I have always admired what I call "the beauty of function". This is the inherent grace and value we perceive in a masterful design, as when a piece of furniture offers optimal comfort and performance. We also see it in fine automobiles and planes. There are no specific functions for a painting, no absolute parameters for its design, but still I wondered. Could I someday express such "beauty of function" in my work?

Ceramics set me in the right direction, asking me to consider why I could sense a limitless universe within a few inches of fired clay. Ceramic bowls in particular achieve a delicate balance between their man-made beauty of function and their ornamental beauty, which owes so much to fire and other natural elements.

I've also learned a great deal from the folding screens made hundreds of years ago by Japan's Rimpa school of artists. Time has worn away sections of their gold and silver leaf and darkened other areas, lending these screens a uniquely abstract quality. This aspect is further heightened by the Rimpa artists' own approach. Their work was basically representational, but they also stylized their subjects and incorporated elements similar to modern graphic design.

Perhaps I can assign a function to my paintings; they are tools for recreating the landscapes in my mind. Always I try to strike a balance between nature and intent. I dye sheets of Japanese washi paper with acrylics, letting creases and graduations of color emerge as naturally as possible, and then arrange that paper in specific patterns.

In short, I want my paintings to create themselves as much as they are created by me.
I want them to speak to people all over the world, to form a　bond between the images on the wall and the feelings in people’s hearts.