Gallery Sakuranoki

I often paint at night, and I park my car on a quiet bridge on the shores of Lake Tanzawa or by the Fuji Five Lakes; I have a feeling the mountains at night are welcoming me by opening their hands. In this rainy season, you can hear the faint whistling cry of a deer.

Only recently I had been painting the moon all night and just as it sank beneath the horizon and the sun was rising in its place, I felt something warm streaming through me as if a dam had suddenly burst; I can only describe this overflowing warmth as the “great love and tenderness” of the sun and moon. I felt that this something, so vast and warm, exists extensively in nature in many forms, such as a ray of sunshine filtering through the branches of trees, or in gentle rain, and nature harmoniously shadows all of our feelings.

At the very end of the talk

Currently I am living on the skirts of Mt. Ashigara. Particularly in the early spring, the awesome seasonal power bursting into leaves and buds accumulates at the tips of branches, and they look as if they are radiating light. I sense such joy like a veil of light thrown across the entire mountain. It is as if the mountain was playing a symphony heralding the dawning of a new season. Trees fully extending their branches like hands revel in the heavenly rain; looking at them, I am deeply moved with their joyful patience. Then I felt as follows: when we feel the joy of trees with a feeling heart, this might be our most precious treasure. I believe that all of us can develop such sensitivity in the same way as we train our muscles. The best way to become more sensitive is to firstly acknowledge what you feel, and care for it, nurture it, and if possible, express what you are feeling through creating something. Music, writing, painting, talking… find the way best suited to you. We should closely embrace this “feeling heart” as a gift from a great being.