Finding Beauty in Imperfection
What does beauty mean to you?
I think it is to be human.
There is beauty to be found in imperfection. A jagged line, a broken edge, these flaws should not be disregarded. I strive to transform these unique characteristics into something beautiful and guide others to recognize their charm. It is a humble cycle to breathe life and value into the imperfect.
Japan is an island country with limited resources. That means there is a limit to what you can create. These restrictions are the foundation of the Japanese ideal of beauty. We learned to “cherish” the flaws or broken elements, and in turn transform it into a positive experience. This is the concept of ‘mitate’ to see with new eyes, and ‘wabi-sabi’ where we accept and appreciate the imperfections.
If I were to carve away all my shortcomings, I would no longer exist in this world. Through my work I try to reveal an honest representation of myself, which often means to project my embarrassment first and foremost.
What strikes me about your work is that it is not traditional calligraphy, but almost transcends calligraphy. Could you tell us a bit about your creative process?
The fundamentals of calligraphy lie in the expression of black and white; to simply use ‘sumi’ black ink on white paper. However, depending on the wielder of the brush, the type of paper and density of the ink there are infinite possibilities for expression.
When creating art I have a strong urge to create something reflective of myself. Having studied design, it was natural for me to integrate that into my approach, and diverge from just a “calligrapher”.
Unexpected Dialogues
Recently I have found a particular medium that I feel is unique and true to my being.
I had been experimenting with many different materials, but a gallerist requested me to use gold leaf to make my work “sparkle” to create more impact within a space. I could not imagine my personality being correctly reflected with such radiance and glitter, and was appalled by the idea. But at the same time I knew it was important to challenge myself and explore something I didn’t particularly like or excel in.
The idea dawned on me to try to use silver. However, even with silver, when it is still new it has that strong impression and sheen I am not keen on. The thought struck me to try and corrode it. The result was very interesting, and it’s a process I continue to use today.
What in particular drew you to this medium?
There is a moment of beauty when the silver foil leaves my hand, and another when it reacts on the page with the strokes of my brush and the corrosive solution. Silver foil is very thin and easily cracks. An experienced craftsman can apply it straight and in one complete piece, but even with all my attempts, it still cracks easily. However, I feel that these cracks hold their own beauty. They are lines that I could not have drawn myself.
Each time the reaction is unpredictable and varies depending on the condition of the silver foil, and when it was made. Its temperamental nature reacts differently to the corrosive solution that I use as ink. Sometimes it turns black, others it turns white, or the liquid bounces off and the lines become dotted.
This uncontrollability is what fascinates me. It is nature reacting, and completely out of my control. I find when I give into this, we have many unexpected dialogues.
In comparison to the simplicity of paper and ink, you could say that my medium of a corrosive solution on silver foil is a complex form of poison. Very often the “tasty” foods that we like are not good for our health, or high in calories. This could also be labelled as a type of poison. But we all like such things, and sometimes have an irresistible urge to eat them. I believe that giving into these urges is very honest, and human. It’s also a sincere reflection of myself, and I am simply exposing my “weaknesses” or “poisons” and giving into my cravings… [Laughs].
At the same time, the more I use these varied mediums, the more I recognize the unparalleled integrity of the combination of paper and ink. Perhaps before I die, I will return to this traditional ‘shodo’ calligraphy style, and declare that I was no match for paper and ink.
Evolving Japanese Culture
I would like to ask about your path to becoming an artist. You studied product design at a university in Tokyo, then worked at two very different jobs before becoming a freelance artist. How do you look back on that time?
I sort of stumbled into product design. Before entering university, I wanted to be a physical education teacher, or study nutrition. But more than anything there was pressure to be admitted to a university, so at the last minute I jotted down the course that had the lowest admission requirements.
I found myself accepted to a course that was divided into three streams; architecture, product design and clothing. I initially chose architecture, but the scale of the objects at hand were too big to comprehend, and transferred to product design in my second year. My professor took a liking to my work, and I began entering competitions outside of university. It was then that I first became interested in the creation of objects.
After university I worked 3 years at an architectural hardware manufacturer. My role as assistant designer also involved quality control and branding. It was a valuable experience. When designing apertures for something like a door, you learn how to design for functionality; big text for legibility, simple signs for comprehensibility.
My next job was at a Japanese confectionery store. When looking for gifts for a friend I stumbled upon HIGASHIYA, founded by Shinichiro Ogata. Utterly impressed and moved by their packaging, I bought the whole lineup of products. It was not just a Japanese confectionery store, but combined traditional Japanese culture, simple design, tableware, and even interior design; all my elements of interest.
Its core philosophy of passing on culture by evolving traditional Japanese culture to suit the modern age resonated deeply within me. When I started thinking about changing jobs, I knew it was the only place for me. I joined with a sense of mission. The years spent there taught me an invaluable lesson in the art of creation; how to judge what should be altered and what should remain untouched.
Pushing My Limits
What made you decide to make the transition to a freelance artist?
After moving to Kyoto, I met a gallerist who had seen some calligraphy characters that I had written during my time at HIGASHIYA and suggested that I do something with my talent. His words are what initially motivated me to give it a try. I held my first solo exhibition, and thankfully, and much to my surprise, all of my works sold.
Before the exhibition I made the decision to look for a new job, but had a change of heart. I thought it would be disrespectful to the people who bought my works if I didn’t pursue this journey.
Second, I had no place to return to. My parents were very strict, so when the money ran out, there was no choice but to take care of myself. Looking back, I am glad that I was in a situation where I could not depend on my family.
There was one other determining factor for me. My former boss, Ogata-san, the founder from my HIGASHIYA days, bought the very first piece I created. At that time, he said to me, “I will buy this for myself. Have faith and confidence in your skill. If you ever have a hard time, please return to us anytime.”
Although I mentioned that I had “no place to return to,” he was the one who created that safety net for me. However, if I were to return to HIGASHIYA, I decided that in respect for Ogata-san, it wouldn’t be because I admitted defeat, but instead pushed my limits and had grown to my full potential. I had no choice but to try to pursue this path as an artist.
Rediscovering Lost Emotions
Are there any Japanese values you strive to express through your work?
I believe the Japanese alphabet itself is a remarkable work of design. Kanji, hiragana, and katakana are organized so precisely. Characters were originally created from pictures called hieroglyphs. In other words, they are abstract paintings. The kanji alphabet was designed by reconstructing these abstract pictures.
Before letters were created, there were feelings and intentions in need of expression, which then led to the creation of characters and words. In the process of creating words, I believe there were feelings that were lost or became obsolete. I aim to revisit the origins of these designs and share the true meaning of these abstract forms, and in turn rediscover these misplaced emotions.
How do you balance tradition and innovation in your work?
As a calligrapher the root of my work stems from letters, but I also want people to be surprised how I interpret that and express myself. Since I exist in this time and era, I try to select words that have a sense of reality.
Just as the words of the past still exist, I would like to preserve the words of the present.
I look for inspiration in newspapers, and when I am in the mood to flaunt a little, attempt to read complicated scientific papers or books on mathematics. This pride might be viewed as a weakness, but I acknowledge that it exists and rather than to criticize I try to create something from it. Perhaps I am being contradictory and I should put my pride aside; but that’s human nature. [Laughs]
Letting Go is Difficult
I also only choose expressions that resonate with me. They have to be statements or messages that I am willing to announce publicly. For example, the word ‘kansha’ or gratitude in Japanese is a word that holds great meaning and I feel is not something that can be uttered lightheartedly. It is a character I have not yet attempted to write.
I tend to stray towards expressing myself in the katakana alphabet, which I find is more humorous than hiragana. Even if writing the same word in the two alphabets, for example ‘gomen nasai,’ meaning ‘I’m sorry’ the katakana version sounds a little more bashful, irresponsible and has connotations that are not straight-forward. Also, words that are used on a daily basis in Japanese, but come from foreign languages are written in katakana. This particular alphabet allows the unique expression of foreign culture interpreted through the Japanese cultural lens.
Where do you find the inspiration to interpret these carefully selected words?
My interpretation of these characters are inspired by contemporary artists that I am fond of, like Cy Twombly, Mark Rothko, Picasso, Soulages, etc… I believe that truly enchanting works are created when you allow your hands to move on their own, surpassing the brain and any workings of the mind. These almost “instinctual” lines these artists draw are very beautiful. I would like to draw such lines myself. But that letting go is very difficult, and often my own thoughts get in the way.
Circle. Triangle. Square.
Thank you for creating an adaptation of this Zen painting for this occasion. In the English speaking world the original is often referred to as, “The Universe,” but in Japanese it is simply named, “Maru. Sankaku. Shikaku” or “Circle. Triangle. Square.”
Could you tell us why you chose to paint this and its significance to you?
The original version was painted by Sengai during the Edo period in the early 1800’s. It is said to be an abstract painting, which is very innovative for its time, and comparable to contemporary conceptual art.
I often draw this because it is incredible that the true meaning of everything is packed into these three simple forms. The power of symbols is something that is universal and can be easily conveyed exactly because they are not characters from Japanese, or any language.
⬜︎ represents the captive mind
△ is a seated posture, or the state of Zazen
◯ represents the state of enlightenment
I usually visualize human beings going through the process from ⬜︎ →△→◯ , with the corners of the square gradually being smoothened out as one approaches enlightenment.
I am still stuck in the square phrase, so sometimes I distort the square as a rectangle to represent myself. [Laughs]
There is a Japanese anime where in the closing scene the members of the family are chaotically jiggling and jumping around a simplified drawing of a house. This squirming inside a box is a clear reflection of my heart. But that is not the main reason why I chose this piece.
I believe the symbols are beautiful in their simplicity and honesty of what it means to be human.
I feel it is up to the artist to choose the order of these in the moment, based on what feels right and true. So somehow this time, I reversed the order when I created this piece.
Value Revealed Through Practice
I heard that you also take part in regular sitting (Zazen) at one of the temples near your atelier. How did you become interested in this practice?
A friend of mine invited me to a haiku reading at the temple and I fell in love with its garden. At the end of the reading they mentioned that they offer zazen sessions, and I decided to try it out. I felt invigorated after the first session, and thought that I should continue rather than brush it off as a one off trial.
Value is often revealed through repetition and practice. Working alone it is also easy to become lazy, and it was necessary to discipline myself. So I decided to attend the session every Monday morning.
Could you tell me a bit more about your experience of Zazen?
I start zazen at 6:30 am, but it is a 40 minute bicycle ride from my home with three steep hills. In all honesty, the journey to and from the temple is as meaningful as the time I spend sitting for zazen.
Pedalling through the silent city at dawn, I breathe the quiet, pure air before the bustle of people. And every week, while I cycle, the sun rises in a slightly different position, the smells change, and my senses become attuned with the shifting of the seasons. I also realize my solitude.
A Sense of Achievement
It is in these moments that I am in touch with nature. Through this journey’s repetition I began to comprehend the perpetual changes of my present self. For example, if this week the hills felt particularly steep to climb, it was a clear reflection of a turmoil in my physical and mental state.
My ‘sado’ tea teacher always says, “Sahō are predetermined, and once you familiarize yourself with these rules and manners, they allow you to assess how gracefully you are carrying out the motions.” I feel this is connected.
It is also important, even in small ways, to feel a sense of achievement on a regular basis.
When working alone, it is difficult to feel a sense of accomplishment, but on Mondays when I can say, “I woke up early” or “I rode my bicycle 40 minutes along a steep road” it gives me a clear sense of accomplishment. There are many days when I am working on a production and have not been able to produce anything. These simple accomplishments help me get through those days.
I understand that Zazen is a tool to measure oneself even while sitting. You must allow your spirit to decide where your thoughts take you, not for you to consciously grasp what comes into mind. It would be ideal if I could become completely detached through zazen, but that is very difficult to achieve. The more I try through effort, the more I feel I drift away from it.
Surrendering Yourself to the Brush
Do you think that in your work you have been influenced by Zen, Shinto or even the tea ceremony?
I think so, but I have never had a very strong sense of being influenced. But maybe that is the right balance. I think it would be unhealthy to say that I’m being influenced by “sado” or “zazen”. I am at a state where I am subconsciously absorbing all of these elements, but not consciously paying too much attention to how much each influences me.
Are there any Shinto or Zen beliefs that you feel play an important role in your calligraphy?
I think of the Zen teaching of self reflection and freeing yourself from attachment or fixations.
The bristles of a calligraphy brush are longer than those of a paint brush, making them difficult to control. You need to have a notion of what to draw, and an intention behind the execution. Then you have to dismiss any desire for control and surrender yourself to the brush and paper. Only then will you be able to achieve success.
But this should not be mistaken for running away from practice or self discipline. To achieve this detachment, one must constantly engage in self reflection.
Being Considerate of Others
Which Zen teaching do you feel is helpful to remember in today’s world?
To be considerate and mindful of others.
I understand that Zen is a constant dialogue with oneself, and that one should not be attached to any one thought or opinion. If we are only concerned with one perspective and satisfying our own desires, we will be blind to the good in others.
There is always a reason something exists the way it does; rather than to judge, try to understand why things have developed the way they have. Is it not a question of which is better, or is it good or bad? It is not a judgment of better or worse, but one of mutual understanding.
For example, the reason calligraphy developed in Japan has to do with the climate and the natural elements at play. Japan has abundant clean water, which makes it excellent for making paper. It has a humid climate that prevents ink from drying out while grinding it. On the other hand, the scent of oil paint is harsh during the humid summer months. However, when one smells the fragrance of oil paints in dryer regions abroad, it somehow smells good.
We should be grateful to the existence of these different mediums, rather than think of which is superior.
The Pages of Our Mind
I often imagine that I have a book in my head, and that book is filled with pages of my thoughts. Sometimes in a dialogue, I find there are people who try to impose, and forcefully “tear” pages from my book and insert their own pages. This is the type of person I want to distance myself from.
Remember that you are the only person who has the power and the right to alter or remove a page. I strive to be a person who can respectfully add new pages to my own book, and others’.
That is the humble relationship I have with Zen.
Through the teachings of Zen I am learning to add pages to my book, while at the same time it guides me so that one day I will be able to tear away all the pages myself.
