Remembering Henry

Henry Fukuhara was a gentleman, a watercolorist, a teacher, a resident of Manzanar, a mentor, a husband and father, and he was my friend.  And I loved him.  Yes, I loved him.

 You may wish to put any connotation on that statement that you wish.  He was, first and foremost, my teacher and mentor.  Husband Larry and I traveled to Los Angeles from Lone Pine, California, and the last Fukuhara workshop (the 20^th) at Lone Pine, California.  I shared with Larry my fear that if we did not take the opportunity that spring to see Henry, it might be my last opportunity to see him – ever.  And, indeed, by the next spring he was gone.

 When we saw Henry that last time, he and his wife Fujiko were living in a nursing home.  He was still going with friends to paint, even though his vision was failing him.  About that time, I was also home schooling my minister’s children.  One day after Larry and I returned home, a large flat package was delivered; the children were anxious to see what was inside.  I had thought it was my painting from the workshop’s last exhibit.  Rather, it was a new painting of Henry’s.  The children were so impressed with the color and image.  They (and I) loved it.

 That last time that Larry and I saw Henry in LA, we visited him only in the mornings so that we didn’t tire him too much.  As we talked, I told Henry the truth.  Except for my husband, I told him, he was the most important man I’d ever had in my life.  Being the humble man that he was, he found this difficult to understand.  I assured him that it was the truth.

 When I think back to how I met Henry, it was that I had received the latest issue of Watercolor Magic.  One of the articles described this Henry Fukuhara, a watercolorist.  I’d never heard of Henry or his work until that time.  I had been discussing my difficulty of developing a painting style of my own with my, then, instructor Marie Siano Ungemah.  Reading the article about Henry and seeing the brilliant, jump-off-the-page images that were included with the article, I thought – I can do that.  I can paint like that!  (As you may know, artists often “borrow” ideas from other artists.)  His style did seem to jump right off of the page and into my fingers.  The very next Saturday, I worked on four watercolor images in Marie’s class, borrowing Henry’s approach to color and form, and sold three of them the next week!

 I wrote to Henry (by way of Watercolor Magic).  The magazine forwarded my letter to Henry; which, of course, I’d hoped for.  A few weeks later while watching a Saturday night TV program, the phone rang.  The voice on the other end said, “This is Henry Fukuhara.”  I thought – be still my heart!  We talked for about an hour.  He asked about family and children (I was the same age as his oldest daughter).  How long had I been painting?  Where had I learned to paint?  Who were my instructors and mentors?  The conversation moved from one subject to another.  And, remember, this was at a time when we didn’t have unlimited long-distance calls.  I thought, an hour call on his dime!

 I learned that his next workshop would be in Santa Monica.  I determined to be there if possible.  Since Jill (daughter #3) lived nearby, she and husband Bob agreed to meet me at the LA airport and get me to the workshop and travel plans were set.  I asked Henry to bring a portfolio of his work for me to see.  I really needed to see his original images and not just those in the magazine.

 About twenty workshop participants listened and practiced as Henry presented.  Henry illustrated his teaching with sketches on newsprint with black marker.  He insisted that we make a value sketch before attempting the painting.  Every time, a value sketch!  Each demo paper was taped to the walls of our classroom so we could refer to what we had learned. 

 As requested, Henry brought his portfolio of work, and I was able to make a selection of several to take home.  I paid for them with a check.  I met many people who became more than acquaintances over the next years.  Mary was important among those people and, like most of the participants, hailed from a city close by in California.  I had come to the workshop from farther than anyone else.

The last day of the workshop, we all went to Marina del Rey to paint, plein aire.  I’d always painted in a studio from my photographs, so this was a new experience for me.  Part of the way through the morning, I received a message that Henry wanted to talk with me.  And, when the “master” calls, you go.  Henry was holding a rolled sheaf of papers secured with two rubber bands.  As we talked, he would slap the sheaf of papers into his left hand.  Our conversation was about how far I had come to attend the workshop, and what were my plans for the evening.  I had to be at the airport to catch my flight home that afternoon.  I think, had I not been scheduled for the return flight, I would have been invited to have dinner with Henry and his wife Fujiko, that evening.   I will never know.

 Before ending our conversation, Henry handed the sheaf of papers to me.  “These are for you,” he said.  Not knowing what they were, I was happy to have anything from Henry.  While packing for the return trip to home, I opened the sheaf of papers.  It was all of the workshop demos, signed and dated by Henry.  What a treasure it was to have them.  It is easy to say that they now reside in a “hermetically sealed” folder for posterity!

 While at Marina del Ray, I completed painting the image in my sketch book and caught my flight back home.  Months went by, and the check with which I’d paid for Henry’s paintings never cleared my bank.  I called Mary who told me that it was not uncommon for Henry to forget to deposit checks.  She took care of the matter in California, and I went about my business at home.

CONTINUED NEXT WEEK

Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.