At first, I was only allowed to use Suigan pigments in class, but in my third year of high school, I learned about mineral pigments and wanted to use them. It has a unique texture that resembles coral fossils, pumice and pumice, and doesn't exist in ordinary tube paints. I was really drawn to the unique texture of mineral pigments. I still strive to create works that make the most of that sense of material.

I feel it's a shame that mineral pigments aren't very well known to the general public. I feel that Japanese painting has always been a bit intimidating. I myself didn't really know much about it. But I want more people to know that such atmospheric and captivating art materials exist.

The first time I saw ancient fish in an aquarium was when I was in high school, and I became conscious of them as motifs after entering university. I went to the aquarium for sketching, searched for an empty spot so as not to disturb people, and found the Piraruque tank. It was so empty that I could sit there all day. I sketched while thinking that there were some mysterious creatures there.

A university professor who saw the sketch said this was Kon. The name 'Kun' comes from a Chinese Zhuangzi passage meaning 'carefree wandering,' where in the northern sea there is a giant fish called Kun, and the Kun eventually becomes a bird called the Peng and flies away.

Piraluc also rises to the surface to breathe, so that story made perfect sense to me, and from there, I started drawing Piraruku. No matter how many times I draw, I never get tired of it. I'm starting to see new strengths of Piraluk, and there are still parts I'm not fully satisfied with, so I've been continuing to draw them.

I probably haven't used the colors I see much. I try to make it feel unrealistic. It's not that I'm deliberately drawing, but rather than just what I see, my own consciousness is embedded in it.

For example, when I'm looking at cherry blossoms to sketch, it's obviously a hallucination, but I feel like lungfish are squirming around, so I draw them together. Maybe it's just a bit too much imagination. I like the term 'eguji' (eguji), and while you could freely edit photos now, I think there are things that can only be expressed through drawings.

From now on, I want to draw motifs other than fish. I believe that drawing the shoebill was a turning point for that. For those who have seen past exhibitions, these are paintings that capture the gap between special days and special days, the everyday and the extraordinary. I have been told that before, and I want to keep working on that. I believe the real and fantasy gaps that cannot be expressed in photography are the true charm of being able to create art.

And someone quietly leaning close to someone—not making a statement, but still there. I'd be really happy if I put up pictures like that. There may be some aspects of Japanese painting that are hard to approach, but among them, there are people who do strange things. I hope you'll become interested in what Japanese painting is all about.

For me, painting is like water and air. It's something that's just natural, so I don't really think about it myself. But without it, you'd die. It's not about trying to convey or express something, but something more natural—like drinking water when you're thirsty, or taking a deep breath when you're suffocated. It's a feeling close to that. Rather than drawing on the whim, it feels like you're already drawing before you know it.