Satoru Abe walked to a corner of his small, crowded gallery, which holds seven decades of memories, photographs and stories. He opened a drawer, and pulled out a laminated photo.

"See, this is us at the Lexington, in New York. That one is Jerry," Abe said as he pointed to a young, thin man with a serious look.

The black-and-white photograph was taken in 1960. It shows five men sitting at a table full of cocktails, Abe boisterously holding a cocktail umbrella over Jerry Okimoto's head — a captured moment in the life of the two friends and artists.

Now 87 years old, Abe is deeply rooted in the Hawai'i art community. He is one of the remaining members of the self-titled "Metcalf Chateau," a group of seven Asian-American artists including Abe and Okimoto who bonded while living in Hawai'i.

In tribute to Okimoto, a friend for more than 60 years, Abe has collaborated with the Nu'uanu Gallery at Marks Garage to display works by Okimoto alongside his own.

"We all met at the Gima's Art Gallery in Waikiki. Times were different back then. There was only one art gallery," said Abe, sitting down at a wooden table shaped, branded and painted by his own hands. "We all became friends — Tadashi Sato, Jerry Okimoto, me, Edmund Chung, Bumpei Akaji, James Park, Bob Ochikubo." The names are a who's who of significant Island artists in the postwar era.

Abe and Okimoto met in Honolulu when Abe, who had already done one stint in New York, came back to the Islands for a time.

"We all cared for each other," Abe said. "Every time one of us would sell a piece, we would throw a party. They'd sell for $100 to $125. That was enough to get by for a month. I was lucky, I did pretty good selling back then. We'd hang out at the Kuhio Grill in Mo'ili'ili. This was back in the '50s, you know. ... But you know, I tell you something, we never talked about art. We played pinochle, we drank, we partied, but we never talked about art.

"And that Jerry, he never wen' go drink, never wen' smoke. We'd all be partying, drinking, and he'd sit there. Then he'd go home early to his wife."

Both went on to live in New York in the '60s, where they struggled as artists in the abstract era. Their friendship helped them get through times when money and appreciation were scarce.

Abe came back to Hawai'i. Okimoto stayed on in New York, painting, creating large-scale wooden sculpture and teaching until his death in 1998.

After his death, Okimoto left his art in Abe's hands.

"I went back to Hawai'i, and Jerry went to this neighborhood with all the rich people who have their yardmen, the service men. He went to teach the housewives how to paint," Abe said. "These wives always tried to get in the annual exhibit, but they got denied. After Jerry taught them, they not only got accepted, but lots of 'em got awards too. And you know, Jerry, he spoke pidgin, but they loved him anyways. They accepted him. After the show, all the husbands wen' thank him. They said it was cheaper for them to take art classes than sending 'em to the psychologist," Abe said with a laugh. "It was a different time, you know."

The Satoru Abe Gallery in Mo'ili'ili is filled with art on every wall, sculptures on the shelves and in the hallway, a kitchenette with freshly brewed coffee, nuts and small snacks, and a small office holding Abe's private collection of work by his friend and mentor Isami Doi. At every glance, a visitor sees Abe's sculptures, distinguished by their tree-like branches — one of Abe's personal signatures.

"The trees, oh those — it's a symbol of life," he said.

One of the bigger pieces in the gallery is about 6 feet in diameter, carved out of an old mango root, and filled in with intricate bronze details. "This thing was all filled with mud when I got 'em," Abe said.

"That's my new work. Nails from the old train tracks," Abe said as he pointed over to a section of the wall full of welded-together nails. "But anyways, you don't want to know about me, it's Jerry."

Later in the day, at his Kaimuki home, Abe gave a tour of Okimoto pieces that will be displayed at the Nu'uanu Gallery.

He pointed out pieces, noting details about each artist and the origin of each one.

"This one is from Jerry," he said, pushing a large wooden piece called the "Cleaver" forward. The replica of a kitchen cleaver, shaped from one piece of solid wood, then attached to a base of compressed and layered plywood, towered over Abe, rising more than 8 feet tall. Nearby stood "Knife," at about the same height.

"This one is Jerry's too, but it won't be in the show," Abe said, pointing at a work made of 13 pieces of colored canvas, part of Okimoto's shaped, hard-edged canvases from the '70s. Only wooden pieces from Okimoto, however, will be shown at the gallery.

"The show will have five pieces from Jerry and six small pieces from me, but remember the show is for Jerry, not me," Abe said seriously.

"When this stuff came from New York, it was in one crate. It was stuffed, had over 15 pieces inside 'em. The state and the city bought most of 'em, so we goin' show the ones that never wen' sell," he said.

He ran his hands down one of the bigger pieces of Okimoto's work. "I like his stuff," he said, smiling.