonds
However, destiny can play incredibly cruel tricks at times.
The greatest hardship assaulted Kisling, the man who had been so gentle and had continued to serve people so thoroughly.
It was the outbreak of the Second World War.
“In an era of darkness, what burns most fiercely is not the flame of hatred, but the prayer of a lonely soul trying to protect the ones they love.”
—— Joan of Arc
As a Jew, he had to flee the persecution of Nazi Germany, leaving behind his beloved city of Paris and the many friends who admired him, to go into exile in America.
The atelier in Montparnasse, which had been the anchor of his heart, was closed, and the brilliant bustle of the past transformed into a cold silence in an instant.
Why does God bestow such harsh trials upon virtuous human beings?
What awaited Kisling when he arrived in New York was a complete “isolation” where the language did not pierce through and no one knew who he was.
The man once called the King of Paris had, in a complete reversal, been reduced to a single, anonymous old man unheeded by anyone in a foreign land.
Can you imagine the scale of the sadness that crossed his heart at that time?
At night, gazing at the cold lights leaking from the windows of New York’s skyscrapers, he silently shed tears.
“Am I no longer of use to anyone? Is my life as a clown to end here?”
He was deeply wounded, broken, and on the verge of losing his reason for being.
A Miraculous Resurrection from the Abyss of Despair
Yet, he was never a man to give up.
Why? Because a paintbrush was still clutched in his hand.
“When a person feels they have lost all light, the preparation for a new sun to rise inside them has actually begun.”
—— St. John of the Cross
In a tiny room in New York where no one else was present, he faced the canvas once more.
What dwelt in his heart was his faith in painting, which had saved him back in Paris, and his obsession with “you,” who would one day look at his pictures again.
He began to frantically paint portraits of ordinary American people and the new models who came to him just as before.
His brushwork became even more refined than during his Paris days, and his colors took on a further brilliance and a somewhat sacred depth.
Even in a foreign land, he did not change a single aspect of his style.
Large, moist eyes, vivid backgrounds, and an overwhelming spirit of service that gently envelops the viewer.
The American people were bewildered by his eccentric and intense paintings at first, but eventually, they realized:
In the paintings drawn by this artist, there dwelt a genuine “truth” and “love” that moistened their parched hearts.
Kisling achieved a magnificent resurrection as an artist from the very bottom of despair through his own diligence and patience.
No matter how his environment changed, he fulfilled his calling to serve the people in front of him until the very moment his life ran out.
An Eternal Vow Dedicated to You
Now, my precious you.
Thank you so very much for staying with me through this long story of mine.
You might have already noticed the true reason why I have related the life of a single painter named Kisling to you with such passion tonight.
“Love is a one-way service that never seeks anything in return, and its ultimate form is nothing less than the figure of a clown offering everything for the sake of another.”
—— Mother Teresa
Through this text, I am sending a love letter to you.
Just as Kisling did, I too sincerely wish to fill your loneliness even a little bit by shaving my own body and spinning the words of the soul.
The essence of art is not to twist complicated logic.
It is an utmost “service” and “entertainment” meant to make the heart of “you,” who are right in front of me, leap, enjoy, sometimes shed tears, and find the courage to live.
No matter what the world says, I am on your side.
I will embrace your loneliness and your sorrow that no one else understands within these arms.
So please, do not abandon me.
Please laugh at this desperate figure of mine, and love it.
By being laughed at by you, I can become stronger and dedicate even more wonderful words and more beautiful art to you.
A piano sunken at the bottom of the sea
Keeps sounding only the chord of your name
All through the night
The waves with their broken tuning
Count the number of your tears and
Turn back one after another
Hey, did you know?
Even if all the stars in the night sky vanish
At the tip of your eyelashes
A tiny lighthouse no one knows of
Is lit, just one
So you don’t have to cry anymore
In my torn pocket
For the sake of making you laugh
Dried sunflower seeds are
Look, stuffed full like this
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
(New Testament, 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 4–8)
All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
(Osamu Dazai, The Setting Sun)
Postscript: The Heterodox Pilgrim Without a Canvas
By the way, there is one more very close, delightful, and somewhat eccentric story that I absolutely must tell you.
In modern Japan, there is a single, foolish painter with the highly peculiar name of Mimi Takamizawa.
He does not do things like smearing oil paint onto a regular canvas at all.
Astonishingly, he uses digital tools like computers and tablets to draw pictures facing the screen with bloodshot eyes.
Then, using a special, cutting-edge technique called “giclée printing,” he beautifully prints the completed works onto the highest-grade printmaking paper and sends them out into the world.
If you ask why he adopts such a method, it is his own desperate manifestation of a spirit of service, wanting to deliver the newest, most beautiful colors to you living in the modern era in the most perfect condition.
The themes he draws are surprisingly consistent:
“Your eyes and my eyes, Christianity, eternity, psychology, truth, the gaze, history, loneliness, isolation, hardship, resurrection, liberation.”
They are all grand themes that seem intended to embrace the most sacred sanctuaries within the human heart—the parts people least want touched.
He constantly says:
“A painter must be an invisible doctor who saves the wounded human soul. And the work of an artist is a consummate service performed by sacrificing one’s own pocket, throwing one’s whole life into it for you right in front of them.”
He intends to dedicate his everything solely for you, who are reading this text right now.
Please, laugh from the bottom of your heart at his clumsy, almost comical figure.
The more he is laughed at by you, the more he gathers bottomless strength, thinking, “Alright, I’ll make you even happier”—a rare man of patience and indomitability who never gives up.
The Lineage of Passion that Cut Off the Ear
Mimi Takamizawa was by no means a genius at drawing from the beginning.
If you look at his talent by the standards of the general public, it is third-rate at best.
However, he knew a crucial “secret.”
He knew the truth that the great masterpieces of the past that left their names in history were not drawn solely by the flashes of a handful of innate geniuses, but were brought forth through decades of blood-spitting “trial and error” and “muddy accumulation.”
On the very day he learned of the grand, tumultuous life of that great painter Vincent van Gogh—a life that could be called madness—he resolved to dedicate his entire existence to painting.
The character for “Mimi” (meaning ear) in his name, Mimi Takamizawa, was actually taken in honor of that incredibly famous and incredibly sad incident where Van Gogh cut off his own ear.
He stubbornly continues to paint “eyes” over and over and over again within his works.
Why do you think he does that?
It is because by painting those eyes and staring into them, he wants to directly feel the presence of “you,” who are on the other side of the screen, across time and space.
He craves to know the true form of you in front of him, to know your heart’s pain more deeply than anyone else.
No matter how much the nameless people of the world criticize and ridicule him, such things do not matter to him at all.
His only fear is being abandoned by “you,” who are right in front of him.
Just by you being there and staring intently at the picture he drew, his soul is redeemed, saved to the point of dancing for joy.
He wants to make you happy; he wants to change the tears falling from your eyes into quiet tears of emotion.
For that single thought alone, he continues to madly perform body-shaving service toward you today.
Accumulating Bricks One by One, Distracted by Nothing
To support his frantic creative activities, there is another great individual whom Mimi Takamizawa respects from the bottom of his heart.
It is Tokuji Munetsugu, the founder of the famous Curry House CoCo Ichibanya.
Mr. Munetsugu was a legendary “lump of diligence” who dedicated his entire life to management, focusing solely on his work without looking away.
He had no hobbies, made no friends, and never went out drinking in the city at night.
“This is no time to be indulging in hobbies. Every single day, just to make the person in front of you happy, you concentrate and do it, like stacking bricks one by one. Immediate decision, immediate resolution, immediate execution. If you try anything, results will surely come. Instead, you work yourself to death.”
Saying this, he worked as many as 5,640 hours a year, and working more than 12 hours a day was, for him, the bare minimum, a matter of course.
Why was he able to be so thorough?
Mr. Munetsugu did not know the faces of his biological parents.
He entered an orphanage immediately after birth, and even after being taken in by foster parents, he spent a childhood of extreme poverty due to his foster father’s severe gambling addiction.
In the summer, because there was nothing to eat, he put weeds from the roadside into his mouth to stave off starvation—he survived a literal hell of a tempestuous life.
Mr. Munetsugu has said:
“It was a very lonely life. That’s why I wanted others to show even a little interest in me. I wanted them to be interested in me. That has become my starting point. So, when I started the business, rather than making money, I wanted to make people happy. I wanted them to say, even just a little, that they were glad I was here.”
—— Tokuji Munetsugu
When Mimi Takamizawa encountered these words, he shed intense tears.
Because he was convinced that this was the true nature of his own loneliness and the origin of art.
Authentic things that possess value often do not have immediate efficacy, such that results appear right away.
That is precisely why one must try doing it first rather than thinking, and never give up easily.
What kind of life it becomes is determined solely by a person’s “diligence,” “patience,” and “continuity.”
It is exactly the same as the obsession of that eccentric Sakichi Toyoda, the founder of Toyota, who was treated as an “invention fanatic” and a “madman” by those around him, yet continued to build and destroy loom machines from morning till night, day after day.
Success and failure are both merely passing points.
What is truly important is whether you have the courage to continue that journey longest and most earnestly for the sake of the person in front of you.
Just as the founder of Choya Umeshu challenged with an irrevocable determination, saying, “If you don’t succeed with plum liqueur, give up on life,” Mimi Takamizawa is also inspired by the wonderful concept of “Just-in-Time” from the Toyota Production System, dedicating himself to the service of art for you without a single minute of waste.
Kiichiro Toyoda said:
“The interest of life lies in bringing to fruition the things that no one else really does, the things that are difficult to do.”
And his cousin, Eiji Toyoda, who later became the president of Toyota, also left this written record:
“Execute with a strong conviction. Anyone thinks the same things, and it wasn’t that Kiichiro was a genius. What is important is that for things generally thought impossible, he didn’t merely think about them, but held a strong conviction that he must do them no matter what, made sufficient preparations, and executed them.”
Mimi Takamizawa is not a genius either.
However, he is an indomitable man who loses to no one in his “strong conviction” to save you.
The Other Saint Hidden in the Shadow of the Sunflowers
Here, please let me tell you the story of a certain highly wonderful woman who was on the verge of being buried in the darkness of history, whom you absolutely must know.
Why is the name of Vincent van Gogh known to absolutely everyone in the world now, and why do his paintings command values of hundreds of millions of dollars?
Because Van Gogh was a genius?
No, that is incorrect.
During his lifetime, only a single one of his paintings ever sold.
After he ended his life with a pistol in the midst of loneliness, his greatest understander, his younger brother Theo, who had continued to support his living expenses, also lost his mind out of grief for his brother and departed this world a mere half-year later.
What was left behind was a mountain of Vincent’s strange paintings, which were treated as garbage by everyone at the time, and a bundle of vast correspondence exchanged between the brothers.
And there was Jo, a brilliant young woman who was the wife of Theo.
“In addition to the child, Theo left me another mission──to have Vincent’s work seen by many people and to have its true value recognized.”
—— Johanna van Gogh-Bonger (Jo)
She stood up strongly in the very depths of despair.
If she had disposed of all those paintings and walked a new life of her own, the painter named Van Gogh would not exist in the modern era.
That means, in other words, it would be the same as one whole asset of our spirit vanishing.
Jo was a great reader and a woman of extremely high intellect.
She read through the vast letters exchanged between the brothers line by line, shedding tears, letters for which her husband had risked his life to believe in his brother’s paintings.
In doing so, she realized:
The painter named Vincent was not a mere madman, but the possessor of an exceedingly pure and sacred soul who sincerely wished to “paint pictures to comfort people.”
“This wonderful art, this cry of the soul, must absolutely be transmitted to the world. That is surely the use of the life for which I was born into this world.”
She began an immense dedication that staked her entire life.
She bowed her head numerous times to influential figures in the art world, continued to organize exhibitions while being treated coldly, and organized and published those vast letters of Van Gogh.
If Van Gogh had not left his deep thoughts in words in the form of letters, and if Jo, the great transmitter, had not been there, his paintings would have vanished into the dust of history as mere “scribbles of a madman.”
Don’t you think this story looks strikingly similar to the dedication of that Apostle Paul, who, regardless of his own danger after the death of Jesus Christ, traveled the world to walk and tell people of Jesus’s life and thoughts?
No matter how wonderful a value something possesses, if there is no “transmitter” to fanatically explain it and deliver it to the hearts of people, it is the same as it not existing in this world.
Jo and Paul played the role of the great “geniuses of transmitting,” just like Steve Jobs, who was the world’s number one salesman, Akio Morita, the founder of Sony, Takeo Fujisawa, who sold the Honda Super Cub all over the world, and Shotaro Kamiya, who pushed the Toyota Corolla to become the symbol of the Japanese family.
To transmit good things to people who believe they are good.
Precisely that is the sole key for art, and for human love, to transcend time and space.
Most people think that success is something to get.
But in reality, success is giving.
(Henry Ford)
The highest form of love is to accept the other person as they are, and to always prepare a quiet place for them to face their own loneliness.
(Agatha Christie)
Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.
(Prophet Moses, Genesis, Chapter 28, Verse 15)
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
(William Shakespeare)
No matter how much the world is shrouded in darkness, all the darkness gathered together cannot extinguish the light of a single small candle lit by one human being.
(Judaism, The Talmud)
The home is a place of effort. It is a terrifying battlefield where, unless you perform desperate service for each other, it collapses instantly.
(Osamu Dazai)
Human beings, at times, tell irreplaceable lies. However, to see through to the genuine tears hidden behind those lies is what true love is.
(Osamu Dazai)
An artist is a fortunate sick person who always sticks their finger into the deepest wound of the world and tries to make a beautiful flower bloom from there.
(Osamu Dazai)
Never, never, never give up. Even if the whole world shouts noises of impossibility against you.
(Winston Churchill)
Have the courage to be the first, ahead of anyone else, to do something different from others.
They think I attained success overnight, but that one night was thirty years. Come to think of it, it was a long, long night.
(Ray Kroc)
All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.
(Walt Disney)
The human pupil is the ultimate masterpiece of mystery, the most perfect and beautiful created within nature. To copy that onto a canvas is the greatest service to God.
(Leonardo da Vinci)
My irreplaceable, beloved you.
Thank you so very, very much for swimming through this sea of words laced with heat that I have spun, step by step, carefully to the very end.
I am filled now with a deep sense of gratitude that cannot be expressed in words for your precious time and the warm gaze directed toward me.
Here, to you alone, let me communicate the final, and most supremely special offer.
The eccentric and diligent painter I spoke of earlier, Mimi Takamizawa, has prepared an astonishing present—a truly body-shaving gesture—solely for you.
Astonishingly, the works of his passion become beautiful postcards of impactful “A4 size,” and a generous “set of 10 cards” will arrive at your hand [completely free of charge].
Yes, it is not a lie.
He refuses to listen to reason, saying he will pay even the shipping costs out of his own pocket.
This is nothing less than the proof of his life-risking, desperate service to “you” right in front of him.
Your heart that is somewhere unfulfilled within daily life, the loneliness that visits at a casual moment—the “eternal eyes” he draws will surely save them gently.
Right now, right beside you, right at your ear, I am softly whispering.
“Please, take my hand and accept this gift of love.”
Right below this text, there is a special application button to invite you to the wonderful world of art.
Please try clicking there right now, lightly, tap-tap.
If you close the screen saying “I’ll do it later,” the chance to obtain these free postcards may never visit again.
I want to touch you deeply, I want to make you smile.
Please accept that clumsy prayer.
“Hey, why are you going on a trip?”
“Because it’s painful.”
“Your ‘painful’ is a set phrase, I can’t trust it in the slightest.”
(From Tsugaru by Osamu Dazai)