If you can't wait, order the book today.

So how did you come to spend a year in Japan? Did you go there to write this book?

My senior year of college I applied for a post-graduate traveling fellowship. I had always wanted to go to Japan—my father and grandfather had gone there on business, and I loved seeing their pictures of kimono and cherry trees when I was little—and I was particularly interested in the colors, patterns, landscapes, and seasons of Japan. The scholarship was very nice in that I didn’t have to come back with a finished project. The idea was just to provide graduates with a year to study and think in a foreign country. My application basically said that I wanted to do “visual research,” and I spent my days riding my bike to gardens, temples, and museums where I sketched, wrote, and took pictures. Mid-way through the year, after I had filled about ten Moleskine notebooks, I started to think it would be neat to compile them into something I could show other people.

And what's up with sock designs?

I am a big sock enthusiast. I think I also mentioned in my scholarship application that I wanted to do some “casual sock research”—Japan is sock paradise! I visited a number of sock factories there and actually was offered a job as a sock designer in Osaka. I was planning to go back after I finished the book, but the book took longer than I expected, and the longer I spent here, the harder it became to leave (as much as I love Japan!). I do love socks—they can be beautiful, functional, and affordable—and I dream of designing them here at some point.

How do you think art making effects one as a traveler? I find that I am much more observant, slower, more saturated when I stop to draw along the way. And my memories are far more intense. How did it impact your experience?

I agree. The act of sketching makes you really look and remember. Growing up, when my parents and I went on vacation somewhere, we tended to try to fit as much into the day as possible, but in Japan—and probably because I had the luxury of an entire year—I really enjoyed just focusing on one place and spending as much time as I needed to record what I was seeing. And drawing is quite different from photographing. When I take pictures or video something, it is so easy and fast that it makes me see less in a way—the camera is really seeing for me, and I end up “seeing” the place later in the prints or the video. I feel as though I understand a place better when I have drawn it.

How did your year in Japan change you? Your art?

I feel as though this year has provided me with a lifetime of inspiration. It seemed as though everything I have ever loved visually—pleats, polka dots, flowering branches, grids—exists in abundance in Japan. It was a wonderful year, but it could also sometimes be a little lonely—I had a lot of time to think about what I really wanted to do with my time and my ideas (and my life, I suppose). I also sort of developed my drawing “style” in Japan—I sketched in a lot of different ways in the early notebooks, and I was actually sort of frustrated by this when I started to think about making a book. I wanted to figure out how I could represent things in a somewhat uniform style, and I actually went on a pilgrimage to Japan’s tallest waterfall, Nachi-no-taki, and spent all day drawing and painting it and finally figured things out. I’ve definitely been influenced by the linear quality of Japanese art.

How did Japanese people respond to your work? Was it different from what you've experienced in the States? Did you draw in public a lot? What did people think?

Japanese people I met seemed to like looking at my sketchbooks. They are small—3.5 in x 5.5 in.—and, really in an economy move, my handwriting became quite small so that I wouldn’t use up the notebooks too quickly. I think that some people enjoyed this miniature quality. Because the notebooks were so small—I only occasionally painted in big sketchbooks—I didn’t attract too much notice even though I drew in public a lot. I have found since the book came out that people in Japan have enjoyed seeing the things that a foreigner notices (not always things that seem particularly remarkable to them).

You majored in film at Harvard. How did you come to watercolors? Have you always enjoyed drawing?

I grew up drawing. I was always drawing with markers and sometimes pencils until I got to college, where I didn’t draw at all except to make storyboards. I brought a video camera to Japan, but I didn’t like having to carry it around all the time, and the notebooks were so small and portable that I started sketching in them. (I really hadn’t drawn at all in four years, and it was actually sort of intimidating to start drawing with pen in those blank, bound notebooks--it took me a little while to not be so precious about them.) I love color, and I found that watercolors were quite portable, too. I would bring a little travel set and a bottle of water and a paper towel with me.

Do you draw mainly from life? Or does your photography play a big role? And how does that tie into filmmaking?

Almost all the sketches in my notebooks are from life, and many of these sketches were used for the pictures in the book. Photography does play a big role, too. The original draft of the book had both paintings and photos, but when I submitted my book to Princeton Architectural Press for consideration, they suggested I use only paintings. I ended up “converting” the photos to pictures by painting them. Now I take a lot of pictures as references for my illustrations—with the exception of sock patterns, it’s really hard for me to draw things without seeing them live or in photographs. I suppose that it’s related to filmmaking in so far as I like to capture a scene or image that is true, and photography allows me to do this and then recreate it later. I also sometimes think of images in terms of filmmaking shots—perhaps this comes across in the illustrations.

Your work in this book is very neat, graphic and 2-D. Was the look of it influenced by Japanese art?

Definitely. I was particularly influenced by scroll paintings and their use of ink and watercolor. I liked how some areas—for instance, a house in the foreground—would be very outlined and defined, but then a mountain in the background would just be done in watercolor. I spent a lot of time looking at scroll paintings—I really like this balance of precision and subtlety.

I really like your pet portraits. Each feels so much like the portrait of an individual rather than a breed. Tell us more.

Thank you. I’m really happy you said that, because I really do try very hard to capture the spirit and personality of the pets. It’s as hard as drawing people. I have made them all from photographs, but I assume that people are giving me photos which really capture the essence of their pets, so I just try to retain that in the portraits. I love animals, and I think that might help, too.

Design, writing, drawing, painting, filmmaking... You seem to be a person who is creative in many ways. How do you think of yourself vis art?

I am happiest when I am making things. I think for me art provides a way of handling life. I mean that everything—both happy and sad—is inspiration for something. It’s hard to talk about art and life without veering into something that might come off as pretentious, but I do think that the two are intertwined for me.

I used to be completely devoted to the Staedtler pigment liner (01), which is waterproof, and I am still a big fan, but I find that the tips get bent really quickly (and don’t ever lend this pen to someone who just needs to jot down a note—I started carrying a pen to lend and a pen to use because ballpoint-accustomed people kept taking the pigment liner out of commission!). I now sometimes use the Uniball Vision Micro just because it is much more durable (although the line is thicker and sort of unreliable sometimes). There is really nothing nicer than a fresh pigment liner, though! I really like Canson Montval 90 lb. watercolor paper—it’s cheap, lightweight, and has a fine grain. All the illustrations in my book except for maybe one are done on this paper. I use a travel set of 12 half-pans of Winsor & Newton watercolors that I’ve had since high school (the sap green is just about gone). I have some tubes of some other colors like black, white, and Indian red. I use whatever brushes are cheapest—usually sizes 3, 5, and 6. First I sketch the picture, and then I make a more refined drawing with just one line. I’ll go over this with pen and then erase the pencil. Then I use watercolors—this is my favorite part. In the case of the book, I then scanned the pictures and did some retouching in Photoshop, including outlining all my lines again (I think there must be a less labor-intensive method to keep the blacks dark).

What are you working on next? Or are you basking in the glory of the spectacular Year in Japan (as well you might!)?

ha—thank you—it is nice that the book finally exists in bound form! I have just started working on a more graphic novel-esque book about Pennsylvania, where I’m from originally (and where I lived while I was working on A Year in Japan). I think it will be more autobiographical and denser than the Japan book and the style will be a little looser.

Is there anything you'd like to add for people who are just starting out to draw and document their lives?

Well, I would encourage them to draw and write whenever they feel moved to do so. I’m not sure if it’s good to be regular about it or not—I was never very good with keeping a diary every day, but I always wrote or drew something when I needed to. That said, I think it’s helpful to keep drawing because I find that I do get “rusty” when I haven’t in a while. Sometimes just walking around taking pictures helps me if I don’t feel like drawing. I guess I have found that I’ve ended up drawing and writing regularly because I want to and it doesn’t feel burdensome (although sometimes I still have to force myself to do a more finished illustration—I don’t’ know why it’s like that. I love it once I start, but starting can be hard). Whether or not you ever show the pictures to others, I would encourage people to make them. I’ve been grateful to have a record in my sketchbooks and journals, and I’ve found that drawing and documenting my life helps me deal with my life.