Nature

Caravaggio once said, "It costs me as much effort to make a good painting of fruit or flowers as of figures." This was a sensational statement, made during the period of western art when he depicted a basket of fruit with the utmost care, as precisely as he depicted figures in the time of Counter-Reformation, which promoted Biblical themed works as sacred art called “Natura Vivente (= living nature)” while “fruit or flowers” were regarded as lower subjects called “Natura Morta (= inanimate nature)”. Thus, he elevated ordinary, mundane subjects to the sacred, and vice versa, and revolutionised western art by setting a precedent for a new genre, "still life".

 

I’m always deeply moved by the grand design of nature—its unique textures, colours, diversity, and harmonious beauty. Among its many wonders, I find myself especially drawn to portraying leaves rather than the more flamboyant flowers. In the long tradition of Japanese art, we’ve embraced the profound symbolism found in the natural world. It metaphorically evokes the transience of life and the vanity of the material world. I seek to deepen and enhance this concept by depicting leaves and humble, often overlooked flowers—those quiet elements of nature that speak to impermanence with subtle grace. This sensibility resonates closely with the Western concept of memento mori—a reminder of mortality—so vividly expressed in Baroque art.

 

Caravaggio, working during the period of the Catholic Counter-Reformation in Italy, revolutionised Western painting with his radical realism and dramatic use of chiaroscuro—the intense contrast between light and shadow. At the same time, the Dutch Golden Age painters in the Netherlands were establishing the still life genre as a refined art form, often filled with symbolic objects such as wilting flowers, skulls, and hourglasses to convey the fleeting nature of earthly pleasures. Both artistic movements, though culturally distinct, shared a deep concern with the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

 

Rather than idealising his subjects, Caravaggio depicted them with raw honesty—gritty, human, and emotionally charged. The Italian art historian Roberto Longhi later described his approach as Luminism, highlighting how his use of light served to uncover spiritual and emotional truths within the everyday. His influence stretched far beyond Italy, echoing in the symbolic sensibilities of still life painters across Europe.

 

For me, painting leaves and flowers is more than a study of form; it is a dialogue with the masters across cultures and centuries. It is a contemplative act—a meditation on dignity and fragility, mortality and immortality, shadow and illumination.