The Way Home
The Way Home
Romanian railroads, like Romanian minds, carry the weight of communism. It's been 34 years since the people took down the dictatorship. Doing the math and writing it down, I realize that 34 years is nothing for a nation to recover from hell. To find its way back into the free world.
Like a snail, the train moves along filled with tired people on long journeys home for the holidays. The train takes three hours to cover 90 km. That's triple the time it takes for the same ride in Sweden, where I currently live. In true ironic fashion, the ticket price is more expensive than for the same trip in Sweden. And yet, the average income in Sweden is three times higher than the average income in Romania.
We stop at Teiuş. A small Transylvanian town where, like most towns in Romania, time has also stopped. Whenever I pass by this place, my soul smiles. One quick look at the station with big, old windows framed by brick is enough to instantly relive one of the most precious memories of my life. A simpler time 16 years ago, when our cool high school history teacher that everyone had a crush on took us on a 3-day trip to the mountains. Teiuş was one of our pitstops to change trains. It's like yesterday, my classmates and I playing charades by the train platform, bags spread on the ground around us, killing time. I can feel nostalgic tears shaping up behind my eyes.
I’ll always miss these moments. For me, it feels like the nostalgia grows with time. Others distance themselves. It might also have to do with the way things happened for us. I left Romania halfway through high school, not by choice. My mother remarried and he lived far over in Sweden, so we moved there. I was 17. It’s been 15 years and only recently in therapy, I've realized how painful it was for me. Not so much the move in itself but that I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Leaving my best friends and my home. It took about a year to move, but it felt as if it happened overnight. Most people hate high school, but I loved it. Leaving halfway through wounded me and in some ways, I’m still bleeding.
Villages and railroads aren't the only things stuck in time in Teiuş. The conductor who checked our tickets earlier on comes back and, with depression in her voice, announces that there will be a second ticket control. The extra ticket man is on his way. He’s wearing a uniform like most transportation staff still do. He asks to see our tickets but mainly, he wants to check our IDs. Romania, a place where you need to prove your identity when you ride the train.
Romania, my home. Romania, a place of impatience. Romania, a country of fearless people who banter with strangers. Romania, where we joke about serious things. We have this saying – “haz de necaz”. It translates to “trouble laughing”, or laughing at life’s troubles. We mock everything and everyone so much that we also mock Romania itself. It helps us cope. I admire that people keep up the humor to make life easier. It’s hard enough as it is.
Earlier when I got on the train, I went to my assigned seat – except it wasn’t mine, I was in the wrong carriage. After bantering with the other passengers trying to sort it out, I started heading to the right carriage. Mission impossible. The walking passage was jampacked with people and bags blocking the way. Barely squeezing through, I almost reached the end when a guy coming my way with a big suitcase on wheels let me pass first, saying “Go ahead, it looks like I’m carrying a fridge with me.” I laughed hard, thinking, "Man, it’s good to be home."
Hasui Kawase: The powerful art of Shin-hanga through the eyes of a genius
Some people are born to break the mold. Hasui Kawase (May 18, 1883–November 7, 1957) was without doubt one of them. Following his heart, he became one of the most legendary woodblock painters in Japan and his love of art and relentless drive left us with an incredibly alive body of visual art. His interpretations of nature and urban environments helped shape the iconic style of Shin-hanga (新版画 new block print).
Who was Hasui Kawase?
Kawase’s journey began in Tokyo, where he was born into a family of silk braid merchants. Conservative figures, his parents expected him to conform to their values, not understanding his love of art and wanting him to work in the family business. For 26 years, Hasui silenced the artistic scream he had inside. When the business went bankrupt, a much sought-after door opened for young Hasui.
The power of mentorship is undeniable, and one can always find light in the dark. Kawase's maternal uncle was a dedicated artist, and created the first manga magazine. As the only creative soul in the family, he played a major role in Kawase's artistic calling.
Juggling his mundane job, Kawase persevered, creating art that showcased his beautiful talent. At 19, he debuted his work at the Tatsumi Exhibition of Painting and at 26, he applied to study with Kiyokata Kaburagi, one of the great masters of traditional woodblock painting (Nihonga).
The longer we're alive, the more we learn that obstacles tend to hide around every corner. Unfortunately, Kiyokata rejected his application. He believed it would be more sensible for the young apprentice to study Western art instead. For two years, Hasui studied the Western style only to return to the master who this time around, took him under his wing.
Western Elements and The Art of Traveling
Hasui Kawase was one of the pioneers who developed the hybrid style of Shin-hanga which combined Western elements with traditional Japanese forms. One of his earlier works was The Washington Monument, merging two opposite worlds: the fragility of the cherry blossom tree and a looming American construction.
Kawase’s creative process involved his artistic perception of real-life nature experiences. He committed to seeing first-hand the scenes he painted, driving him to visit a complex variety of nature spots. His travels across Japan are central to his legacy and continue to inspire many artists. While many of his contemporaries recreated images, Hasui disrupted the existing norms by creating his own detailed, insightful style enabled by his first-hand approach. Like no one before him, he breathed life into his paintings.
The Power of Nature, Trees and Night
It is unsurprising that, as someone who spent much of his time in nature, Kawase developed a fascination for trees. His recreation of trees, particularly when looking at his paintings at night, is a deeply moving experience.
The way he painted light and shadows in the nighttime is one of his trademarks – a mirror of his mastership. It is his homage to traditional Japanese artistic elements, such as shadow painting. As his audience, we are unbelievably lucky to experience his love of trees in epic works such as Hikawa Park in Omiya.
“I picked places to sketch that didn't require that I omit a single tree or blade of grass.”
-Hasui Kawase
Legacy
The Japanese government classified Hasui Kawase as a Living National Treasure. The masterpiece Shiba Zojo Temple was designated an Intangible Cultural Treasure – the greatest artistic honor in post-war Japan.
Kawase’s legacy goes far beyond awards and honors. At its core lies Kawase’s resilient spirit and life as a traveler. Together, they shaped him into a role model for contemporary landscape artists everywhere. His skill and inspired choices led to a groundbreaking, poetic body of work and, ultimately, his freedom.