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Watercolor on postcard, 148 x 100 mm, 2025
marker on sketch paper, 15 x 10 cm, 2023
Painting | Loves Under the Trees
crayon on sketch paper, 15 x 10 cm, 2022
crayon on sketch paper, 15 x 10 cm, 2022
marker on sketch paper, 15 x 10 cm, 2022
Painting | Sorolla’s Lady by the Lake
digital painting on iPad, 2020
digital painting on iPad, 2020
watercolor on sketch paper, 15 x 10 cm, 2025
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I was born in a small town surrounded by mountains. Before the age of four, I lived in my father’s ancestral home, where I followed my grandparents to the reservoir to watch sunlight ripple across the water, caught small fish, and chased dragonflies. We went into the mountains to gather firewood and pick wild greens, and took part in ancestral rituals and grave-sweeping. Behind the house were tea plants and bamboo groves; in the open yard grew orange trees and Chinese toon. The vegetable garden, like a cabinet of treasures, was planted mostly with the vegetables I loved most.
Digital Photography | Shelter
Tamagawa Aqueduct Third Park, Tokyo, 2025
Tamagawa Aqueduct Third Park, Tokyo, 2025
The vegetable gardens here, like those at my ancestral home, merged seamlessly with those of our neighbors, forming one continuous expanse. There was always a small pool of water somewhere among the plots—clear, mysterious.
As a child, I loved playing hide-and-seek. Once, I hid inside a wardrobe and fell asleep, prompting my grandparents to mobilize the entire village to search the mountains for me. Later, I took to lying beneath the dining table, chairs pushed together into a cool little bed, and fell asleep again, sending my parents searching around the house and yard. I often think this had something to do with the visions that would arise whenever I stared into that pool of water—drowsing like Alice, imagining that beneath the surface lay my own dazzling, fantastical paradise.
And then one day, I truly dreamed it: a fairy emerged from the pond in the vegetable garden of my ancestral home. Her hair was wet, tangled with water plants, leaves, and flowers, and she walked straight toward me. So when I later encountered that painting by Millais, I was struck suddenly silent, no longer certain what this world truly belongs to.
后来爸爸妈妈把我带回身旁，从学校搬到现在的家，对面是农田，更远处是绵延的山峦，屋后也有一片自己的小菜地，一条四季水量变化明显的河流，到了夏天就下到露出的河滩上去淌水，翻开石头探来探去。菜地也是和老家一样和邻居家的连成一大片，菜地里总有那样的一湾潭水，清澈神秘。
小时候爱捉迷藏，曾躲到柜子里，结果睡着了让爷爷奶奶动员全村漫山遍野地找，后来又喜欢躺在餐桌下面，椅子拼成我的小床凉凉的，又睡着了让爸爸妈妈屋前屋后找。我便总会想起盯着潭水就会有的想象，打着爱丽丝的盹，潭水下是我缤纷绚丽的仙境桃源。结果某天真的做了一个梦，梦见一个仙女从老家菜地的水潭里钻出来，湿漉漉的发丝里还夹着水草、叶子、花朵，向我迎面走来。所以当我后来看到米莱斯那副画时骤然失语，不知道这个世界到底是属于什么。
Hunan, CHINA, 2025
Digital Photography | From the Window of My Home
Hunan, CHINA, 2025
Hunan, CHINA, 2025
Later, I came to understand that it was precisely because I was born in such a place that I came to encounter trees and flowing water, and that I chose to draw close to everything that lives and grows alongside them. I know now that my intentions do not arise solely from the private interior of my individual self, but may instead be something this land had already wrapped around me before I was born. It wished to know, through my life, the forests, rivers, sky, soil, flowers and fruits, insects, birds, fish, and all other living things that grow upon it. And so I carry the energy it has bestowed upon me, sensing the same gentle currents—of flow, nourishment, and germination.
Hunan, CHINA, 2025
秋天打柿子
在秋天打柿子，缩着手脚爬上树桠，
眺望云雾里远处那些山，正在雾气中
磅礴。我的身躯无限壮大，蓬勃而出，
向潮湿的寒冷伸出臂膀，正在升起，
我无限的躯体，照耀金红的果实。
雨从空无中降落，清洗积年的尘土。
十七个人，在秋天打柿子，挥动
铁灰色胳膊，长臂竹竿敲响无声的
节奏，果实落在我无限空旷的躯体。
马雁(Ma Yan)，2002年冬
秋、柿を打つ 秋、柿を打つ、手足を縮めて枝に登り、
霞みがかった遠くの山々を眺める、霧の中で
巍然と聳える。私の体は限りなく膨らみ、湧き上がり、
湿った寒さに向かって腕を伸ばし、昇っていく、
私の無限の体は、金赤い実を照らす。
雨は虚無から降り、積もった塵を洗い流す。
十七人、秋に柿を打つ、
鉄灰色の腕を振り、長い竹竿で無音の
リズムを刻み、果実はこの無限に茫漠たるわが身に落ちた。
“Picking Persimmons in Autumn”
In autumn, picking persimmons, I climb the branches with my limbs curled.
From the mist, distant mountains rise, shrouded in clouds,
majestic. My body stretches vast and boundless, bursting outward,
arms reaching into the damp cold, rising—
my boundless body, to bathe the golden-red fruits in light.
Rain falls from an empty sky, cleansing years of accumulated dust.
Seventeen of them, who pick persimmons in autumn, swinging—
their iron-gray arms, long bamboo poles striking
a silent rhythm, the fruits falling onto my boundless vast body.
Digital Photography |
Meet Sugiura Hisui at My Table
Mitaka, Tokyo, 2025
Meet Sugiura Hisui at My Table
Mitaka, Tokyo, 2025
Handmade with Czech seed beads, 2025
Film Photography | Drunk Sunset in the Corridor
Hompō-ji Temple, Kyoto, 2024
Hompō-ji Temple, Kyoto, 2024
Film Photography | Sparkling Sunlight
Tōshōdai-ji Temple, Nara, 2024
Tōshōdai-ji Temple, Nara, 2024
Tōshōdai-ji Temple, Nara, 2024
Digital Photography | Dazzling Track of Time
Eizan Electric Railway, Kyoto, 2024
Eizan Electric Railway, Kyoto, 2024
Marker onnotebook paper, 148 x 100 cm, 2024 MUJI
Digital Photography | Under the Intertwined
Tamagawa Aqueduct Third Park, Tokyo, 2025
Tamagawa Aqueduct Third Park, Tokyo, 2025
Digital Photography | Whispering
Kamogawa, Kyoto, 2025
Kamogawa, Kyoto, 2025
Hunan, CHINA, 2022
Inokashira Park, Tokyo, 2025
Shimo-takaido, Tokyo, 2025
Shimo-takaido, Tokyo, 2025
Mitaka, Tokyo, 2025
Oil on Canvas, 20 x 25 cm, 2024
Watercolor on postcard,
148 x 100 mm, 2025
Watercolor on postcard, 148 x 100 mm, 2025
iphone 14 Photography | Eternity of the Colorful Island
Taipei, Taiwan, 2023
Taipei, Taiwan, 2023
Inokashira Park, Tokyo, 2025
Daigo-ji Temple, Kyoto, 2025
Kamogawa, Kyoto, 2025
Mitaka, Tokyo, 2025
Daigo-ji Temple, Kyoto, 2025