I have been vaguely thinking since childhood about questions such as “Why am I here?” and “Why does the world exist?”

While continuing to reflect across multiple fields—Buddhism, cosmology, quantum theory, biochemistry, and philosophy—I have come to strongly feel that the world is uncertain, ambiguous, and fluid.

From what we call matter, to living beings, nations, art, and even myself, everything may simply be a bundle of relationships formed by a continuous chain of events.

This worldview forms the foundation of my artistic practice.

Today, images and videos created by virtual reality, augmented reality, generative AI, and so-called “fakes” have become a part of our daily lives.

It feels as if fiction and reality are blending together, like something out of science fiction.

However, this phenomenon did not begin recently.

Since the cognitive revolution about 70,000 years ago, humans have shared imaginary concepts—such as gods, nations, corporations, economies, art, language, and mathematics—and built civilization upon them.

We have connected, fought, and evolved through these fictions.

So then,

Is fiction something that “does not exist”?

Is reality something that “does exist”?

And what does it really mean to “exist”?

These questions repeatedly emerge through my work.

In quantum theory, even what we understand as “matter” is not something with a fixed form.

It is described as fluctuations in a field or as layers of probability.

Elementary particles, considered the smallest units for describing the world, possess both particle and wave properties.

Their boundaries are ambiguous, and each has the nature of a kind of event.

I see these non-substantial elements as forming networks through mutual relationships, and I understand the structure of these networks to be what we call “the world” and “the self.”

In this view, the distinction between fiction and reality is almost nonexistent.

This way of thinking is deeply reflected in how I create my works.

Beneath the quiet appearance of my precisely constructed compositions, there is always a sense of uncertainty and fluctuation.

In the empty series, I work from a foundation in traditional Japanese painting, using materials such as mineral pigments, ink, acrylic paint, resin, urethane, and metallic coatings, often combining them.

The central visual structures in this series are based on images of “seas,” “deserts,” “smoke,” “clouds,” “tree bark,” “cells,” and more.

I observe these images in real locations, take photographs, and also collect them from the web, drawing from sources ranging from classical art to manga, animation, and computer graphics.

These references are combined in ways that mix perspectives of “above and below,” “macro and micro.”

The resulting compositions feature disappearing or scattered vanishing points.

I try to stand between consciousness and unconsciousness as I draw these images.

In the Abstract Paintings on Existence series, I directly present my thoughts on ontology.

Although text is the main medium, I create the work fully as painting.

When read as text, its painterly structure slips away; when viewed as painting, its textual meaning slips away.

This series also blurs the boundaries between binaries such as “seeing / reading,” “meaning / form,” and “information / material.”

Through my work, I hope to continue raising the fundamental question of what it means to exist—within the ambiguity of substance, the reality that arises through relationships, and the continuity between fiction and reality.