Back in 2017, heartbreak ripped through my family, leaving my mom, Yumiko, single for the first time in over 30 years. If you’ve experienced something of this kind, then you know the early months of grief are a behemoth and almost impossible to endure. When an axe is hurled at your family tree and everything you’ve known is shaken or falling, how do you keep going? Somehow, my mom managed to.
As life took on a new shape—the way it does after unalterable pain—my mom inched towards healing and made a decision both simple and astonishing. She gathered her art supplies to create again, just like she had before us kids, before marrying and moving to the States, before studying at Tokyo Design Academy. She swirled paintbrushes onto paper as colors co-mingled and puddled like tears. With a pen and ink in hand, there could be some order in my mom’s life. Calm, even. I remember she told me how repetitive line drawings were soothing—and no doubt, she’s skilled at them.
My mom would email me her latest pieces and whenever she did, I sensed a significant transformation was happening to and inside her. One that couldn’t be missed. Her prayers, whether consciously or not, were sketched and spilled out onto blank papers. All of it was sacred. God was re-forming my mom, and I saw a startling strength and creativity emerging in her life. Eventually, her art went beyond therapeutic means. A “when I grow up…” dream from her youth returned—the dream of becoming a working artist.
In the years since, I’ve watched my mom expand her mind and illustration skills, taking risks and experimenting with new angles and settings and characters, workshopping and subjecting herself to (and even inviting!) critique, sending off her portfolio to agents and art directors, sitting long hours at vendor booths to sometimes make a profit and other times, not selling much at all, but always, along the way, people—real, precious, ordinary people—are touched by her work, just like I have been. Touched by the whimsy and the character that reminds them of a dear so-and-so, enamored by the strong influences of manga and her distinct, damn perfect lines. These voices keep her from calling it quits when rejection emails pop up.
These days, my mom has been working on telling and illustrating her own stories. She’ll sit at her desk, late at night (way too late, if you ask me!), working while the world is hushed. As a fellow creative person, I’m amazed that she doesn’t hold her work too closely—she receives feedback well and considers it, often erasing a scene and reworking it till life returns to the page once again. It’s been remarkable to watch the progression of my mom’s work over the last several years, especially as her daughter. She’s always been one of my favorite artists, and now you get to see why.
My mom’s walls—the same walls that once held our family of five—are now covered in others’ gorgeous art pieces, thoughtfully curated. Her home is a happy, colorful, peaceful space. An outward expression of that inner transformation. When we three kids return to visit with our spouses and dogs and degrees and the laughter of a grandchild who is delighted by “Miko,” we each witness how beauty has reshaped a life and a family tree. 🌳
Till next time,
—E.T.
Our first collaboration ✨
One of my dreams is to write a children’s book and have my mom illustrate! I’m nowhere close to settling on a manuscript yet, but we recently tried a small collaboration to share with you. I started writing the limerick while sitting in front of our hummingbird feeder, mesmerized.
Abracadabra
by Erika ToviAll hail the figure eight fairy
Nose like a wand, you better be wary!
Iridescent and quick
Disappears like a trick
Sequins and magic she carries
It’s your turn! 📻
I’d love to hear from you in the comments.
Whose life inspires you and why?
What do you enjoy about your favorite artists? Tell me about them!
What a beautiful gift this post is for me😭💗 I love you so much, Erichan🥰