Depicting Nature — Is it our Sensibilities that Mimic Nature?
Our answer to the question of “what do we mean by the representation of nature?” is that our human sensibilities provoke us to mimic nature. Mimicry can signify creatures adopting the form of other animals, or plants, or trying to blend into their surroundings. Here we expand the meaning to refer to our human urge to more closely associate with nature. This exhibition therefore deciphers acts of human creativity under the concept of “mimicry”.
Acts of representation entail a degree of unnaturalness and conflict. The more we long for proximity to nature, and the more we try to grasp its essence, the more we run up against the inevitable fact that representation is a kind of fraud, or at best a pseudo-likeness. And yet, if we tolerate this friction, we may discover clues to overcoming our mental discord.
This exhibition introduces the work of three artists who focus on representations of nature. The sensations and attitudes of each is different. The landscapes each draws reveals their individual responses, as reclaimed from physical experience and memory. Each person’s art-production accords with natural laws.
Kentaro Sato refers to currents of water and wind. He fixes these onto the picture plane, and offers the viewer images of nature’s circulations and cycles. Sho Tsuchida takes a more direct route, specifically with the method called jikisha (direct sketching), which he used to strengthen our relationship with nature. Moeto Yasuda incorporates soil which dries up to form cracks as if they were lines drawn by nature itself.
Humanity is a part of nature, and yet our everyday lives seldom make us aware of this. Producing drawings of nature can be an act of directing our eyes to the gap that lies between us and the natural world, and then filling up this void.
Nature surrounds us from outside, but it also exists vividly within us. It builds our experiences, and when we try to capture this condition, we do so in all its multiple layers. The representations we make are, therefore, beyond mere landscape realism. Through a diversity of representational modes, this exhibition ponders the deeper implications of what we mean by “drawing nature”.
Kentaro Sato, Sho Tsuchida, and Moeto Yasuda each approach their practice with a shared sensitivity toward nature, while engaging it from distinct perspectives. This shared attitude—of seeking proximity to nature—can be considered as a form of "mimicry" itself.
When we attempt to depict nature, what appears on the surface is a "rendered nature"—a representation that remains inevitably artificial. We are reminded that no matter how close we try to get, we can never truly reach nature itself. At the same time, there exists a paradox: expression can only take shape through imitation. It is within this contradiction—between the desire to approach nature and the limits of expression—that a tension arises. This tension seems to resonate throughout the practices of all three participating artists.
The idea of “Creating as the Mimicry of Nature” offers a way of understanding this tension not merely as a difficulty, but as a condition intrinsic to artistic creation. Mimicry is a biological strategy by which an organism adapts to its environment through resemblance in form or behavior. When artistic practice is viewed alongside such natural phenomena, it becomes possible to understand expression itself as part of the broader cycles of nature.
The term “Sensibilities” in the exhibition title refers to creativity, making, and the emotions and thoughts involved in those processes. When this Sensibilities seeks to move ever closer to nature, creation no longer remains an external, artificial operation, but emerges as an ecological and instinctive response from within. This shift in perspective allows us to rethink the relationship between nature and artifice, interior and exterior, as a more fluid and continuous interplay.
If mimicry, as a survival strategy, is quietly embedded within the act of creation, what does that suggest? Artistic practice could be reimagined as a form of adaptation—a response born from the relationship with one's environment. In that light, the act of depicting nature may come to be seen not merely as a personal pursuit, but as part of a broader, collective endeavor. It is in this responsive closeness to nature that the deeper significance of creating through nature begins to emerge.
Kentaro Sato seeks to capture the imagery of flow and circulation inherent in nature by harnessing the fluidity of water and wind. For him, “flow” is not limited to the movement of natural elements but can also be interpreted as the transmission and circulation of energy. In his process, he pours ink and paint onto the surface, allowing environmental forces such as gravity and wind to influence the outcome. Through this approach, the accidental nature of fluids and the accumulation of time are given form. Rather than painting in the traditional sense, his act is more akin to touching and recording the movement itself.
Sato’s interest also extends to the multifaceted nature of the natural world. This perspective is shaped in part by his upbringing in Ishinomaki, a region heavily affected by the Great East Japan Earthquake. “Flow” can bring abundance, but when it exceeds human limits, it becomes a destructive force, threatening everyday life. Yet, from nature’s perspective, these seemingly opposing forces are merely continuous motions. What we distinguish as “abundance” and “threat” are, in truth, part of the same natural process.
From this standpoint, Sato’s paintings trace the movement and energy of nature. On his canvases, controlled composition intersects with the effects of chance, revealing a quiet dialogue with the natural world. His work invites viewers to reconsider their perception of nature—stirring a deep, intuitive awareness and reexamining it through the lens of painting.
Sho Tsuchida attempts to directly render the state of nature onto the surface of his paintings. This act stems from a desire to come as close as possible to nature itself. As if he were a being that failed to become nature, he seeks a kind of assimilation with it. He positions himself as a conduit between nature and the artwork—perhaps ultimately attempting to dissolve into nature itself.
For him, the extension of this desire to approach nature lies in a bodily sensation of “engraving.” It is a tactile awareness that goes beyond merely touching—a mutual penetration between nature and self. In the process of drawing closer to nature, nature becomes inscribed into his body, just as he inscribes himself into nature. This tactile sensation holds profound meaning for Tsuchida, and he moves his brush while intersecting these physical impressions with visual imagery.
With this approach, Tsuchida places importance on the very process of painting. He draws upon and seeks to expand the doctrine of jikisha—“direct sketching”—formulated by the Japanese painter Hitoshi Komatsu. In order to deepen his felt connection with nature, Tsuchida immerses his body in rivers or buries himself in snow, exposing himself to the natural environment. His expressive methods include abrasive techniques such as scraping or scorching the surface, through which he sharply inscribes the sensations acquired through contact with nature onto the painting.
※ Jikisha (literally “direct sketching”) is a site-specific method developed by Japanese painter Hitoshi Komatsu. It involves drawing ink lines while keeping one’s neck fixed and moving only the eyes, so as to align the actual scene in front of the artist with the image being formed on the surface.
Moeto Yasuda regards nature as a creative neighbor and produces paintings without the use of a brush. He incorporates cracks—formed through the natural phenomenon of drying—as lines drawn by nature itself. His primary method involves placing molds onto panels covered with hemp cloth and pouring in soil mixed with glue. While such cracking is typically suppressed through careful adjustment of quantity and mixture, Yasuda intentionally guides the process to encourage the emergence of these fissures.
At first glance, Yasuda’s works may seem to differ from conventional “paintings.” However, the phenomenon of soil drying parallels the foundational process of painting in which pigments dry and fix to the surface. Furthermore, if the age-induced cracks seen in old paintings are understood as results of moisture and drying cycles, then Yasuda’s fissures too can be seen as painterly events—manifestations of nature's force.
Like plants sprouting from cracks in asphalt, his surfaces are sites where human intervention and natural occurrence, order and chance, intersect. Yasuda embraces the unpredictable phenomena born of nature, seeking out order within them. Through the fusion of uncontrollable elements and calculated methods, his work generates a space where accident and intention coexist. This coexistence becomes a central axis for interpreting Yasuda’s work, reflecting the complex relationship between the artificial and the natural.