This is week three of my SoHo exhibition.  I think it has been rather successful thus far.  Not in the sense that it has drawn large crowds from far and wide, but it has shed a (dappled) light on the mysterious ways of my ex-expat parents in the eyes of locals.  My parents spent more than half of their lives in New York.  How could they not have brought it back to Okazaki with them?

Taking their wealth of experience as artists and then gallery owners in New York, my parents, who have now retired, have opened a gallery in Japan in an old warehouse that used to house, of all things, a fabric recycling storage space.  Yes, the rag trade, so prevalent in SoHo when my parents arrived in 1968, followed them all the way back to Okazaki. 

I realize that it must seem a bit strange that I am doing a profile of myself, since this entire blog is kind of a profile of me, in bits and pieces.  But I thought I'd end the year by looping back to my first post, on January 1, 2011 where I wrote that "[w]hat I would like to do, . . ., is to celebrate a very special place at a very special moment in time."