An Artist of the Floating World

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Indeed, as I watched, a breeze shook a branch of the maple tree, shaking off most of the snow. Only the stone lantern at the back of the garden had a substantial cap of white on it.

Incredible observation in context of this scene

Shintaro’s visit had come only a few days after Noriko’s miai.

In retrospect, I see that our not openly discussing certain matters may well have made Noriko all the more tense, and a franker approach on my part may well have prevented many of the unpleasant exchanges that took place between us around that time.

‘Well then, Father must be going blind. Or perhaps it’s just poor taste.’ ‘Poor taste? Now that’s curious. You know, Noriko, people have not on the whole associated poor taste with my name.’

‘Well, to my eyes, Father,’ she said tiredly, ‘the bamboo is unbalanced. And you’ve spoiled the way the tree hangs over it too.’ For a moment, I sat gazing at the garden in silence. ‘Yes,’ I said, eventually, and gave a nod. ‘I suppose you might see it that way, Noriko. You never did have an artistic instinct.

Savage bro

‘I remember, Noriko, your mother would sometimes even make her comments while I was painting. She would try to make some point and make me laugh. Then she’d laugh, too, and concede she knew little about such things.’

this is a pointless discussion. Your mother at least could say such things and we would laugh together.’

Kuroda, it seemed, had not fared at all badly since his release at the end of the war. Such are the ways of this world that his years in prison gave him strong credentials, and certain groups had made a point of welcoming him and seeing to his needs.

it is only natural after all that his former teacher should continue to take pride in such things, even if circumstances have caused teacher and pupil to become estranged.

‘Forgive me for saying this, Mr Enchi,’ I said. ‘But you are very young. Indeed, you could only have been a boy when Mr Kuroda and I first knew each other. I would ask you not to jump to conclusions about matters of which you do not know the full details.’

Traitor. That’s what they called him. Traitor. Every minute of every day. But now we all know who the real traitors were.’ I finished lacing my shoes and started for the door. ‘You’re too young, Mr Enchi, to know about this world and its complications.’ ‘We all know now who the real traitors were. And many of them are still walking free.’

Naturally, I did not allow the young man’s words to upset me unduly, but in the light of Noriko’s marriage negotiations, the possibility that Kuroda was as hostile to my memory as Enchi had suggested was indeed a disturbing one.

A person does not care until they feel direct impact

I was struck by a sudden thought; that Mitsuo’s attitude was not in fact any different from that of the rest of his family – it was simply that he was not as skilled in disguising it. From then on, I took to glancing over at Mitsuo, as though he were the clearest indicator of what the Saitos were really thinking.

Every day, throughout my most formative years, Miss Noriko, I was obliged to listen to Mother here practising on an out-of-tune piano. It’s quite possible, don’t you think, this is behind all my troubles?’

Wild metaphor

‘There are some who would say it is people like myself who are responsible for the terrible things that happened to this nation of ours. As far as I am concerned, I freely admit I made many mistakes. I accept that much of what I did was ultimately harmful to our nation, that mine was part of an influence that resulted in untold suffering for our own people. I admit this. You see, Dr Saito, I admit this quite readily.’

paintings. My teachings. As you see, Dr Saito, I admit this quite readily. All I can say is that at the time I acted in good faith. I believed in all sincerity I was achieving good for my fellow countrymen. But as you see, I am not now afraid to admit I was mistaken.’

Of course, I do not pretend certain moments of that evening were not painful for me; nor do I claim I would so easily have made the sort of declaration I did concerning the past had circumstances not impressed upon me the prudence of doing so.

I must say I find it hard to understand how any man who values his self-respect would wish for long to avoid responsibility for his past deeds;

I find it hard to understand how any man who values his self-respect would wish for long to avoid resp...

there is certainly a satisfaction and dignity to be gained in coming to terms with the mistakes one has ma...

there is surely no great shame in mistakes made in the best of faith. It is surely a thing far more shameful to be unable...

cast an eye around her little bar. We were as usual alone in the place. The early evening sun was coming in through the mosquito nets on the windows, making the room look more dusty and older than it does once darkness has set in and Mrs Kawakami’s lamps are illuminating it.

Sugimura himself lost a great deal of money and never again regained his old influence.

For indeed, a man who aspires to rise above the mediocre, to be something more than ordinary, surely deserves admiration, even if in the end he fails and loses a fortune on account of his ambitions.

his failure was quite unlike the undignified failures of most ordinary lives, and a man like Sugimura would have known this. If one has failed only where others have not had the courage or will to try, there is a consolation – indeed, a deep satisfaction – to be gained from this observation when looking back over one’s life.

he appeared to check himself, and fixing a solemn expression on his face, held out his hand to be shaken. ‘Good day,’ he said, in a businesslike manner. ‘Well, Ichiro, you’re indeed growing into a man. How old are you now?’ ‘I believe I’m eight. Please come this way, Oji. I have a few things to discuss with you.’

I had not seen Ichiro since Setsuko’s visit to my home over a year ago – he had not been present at Noriko’s wedding on account of a virus – and I was struck by how much he had grown in that time.

How he drops the wedding info

I confess I take a strange comfort from observing children inherit these resemblances from other members of the family,

it is not only when we are children that we are open to these small inheritances; a teacher or mentor whom one admires greatly in early adulthood will leave his mark, and indeed, long after one has come to re-evaluate, perhaps even reject, the bulk of that man’s teachings, certain traits will tend to survive, like some shadow of that influence, to remain with one throughout one’s life.

Shadow of an influence is beautiful

I would always acknowledge that those seven years I spent living at his family villa out in the hilly countryside of the Wakaba prefecture were some of the most crucial to my career.

Those roofs were forever developing new leaks

pointing things out to each other in hushed tones: ‘And look at the way Sensei has filled in that corner there. Remarkable!’ But no one would actually say: ‘Sensei, what a marvellous painting,’ for it was somehow the convention of these occasions that we behave as though our teacher were not present.

Soon we were all shouting and contradicting each other with our theories about Mori-san’s intentions. And although as we argued, we continually stole glances towards our teacher, he gave no indication as to which of our theories he approved of.

it is perhaps easier to understand the aloofness he displayed on such occasions if one has oneself been in a position in which one is constantly looked up to and admired.

there are many situations when it is preferable to remain silent so as to allow them the chance to debate and ponder. As I say, anyone who has been in a position of large influence will appreciate this.

throughout the years I studied under him, he experimented extensively with colours in an attempt to capture the feel of lantern light.

‘You and I have been good friends for many years,’ I heard him say. ‘Won’t you at least speak to me?’

‘These past few days, the others have done some terrible things to me. But what has hurt me the most has been your refusal to give me even one word of comfort.’ There was another silence. Then Sasaki said: ‘Won’t you even look at me now and wish me well?’

to compare someone to ‘the traitor’, even in fun, was never likely to be received in good humour.

anyone who has held ambitions on a grand scale, anyone who has been in a position to achieve something large and has felt the need to impart his ideas as thoroughly as possible, will have some sympathy for the way Mori-san conducted things.

We lived throughout those years almost entirely in accordance with his values and lifestyle, and this entailed spending much time exploring the city’s ‘floating world’ – the night-time world of pleasure, entertainment and drink which formed the backdrop for all our paintings.

Mori-san seemed to have a never-ending line of acquaintances from the world of entertaining, and impoverished troupes of wandering actors, dancers and musicians were forever arriving at the villa to be greeted as long-lost friends.

oh how I know this life

a story-teller called Maki, a fat jolly man who could reduce us all to helpless laughter one moment and tears of sadness the next with his renderings of the old tales.

Falstaff

‘I stepped out for a little fresh air, and I saw this light on in here. Darkness everywhere, except this one light. And I thought to myself, now that storeroom’s hardly a place for lovers to be hiding away. Whoever’s in there must be in a lonely mood.’

‘Fatally flawed. Fatally flawed by trivial concerns.’ A few seconds later, he added without turning from the pictures: ‘But one always feels affection for one’s early works. Perhaps you’ll feel the same one day for the work you’ve done here.’ Then he shook his head again, saying: ‘But these are all fatally flawed, Ono.’

‘Fatally flawed,’ he repeated. ‘But I suppose I was very young.’ He moved his lantern again, causing one picture to fade into shadow and another to appear. Then he said: ‘These are all scenes from a certain geisha house in Honcho. A very well-regarded one in my younger days. Gisaburo and I often used to visit such places together.’ Then after a moment or two, he said again: ‘These are fatally flawed, Ono.’ ‘But Sensei, I cannot see what faults even the most discerning eye would see in these prints.’

Those women would tell him all the things he wanted to hear, and for the night anyway, he’d be able to believe them. Once the morning came, of course, he was too intelligent a man to go on believing such things.

The best things, he always used to say, are put together of a night and vanish with the morning. What people call the floating world, Ono, was a world Gisaburo knew how to value.’

‘He’s older and sadder now, but he’s changed little in many respects.

‘The finest, most fragile beauty an artist can hope to capture drifts within those pleasure houses after dark. And on nights like these, Ono, some of that beauty drifts into our own quarters here. But as for those pictures up there, they don’t even hint at these transitory, illusory qualities. They’re deeply flawed, Ono.’