奥山帆夏/Honoka Okuyama




'I paint fabric on fabric (canvas).'



「樹木が描かれた、一枚の布を描いている」と彼女はいいます。 色彩と余白を使い、キャンバスという布の上に布を描く彼女は、自分の作品で「地と図を絡める」と表現します。彼女にとってのカーテンは決して内と外、現実と非現実の仕切りではありません。森の中を歩いている確かな現実、どこに立っているかわからなくなる感覚、一瞬にして周りが薄暗くなる不安や恐怖という、どこまでも続く自然の世界の広がりなのです。

Honaka Okuyama's artworks draw inspiration from the landscapes of Hokkaido, her hometown, echoing her own emotions. In summer, she basked in the dappled sunlight filtering through the birch trees. In autumn, the sound of rustling leaves accompanied her steps. In winter, she observed from her room the unrelenting snowfall, as it blankets the trees. And in spring, the eagerly awaited fresh greenery set her heart aflutter. If painting is an attempt to transpose three-dimensional space onto a two-dimensional plane, Okuyama seeks to "flatten this process once more to create a different perspective."

Many of her works feature significant white spaces from top to bottom, evoking the image of trees glimpsed through gaps in white curtains. Her painting process is deceptively intricate. It begins by applying light colors randomly onto the canvas while leaving generous white margins. The result is a beautiful abstract painting that reminds us of Helen Frankenthaler's work using staining technique. Then, she superimposes motifs of trees onto these delicate color fields, which transforms the abstract shapes into a more figurative and tangible creation. "I am painting a piece of fabric with trees," she remarks.

Using color and white space, she paints fabric on fabric (canvas), expressing her works as an intertwining of "ground and motif." For her, curtains are never mere dividers between inside and outside, reality and unreality. They encapsulate the tangible reality of walking through the forest, the sensation of losing track of one's direction, the sudden dimming of the surroundings instigating anxiety and fear— they are all endless expanses of the natural world.



奥山帆夏/Honoka Okuyama
© Ken KATO