My work is complete in simply being there.
The materials become extensions of my body—at times becoming death, vibration, memory, emotion, and interconnection.
I work primarily with clay, natural elements such as water, milk, and soil, as well as plaster, household objects like fabric or pillows, and small electric motors. These materials function as follows:
・Clay: an extension of my own flesh and organs—part of life itself, or a form of natural energy.
・Milk: a fluid of life, the sea, or the end as decay.
・Water: a medium of vibration, a drop that contains the cosmos, a symbol of transformation and circulation.
・Soil: the mother who nurtures both life and death—repositories of memory.
・Pillow and fabric: the weight of existence, and the soft, unstable nature of human life.
・Motor: the rhythm of life, the pulse of being.
As human beings, we have come to fear and abhor death, regarding it as something negative.
We have continued to seek absolutes and control. But death is a phase in the transformation of energy; it is not something negative, but rather a part of nature's process in this cosmos. And in that transformation, there can also be beauty.
There is no such thing as absolute permanence. In Japanese, we use the terms shogyo mujo (impermanence of all things) and engi (dependent origination) to express the truth that everything is in flux and interconnected. Though rooted in Buddhism, these words point to a universal truth beyond religion.
Existence requires no concept, no ideology, no validation, no permission to be accepted. Everything carries its own subtle rhythm, its own vibrational presence. These vibrations resonate, intersect, and form relationships—whether barely perceptible or profoundly silent. Even in stillness, existence proves itself simply by being. A single drop of water contains an entire universe and carries its own frequency. A handful of soil holds geological time and shelters the life and death of the earth. Our bodies, too, contain countless microorganisms and memories—just as soil and water do.
Through the turning point of death, we too become part of the law of entropy and the greater cycle becoming, ultimately, the universe itself: a vast transformation without beginning or end.
Human constructs such as values, ideologies, and propaganda were once intended merely as tools for shaping society. Yet over time, these constructs have come to take on the appearance of truth itself. The unknown, the unseen these are the beginnings of fear. And fear gives rise to false and distorted truths. But the truth we can truly touch does not lie in those constructs.
Even though existence says nothing, it is always there with us but are we, in the first place, truly trying to see the truth?
Opening our eyes to it is the first essential step.
What reveals truth is art, and also science and scholarship. At their foundation lies the universe that sustains the natural life of this Earth.
Truth exists through the medium of myself, taking form as art. Existence, in itself, becomes a poem.
Kenichi Nakajima