After my initial conversation with Miyoko Davey, we continued to stay in touch over email. With each exchange, I learned more about aspects of Inukai’s life and the work that she had done, over decades, to raise awareness about his work. Early on, Davey extended an invitation to meet if I ever found myself in NYC. As COVID vaccines arrived and pandemic precautions eased a bit, I finally planned a trip for the summer of 2022.

In mid-August, I packed my mom, sister, and the painting into my car and headed for New Jersey, where my aunt, uncle, and cousins live. As happy as I was to see my extended family, it was somewhat eclipsed by anticipation (and frankly, nervousness) about meeting Davey. She was warm and welcoming in her emails, even making sure that sushi would be okay for lunch (yes, please!) but she was an ART COLLECTOR, part of the NEW YORK CITY ART WORLD. I felt like an imposter- like what do I even know about art or how to talk about this masterpiece that was inexplicably in my possession? But I was also excited.

The morning of our meeting, I left New Jersey far too early, worried about traffic and finding parking (the painting felt too large and cumbersome for public transit, which would have been my preference). As such, I arrived at her apartment building more than an hour early. Davey lives in one of the most iconic buildings in New York. Obviously, I am not going to say which (and there are many) but think of gargoyles, security gates that open to a massive interior courtyard, and celebrities as neighbors. If you’ve watched Only Murders in the Building, basically that. Since I was early and carrying a massive painting duct-taped between two cardboard U-haul boxes, I asked the staff outside the gate if I could sit in the lobby while I waited. I went to the bathroom, took a selfie, and sent it to my dad. I texted a friend, saying that I felt like I was about to go on a job interview or a first date. She replied that this was good; that it meant this was really important to me. She was right.

Finally, I asked the staff person at the front desk if they could please let Ms. Davey know that I had arrived. Within moments, Davey appeared along with a very cute little dog, whom she introduced as “Tiffany.” I followed them to an elevator and up to her apartment. As Davey opened the heavy wooden double-doors and welcomed me into her home, I immediately recognized one of Inukai’s paintings hanging in the entryway. She seemed pleased that I had recognized it, and I immediately felt more at ease.

We made our way to the living room and settled into a small table with chairs. We exchanged small-talk while my eyes roamed the room, soaking in the art, antiques, and overall elegance of the space. There were several large paintings by Inukai hanging on the walls, which I recognized from photos in Davey’s book. To my left was a huge easel (I assume it once belonged to Inukai) with one of his landscapes in the cradle.

To my right, under a picture light, hung Javonese Coat. This is the painting that Davey and her late husband, John, purchased at Christie’s Auction House in 1988, before they knew anything about Inukai. Davey tells the story in the introduction to her book. They needed a large art piece for a (this) particular wall and went to a preview the day before the auction to see if anything caught their eye. Davey writes that she immediately felt, “this could be it!” Yet, the auction catalog had no information beyond the artist’s name, not even the birth/death date, only that its origin was “Grand Central Art Galleries, New York.” Needless to say, they had the winning bid.

Davey writes, “at this point, we had absolutely no idea we would trace Inukai’s personal history for such an extended period of time. I believe that no other Japanese painter so well adapted to American society, enjoyed popularity among art lovers, and yet remained so little known in Japan.”

Eventually, I took my painting out of its makeshift cardboard case to show Davey. Immediately, with a smile on her face, she said something to the effect of, “It is definitely his.” We both admired it for a period of time and then she motioned for me to come look at a painting in a far corner of the room. It was a portrait of a woman holding a cat, which looked very similar to the cat that Inukai’s son is holding in the painting I found. We speculated about whether or not it might be the same cat, just older.

After chatting for a while, the doorbell rang. It was our sushi delivery and it was time for lunch. We moved to the kitchen, along with Tiffany, and sat down to eat. Over the meal, we swapped stories mostly unrelated to Inukai or the painting. I learned how Miyoko and John found their apartment decades ago and about the philanthropic organization they established. I talked about my life in Maine and my shop. We connected over our love for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I shared how, as a graduate student at Hunter College, I’d often gone in between classes, taking advantage of the “pay what you can” admission price. We laughed a lot and it was beyond lovely.

Before leaving, I asked if I could take some photos of the paintings by Inukai. Davey graciously agreed and I’ve included some of them here. We said “goodbyes” at the elevator and agreed to stay in touch, which we have (more to come in a subsequent post!).

This August will mark a year since I met Miyoko in New York and nearly two since I stumbled upon Inukai’s “lost” painting. I still find the entire experience nearly unbelievable. It is and will always remain one of the most profound privileges of my life.

Post #5: A Trip to New York

28 Vannah Ave, Portland, ME 04103

Post #5: A Trip to New York

Post #4: The Artist (Part III)

28 Vannah Ave, Portland, ME 04103