My work is complete in itself, simply by being there.

In Japanese, we use the terms shōgyō mujō (諸行無常) (impermanence of all things) and engi (縁起) (dependent origination) to express the truth that all things are in flux and interconnected. I am not a Buddhist, yet these words, though rooted in Buddhism, they point to an understanding of existence that extends beyond religion.

Tools designed to shape society and systems meant to bring happiness often come to behave as if they were absolute. Faced with fear and uncertainty, humans have repeatedly sought such absolutes throughout history—and continue to do so today. Yet nothing can remain absolute. When something assumes absoluteness, it loses its connection to existence itself.

Existence requires no value, ideology, validation, or permission. It does not need to be perceived in order to be present. All things—including human beings—carry their own subtle rhythms and vibrations. These vibrations resonate, intersect, and form relationships, ranging from the barely perceptible to the profoundly silent. Even in stillness, existence is complete simply by being.

A single drop of water contains an entire universe and carries its own frequency. A handful of soil holds time and memory, embracing cycles of life and death. Our bodies, like water and soil, are organic matter filled with microorganisms and accumulated traces of experience. Through death, energy does not disappear but transforms, continuing within the law of entropy and linking the tangible and intangible in an ongoing movement without beginning or end.

Existence becomes poetry, and language fades away.


Kenichi Nakajima