Fic ~ An Attempt to Look into Leader's Mind.
It’s short! And it actually started off like 1,000 words longer, but I had to cut it down because it was never gonna end. Ohno is far too complex for someone like me to fully grasp. So I just focused on one side of him. His art.
PS: this was the finished fic that just needed typing, now I will be able to concentrate on the half written requests that some of you are waiting for!
Title: Image
Rating: U
Genre: General, Introspective
Characters: Ohno Satoshi
Word Count: 790
Type: One-shot
Summary: Just a small character study of Ohno and his art.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Arashi. I’m just using them to entertain myself.
Image
Ohno Satoshi found solace in the act of creation, of starting with a crisp, fresh sheet of paper and staining it with his design. The way every line served a purpose; every stoke combined and worked together to yield something whole and complete. The images were just moments frozen in time and yet infused with life, seeming to evolve and grow within the confines of the page. Pictures, which are undeniably static by nature, he could depict as organic and consequently control.
It was cathartic in a sense, to have something he alone could dictate. For most of his life his destiny had not been his own, and the artist had come to accept that. It was not that he felt his fate was completely out of his hands; he knew he held the power to call a halt at any time. For years, however, he had been swept up in things he did not truly understand and he continued to allow others to lead his life on his behalf. He saw no problem with this; he was happy with the direction his career taken and grateful for all the things such a path afforded him.
He never wished things were different; he knew he was always steered in the right direction and he had never been one to look back with regret.
It was passive behaviour, he knew that, but he also knew he had a tendency to be rash when left to his own devices. Whether it was jumping into something without thinking or giving up without ever really getting started, Ohno had learned his faults young and did his best to counter them. He always made sure to think carefully about the words other spoke and he did try to temper his responses accordingly. He was still working on the latter.
When it came right down to it, he did not trust himself to take charge of his own fate. Or, indeed, the fate of the four younger men inexorably tied to him. It was easier to leave such things in the more capable hands of others. Despite carrying the label of leader, Ohno had no desire to control others and sincerely doubted his ability to do so. This belief was not harboured in self-doubt, but in self-awareness; if pushed, he could take charge, but doing so made him uncomfortable and he preferred not to.
There is one exception to this rule, however, that the young man had created himself in order to give himself an outlet. In his art, he was able to exert perfect control over his conception and mould it as he saw fit. Each newly completed picture or carefully constructed figure represented a fresh conquest.
And it was for this sense of power and accomplishment that Ohno began each project. He still allowed himself to be caught up, of course; more often than not he began with no set design and let his subconscious take over. Yet therein lay the difference for the reactant leader - even without actively thinking about it, the image was his. It was dredged from his mind, crafted by his hand and entirely a product of himself. Right down to the deliberately distorted perspective seen in a lot of his art, illustrating his unique view of the world; he put himself into his art.
Somewhere, deep inside his own heart, where he locked away all the dark and nebulous realisations that overwhelmed him, Ohno knew that showing his art was the most honest he could ever hope to be in public. His art was his soul laid bare; a visual representation of his hopes, desires, worries and concerns. They were his victories and defeats, proof of his achievements and embodiments of his frustrations.
All the things he could not express as an Idol and the feeling he did not know how to put into words, it all came out in his artwork. And it was OK to confess through his images - it was safe - because no one would get it anyway. Yet it did not bother him that people would not understand; he felt it was better that way. It was enough for Ohno to know that -in his own way- he had expressed himself and that others could enjoy his creations as what they were, not necessarily what they represented.
In his quieter, more contemplative moments, when he thought deeply about his life and its direction, he looked to his body of work however, and there was one message he hoped people would take from his art. He hoped people would understand how happy it made him to stand on a stage and view the sea of smiling faces looking up at him and his friends.
End.
_______________________
And even though it’s completely coincidental that I just so happen to be posting it today…
Happy Birthday Ohno!
PS: this was the finished fic that just needed typing, now I will be able to concentrate on the half written requests that some of you are waiting for!
Title: Image
Rating: U
Genre: General, Introspective
Characters: Ohno Satoshi
Word Count: 790
Type: One-shot
Summary: Just a small character study of Ohno and his art.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Arashi. I’m just using them to entertain myself.
Image
Ohno Satoshi found solace in the act of creation, of starting with a crisp, fresh sheet of paper and staining it with his design. The way every line served a purpose; every stoke combined and worked together to yield something whole and complete. The images were just moments frozen in time and yet infused with life, seeming to evolve and grow within the confines of the page. Pictures, which are undeniably static by nature, he could depict as organic and consequently control.
It was cathartic in a sense, to have something he alone could dictate. For most of his life his destiny had not been his own, and the artist had come to accept that. It was not that he felt his fate was completely out of his hands; he knew he held the power to call a halt at any time. For years, however, he had been swept up in things he did not truly understand and he continued to allow others to lead his life on his behalf. He saw no problem with this; he was happy with the direction his career taken and grateful for all the things such a path afforded him.
He never wished things were different; he knew he was always steered in the right direction and he had never been one to look back with regret.
It was passive behaviour, he knew that, but he also knew he had a tendency to be rash when left to his own devices. Whether it was jumping into something without thinking or giving up without ever really getting started, Ohno had learned his faults young and did his best to counter them. He always made sure to think carefully about the words other spoke and he did try to temper his responses accordingly. He was still working on the latter.
When it came right down to it, he did not trust himself to take charge of his own fate. Or, indeed, the fate of the four younger men inexorably tied to him. It was easier to leave such things in the more capable hands of others. Despite carrying the label of leader, Ohno had no desire to control others and sincerely doubted his ability to do so. This belief was not harboured in self-doubt, but in self-awareness; if pushed, he could take charge, but doing so made him uncomfortable and he preferred not to.
There is one exception to this rule, however, that the young man had created himself in order to give himself an outlet. In his art, he was able to exert perfect control over his conception and mould it as he saw fit. Each newly completed picture or carefully constructed figure represented a fresh conquest.
And it was for this sense of power and accomplishment that Ohno began each project. He still allowed himself to be caught up, of course; more often than not he began with no set design and let his subconscious take over. Yet therein lay the difference for the reactant leader - even without actively thinking about it, the image was his. It was dredged from his mind, crafted by his hand and entirely a product of himself. Right down to the deliberately distorted perspective seen in a lot of his art, illustrating his unique view of the world; he put himself into his art.
Somewhere, deep inside his own heart, where he locked away all the dark and nebulous realisations that overwhelmed him, Ohno knew that showing his art was the most honest he could ever hope to be in public. His art was his soul laid bare; a visual representation of his hopes, desires, worries and concerns. They were his victories and defeats, proof of his achievements and embodiments of his frustrations.
All the things he could not express as an Idol and the feeling he did not know how to put into words, it all came out in his artwork. And it was OK to confess through his images - it was safe - because no one would get it anyway. Yet it did not bother him that people would not understand; he felt it was better that way. It was enough for Ohno to know that -in his own way- he had expressed himself and that others could enjoy his creations as what they were, not necessarily what they represented.
In his quieter, more contemplative moments, when he thought deeply about his life and its direction, he looked to his body of work however, and there was one message he hoped people would take from his art. He hoped people would understand how happy it made him to stand on a stage and view the sea of smiling faces looking up at him and his friends.
End.
_______________________
And even though it’s completely coincidental that I just so happen to be posting it today…
Happy Birthday Ohno!