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The Honolulu Advertiser
Posted on: Sunday, November 3, 2002

Satoru Abe reflects on a lifetime of creativity

By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

 •  'Enriched by Diversity: The Art of Hawai'i'

Inaugural exhibition of 360 works by 284 artists with Island ties

9 a.m. to 4 p.m. today

Hawai'i State Art Museum, 250 S. Hotel St.

Free

Note: Satoru Abe will be among dozens of artists who are participating in demonstrations outside the State Art Museum during today's exhibition.

Also: A "Celebrate Culture and the Arts Festival" will be throughout the Capital District. Trolley shuttles will carry patrons between attractions.

Satoru Abe sits at a small wooden table in the center of his home studio, his hands clasped atop his head, a cigarette burning down to the filter between two curled fingers.

A stir of leaves outside fills the silent moment the artist needs to find the right words — words to describe the mysterious process that for six decades has borne ground-breaking works of originality and imagination.

"I'm kind of dyslexic," Abe says, laughing. "And the fortunate part of that is I can't put things together again to repeat myself. Every time I approach a fresh, blank canvas, I feel like I'm a beginner. For a moment, I'm lost. But it's only for a moment, and after that something always comes out."

Together with Bumpei Akaji, Jerry Okimoto, Tadashi Sato, Bob Ochikubo and Harry Tsuchidana, Abe helped to establish a local modern art movement that melded Western, Pacific and Asian influences.

Abe, in particular, has come to represent the standard for local artists, garnering the respect of art critics and consumers in Hawai'i and around the world.

His impact on the Hawai'i art scene is evident in his representation in "Enriched By Diversity: The Art of Hawai'i," the Hawai'i State Art Museum's inaugural exhibition.

The exhibit, unveiled at the museum's grand opening today, features works from the State Foundation of the Arts' Art in Public Places collection. It includes 360 pieces by 284 artists. Abe is by far the most represented artist, with 27 pieces displayed — a number that includes a collection of 25 miniatures.

"This museum has been a dream for a lot of people for 30 years," Abe says. "It's going to be very good for the next generation of artists — something they can be proud of."

Dressed in a white T-shirt, tan pants and house slippers, the 76-year-old Abe is indistinguishable from the aging Japanese men who stroll the streets of his Kaimuki neighborhood in the early morning. But the art that crowds the walls of his otherwise modestly appointed home — not to mention the half-dozen works in progress sitting in his studio and workshop — speaks to a life and a career rich with creative energy.

In Abe's home, Jean Charlot hangs on one wall, Tadashi Sato on another, Isami Doi on another. The living room is adorned with a series of gorgeous watercolor paintings completed by his wife, Ruth, shortly before she died last year.

"I pushed her to do them," he says. "She didn't have the same sort of control she usually had. But I think they came out looser. I think they were more creative."

Abe was born in Honolulu in 1926. He grew up in the Mo'ili'ili area and graduated from McKinley High School in 1945.

"After high school, I did three years of menial jobs — washing dishes, hauling lumber, distributing magazines, working in a photo shop," he recalls. "I thought of those as my lost years, my searching years. I was working at Dairymen's when I asked myself, 'Is this the rest of my life?' "

Abe had been a marginal student — "I don't know how I graduated," he says — but a growing interest in art would eventually lead him to the California School of Fine Arts for a summer, and to the Art Students League in New York for two years of serious study. It was there that he met Ruth Tanji, a former fashion student from Wahiawa.

"I met an angel," he says. "She was an inspiration."

The two returned home in 1950, and were soon parents to a baby girl, Gail. Abe, who had burned most of his early paintings in New York, returned to work at Dairymen's but continued to paint. It was during this time that Abe met Doi, who became a close friend and mentor, and started his initial experiments with copperwork alongside Akaji.

Abe spent a year in Japan before moving back to New York in 1956. He quickly found a creative home at The Sculpture Center, owned by Dorothea Denslow. Abe says he spent years working in the open studio from morning to night; all the while, his sculptures were gaining attention in the gallery downstairs.

Over the next 15 years, Abe was joined in New York by Hawai'i contemporaries Okimoto, Sato, Tsuchidana and others — many of whom took up residence nearby.

By the time, he and his family returned to Hawai'i in 1970, Abe was an established painter and sculptor. He was the recipient of a John Simon Guggenheim fellowship in 1963 and was the subject of five one-man exhibitions.

Over the years, Abe's early artistic fascination with the human body has expanded to abstract expressions and, later, to the tree and seed forms that have become so closely identified with his style.

Working seven days a week for more than 50 years, Abe has produced a staggering body of work — a fair number of which have become landmarks on the state's civic and cultural landscape — from the welded copper and bronze piece "Volcano" at Aloha Stadium to the bronze and gold-leaf sculpture "The Seed" at Farrington High School, to the assorted copper cut-out works at First Hawaiian Bank.

During our recent visit to his home, Abe shared his thoughts on art, life and the process of creation. Some responses were combined for readability.

Q. Were there any artists that influenced your early work?

A. I used to think that if I could paint like Rembrandt, I was an artist. One time I went to the (Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York) and copied the "Head of Christ." I set up an easel and painted it the exact same size.

I was impressed with (sculptor Alberto) Giacometti and how he arrived at his finished product. But, overall, I had no real influences. I'm mostly self-inspired.

Q. How important was it for you to work and develop away from Hawai'i?

A. I consider myself a Hawai'i artist since I was born here. (But) I think that as an artist, you're going to feel insufficient unless you go to the big city and know the best and see the best. This can help you go beyond the provincial in your work.

Q. What was the Hawai'i art scene like when you returned in 1970?

A. It was really perking up. When I left in 1956, the art scene here was only one gallery and maybe a couple of collectors. We were still in the plantation era. Culture was for the elites only at that time. When I came back in '70, it had changed quite a bit.

The State Foundation on the Arts was a big boost. They formed the "1 Percent Law" (mandating that 1 percent of the money appropriated for the construction of state buildings be put aside for acquiring works of art), and they gave out commissions. That was the beginning for a lot of these artists.

Q. You talk about getting lost and allowing ideas to come to you as you work. Are you ever surprised at what comes out?

A. All the time! I'm doing a series of 25 paintings, all the same size. I'm on No. 13 now, I think. If I look at the first piece, there's almost no suggestion of the first undercoat or underplanning that I did. Basically, that's being creative. If you make something that you didn't think about, that's creative. If you paint whatever you already had in your mind, that's only reproduction — it's what you already know. Creativity, in the true sense, is the difference.

I put each of these paintings away after I'm finished. I can only remember the last three. I'm playing a game with myself so the previous paintings don't influence the one I'm working on. One day I'll finish my 25th, and I'll be surprised. You have to play games with yourself, outthink yourself, do things you haven't done before, paint things you feel uncomfortable with, and something will come out that's good.

Q. You work seven days a week. What's your routine like?

A. I do paintings at night. Even if it's only one hour a night, if it's pure production, it can be very fruitful. It takes me about five hours to do one, but I can't do it all in one sitting. You can lose concentration doing that.

The day is too precious to paint. The night is quiet, and I'm more receptive to it. In the day, I'm banging away at my sculptures.

I took care of my wife for 13 years. The first five or six were relatively easy, but it became more stressful. But in those 13 years, I never missed a beat with my work. It was more structured. There were times when she would rest and I would work — of course, I'd be going back and forth to check on her. Now I'm a little more free. I'm a little more at ease.

I did 89 pieces last year. Some were miniatures and some were larger pieces. I usually do 50 or 60 a year. I did seven commission pieces this year; usually it's two to four.

I usually have six things at a time because they're all in different stages. Always in the back of my mind, there are at least 10 more ideas. I try not to think of any more than that.

Q. Is it true that your gallery will be moving from downtown to Kaimuki?

A. We're looking for a gallery in Kaimuki, and I think it's going to come through. We were originally supposed to open in August, but the latest is the end of the year. It's a perfect location. I can just walk over there. Once we get that, I told people, I'm only going to work six days a week and take Saturday off to go to the gallery. There seems to be a lot of people who want to meet me or talk to me, and I'd like to do that.