That Is Your Worldview
Well, it is not because I decided to turn over a new leaf and tidy up, as I had resolved to do last time, but right now, a world of brilliant colors is spread out across my desk.
For example, there is the sky blue of Raymond Savignac's Air France advertisement, the silver-white of Michio Hoshino's Alaska, the purple of Georgia O'Keeffe's flower petals, the shocking pink in the background of Audrey Hepburn holding a champagne glass, the crimson of Henri Matisse's interior, the brown of the portrait of a woman unearthed in the volcanic ash-covered city of Pompeii, the tranquil blue of Johannes Vermeer, the translucent milky white of Tsuguharu Foujita, the cream color of puppies sleeping huddled together, the seven colors of Junji Takasago's night rainbow, the iridescent colors worn by the beautiful woman depicted by Seien Shima, and the gold that colors the enchanting Salome of Aubrey Beardsley.
These are the designs on the postcards I own, and in an attempt to sort them by type, I spread them all out on my desk at once.
Of course, I have been putting them into holders while keeping them somewhat organized, but as the number increased, the classification became ambiguous, presenting a state where it was no longer easy to verify them.
Since it had become a bit of a stressor every time I opened the holder, I suddenly decided to finally get it sorted out.
And, it is best to put such ideas into action before they fade away. Otherwise, there is a risk that things might remain this way for another year.
In the first place, the reason I possess such a large quantity of postcards is because of a rule I have imposed on myself.
The rule itself is simple: every time I visit a museum or exhibition, I must buy at least one postcard. This is for the sake of commemoration, recollection, and as a small token of gratitude beyond the admission fee.
Fortunately, I have yet to encounter a museum or exhibition so terrible that it does not deserve that, and these days, gallery shops are well-stocked everywhere, so I often struggle to choose.
As I mentioned in the previous story, I am not a collector, but rather the type who wants to use the things I like without reservation, so I actually put these postcards to good use.
I sometimes send them to others, but mostly I put them in frames located here and there around the house, depending on the season or my mood at the time. Whether it is in the washroom or on the living room wall, the effect is not to be underestimated, as a familiar space shows a fresh change with just one postcard.
If I were wealthier, I would buy real oil or watercolor paintings, and seek out limited-edition prints to display with great pride, but unfortunately, since my funds and space are insufficient, I find satisfaction close at hand with postcards.
It is precisely because they have such uses that I put effort into choosing them.
Since the excitement of the exhibition I just saw has not yet faded, I might end up buying everything from end to end if I am not careful, but I hold back, mobilizing all my reason and self-control to narrow it down to the few I absolutely must have.
The result of continuing to carefully bring them home so they do not get bent or dirty, and putting them in a holder for peace of mind, is what is appearing on the desk in front of me.
Even so, while I was having fun and taking photos from a bird's-eye view, I received a message from a friend who is a psychology professor, mixed with some casual chatter.
It seems they are currently enjoying mint tea at a cafe they happened to find while out and about.
They even sent a photo of a cool glass with the stylish interior in the background, which is almost bordering on harassment in its envy-inducing nature.
While honestly conveying that, I sent a photo of my desk full of postcards, saying that I, on the other hand, am silently tidying up at home, and a reply arrived immediately.
“Wonderful! This is your worldview.”
While being coaxed into a smile by the phrasing that is so typical of a professor, I think carefully about its meaning.
If this meant “your favorite worldview,” I would understand. These are a reflection of my tastes, and even if someone who knew nothing about me saw them, they would surely realize immediately, “Ah, this is a person who likes these kinds of things.”
But the professor wrote “your worldview.”
Since they are a person who always uses language extremely accurately, if I interpret that expression as it is, I can take it to mean that I live under such a worldview, or that I possess such a worldview.
It means that my way of seeing the world, my way of grasping the world, is reflected here.
Indeed, these are all things I chose with care, and it is no wonder that I myself appear vividly within them.
When I look at the postcards again from that perspective, I am struck by how there is truly no uniformity.
From dogs and animal photos, mountain landscapes, the deep sea, the Rinpa school starting with Ogata Korin, the Osaka school such as Kiitsu Suzuki, the beautiful women paintings of Kasho, Yumeji, and Junichi Nakahara, the old Paris scenery of Henri Cartier-Bresson, Dutch interior paintings, Western art posters, Impressionism, the Nabis, Ukiyo-e, picture book illustrations, portrait photos of the fin-de-siècle demi-monde, famous poems in Japanese, English, and French, astronomical photos, old signboard design drawings, sketches, and aesthetic paintings, they are all things I am genuinely in love with.
Just as humans do not see their surroundings simply as they are, but form images through the processing of the retina, nerves, and brain, there is almost no one who sees the world as it is. If there were such a person, they would likely be someone close to a saint or a god.
Most people likely perceive the world through all sorts of colored glasses and filters, and if that is the case, then I am looking at the world in this way, through a miscellaneous collection of hobbies and tastes.
Even if you walk through town with several people, the things you see and the things that catch your attention will differ for each person, and that is because each individual is viewing their surroundings through the filter of their own interests.
If that is so, I would like to equip myself with a filter that is as refined as possible, one that reacts to beauty, has a high sensitivity to light, and perceives this world as something worth living in.
To that end, I must be even more careful about my own "worldview," and understand that the meaning of things and how I think about them changes depending on which aspect of a situation I choose to focus on.
Looking up just now, I see a postcard from a Jacques Tati film displayed before me. It also has this French title written on it:
“JOUR DE FÊTE (Holiday)”
It is an outrageously cheerful comedy set on the day of the Bastille Day festival, and the postcard, just like the atmosphere of the lively film, is bustling and colorful.
Life isn't always like a holiday like this, but it's perfectly fine to indulge in some lighthearted fun once in a while. This, too, is my worldview.
And I feel that having many different worldviews within oneself is not a bad thing at all. Just as having a variety of colors on a palette allows for more diverse expression, having many perspectives and tastes leads to broadening one's world and bringing depth and interest to it.
Well then, I shall enjoy myself immensely as I line up these postcards in their holder.
Singing along to some upbeat Brazilian music to get into the spirit.