Interview with Miyuki Takanashi

Interview with the Japanese artist Miyuki Takanashi, who recounts her artistic journey that began in 2013, after leaving teaching to devote herself entirely to painting.

How long have you been making art?

In 1983, after graduating from university with a degree in art, I began teaching. While working as a junior high school and elementary school art teacher, I exhibited my work in public recruitment exhibitions for teachers and public exhibitions in Hokkaido. In 2013, I quit my teaching job to concentrate on painting. So you could say it has been several decades, but I think it has been 10 years.

Who or what inspired you?

I often get inspiration from nature around me. Although Sapporo is a big city, you can experience untouched nature even within the city. The scenic area in the neighbourhood that I visited every morning with my dog had sheep and cow pastures, a stream running through it, windbreaks and meadows, rows of poplar trees, a pond where migrating geese take a break, and even wild foxes. My dog's memories will always be with nature. It's especially special in winter. The walk begins early in the morning when it's still dark, and as we walk, the morning sun shines through the trees. It's breathtakingly beautiful. Snow in Hokkaido covers everything. Mountains, forests, fields, houses, people's lives, their joys and sufferings - they are just white and beautiful. Sometimes I feel like I am part of nature. I stand there alone, in the gently falling snow, under a starry sky, and in the crisp dawn air. That's what it feels like.

Do you remember your first job?

My first job may have been when I was in my fourth year of college, when my instructor asked me to draw a picture for the cover of the college newsletter. Or, if I think more about the beginning, maybe when I was in elementary school, my teacher asked me to draw the cover of my graduation collection. Perhaps the reward I received was that after I got a job, the post office asked me to draw a commemorative postcard.

What is your favourite hobby?

I play the piano. I took piano lessons until I was about 12 years old. Now it's purely for my own enjoyment. I play my favourite songs. I also like bird watching, mountain climbing, and DIY.

Do you think your works stop time a bit?

I don't think I've ever been very conscious of time when I paint.

How much do you feel you are present in your works?

I try to cherish the lines, colours, and thoughts that emerge from quiet concentration. I think that quiet paintings are born from a quiet environment, but it is surprisingly difficult to place yourself in a quiet environment. I may be easily influenced by my surrounding environment. I didn't feel much pain being stuck at home during the coronavirus pandemic. However, when the Ukraine war started, I was so anxious that I couldn't draw.

Are you okay when you make art?

I don't really understand what it means to be okay, but I'm happy when I'm drawing.

Do your works manage to excite you?

Sometimes when I'm in the process of re-creating a piece or planning a solo exhibition, I think: "I've come up with something great!" I'm definitely excited to try it.

Do you like showing your work in progress?

When people say showing work in progress, they mean videos of people completing their works on social networks, right? I've never tried it. I've never thought to try it.

Do you prefer the movement of city life, or the quiet of nature?

I can't live without feeling nature. City life is exciting and I enjoy going there once in a while, but it would be difficult for me to live there.

Do you like being an artist?

When I introduce myself, I say I am an artist. Am I an artist? What is an artist? One of my instructors - a sculptor - who taught me when I was a student said to me: "As long as you are drawing, you are in the same world as me." I wanted to be in that world.

Do you like others to know you are an artist?

I haven't really thought about it, but I probably like it. Although I call myself an artist, I think I would be happy if people around me thought of me the same way. But I'm an unknown artist. But now I'm starting to think that's a good thing. I just want to draw my own pictures.

Do you love the world as it is?

I think it's important to be who you are, and I want to be who I am. Life is a series of small choices. There's always something to choose from. Sometimes we make big choices. I don't regret becoming a school teacher; teaching children was a great job. I wanted to draw as much as I wanted. It took me decades to make that decision. It really feels like me. I had a late start as a painter, but I have no regrets.

Do you think you contribute to improving the world with your art?

I have always thought that it would be great if I could contribute to society through my drawings. Whenever my paintings were sold, I had donated 10% of the proceeds to Doctors Without Borders. Climate change due to recent global warming is having a considerable impact on my production, and I feel it is in crisis. Therefore, recently I have been making donations to WWF's forest conservation efforts. However, I refrain from bringing this matter to the forefront, since there are restrictions on donating to an existing organisation, such as being prohibited from disclosing where the funds come from.

How much do you think your art is about love?

I hope my art can make people happy. I hope I can be close to those who are feeling sad or broken due to the coronavirus pandemic or war, and I hope I can gently push those who are hesitating to take the next step. I hope my art has that kind of power. There is no doubt that I love the scenery and life of my hometown in Hokkaido.

How would you define your art style?

The rhythm of silence played by the forest. I feel like I'm just transferring what's ingrained in my memory and flowing out onto the canvas. For example, when you are walking in a forest, you remember the snow falling quietly, the rustle of leaves swaying in the wind, the twinkling sunlight filtering through the trees, the sound of creaking tree trunks, the breathing of living things. Their echoes create a quiet rhythm on the canvas. I want to draw until I have a flow.