About My Work
Techniques and Philosophies
When I was teaching communication design, I used to tell my students that talking about visuals is often less valuable than just looking at them (though I admit, this might be a bit exaggerated). The work should speak for itself — if it doesn’t, it has failed its purpose. I believe this holds true for art as well.
If a piece of art doesn’t resonate with you directly, no amount of explanation will change that. While background information can enhance understanding, it can never replace the direct communication between the artwork and the viewer.
The artist isn’t usually present to explain their work, and even if they were, I’m not sure they’re the best person to do so. I’ve often found that viewers connect strongly with a piece in ways that differ from the artist’s original intention — and that’s perfectly fine. Who am I to dictate what others should feel or experience?
Creating art is a deeply personal act that often touches on archetypal qualities the artist might not even be aware of, but which the artwork communicates to its audience. In this sense, looking at art is always the better choice than reading someone else’s interpretation (no matter how qualified).
That said, for those interested in understanding more about my work, I’d like to share a few thoughts on the philosophical, artistic, and technical approaches that shape my art.
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Color swatches of mineral pigments on my studio wall
Drawing Ensō as an active meditation
Notes About My Art:
ART
Today, my art focuses on gestures, colors and introspection, working primarily with ink and paper, deeply rooted in Oriental philosophies like Zen Buddhism and Taoism. My style is influenced by Asian art, minimalism, abstract expressionism, and graphic design. While I predominantly work in analog, I also integrate digital techniques.
I love experimenting with different scales and proportions — you might find yourself unsure if you’re looking through a microscope, a telescope, or a kaleidoscope. For me, there’s little difference between non-representational and figurative art; they are just two equal languages for creating art, much like analog painting and digital drawing are simply two equal tools. Through these, I hope to discover something true, unique, and beautiful.
I’m a firm believer in beauty. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I believe there is an archetypal beauty that everyone can connect with, just as there is an unalterable truth within each of us. This is the kind of beauty — perhaps it’s better described as purity — that I seek in my work.
Philosophically, my art is deeply inspired by Asian aesthetics, particularly Zen and Japanese concepts like Wabi-Sabi, Shibui, Shodo, and others. These philosophies embrace the ambiguity and appreciation of seemingly contradictory attitudes — perfectionism on one hand and the love of natural, transient imperfections and patina on the other.
Painting with ink on paper allows me to explore unexpected, uncontrolled, and natural structures while implementing precision and mastery simultaneously. I love this dialogue between total control and letting things unfold naturally, and I also appreciate the craftsmanship this technique requires, with its numerous intricate steps
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Natural hair brushes of different sizes
Mixing pigments with Nikawa
Work in progress on my studio wall
TECHNIQUE
The materials, tools, and techniques I use are fundamental to my art. My early career began with papercuts, then I transitioned to acrylics and enamel. It wasn’t until my late 30s that I encountered ink and rice paper — a meeting that profoundly transformed my practice.
Today, my work is deeply influenced by my love for Asian papers, especially Washi, ink, and natural pigments. There’s a strong manual element and a deep appreciation for the natural materials I use.
Interestingly, I recently realized during a conversation with a fellow artist that my entire artistic process, and all the tools I use, are 100% natural — from A to Z. I didn’t intentionally aim for this ecological approach, but I’m grateful that it evolved this way.
Here’s an overview of my workflow and the tools I use:
Workspace: My desktop is covered with a wool felt mat to improve brush movement and absorb excess ink.
Paper: I work primarily on Chinese Xuan or Japanese Washi paper, both made from natural fibers like Mulberry or Gampi, many of which are handmade.
Ink and Pigments: I use Asian inks—Indian ink or Japanese Sumi—made from soot, incense, and animal glue. I also use prefabricated Japanese watercolors (based on mineral pigments and animal glue) or mix my own paints using:
Mineral Pigments sourced from soil (umbra, ochre), stones (jade, epidote), or plants (indigo, walnut ink). The white pigment, called Gofun, is made from oyster shells.
Binder: These pigments are mixed with Nikawa (animal glue) and diluted with water to the desired consistency. Sometimes I add Ox gall to enhance fluidity or Alum for fixation. The use of animal glue, instead of Gum Arabic (common in Western watercolor), ensures that the color dries water-resistant, crucial for the subsequent steps when the paper gets wet again.
Brushes: I use a variety of natural hair brushes, made from goat, wolf, horse, etc.
Mounting: Once the artwork is complete and dried, I cook a paste by boiling Shofu Nori (wheat starch powder) for about 15 minutes to reach the desired consistency. This paste is then used to wet-mount the piece (a technique called Urauchi backing) onto a second sheet of Washi paper. This flattens and stabilizes the artwork, preserving its archival quality — this technique has been used in book and art restoration for centuries.
Signature: The final touch is the signature, applied first with pencil and then sealed with cinnabar paste (vermilion mixed with castor oil and silk strands) using a Hanko made of black horn. At this point, the paperwork is finalized and ready for framing. Recently, I’ve started creating artworks on wood panels, similar to traditional Japanese screens. This process involves additional steps beyond those mentioned:
Preparation: The front of the wood panel is coated with three thin layers of Gofun (or Gesso) to protect the wood from humidity. A sheet of Washi paper is then mounted on top using the Urauchi method. This surface is now ready for painting, or, as I prefer, a previously finalized painting can be mounted on it, again using the Urauchi method.
Varnishing: After everything has dried thoroughly, the artwork is varnished with several layers of Nikawa to protect and preserve it. This acid-free process can ensure the artwork lasts for centuries if desired.
Et voilà, this is it!
