To paint — not the thing, but the being of the thing.

The being of each thing expresses itself through its appearance and is interpreted by the one who gazes. It is not possible to see the pure soul of things, only the small part that reveals itself through form, animating it. Is there really such a thing as the “soul” of things, anyway?

Sometimes it is necessary to paint for many hours and insist on the painting. Sometimes it is not. Painting is also done by living and resting.

I am very interested in “saying less” and letting go of descriptive realism. To overdescribe is unnecessary. To describe only to the extent needed for something to be recognizable by the viewer — that is the task.

To find the balance between the universal and the particular through the combination of symbolism and realism.

Painting exists to help us see the world clearly;
to remind us what is truly worthy in life;
to make our intimate spaces more beautiful;
to reunite us by reminding us that we all suffer from the same things: a need for beauty and a sorrowful sense of loneliness.

How could anyone say painting has no function? To me, it’s the most useful thing on Earth, as it presents me everyday a new reason to be alive.

Every painter lives twice — the daily life and the painting life.

Painting must reveal a poetic image beyond a mere description of reality.

The painter’s primary duty is not to paint, but to live. Painting is not greater than life. Only when we live fully can we paint profoundly.

The painter reveals in visual images what the poet reveals in words. This revelation cannot be described in language, only alluded to. It can be experienced through the right kind of appreciation, without any desire to understand. We must allow ourselves to live again within the artist’s reality.

Painting is an art of silence impregnated with poetic images. Therefore, painting is poetry.

Japan is a mathematical operation of subtraction.

Japanese painting is marked by emptiness, gradation, and pure colors. Areas of color and the arrangement of objects are presented without obstruction. Contact with the Primordial Mystery happens through daylight — it is like a daydream — rather than through concealment (as in a night dream). It is a revelation of the essence of things.

A painter’s notebook is like the mind — full of thoughts, letting them pass one by one, like clouds. The ones that insist on staying and returning are transformed into paintings.

What have I come to do in Japan?  To take with me this great emptiness; and to leave here some of my tenderness.