 |
 Plains and more plains, as far as the eye can see. Coffee plantations, cattle farms, forests, trails of red earth cutting through the thicket, the song of birds, the buzzing of insects, the thud of falling mangoes. |
|
The sight of a lizard running away from a ripe, yellow papaya at my approach is the memory I keep of 1934, when my parents took me, at the age of ten, to the interior of Birigui, at 450 miles from the city of São Paulo.
From early childhood I have always loved to draw, and I had brought to Brazil the crayons that I used at primary school in Japan.
My first impressions of Brazilian nature are still vivid to my eyes, with fishes swimming in the shallow waters of lakes and parrots squabbling over a ripe guava.
And four or five years passed by, as if in a trance.
|
|
At the age of ten I emigrated to the interior of Brazil and grew up without any higher education. My life was always led under nature's guidance. |
|
Soichi Mabe Family - 1934 |
I started drawing. This is only possible when I wasn't working on the coffee plantation, during rainy spells and on Sundays.
The first time I used oil paint was in 1945. That year, an intense frost ruined the entire coffee plantation and we found ourselves in for a forced rest. I saw an oil paint box at a bookshop in town, and I couldn't resist experimenting.
In no time at all I was avidly painting landscapes and still lifes on cardboard and wooden boards, with paint dissolved in kerosene.
As I went on in my creative attempts, I started to think more, and experiment alternating fits of suffering and joy: such symptoms of self-development taught me the importance of the creative act.
In those days, my studies were based on art magazines from Japan or on collections of art books, very hard to find in the hinterland of Lins, where I was then living, at 350 miles from the state capital, but my friends and elders always tirelessly encouraged the strange painter-farmhand I was.
|
|
I triumphed thanks to physical tenacity and intense passion. I feel enthusiasm for everything I do. My father used to say, when I was a little boy: "You're very hot-headed, my son." |
|
In 1934, my father, Soichi Mabe, along with my mother Haru and five children, had travelled to Brazil. Despite the new and unfamiliar work awaiting them, they had the sense of a mission to accomplish. The immigrants were seeking a new world and sucess in Brazil.
My father used to say at times: "My greatest joy is to see my children grow healthy and law-abiding: this is my fourtune."
In 1945, he told me on his deathbed: Make painting a hobby. Stick to administrating the coffee plantation. Life ins't easy."
Nevertheless, in 1950, my work was chosen to participate in the São Paulo Artists' Association exhibition, and in 1951 I was accepted at the National Exhibition. Much to my joy, my friends praised me. |
|
That year, at the age of 27, I decided to marry. Although my natural inclination was the pursue on my own an artist's caree, I had responsibilities as the elder of seven children.
Life was made more difficult at the time because of conflicts which erupted after the war among the Japanese immigrants, between those who accepted defeat and those who didn't. Thus I found myself in a delicate situation, whit my father's death, my marriage and my situation, no longer fully Japanese and not yet entirely Brazilian.
In 1953, I started painting still lifes and the human body, outlining forms with bolder and bolder strokes.
In 1956 and 1957, initiated non-figurative work, but the administrative chores at the coffee plantation were becoming too heavy a burden for me, as they left me no time to paint. | 
At the "Folha de São Paulo" salon |
When I finally found myself at odds with large debts, and my brothers and sisters had all become independent, I sold the coffee farm and left for São Paulo, determined to live as a painter.
On October 8, 1957, I arrived in São Paulo with my wife and three children, but our new life in the big city turned out to be arduous. The life of a professional painter to which I aspired so much was less easy than I had imagined, and I was forced to paint many different things, from ties to posters.
|
To live is to fight. But it must be an honest fight. And the greatest enemy in such a fight is myself, my ego when I'm facing the canvas. I can only record this life of mine through my painting. |
|
But two years later, I felt at the peak of elation, when in May 1959 I won the Leirner Award at the Folha de São Paulo exhibition, where artists from all over the country participated, and in September of the same year I received the Best National Painter Award at the Fifth Biennial.
When President Juscelino Kubitschek's words: "My congratulations, spare no effort in contributing to the world of Brazilian art," were met with thunderous applause, I felt double satisfaction, as an immigrnt's son.
Furthermore, only ten days later, during a cocktail offered by the Brazilian Society of Japanese Culture to celebrate my trumph at the Biennial, a telegram arrived with the following news: "Manabú Mabe has received first prize at the First Young Artist's Biennial in Paris."
Under the title "Mabe's Golden Year," Time magazine honoured the double victory with a full-page article describing my life from childhood to the Biennials.
My life changed: contracts with art dealers, travels to the United States and Europe.
|
I had to keep my eyes open.
In June 1960, I won the Fiat Award at the Thirtieth Biennial of Venice.
The same year, on the invitation of the Uruguayan government, I staged an indivdual exhibition at Montevideo's National Museum of Fine Arts.
In January 1961, on a Time-Life invitation, I went to Boston, my first trip to the United States. Walking along New York's snow-covered avenues, I had the vague foreboding that I would get deeply involved with the gigantic city. The same year, I also held individual exhibitions at the Obelisco in Rome, the La Cloche in Paris and other galleries throughout Europe. In 1962, a year I remained out of Brazil for a full eight months, I exhibited at the Panamerican Union Hall in Washington, the II Canale in Venice and Sistina in Milan. On arriving in Rome, I received a telegram of congratulations for winning first prize at the American Art Biennial in Cordobá, Argentina. Once again, my happiness knew no bounds.
|
From Rome, Florence, Milan and Venice I travelled up north to spend the summer in the Dolomites, before going south again to Naples and Sorriente. After a detour through Switzerland, I arrived in Paris, the city of my dreams, thinking to myself: "This is Paris, at last!" At the time, artistic activity in Paris was showing signs of decline, with a general feeling of insecurity about the future. To make a comparison, I envision Paris as rising in the midst of a flower garden, and New York as uttering a scream in the virgin wilderness.
History, art, museums... I was deeply moved by Europe on my first trip. The beautiful things which had managed to survive time and human conflicts were there, right in front of my eyes. Brimming with happiness, and more aware than ever that the purpose of my life was the pursuit of the beautiful, I returned home from my long journey with refreshened spirit.
In 1963, I was invited by the Contemporary Art Institute in Lima, Peru, to hold a small exhibition of 20 pieces. I took advantage to visit the Inca ruins, Chancay, Pachacamac, Cuzco, the Pisac fair, the Sacsahuaman fortress. I heard the story of brave military leader Ollantay, climbed up to Macchu-Picchu and began a collection of Inca pottery and dolls.
|
|
To this day I am easily moved. Although I've grown used to the world and people and seem jaded, I still like to think that, perhaps, I've remained innocent at heart. |
|
An exhibition of five Nippo-Brazilian painters took me in 1965 to La Paz, Bolivia, under the auspices of the Brazilian and Japanese embassies. I drank whisky on the Altipano at an altitude of over 4000 meters, and wandered up to space research center of Chacaltay, 5200 meters high.Arriving in the Peruvian town of Puno after the night crossing of Lake Titicaca, we came across a rebellion. I remember to this day that we fled the town of Juliaca under military police protection, running amidst dozens of burning cars.
The same year, I returned to Washington for an exhibition of ten Nippo-Brazilian artists sponsored by the Panamerican Union. I enjoyed the kind hospitality of Brazilian ambassador Juracy Magalhães for 50 days, and turned the official residence intoan atelier. I always lunched with the ambassador, and had the opportunity to meet other distiguished diplomats and prominent personalities such as David Rockefeller, with whom I talked once at great length. To this day I enjoy highly cordial relations with Juracy.
The year 1968 saw individual exhibitions in Mexico City and New York, Every day I was more burdened with work. How ironic: I wanted to work calmly, at my own rhythm, but this was no longer possible...
|
My life is beautiful. Beautiful things are the purpose of my life. |
|
Brazil's Foreign Ministry organizes countless collective exhibitions abroad, where I often participate. On each occasion, I have travalled as a cultural ambassador of sorts, and it's interesting to see how our government and diplomats treat artists well. Moreover, literally dozens of individual exhibitions that I held abroad took place thanks to the sponsorship, collaboration or transport facilities granted by Brazilian embassies throughout the world. Japanese artists in Paris or New York often commented: "We can't believe this: the Japanese government could at least contribute towards one tenth of expenses." Truly, it can be said that we, Brazilian artists, have toiled for the benefit of cultural interchange between countries.
At the age of ten I emigrated to the interior of Brazil and grew up without any higher education. My life was always led under nature's guidance. I spent ten years travelling abroad, and met with some of the panet's most prominent personalities. For whom was brought up in the boondocks of São Paulo state, everything meant hard apprenticeship and struggle.
|
|
I triumphed thanks to physical tenacity and intense passion. I feel enthusiasm for everything I do. My father used to say, when I was a little boy: "You're very hot-headed, my son."
To this day I am easily moved. Although I've grown used to the world and people and seem jaded, I still like to think that, perhaps, I've remained innocent at heart.
My life is beautiful. Beautiful things are the purpose of my life.
To live is to fight. But it must be an honest fight. And the greatest enemy in such a fight is myself, my ego when I'm facing the canvas. I can only record this life of mine through my painting. 
|
Manabu Mabe and Mrs. Yoshino
|
|
