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Space fantasy: Nagaoka Shusei's contributions to Afrofuturist visual culture

2024; Wiley; Linguagem: Inglês

10.1111/jacc.13598

1542-734X

Nathan Hesselink,

Utopian, Dystopian, and Speculative Fiction

The thing that enchanted me about [I Am] was the artwork. The vast Nubian army, the Egyptian-themed landscape, the futuristic city on the horizon, and floating above it…four flying saucers. … These images were my introduction to this inspiring and aesthetically breathtaking universe. … There's something about seeing Black people with robots and spaceships that makes me SOOOO happy! Probably because I spent my entire childhood watching white folks going to other planets, traveling through time, building androids or visiting aliens. (Conyers, 2018) The Raise! album cover is [a] visual portal that sets my imagination adrift. This album's cover art now teleports me to a pool party at a distant interplanetary settlement of liberated Black people. Two-stepping and finger-snapping, everyone is united by a cosmic funk groove. (Haywood, 2021, p. 28) With the success of the Black Panther movies (2018 and 2022) and extended franchise, and the high-profile exhibit and publication of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, titled Afrofuturism: A History of Black Futures (Strait & Conwill, 2023), academics working within the large and diverse field of Afrofuturism must feel their work is finally coming to be understood by the general public. A movement with ties to visual art, design, fashion, architecture, film, music, theater, literature, dance, and grassroots organizing, Afrofuturism has flourished as an international phenomenon, with scholars now acknowledging a third stage in its long development (Anderson, 2023, pp. 59–60). The foundations of Afrofuturism lie in the efforts and aspirations of African, African American, and other African diasporic actors. And yet in the realm of African American popular music, there was a special window in time when a diasporic Japanese illustrator based in Los Angeles, California—Nagaoka Shusei—worked to create some of the most iconic and well-loved album covers in the Afrofuturist pantheon (including the two LPs described in the epigraphs). This article examines in detail his contributions to such Afrofuturist visual culture, primarily through the lens of his album cover work with the African American super group Earth, Wind & Fire. Central to this artistic endeavor was the special relationship Nagaoka nurtured and maintained throughout his life with Earth, Wind & Fire's founder, Maurice White. In combination with the lyrics, themes, costumes, choreography, and, of course, the music, Nagaoka's art would complete White's vision for his band. Their collaboration was also appreciated in a special way among Earth, Wind & Fire's Japanese fan base. Afrofuturists sought to unearth the missing history of people of African descent and their roles in science, technology, and science fiction. They also aimed to reintegrate people of color into the discussion of cyberculture, modern science, technology, and sci-fi pop culture. (Womack, 2013, pp. 17–18) Reimagining the Black experience of the past provides new templates for reimagining Black futures to come—while also informing Black life in the present. As an aesthetic, Afrofuturism appears in Black art, often combing the beauty of ancient African civilizations with the hard-wrought preserved knowledge that endured enslavement—art that also points toward different futures. By envisioning a history unimpeded by the restrictions of racism, Afrofuturism provides an alternative pathway for African American artistry and creativity. (Strait, 2023, p. 12) From distant galaxies to the oceans' depths, space is a defining feature of Afrofuturism. To upend how the traumas of slavery, colonialism, and imperialism continue to organize our sociopolitical present and future, Black makers and thinkers have long looked to space—outer space, inner space, cyberspace, the space—for room to grow, for more amenable geographies and species, and for places to hide and flourish. (Barber, 2023, p. 34; emphasis in original) Space and fantasy were passions in Nagaoka Shusei's visual universe, the two terms and images coming together in a way that would permanently bind together Nagaoka with Earth, Wind & Fire. It is a story of Japanese and African American synergies, sympathies, and respect between two individuals with a shared view of humanity, one that embraced difference and looked past the artificial boundaries of race and nationality. It also serves as an example of imagination as expressed through the medium of science fiction and technology that speaks to the potential of alternative, positive presents and futures for all oppressed diasporic peoples. Nagaoka Shusei (Nagaoka Sh u ¯ $$ \overline{\mathrm{u}} $$ sei長岡秀星; family name, given name)2 came into the world during one of the most tumultuous periods between his birth country of Japan and his adopted home of the United States. His relationship with both nations would remain complicated throughout his life, though over time he would come to be recognized and loved by audiences and critics on both sides of the Pacific. Nagaoka was born the third son of a port customs officer in Nagasaki on the northwest coast of Kyushu on November 26, 1936. Only a year later the second Sino-Japanese War began, and by 1940 Japan had formally joined World War II. Toward the end of the war during his second year of elementary school (1945) Nagaoka was relocated to his father's hometown of Iki on Iki Island, Nagasaki Prefecture, under threat of imminent bombing. Understanding this was relatively late to be evacuated—the Japanese government officially began such displacements of the young, women, and elderly in December of 1943—Nagaoka and members of his family missed the atomic bombing of Nagasaki (August 9) by less than 3 weeks.3 Nagaoka remained in Iki after the war, finding solace in reading and drawing. Access to photography books, science fiction anthologies, and contemporary Japanese art collections in the home led to a drawing style characterized by meticulously hand-drawn sketches and illustrations (Kay, 1978, p. 39; Nagaoka, 1981b, pp. 8–9; Tora, 1977). While little of this work remains, by the time he was in his third year of high school (1955) he had already secured his first paycheck for his drawing. The image was an exploded view of a nuclear-powered airplane which Nagaoka submitted for the frontispiece of Middle School Student's Friend (中学生の友) magazine published by Shogakukan in Tokyo. The editor-in-chief assumed that Nagaoka was already a professional (adult) who had been evacuated from Tokyo and had remained in the countryside. To the publisher's surprise, Nagaoka was just a teenager, though it prompted the editor to ask for more of his work. This inspired Nagaoka to leave Iki that year and enroll at Musashino Art University in Tokyo (Nagaoka, 1982, p. 50, 2016, p. 30). Like a number of accomplished artists, Nagaoka never graduated from university. Within a month of moving to the capital he was already securing work as an illustrator; by 1958 at the age of 23, he had gone completely independent as a commercial artist. Employment during this early stage of his career was consumed by contracts for children's and women's magazines, advertisements, and science and adventure kits and publications (cars, engines, fighter planes, etc.). In 1963 Nagaoka was married; the change in personal status occurred at a time when his subject matter began to evolve toward future vehicles, spaceships, ships, buildings, and so on for encyclopedias and boys' magazines. It also marked a further refining of his attention to detail and precision in his hand drawing (Nagaoka, 2016, p. 31).4 Ultimately it was Nagaoka's interest in and proclivity toward science fiction themes that attracted a broader professional world. In 1966 Nagaoka was asked by the Asahi Weekly to do an illustration for their "Buildings of the Future" feature, because of the number of science fiction illustrations he had created for other publications. The image was impressive enough to catch the eye of the legendary architect Kenzo Tange, who had been tasked with designing the upcoming Osaka World Expo to be held in 1970. Tange invited Nagaoka to serve as part of the design team for three of the major pavilions. The project kept Nagaoka employed for 3 years, during which time he began to forge a formidable professional network (Nagaoka, 1982, p. 45, 2016, p. 31). At a time when Nagaoka's career should have blossomed in his home country, however, a number of factors came into play that led him to make the difficult decision to immigrate to the United States. Part of this mindset was due to his colleagues at the World Expo who felt Nagaoka would be able to expand his art and worldview by moving to the larger and more international market. Nagaoka's precision drawing and increasingly bold color palette had also drawn criticism from some high-profile critics in Japan, including those who felt his style was "unfamiliar" to the Japanese people and lacked a national character. He also felt that the art world in Japan at that time was insular and that he could be quickly trapped or pigeon-holed (Nagaoka, 1981b, p. 8; Watanabe, 1985, p. 73, 74). In a final symbolic push, in 1969 Nagaoka's sister-in-law's mother offered a new name to Nagaoka, a change from his original Sh u ¯ $$ \overline{\mathrm{u}} $$ z o ¯ $$ \overline{\mathrm{o}} $$ (秀三), meaning "outstanding/beautiful third"—a reference to his being the third son—to Sh u ¯ $$ \overline{\mathrm{u}} $$ sei (秀星), or "outstanding/beautiful star." She told Nagaoka that this name could be used for future jobs related to foreign countries or outer space; little would she know how prescient her perspective would become (Nagaoka, 2016, p. 31).5 After much deliberation, Nagaoka chose Los Angeles to begin his new life. Unable initially to bring his wife and son with him due to visa problems, he landed in the United States in July of 1970. Upon his arrival, he decided it would be good to form a company to provide the intellectual, financial, and emotional support he would need as a new immigrant and budding commercial artist. While he immediately felt the lingering prejudice and discrimination expressed toward the Asian community (associations with WWII, Vietnam), he miraculously landed his first illustration job that month. Armed with only ambition and hope, he went to what he perceived as the epicenter of local culture, the Los Angeles Times. As Nagaoka recalled, he was directed to the newspaper's weekly magazine, West, a weekend supplement to the Times. West featured staff who were young, politically progressive, casually dressed (such as torn jeans), and wanted to hear from LA's minority communities. Then advertising director Mike Salisbury was impressed with Nagaoka's portfolio and offered him the cover of the next week's edition on the spot. The theme was the future of LA's airfield; the striking image featuring a futuristic supersonic jet came out on August 9, 1970 and was titled "Bringing in Tomorrow at Los Angeles International" (Nagaoka, 1982, p. 41; Watanabe, 1985, p. 74). Soon thereafter Nagaoka received funding to open the Design Maru (デザイン・マル) studio; he chose the word maru (circle) to identify his ethnicity, as the term was extracted from the phrase Hinomaru (日の丸), the Japanese designation for his country's flag. With five other men working for (and living) with him, they hit the streets, showing off Nagaoka's samples to as many as 20 clients a day. Simultaneously, calls began coming in from New York, France, and other foreign countries by companies who had noticed his cover art for West, offering him work (Nagaoka, 2016, p. 32). Locally and internationally this initially led to commercial designs and scientific and mechanical illustrations, due to his detailed style that was considered more accurate than precision instruments and clearer than photographs (Watanabe, 1985, p. 75). Throughout the 1970s and 1980s Nagaoka would go on to work for some of the top companies in the Western world, winning multiple awards.6 By the end of 1972, Nagaoka had acquired a solid clientele and a growing reputation in Los Angeles. While the circumstances are unknown, he was asked to produce his first record cover for Warner Brothers Records for the album Discover America (1972) by Van Dyke Parks, an Americana and art pop composer who had previously collaborated with Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. Featuring two cross-country buses with the destinations of Hollywood and Trinidad printed on their front banners, it featured an airbrush method of production that differed from many of his previous technical drawings. It is unclear when Nagoaka began to favor the airbrush as his primary tool; a later cover in 1970 for West magazine titled "Space Shuttle" also used the airbrush technique. But as he slowly moved into the record cover world, it would become his signature style. If the August 9, 1970 cover of West was the first major breakthrough for Nagaoka in the United States, his illustration for the Carpenter's album Now and Then (1973) was a harbinger of wide-scale success in the record industry to come, even if he could not see it at the time. Featuring the Carpenter siblings driving by their family home in California, its realism led many fans at first glance to assume it was a photograph. It became his first million seller (many more would follow). For much of 1974 and 1975 Nagaoka focused on paying off his debts, quietly dissolving his company, getting the paperwork for his E2 work visa, and preparing for his family reunion in the United States. By the time his wife and two sons (a second child was born in the interim) arrived in 1975 he had become his own entity, all work was now credited directly to his name (not Design Maru). He now also had a family home, with one room reserved for his studio (Tora, 1977). Whether or not this transitional period discouraged him from album cover art is unknown, though he would not be contracted again for such work until the next year. The year 1976 saw Nagaoka providing cover illustrations for three albums: two releases by Capitol Records, Jefferson Starship's Spitfire (Nagaoka's second million seller) and a compilation of 1940s hits titled simply Hits of the Forties Vol. 2; and one release by Grunt, Flight's Incredible Journey. The hits compilation features a picture of Uncle Sam, while Jefferson Starship's album is Asian themed with a front cover depicting a woman riding a dragon (there are also Chinese characters on the front—星船—meaning "star ship"), and a sleeve cover depicting what could be interpreted as a stylized Japanese flag. Most significantly, however, is that sci-fi elements enter Nagaoka's album work for the first time with Flight's Incredible Journey, depicting on the front and back cover what can best be described as a spaceship made from piano keyboards and trumpet parts. Whether it was for Incredible Journey or for the numerous magazines and other publications where he had been producing an increasingly steady output of sci-fi and fantasy paintings,7 the roster of artists that lined up for his special artistic vision the following year significantly altered his career and made an indelible mark on the history of record cover illustrations. In 1977 Nagaoka created at least 14 album covers, signaling his switch in priorities to nearly 100% dedication to cover art.8 He also began to forge close relationships with LA studio musicians and bands, who would often come over to his home to watch him work (Tora, 1977). Such successes can be credited to two albums in particular that became career-changing moments in Nagaoka's life, the first of which I will briefly discuss here, and the second which will take up its own section. They wanted a big space powerplant, … Rocketships. Everything. They weren't specific about how everything should look, though. I designed my ships from images and photographs that I liked. Images from 2001. (quoted in Kay, 1978, p. 41) Nagaoka's cover became one the most widely recognized images of 1977. The ELO space station was featured in record store windows from coast to coast, with its images reproduced on gigantic posters and in an animated TV commercial for the band (Kay, 1978, p. 38). ELO loved the concept so much that they designed the set of their live shows to mirror the space station theme. As an interviewer in 1978 noted, "Shusei's space age portrait (both on the outside and inside cover of the ELO album set) created an immediate furor in the music industry. The graphic was unanimously hailed as brilliant" (Kay, 1978, p. 41); and, "During the past two years, Nagaoka's surreal sense of science-fiction serenity has become sort of an underground legend on the West Coast and the rock music crowd has taken full advantage of it" (39).9 The album received 4 million pre-orders, eventually going on to sell 10 million copies worldwide, making it ELO's most successful release. Out of the Blue is also special to me personally, as it was the first full-size LP I ever bought as a child, at the age of 10; I displayed it prominently on top of my small stereo for more than a year.10 This embracing of sci-fi imagery and themes, alongside what one critic described as "the subtle juxtaposition of delicate and powerful realism and fantastic fantasy" (Watanabe, 1985, p. 75), came to define Nagaoka's style over the next 10 years. It was also his level of fine detail, rich and varied color palette, subtle color gradations, and total mastery of light and perspective that immediately distinguished his work, all achieved with only hand-held airbrushes and fine point brushes.11 The majority of Nagaoka's record cover output came between 1977 and 1981, after which his work began to shift back to marketing, technical illustrations, and some picture books (his last non-compilation cover was in 1999). One journalist close to Nagaoka estimated that he had created nearly 100 covers from 1972 to 1985, which if true means there are many covers uncredited on fan and record collecting websites (Seoul Searcher, 2020a). It also put him on pace for nearly a cover per month, which speaks to his impressive work ethic. Nagaoka had an early sense of the longevity and legacy of record cover art, noting in an interview in 1982 that he imagined they would be kept and treasured more than magazines (Nagaoka, 1982, p. 46). He also credited this burst of creative energy to his growing connection to and affection for Los Angeles and West Coast culture, which he found to be open-minded, experimental, untied to the past, and always on the move (Nagaoka, 1985b, pp. 12–13; Watanabe, 1985, p. 76). In 1981 Nagaoka held his first solo exhibition at the Shinjuku Isetan Museum of Art in Tokyo. The event brought in record crowds, topping 45,000 within a single week, second only in the history of the venue to a Picasso exhibition (Nagaoka, 1982, p. 37). The accompanying art book sold 9000 copies at the museum, with a total of 50,000 copies eventually being sold (Nagaoka, 1981a). This was followed by a picture book that Nagaoka illustrated and wrote (Nagaoka, 1984), and a second volume of his collected works (Nagaoka, 1985a). In 1985 he also provided a number of paintings for the Tsukuba Science EXPO '85, of which his space shuttle structural drawings are now housed at the Smithsonian Institution (Nagaoka, 1985c). This is all to say that Nagaoka's work had created a devoted following back in his home country. With Nagaoka's biography and background context to his work in place, it is time now to move to the main theme of this article, Nagaoka's contributions to Afrofuturist visual culture, with special attention paid to his relationship with Maurice White and Earth, Wind & Fire. The emergence of Nagaoka's work took place within a much broader history of Afrofuturist imagery, even if he was not aware of this legacy; nowhere in his interviews does he acknowledge having seen or consulted previous work. While sonically Afrofuturism finds its roots in the music of Lee "Scratch" Perry (reggae), Sun Ra (jazz), and George Clinton (funk) (Corbett, 1994), visually it begins with the album covers of Sun Ra, extraterrestrial pioneer and visionary who began his Afrofuturist journey in Chicago, Illinois (Sites, 2020; Youngquist, 2016).12 Herman Poole Blount (Sun Ra's birth name)—a musical prodigy from Birmingham, Alabama—moved to Chicago in 1945 at the end of WWII to find work as a pianist and arranger. His residence and influence in the midwest signaled a coming together of place, people, and time that initially drew on ancient Egyptian history, philosophy, and imagery, but soon thereafter enveloped technology and the space age. Over the next few years, Blount became an active participant not only in the local music scene but also in a burgeoning African American alternative political and religious movement that questioned Christianity and the centrality of European philosophical thought. Blount was increasingly fascinated by the architecture, religion, and philosophy of ancient Egypt, and in 1951 he met a 24-year-old Alton Abraham who shared his developing views. Together that year they formed the Thmei Research society, named after the Egyptian goddess of truth and justice, in an effort to research and promulgate the glories of Egyptian religion and culture. Thmei Research made good use of [such influences], but not simply because things Egyptian were ubiquitous in Chicago and elsewhere. The antiquity of Egyptian civilization proved a strategic advantage to a black radicalism that took culture for its means of social transformation. Egypt was much older than Greece and its rational philosophy, older than Israel and its jealous God. By the dawn of those belated civilizations, Egypt had witnessed millennia of social stability. Greece and Israel look like unsuccessful social experiments in comparison. (Youngquist, 2016, pp. 42–43; see further Kreiss, 2012; Szwed, 1998, p. 65)13 Symbolic of his commitment to the cause, in 1952 Blount changed his name to Sun Ra after the Egyptian sun god. In the mid-1950s Sun Ra and Abraham formed their own independent record label, called Saturn Records (also called El Saturn, Saturn, El Saturn Records, and Saturn Research). Their first Afrofuturist record cover was released in 1959, Jazz in Silhouette, featuring topless Black women in space helmets floating over a moon. The 1950s was the decade of the Space Age and American popular culture, the influence of the space program extending to everything from book covers to comic books to television and movies, to fashion, furniture, art and music, children's toys, and chrome fins on muscle cars: "cities and highways with upswept wiglike roofs, domes, satellite shapes and starbursts…became the dominant visual language of motels, diners and gasoline stations" (Kennedy, 2007; see also Ngo, 2017). It would be surprising for Sun Ra to not have been influenced by space (space and sci-fi imagery appear on a number of Saturn releases in the 1960s). Even with his dedication to Thmei Research, the first Egyptian images do not feature on Sun Ra's label until 1970 with the release of The Night of the Purple Moon. Rendered in cream and purple ink, Sun Ra as a celestial being floats above the Great Sphinx from the Giza Plateau and a pyramid. Two years later illustrations on the center labels of his 1972 Horizon show what would become two of his go-to ancient Egyptian symbols: the Eye of Ra (also known as the Udjat or Wedjat), with the capital letters RA printed below it; and the Egyptian deity Thoth, holding a book and stylus (Chusid & Reisman, 2022, p. 33). It is with Space is the Place (1973), however, that Sun Ra fuses an Egyptian headdress with a sci-fi helmet, signaling the coming together of his two favorite subjects, Egyptology and space (Nelson, 2014).14 At the end of this article I have provided a Select Afrofuturist and Proto-Afrofuturist Discography, spanning the years 1959–1984 (roughly the period beginning with Sun Ra and extending through Nagaoka's active period with record covers). Sun Ra's interest in Africa and ancient Egypt was mirrored by Chicago jazz pioneer and trumpeter Kelan Phil Cohran. Cohran had independently developed an interest in Egyptian visual and spiritual culture, often wearing Egyptian headdresses on stage. Cohran played with Sun Ra's band from 1959 to 1961; his contributions to Chicago's cultural life extended to co-founding the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), the Afro-Arts Theater, and the Artistic Heritage Ensemble. In 1969 Cohran recruited members of Maurice White's local band the Salty Peppers to join the Artistic Heritage Ensemble; White's group would morph into the early lineup of Earth, Wind & Fire later that year (Brooks, 2022, p. 22, 24; Spice, 2017; Youngquist, 2016, p. 241). I was also convinced that racism's legacy in America had left many black folks confused. Our history had been stolen and hijacked. Consequently, we were drawing our cultural self-respect from fraudulent sources. Our rich culture didn't start on slave ships or in the cotton fields, and it sure didn't start in the Cabrini-Green projects of Chicago. It started in Egypt. Knowing where you came from gives you confidence and pride that can't be easily taken away. Egypt gave the planet mathematics, astronomy, science, medicine, the written word, religion, symbolism, and spirituality. Despite what centuries of distortion have told us, the civilized world did not start in Europe: it started in Egypt. This is the core reason I turned to Egyptology: it encourages self-respect. (White, 2016, pp. 147–48) In April of 1970 Maurice White and a newly christened Earth, Wind & Fire moved to Los Angeles to try their fortunes; they were followed 3 months later by Nagaoka Shusei. It is their synchronicitous coming together to which I now turn. In 1977 Nagaoka was contracted to provide 10 album covers for African American artists in the soul, R&B, and jazz genres.15 He would go on to illustrate 21 more through 1983, many of them Afrofuturist in their themes (I have indicated Nagaoka's covers in the Select Afrofuturist and Proto-Afrofuturist Discography). While beyond the scope of this article, in a 1982 interview, Nagaoka spoke to the open racism he encountered among advertising directors in the LA record industry, such that Black illustrators and graphic designers were often denigrated and avoided (1982, p. 45). Nagaoka's observation would seem to point to a broader trend within the U.S. advertising world (Dougherty, 2007; Dunderbeck1980, 2016; Jackson, 1968; Topaz et al., 2022). The album cover we remember the most from this 1977 collection, however, one that would cement Nagaoka's legacy in the Afrofuturist and soul/funk worlds, was his collaborative effort with Maurice White on Earth, Wind & Fire's All 'N All. Nagaoka was just finishing the cover to ELO's Out of the Blue when he was contacted in August by his good friend Roger Carpenter, newly appointed art director at CBS-Columbia. Carpenter asked Nagaoka to watch a TV special the next day featuring Earth, Wind & Fire—a group Nagaoka had heard on the radio but never seen in person—to consider providing an illustration for their upcoming release. Nagaoka was so impressed with what he saw and heard that he called Carpenter back the next morning to accept his offer (Seoul Searcher, 2020a; Yoshioka, 2020, p. 83). As we were wrapping the recording of All 'N All, I started to consider what the album artwork would be. When we took the pictures for the All 'N All album poster, we had been burning the candles at both ends, and we all had bags under our eyes. Striving to stay out of the box, I put the word out that I was looking for something original that would visualize our musical and spiritual ideas. After meeting with a few artists, I settled on Shusei Nagaoka. We would start a professional association that would elevate us both. Shusei didn't speak a lick of English, and I damn sure didn't speak any Japanese. When he arrived at my house, he bowed, I bowed, and I motioned him into the living room. I began to show him pictures out of some of my Egyptian coffee table books as well as books on UFOs, which have always intrigued me. He'd go mm-mm, and I'd point to pictures, nodding. He'd then pull out his large sketch tablet and pencils. Lifting up the cover, he'd start to draw. We both started to point to the picture book and then to his tablet. I signaled for him to stop. I then gathered bits of paper, some of them chewing gum wrappers, and drew little religious and other iconic symbols on them. I started placing them in a pattern on the paper, and he started drawing around them. (White, 2016, pp. 228–29) Maurice happened to live near Nagaoka's workshop, so a meeting was arranged for the next day. Because of the shock he had seen the day before [on TV], he said he was going to see a super entertainer. So to cheer himself up, he put on the brightest shoes he bought in Spain and went to Maurice's house. It was a mid-summer day, and Maurice had come home from a recording session, exhausted and wearing casual sandals. When the two bowed in the Oriental style, Maurice was apparently shocked by Nagaoka's flashy red shoes. "Wait a minute," he said, and after a while Maurice reappeared, wearing a flashy outfit that looked like a stage costume, and wearing silver snakeskin boots. Then Maurice crossed his legs and said, "Okay," and started talking happily. Nagaoka laughs lightly and says, "I love that kind of thing. And at that moment, I thought I would be able to do well with this person." An encounter between bright red shoes and silver snakeskin boots. Those shoes connected the two people when they met for the first time. It is a wonderful episode that makes you think that the creators who make and create something really hit it off, sparks flying in a good way. The meeting took p