Arte diario. Tamio Teshima.
daily diary game.
My name is Tamio Teshima.
I am a Japanese nomad,
I spend most of my time abroad.
I write a diary every day.
Because it is necessary to record valuable experiences of everyday life.
Because it will fade away.
I want to record what I experienced everyday.
Even if it is insignificant for other people,
Because they are precious to me.
I write to show a diary to other people.
By publishing the diary, I can give value to my own experience.
★ About sketches
Drawing in that place has a meaning of fusing with that place.
I will be piece of that place.
★ About letters
The letters are my diary and the letters fill the whole margin.
★ About collage
I pick up the beautiful garbage (ticket, match box, package) on the road.
Then, I cut it by hand and paste it on the page.
The garbage melts into the page.
My diary is, no drafting, no rewriting.
The act of writing this diary, It is the same as my way of living.
I write it freely while enjoying it.
It is fun to see my world appearing there.
I think the notebook is the personality of each person,
in a sense, art.
I published the diary.
It is self-published publication(zine).
I am Gustavo, usual collaborator at Inverosímil magazine.
I have a section named, Nomad in which i write about the places
i visit and the experiences i go through while i roamed streets and paths.
The Editor told me that i have to write an essay about your work.
He thinks that yours and mine are similar; the only relationship
that i find at first sight is that we are considered "Nomad".
Your work provokes me curiosity. The material you use by collecting match boxes
such as metro tickets; you give live to objets that
most of the people consider trash. In my case, the material i use are memories.
I think the dream is composed of the same substance
It is worth relating a dream i had few days ago:
"I'm in a distant country, unknown to me, I run through
a market, I'm tired and I need someone to stop me.
My father appears, who i hadn’t seen for a while.
As it happens, we are staying in the same Hostal.
In the next scene we are sitting in a restaurant. "
The subject is, Tamio ... How will I use the dream?
What will I use it for? but above all
Where does this dream lead me?
I have learned that being a nomad implies improvising,
not thinking too much about the next step because
One can end up trapped into idleness.
Until that dream, i hadn’t thought
traveling with my father.
You see, I have a distant relationship with him ...
Plus the dream, at 4:20 in the afternoon of the day
Saturday, January 19
My father's mother died.
I had visited her a week before her death,
lying on her bed,
dying, but still conscious of his words.
I approached her, I knelt down, I took her hand
and spoke loudly, I was afraid that she would not listen to me
or that she would not recognize my voice.
Blind in one eye and about to lose the other
she said to me crying:
"Blood is blood."
My grandmother begged the presence of my father in the room;
when he entered, she took his hand and mine, they rested
who knows how long, in my grandmother's chest.
If I had known what to expect next day
take for granted, Tamio, that i would have found
a way to keep me numb next to her.
What I found was my father smiling
I felt so much envy!
Alcohol was already circulating in his veins.
He, light, spoke fluently of his feelings
with suspicion, I received
the resentment he has towards me.
He told me about the trips he made
the trips he would make
and of those who will no happen ever.
If I wanted to travel with him
I would have to travel to his home
and from there, roam to the long roads.
"Where would we go?"
"What do I put in my suitcase?"
"Just keep in mind that the trip will be long
and that we will go through adventures, and that we will learn to live with each other.
Maybe I'll leave the journey before you, son. "
What does it mean to be a Nomad? Tamio ...
When is it appropriate to stop?
How to distinguish runaway from movement?
I say goodbye, Tamio.
I agree with you that the notebooks and journals are the personality of each person;
in a sense, art.