This cultural exchange is different from our experience living in other countries. It is a kind of intensity, living with someone from another culture. When I lived in other countries, it was like a movie, like a chinois wallpaper pattern, a dense incomprehensible strangeness. But having this immediate access to Yuyu is like opening a window into the wallpaper and peering into a galaxy. The myths he describes seem a way of parsing alien archetypes into multiple armed fantasies or bizarre chimeras of improbable combinations. One of his childhood stories: his mother told him that if he didn’t finish even a single grain of rice on his plate, in the next life he would have to pick up the grains of rice with his eyelashes.
The intensity of his drive is like a wakeup call for us, a catalyst for commencing artistic work again in Cleveland.
(Mom is pictured above) I phoned my Grandmother a couple days ago. She asked a bunch of concerned questions, an edge of caution evident in her voice, asking if he was there now as though he might be listening to our conversation. And if he’s coming to Thanksgiving dinner. And when he was leaving. I told her he tours six months out of the year, that he’s based out of New York. “I think she worries he’s a scoundrel,” I told Smith afterwards.
“I had no idea what to expect,” I told Mom. “I had some kind of vague idea of an Indian man. Anyways, he’s turned out to be quite the gentleman.” “You need a rough surface for something to appear,” Mom replied. “I’m going to steal that line from you.” “I thought you might. Go ahead.” Lady |
Great line, photos….
Was a shake-up of an experience (in a good way) to meet/hear Yuyu for an hour or two – can hardly imagine what it would be like to spend as much time with him as you have. Enjoyed this blog….
I think Yuyu salted our scene.