February 2026: First Art, First Life

For years, I pondered where my personal sense of beauty originated. The answer was right before my eyes. My childhood home boasts a dry landscape Japanese garden spanning about 3300 square feet, which my father always tended with meticulous care, down to the smallest detail. I grew up surrounded by that garden, able to gaze upon it until adulthood. It might sound odd coming from his son, but I believe only a handful of people in Japan could create such an elaborate garden purely as a personal hobby.

My father is now over 90 years old, yet he still tends the garden daily. It must be pure habit now; even on rainy days, he’ll pull weeds from the lawn under an umbrella. He’s even climbed trees to prune branches, slipped, fallen, and broken bones.

As a child, I didn’t fully grasp the beauty of my father’s garden, which he poured such passion into. But now that I’ve passed the midpoint of my own life, I’ve come to understand it as a place to pause occasionally amidst a life spent constantly running.

Maintaining this garden forever would be impossible for anyone but my father. And since I moved to Tokyo, I can’t tend to it myself. Yet I wanted to preserve what he has so carefully protected, transforming it into an art piece I could create.

The pieces I’m exhibiting this time may not yet reach my father’s level, but I can confidently say I poured my absolute all and soul into them. I hope the place where these works are displayed becomes a “place to pause” in someone’s life.