Three days had passed since we had decided on a team leader.
Once again, we gathered at Tokyo University of the Arts.
Our team members were I, Go Hana, took on the role of leader, while the team consisted of Yoo Mija, Goto Mirei, Yamada Saeka, Chai, and Chen Hao Lun.
For reference, Yamada was a blunt, short-haired Japanese girl, and Chen was a reserved Chinese boy with glasses.
“Did they deliberately lump together individual participants like Goto and Yamada with us international students? Other teams seemed to consist mostly of Japanese students from the same university, but ours was the only team that felt like a global mix of students…”
Because of this, we drew attention wherever we went.
Most of those stares, however, were directed at me.
“Probably because the professors and artists always kick off discussions with comments about me…”
– “When we look at Go Hana’s artwork…!”
– “If we compare this to Go Hana’s artistic vision…!”
– “As demonstrated in Go Hana’s presentation…!”
“…Hah.”
Anyway, we spent the mornings attending special lectures in our respective groups (after the first day, these were held in smaller classrooms), and in the afternoons, we gathered in the auditorium to work on collaborative projects.
– “Today’s collaborative project theme is ‘Expression of Regional Artistic Culture.’ Please freely interpret and express the concept of regional art in your work!”
That afternoon, under the sunlight pouring into the auditorium, the art team project was in full swing. The six of us were seated on the floor, creating a piece of art.
Not with brushes or pencils, but only by sprinkling white rice with our hands.
Even now, grains of rice slipped through our fingers, cascading down onto the paper.
On the large blank sheet before us, white rice formed delicate lines. These lines overlapped, eventually creating geometric patterns. The process repeated dozens, even hundreds of times.
The six of us silently continued our work.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Workshop participants passing by (most of whom were university students or young artists) glanced at us curiously.
To them, the sight of six middle and high school students quietly sprinkling rice onto the floor must have been bizarre.
Ignoring their gazes, we let the grains flow steadily from our palms. Geometric patterns drawn with rice—this was the collaborative project we had decided on today.
It was a grueling task, to say the least.
And, of course, it was my idea as the team leader.
Because of their misfortune in having me as their leader, my team members had been silently enduring this “punishment” for two hours, while other groups chattered and worked lively at their tables.
Yet, everyone seemed unfazed by the hardship.
Chai was an elite student studying abroad on a national scholarship from Thailand. Chen had made it into a prestigious art school in Beijing after surviving fierce competition. Goto and Yamada also hailed from renowned local schools.
For them, this level of effort was probably nothing.
Honestly, in terms of experience, Yoo Mia and I were the least seasoned of the group.
‘From the start, they were all quite skilled in their own countries, you know. Even Chai, who I was most worried about, became serious once the class started, and before I knew it, Mi-chan was already working with her headphones on, listening to music.’
Thus, the work continued even now.
“…”
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Seeing this scene,
I felt proud as the team leader.
To keep up my own motivation, I silently hummed a song in my head to endure the monotonous work. Singing this song always cleared and refreshed my mind.
Woo, woo, woo.
Rice, rice, rice.
–Srrrk–
Woo, woo, woo.
Rice, rice, rice.
–Srrrk–
Woo, woo, woo.
Rice, rice, rice.
–Srrrk–
At that moment, Goto, who was rolling up her uniform sleeves while working beside me, spoke to me in Japanese in a very cautious tone.
“Um, Go-san, about that…”
“?,” I tilted my head in confusion, and Goto, realizing her mistake, lightly tapped Mija, who had been wearing headphones. Mija responded in Japanese.
“ᅳ?”
“ᅳ”
For a while, they continued conversing in Japanese.
‘Ever since they found out Mija was a quarter Japanese, neither Goto nor Yamada has spoken much English with her. I guess speaking a foreign language all day is tiring for them too.’
Later, Mija explained to me what the conversation was about.
“Huh? Goto-san, what’s up?”
– “Yoo-san, I was going to ask the leader if it’s okay to reference Buddhist art patterns to modify the geometric designs. But I just couldn’t think of the English words…”
– “Ah~ I totally get that feeling. Got it, I’ll tell Hana-chan for you. Oh, and Goto-san, I meant to mention this earlier…”
– “Hmm?”
– “Koreans are fine with being called by their first names. In fact, most Korean surnames are only one syllable, so it sounds awkward to use the surname.”
– “Is that so?”
– “Just call me Mija or Haruko, whichever feels easier.”
– “Oh… Haruko-san.”
Mija then turned and conveyed Goto’s request to me, and I nodded readily. Taking the opportunity, I also gave the other team members instructions in English.
“This time, as long as we maintain the theme, you can freely reinterpret the geometric patterns. Just make sure to preserve the circular motif.”
“!”
“!”
“!”
As usual, the quiet Chen and Yamada nodded indifferently. Meanwhile, Chai flashed a mischievous smile and dramatically traced a circle in the air with his hand.
“Okay! A circle, right? Leave it to me! I’m confident when it comes to geometric patterns!”
“Yes, Chai, you’re really good at drawing shapes.”
“Haha, is that a compliment?”
And so, another hour passed as we continued working.
The project assigned to our group was nearing completion. Geometric patterns drawn with white rice filled the large sheet of white paper, and the circular motifs overlapped, forming intricate structures.
It looked like a fragment of Buddhist art—a sand mandala. However, since it was drawn with white rice on white paper, it conveyed a different kind of awe compared to the vibrant colors of traditional mandalas.
‘I didn’t realize it when imagining it, but now that it’s complete, it feels quite grand.’
Workshop participants couldn’t help but stop and marvel as they passed by.
“Wow, what’s that?”
“Amazing.”
“Is that all rice?”
Woo, woo, woo.
Rice, rice, rice.
I was quietly humming a tune to myself when the evaluator for today’s group project approached. He was a professor researching traditional cultural arts at Tokyo University of the Arts.
As soon as he saw our piece, he let out a small exclamation and spoke in somewhat formal English.
“Oh, this is… a mandala! Did your group approach it through Buddhism as a shared cultural element among the Asian countries represented here?”
“!”
I was impressed by his insight.
‘As expected from a professor who teaches traditional arts. He noticed right away. Thanks to that, I can skip explaining the religious significance or the concept of the mandala. That’s a win for me—explaining everything in English can get exhausting…’
Amanbo,
Amanbo,
the more you know, the more you see.
This wasn’t a principle that applied only to Korean slap-match games. Explaining art was much easier when the audience already had some understanding.
‘As the team leader, I felt pressured, but talking to professors seems to go better than I expected. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.’
With a lighter heart, I began explaining the piece.
“Yes, that’s correct. Additionally, Korea, Japan, Thailand, and China are all cultures where rice is a staple food. That’s why we used rice in this mandala to represent the shared cultural identity of Asia.”
“Excellent. But what was the intent behind drawing it on white paper? Mandalas are usually created with sand on stone or wooden floors to convey impermanence, as they can be scattered and erased at any time. Using white rice on white paper also seems to carry a meaningful interpretation.”
Amanbo.
“That’s right. In many Asian cultures, white symbolizes the foundation of everything and the encompassing spirit. We felt that this symbolism was well-suited to expressing the spiritual essence of Asian culture.”
“On a white base that embraces all, we depicted the fundamental symbol of sustenance, rice. Yet this too is not an eternal boundary but rather an expression of harmony…”
Amanbo.
After a moment of admiration, the professor turned to me and asked,
“…Is this truly a piece conceptualized by you, the team leader?”
“…”
‘Well, it’s true that most of the ideas were mine. But if I start bragging now, it’ll just come off as arrogant and annoying, won’t it?’
In group projects, it was always best to share credit evenly. So, I gave a measured response.
“…No, we came up with it together. I only coordinated everyone’s input as the team leader.”
At that, the usually silent Chen spoke up firmly.
“The concept and the background knowledge were entirely Hana Go’s idea. The rest of us only worked on the detailed patterns.”
“Oh, truly remarkable…!”
“…”
Mija, Goto, Yamada, and Chai all nodded in agreement. Seeing this, the professor smiled warmly and turned to me again.
“Really, such a young genius—and modest, too. On top of that, working with a diverse group to create such an excellent piece shows your ability to collaborate without flaw.”
“T-Thank you.”
“I believe this is the most outstanding piece I’ve seen among all the workshop projects so far.”
“Wait, what?”
Hold on, what is he saying…?!
—Murmur, murmur
Ignoring the ripples of excitement spreading among the workshop participants, the professor continued to marvel.
“…It’s simply superb. It perfectly encapsulates the theme of ‘regional art’ while also expressing the ‘harmony’ essential to a group project. A true masterpiece.”
“Ah… T-thank you very much.”
“May I take a photo of this piece to preserve it?”
“A photo?”
“At Tokyo University of the Arts, we conduct many types of education, but rarely do we see such an excellent example of collaborative work. I’d like to document it as a reference for future projects.”
“…”
I mean, it’s not a problem or anything, but…
‘Geez, with this much praise, it’s kind of embarrassing.’
Scratching my head awkwardly, I gave a small nod, and the professor called over an assistant to take photos. They meticulously captured the piece, then headed off to organize the documentation somewhere.
Before long, curiosity about the professor’s evaluation drew a crowd of workshop participants toward our project.
“So this is the piece that’s so amazing?”
“Whoa, hey! Watch your step!”
“Did it… just get smudged?”
“Ah? Oh no! I-I’m sorry!”
And just like that, the rice mandala was ruined by participants accidentally stepping on it. Some frantically tried to restore it, while others quietly slipped away in embarrassment. In the end, our masterpiece was left in shambles.
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Still, none of us got particularly upset. After all, this was exactly the kind of scenario we had anticipated when choosing the mandala as our medium.
Yamada and Goto glanced at the ruined artwork and chuckled softly.
“…It stayed true to the mandala spirit until the end. Namu Amida Butsu. May it rest in paradise.”
“Buddha’s teachings in action, huh?”
“!”
Yamada blinked at Goto with a puzzled expression.
“Wait, doesn’t that mean something like ‘Fools are still within the Buddha’s grasp’? Kyoto people really do have a way with words…”
“Hey, Yamada, not every Kyoto native is constantly making sly remarks…”
Mija translated their conversation for me, and then, curious, Chai asked what was going on. I translated it into English for him, and he burst out laughing.
“Pfft! Kyoto people say stuff like that? So when they’re cold toward me, it’s not really their true feelings?”
“…No, not exactly.”
And so, the workshop’s collaborative sessions continued for the rest of the week.
Whenever I offered ideas, my teammates followed through diligently, and presentations became effortless thanks to the Amanbo buff. As a result, our group quickly became the “main course” for visiting professors during evaluations.
‘But… are they going along with everything just because they think I’m some kind of “genius girl”?’
On the final day, I asked the two quietest members of our group, Yamada and Chen, if they had any issues with me being the team leader.
Yamada, ever blunt, answered in her usual tone.
“Not really. Better you than Goto-san, that’s for sure.”
“…”
Chen, as always, adjusted his glasses with a sharp motion before speaking.
“I don’t necessarily think you’re some genius we must blindly follow. But everything you suggested turned out better than anything I could come up with, so I acknowledged it.”
“…”
“…Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. If you’d come up with something foolish instead of smart ideas, I’d have outright refused to follow.”
“…”
With that, he turned and walked away, his demeanor as aloof as ever. Yet until the very last collaborative project, he never once opposed my suggestions.
And just like that, the week-long workshop came to an end.
*
Workshop Week 2
We were scheduled to go on field trips to nearby historical sites, art museums, and museums in groups.
However, somewhat unusually, one of the destinations for the field trips was a publishing company. It seemed to be included because this workshop had an overall emphasis on the fusion of modern media and art.
And it was the very first destination assigned on the first day.
Mija, her eyes sparkling, explained enthusiastically in the lodging.
“This place is run by a huge cultural group! They own famous manga magazines, fashion magazines, animation companies, and even newspapers!”
“Is it really that amazing…?”
“Of course! Oh, I’m so excited! Hehehe…!”
And then came the long-awaited field trip day.
I encountered yet another unexpected proposal.
“If possible, could you assist in reviewing our company’s ‘Virtual Idol’ project…?”
“…”
Oops, I think I’ve just brought something to life.
…A VTuber.