Look Back

all the time i ask myself “when is it my time” when it comes to art. i constantly feel as though i’m running against everyone else. it feels like art is this big competition, a chance to prove to the world why you matter, why you exist, why everyone needs to stop and look at what you can do. but it’s impossible to push myself that much. i relate heavily to Fujino’s dedication, but even i don’t draw nearly that much. it’s always a battle of telling myself “i should” push myself that far and not actually having the energy to do so. a burning passion that rips at me, that claws to be freed, to be expressed, and that forces my perspective to always be focused on it. i have been lucky enough to have a Kyomoto in my life. someone who admires my work, and someone who i saw as motivation to get better. to “catch up” so to speak. someone i’m happy to have in my life as a collaborator, a fellow artist, and as a partner throughout life. this particular dynamic is so integral to our relationship, and why it means so much to sit in the theater with them and watch this together. what is there to say about this that hasn’t been said? it’s phenomenal. artistically an unflawed movie, because it embraces the flaws that inherently come with being an artist. despite being autobiographical for both Fujimoto and Oshiyama, they both knew how relatable this would be for all kinds of artists. thinking about it from an autobiographical level on Fujimoto’s side, it’s sad. really, really sad. the side of him that had passion, that had dreams, that had admirations and goals, that side of him that was an artist for the sake of expression. that side of him, according to this story, has died. the side of him that lives is the one who continues drawing for the sake and memory of the other side, who keeps drawing for the idea of passion. this side of him says, “*I don’t even like drawing manga”. * i always knew this about the manga. this was my interpretation then, and it still is, but there’s something that stuck out for me here. in Fujino’s imagined alternate reality, when Fujino is taken to the hospital, she tells Kyomoto, “I recently picked it [drawing manga] back up again!” this stuck out to me a lot. is this Fujino making up a promise on the spot upon meeting her biggest fan, much like their real meeting? is this Fujino in reality imagining the most perfect scenario, where Kyomoto still gets to be her assistant? i think all are true, but the way i interpreted it this time was: even in a false reality where Fujino never got her artistic spirit rekindled by Kyomoto, art found a way into her life again, without Kyomoto. life has a way of working out like that sometimes, and it added a bright, optimistic viewpoint i hadn’t previously considered. as the rolling credits came to a close, the breaths of air i found myself choking on, clenching my partner’s hand and holding back tears, i started to think about my position in life. i am Fujino. i have great aspirations to make comics and to make art. people love my art. my partner loves it even more. i love their art even more. they are my Kyomoto. i realized that art is my life. it has been, and it will continue to be. i’m not in this for profit, i’m not in this for popularity, i’m in this because my passion burns bright, and it will continue to eat at me until i get up and do what i’ve been encouraged to do. thinking about my future, and the scope of it, the floodgates opened. i couldn’t stop crying. it was one of the strongest emotional releases i’ve had during a film. it’s extraordinary, it’s beautiful, it’s innovative, it’s depressing, it’s uplifting, it’s imperfect and that’s what makes it artistically perfect.