At the core of my practice lies a fundamental question: “Where do we come from?”
It is a question that every human being encounters at some point in life, yet within the overwhelming flow of contemporary society—saturated with information, shifting values, and accelerating time—the truth behind it becomes increasingly obscured.

Living within Japanese society has inevitably shaped my perspective, though I believe this struggle extends beyond cultural boundaries. Among those around me, I sense the same confrontation with this invisible wall, and with it, a growing unease: are we destined to remain in this state until the end of our lives?

Through my work, I seek not definitive answers, but spaces for reflection—moments where this essential question may once again surface and be felt.

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In my past work, I began by tracing the earliest materials available to us—archaeological remains and ancient sites—in order to reflect on the history that humanity has walked. At the core of my practice is the act of imitation and re-enactment of those forms, for I believe that the process of reliving them holds profound significance.

Today, the furthest we can reach into the past is roughly 15,000 to 20,000 years, limited by the absence of tangible evidence. Thus, we are left to encounter that era through the remains of sites and the carvings engraved in religious structures.

I am continually struck by the power embedded in sculptures that have endured for tens of thousands of years, and even more so by the vitality and force within the religions and philosophies that have persisted alongside them. To grasp the logic that generates such external and internal strength is, I believe, to move closer to answering the question I posed earlier: “Where do we come from?” And through that understanding, we may also begin to reach toward the next inevitable question: “Where are we going?”