Just as words enable people to communicate and connect with one another, ancient Chinese kanji characters were

born as an instrument to connect people spiritually with gods.

The kanji character for “life” depicts the shape of a person kneeling and listening to a revelation from god.

The kanji character for “festival” shows an offering of meat to god in hopes of a bountiful harvest.

The character for “live” depicts the moment when a plant pushes its way through the earth.

The art of ancient Chinese characters is not about replicating shapes, but rather revealing the meaning and power

 embodied in each image.

I paint using my entire body, not just my right hand. And when I draw, I am completely immersed in the process.

 Brushstrokes capture living energy and rhythm, while sumi ink acts like blood coursing through one’s body.

From a studio situated deep within the mountains, my only view is Mt. Fuji.

If I am not centered spiritually, then the god of Mt. Fuji constrains my hand.

When that happens, I call it a day and go to sleep on top of huge pieces of Japanese washi paper.

I wake around 4 a.m., and without even washing my face, I hold my brush and begin to draw anew.

This is when a piece with life is born. I am totally absorbed and guided by the power of gods.

They allow me to draw when I am in unison with them.

The deep black of sumi ink. The clear blueness of bluish black ink. The deep spreading blur of ink.

All of it encapsulates living energy.

When I enter my vegetable garden, I feel unusual energy, which must emanate from the gods of the Earth.

When the sun shines, crops ripen. When it rains, they grow. When the wind blows, it ventilates the crops.

What we can do as humans is so limited. I am always grateful to the gods of sun, rain, and wind.

In everyday life, I humbly seek to tap living power, living energy, and innovative art that resonates with the human spirit.