When I was little, my grandfather walked down the stairs slowly from the room next door, late at night. I was listening to the sound of the door rattling, half asleep in my futon (Japanese bed).
After a while, the door opened again and he returned to his bedroom.
That was my fisherman grandfather's daily routine.
When it was summer and winter, and even a rainy day, every night he went out to the sea, which was the bathroom for him.
The tide of that sea that he was was seeing, still repeats ebbs and flows.
I felt nothing about the scenery and daily life there at that time. Actually, they have been accumulated in me even though I've totally forgotten them. And through my creation, they somehow become to reveal. Sometimes I can be aware of them but sometimes I can't.
Thinking in that way, it seems that every single environment, experience, my height, weight, and even gene is clearly recorded in my work.
Perhaps because I grew up near the sea, the various expressions of stainless steel overlapped with it, increasing my interest in the material.
Stainless steel has the potential to become the sea, or so I believe.
Whether it was triggered by heating, tapping, firing, or polishing, stainless steel responds to my intentional actions.
And sometimes it gives me instructions. When it does happen, I just listen to them.
The concept of my work varies each time but I aim to create pieces of art to which the cells will react before the mental does like a piece of music flows from somewhere sometimes gives you goosebumps.