kweejibo stories, November 2012

more about Haruki Murakami, The Girl With The Perfect Ears...et la Céramique Japonaise de Rue Chabanais, Japanese quarter, Paris
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--an excerpt from A Wild Sheep Chase, by Haruki Murakami (L'Art Céramique Japonaise, photos below)

This is not the original English translation,

but an English translation from the French version, La Course au Mouton Sauvage

articles Japanese quarter Paris Japonais quartier author art journal museum gallery exhibit Book Murakami south east Asia Bangkok crafts ceramics clothing designer film review movie Europe France French Paris street-life fashion photographer show mode models graffiti Haight Japan local magazine manufacture icon literature Group music news small business

Je la regardais bouche bée, le souffle coupé. Ma gorge était désespérément sèche, mon corps se retrouvera sans voix. Un instant je crus voir onduler les murs en crépi blanc. La rumeur des conversations à l'intérieur du restaurant et le cliquetis des couverts se muèrent un instant en une sorte de pâle et trouble nuage. J'attendais un ressac de vague, respirais une bonne vieille odeur de crépuscule...

Tout s'y dilatait comme l'univers, et tout s'y condensait comme dans un profond glacier. Tout y était éxagéré jusqu'à l'arrogance, tout n'était en même temps que dépouillement. Cela transcendait tous les concepts que pouvait former mon entendement. Elle et ses oreilles ne faisaient qu'une seule et unique chose qui, tel un antique rayon de lumière, glissait le long de la pente du temps...

Plusieurs clients se retournèrent et régardèrent notre table d'un regard égaré. Le garçon venu nous resservir versa très laborieusement son café. Personne ne prononça le moindre mot. Seule la bande de magnétophone poursuivait sa lente rotation.

“I watched her with mouth open, short of breath. My throat became dry. I could not speak. For a moment, I believed I saw the textured walls of the restaurant undulate. The faint noise of conversation and the gentle rattle of cutlery became hazy. I waited out the swell of the tide, I breathed deeply the perfume of an ancient dusk.

All that existed was present, expanding ever so slightly; yet, all remained minimal, condensed into one profound glacier. All was exaggerated to the extreme, to the point of conceit; and at the same time, only what was most essential remained in the present. All my understanding until now, has been transcended. She and her ears, made up only one unique thing, an ancient ray of light, moving along the edge of time...

Several clients of the restaurant turned, glanced towards our table distractedly. The waiter came and served us coffee a second time, pouring slowly and laboriously. People stopped talking. Only the tape cassette player made a sound, persisting in its slow revolution.”

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What words can follow such a story?

But soft, what light from yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon...

--Shakespeare

“nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”

--e.e. cummings

Haruki Murakami makes a poem of his love, quite possibly his obsession, for one small part of the anatomy. This is one singular moment in a story that is not quite a love story.

It is the story of a chase, a mission in search of a sheep with the brand of a star.

Murakami takes the time to create a whole universe in one little chapter

of a larger more wandering whole.

One alone story in a chapter.

L'Art Céramique Japonaise

What image can capture such a universe as that of Murakami?

These images are captured at a small boutique with no sign on Rue Chabanais. Here lies the most exquisite original ceramics that I have seen in Paris. Paris still has many artisan boutiques, and particularly, many places displaying ceramics, in which the designer both works and displays the pieces.

I spoke briefly with the designer, who appeared to be French, not Japanese. She was in such a hurry, getting ready for an exhibition, that I did not even get the chance to discover her name. The very next day, I met yet another ceramics designer, Emmanuelle Angot, who saw my photos, and knew this designer on Rue Chabanais. I was informed by Emmanuelle that the enigmatic woman creates her own colors and glazes. The company is called Louiselio, named after the designer's two children, but the woman's name itself remains a mystery. Her work can also be seen at Marie Pierre Giraud Gallery in Brussels.

View more examples of her work below :