Shigemoto Hidekichi: Dynamism in Black

Sumi-e artist Shigemoto Hidekichi.

A soccer player painted by Shigemoto.

Is the athlete attempting a pass or a goal?

Using only brush and ink, Shigemoto captures human movement and emotion at their peak.

We focus on his creative career in the extraordinary world of sumi ink.

I'm Robert Campbell. Nice to meet you.

You too.

I was behind you, watching you give life to this painting.

Thank you.

Usually, we don't think of painting as an art form that involves the passage of time.

But watching you in action, I didn't know what you were painting at first.

It was only after some time, when you started to make the legs and the right arm that I realized you were painting a human figure.

I would have expected you to paint the torso before the limbs.

At first, it's much like an abstract painting.

People wonder what it is that I'm creating with the ink.

Then, gradually, they realize I'm painting an arm or a leg.

And in that way, five minutes goes by in no time.

That's how it works.

I noticed you splattered a lot of ink at the beginning and at the end.

That's right.

Was that meant to be the athlete's sweat?

To tell the truth, when I'm facing a blank page, I always splatter some ink around as a way of calming my nerves.

It relaxes you?

It makes the first brushstroke easier.

Once you've made a mess, you can only improve the page.

Yes, yes.

What a great idea.

As a writer, I sometimes write by hand.

I often find myself facing a huge white screen and feeling a bit lost before I can manage to start.

Applying the first stroke to a clean sheet of paper makes me nervous, as if it has to be perfect.

But splattering ink helps me think of it as practice.

This is an angle that would be quite difficult to capture on camera, don't you think?

It's definitely from a low angle.

And it's such a dynamic moment.

I believe you've managed to make it seem even more real than a photo.

I wanted to capture a moment of dynamic sporting action.

I'm very conscious of conveying a sense of motion.

I want the viewer to be able to imagine what comes next.

Shigemoto's works seem to suggest backstories for his subjects.

He captures speed and tension in black and white.

In anticipation of the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games, his sumi ink paintings of various events were displayed to greet arrivals at Haneda International Airport.

His depiction of athletes heightened the sense of excitement for the Games.

What goes into the creation of his works?

He slowly grinds the ink stick to heighten his concentration.

There is no hesitation in his initial brushstrokes.

He breathes life into his works by altering the pressure with which he applies his brush.

Here, he depicts a master swordsman felling a tree with a single blow.

He uses thin ink to create a three-dimensional effect.

I'll try it again.

He starts painting the same scene again.

I gradually make the sword
stroke feel more real.

Lines of movement first,
then I add shadows.

The shape and design evolve.

Shigemoto paints the samurai delivering the downward blow until he is satisfied with the speed and posture.

This is the final result.

He captures a vivid moment with dynamic brush strokes, conveying a depth of emotion.

In Western art, you have still life paintings.

In China, Korea, and Japan, there are sumi-e landscape paintings that depict inanimate landscapes.

People look at them and imagine themselves inside the painting, walking around and perhaps wandering through them.

The paintings are still and serene.

True.

Meanwhile, your sumi-e paintings capture an action that is taking place at that very moment.

They're so dynamic.

They resonate with you.

Rather than asking the viewer to reflect and admire them quietly, they trigger the viewer to think of movement, and spur a desire to want to move and be active.

So, actually...

I'm a very nerdy person.

I enjoy all sorts of entertainment: movies, theater, and all kinds of live performances, from stand-up comedy to teen pop music.

I'm also a big fan of sports.

Going out and watching these events is something that motivates and inspires me.

It provides me with ideas for my work.

Why is it that you continue to paint the same image over and over again?

I usually end up with a pile of unfinished pieces on my desk.

I call them my sacrifices.

Much like people practice calligraphy, I paint the same image over and over again.

If I feel I'm going in the wrong direction, I scrap it.

So they're like tests?

Yes.

I'm always aiming to get it right on the first try, but if a line doesn't seem right, I lose interest, and it ends up on the pile of discards.

After about 90 attempts, I find things come together.

I know which line is wrong, or I get new inspiration.

I see.

I once had a conversation with a famous Olympic marathon runner.

And I remember her saying that if you keep running and running, you'll eventually manage to get in the zone.

In my case, I achieve that by painting over and over again.

After about 90 sheets, I'm able to enter the zone and come up with something I'm happy with.

People often ask me how long it takes for me to create a painting.

Really, to create the final painting, it only takes about 5 minutes.

But before that point I need to spend hours, sometimes even a week to get there.

So you measure the time it takes by the number of attempts, rather than hours.

So, in answer to how long it takes, you'd say 98 sheets.

I'm not a stoic person by any means.

But there are times when my wife has to tell me to call it a day.

I like painting so much, I can go on for hours.

I'm fully immersed in another world.

I find that sumi ink has a unique character to it.

Right.

I think it's very honest as a medium.

If you go slow, your lines will bleed and blur.

But go too fast, and the lines break.

So it's very revealing.

Yes.

So you can tell from a single painting how fast or slow the painter was working, just by looking at the strokes present in the painting.

That's what interested me in the medium in the first place.

There's so much variety in the thickness and shade of the brush strokes.

I presume you have to be very careful about choosing the right type of brush.

Are you very particular about your brushes?

Actually, no.

But I'm very particular about the paper I use.

Western paper hides some of the nuances of sumi ink, and the texture is too obvious for my tastes.

I find that Japanese washi paper is the best for revealing those nuances.

This painting uses processed washi paper.

I purposely use cheap brushes.

I sometimes cut or break them and use them in live paintings to produce this kind of line.

It helps to create a 3D effect.

After graduating from art school in the 1980s, Shigemoto began his career as a designer and illustrator.

He sought his own artistic niche.

In 2000, at the age of 43, he took up the brush, searching for a unique style to call his own.

His first painting with sumi ink was of a man, standing still.

Shigemoto's lively brush strokes conveyed the man's innate strength.

It wasn't long before he received a commission from a sportswear brand.

His paintings of basketball players brought Shigemoto onto the international scene.

When did you feel you'd hit upon the right medium?

Well first of all, no one had ever done ink paintings with this kind of subject matter before.

That was a big part of it.

I'm a big fan of manga.

And of course, many manga artists use sumi ink.

But nobody was using sumi ink in paintings that deliberately capture a moment in a dynamic way.

...it's possible I might have been the first.

I started off depicting musicians.

And was very pleased with the response I received.

So I went on to paint athletes.

So, you started out as an illustrator and ended up becoming a sumi-e artist.

Right.

Why did you decide to focus on one medium?

As I see it, an illustrator remains anonymous.

For example, a client making a commercial wouldn't ask for my art.

Instead, they wanted me to replicate whatever style was popular at the time.

That was standard for the era, but because I was young, I felt rather frustrated by that.

I wanted to make work people would recognize as my art.

So, I threw out all my acrylic paints and colored pencils, and focused solely on painting with brushes and sumi ink.

I discarded all other art materials, set aside my ambitions and greed, and decided to focus on what I believed was the right medium for me.

I have to make countless numbers of rough paintings to realize the image I have in my mind.

But I'm able to do it in the end, because I'm focused on a single medium.

I think being an artist is a solitary existence.

You need to do away with the superficial and focus on your art.

It's lonely.

I think loneliness is an emotion shared by most creators who are truly dedicated to their art.

It's a sense of loneliness, rather than a feeling of joy or happiness, that is a shared emotion among artists.

It's a lonely existence.

And in order to become a true artist, you need to be able to incorporate that feeling into your life.

Without that kind of sensitivity, you are unable to paint, or in your case, write.

I think you can relate to that.

Shigemoto holds live painting events in various locations.

He wants audiences to witness and enjoy the process of creating a sumi ink painting.

Shigemoto's performances have won acclaim overseas as well.

You've had a lot of interest in your work from other countries.

I would love to hear all about your thoughts on that.

I'm doing something totally different, but I'm using brushes and sumi ink, so it's very Japanese and also easy to understand.

For overseas events, it's like music.

With painting, there's no need for words.

It's understood.

The images transcend international boundaries.

The majority of the people who attend my live performances overseas have never seen anyone paint in sumi ink before.

Unlike calligraphy, people recognize that I'm painting athletes or other familiar subjects.

So, they can enjoy watching me, which is probably why I receive so many requests from overseas.

Of course, the work I do sitting at a table means a lot to me.

But live painting remains an important part of my life's work.

It transcends borders and allows me to introduce new aspects of Japanese culture.

That's why I'm always happy to accept invitations to go and paint abroad.

What sort of response do you get?

I have my back turned to them while I'm painting.

And at first, they're mostly silent.

But then after a while, they start to realize what I'm painting and I hear them whispering.

I can't understand what they're saying because of the language barrier.

But I can tell I've managed to surprise them.

It's a good feeling.

In preparation for one live painting, I do about 100 rough paintings.

It's similar to how an athlete practices over and over again until he can move almost instinctively.

So you can focus on expression.

Yes, I play around with the way I use my brush and ink.

But the motif and composition of the painting is deeply embedded in my brain.

That's amazing.

Having done so many events, I now have this dream of erecting a circular wall of paper so that I can be inside, and paint 360 degrees, all around me.

There'd be a musician inside with me to play.

I'd paint the inside as it unrolled like a picture scroll.

And the audience could watch in real time.

That would be great.

I got the idea from a film Picasso made in 1957.

It was part of a documentary.

And the footage showed his art appearing on the canvas, with no visible painter.

I wondered how it was possible to film Picasso's work progressing in real time in an era when there were no computer graphics.

But after several minutes, Picasso pops out from behind the canvas, as if to ask how it looks.

It turns out he was simply drawing on paper using permanent markers.

So the oil-based ink was clearly visible from the front.

I want to do something like that.

Let's do it! If it's okay with you!

For sure!

In 2022, Shigemoto painted a Buddhist monk.

Honen was the founder of one of the largest schools of Japanese Buddhism: the Jodo or Pure Land sect.

Born in the 12th century, Honen's life was full of hardship.

He taught that everyone can attain salvation after death- an idea that was suppressed by those in power.

Shigemoto's painting was used to promote the 850th anniversary of the founding of the Jodo sect.

You painted a wonderful portrait of Honen.

It's a view from behind, but it's so dynamic.

And more than that, it fundamentally conveys his sense of loneliness and determination, and also radiates with his inner strength.

Thank you.

The sense I get from the portrait probably represents my state of mind, but I imagine him marching on.

Taking a first step.

Yes, I felt his determination to leave whatever it is that happened in the past and to move forward.

Honen's life was an endless journey.

He had to give up so much until all that remained was his belief in the importance of prayer.

I thought rather than doing a front-view portrait, where we see his face coming toward us, it would be more effective to show him walking away from the past,

allowing people to imagine Honen's expression of resolve.

The way his clothing flutters in the wind expresses his dynamism.

Followers of the Jodo sect have made comments about how the portrait captures Honen in his youth.

The painting simultaneously conveys both physical dynamism and mental concentration.

Sumi ink allows me to express these seemingly contradictory concepts in one painting.

That's very interesting.

I do indeed feel that there are infinite possibilities in your sumi-e paintings.

But Buddhist portraits and paintings of athletes seem to be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

True.

But the conditions under which I paint them are exactly the same.

I use sumi ink to make the shadows, contours, and nuances.

The remaining white patches are the light.

If I can make effective use of light, I can create a Buddhist painting with depth.

Of course, some of that is simply my preferred technique.

Just adding a few thin lines to the light can create an image of Buddha.

That's all.

One of the notable characteristics of my style is the strategic use of ink bleeds to create gradation.

For my portrait of Honen, I studied that bleeding effect and used it for his clothing.

I felt in a way those bleeds expressed his entire world.

So you're conveying a sense of emotion through the use of gradation.

Yes.

That's very intriguing.

I came to think that painting the sleeves of Honen's clothing would be enough to convey who he was.

This museum is dedicated to an artist that continues to inspire Shigemoto and Robert.

They're all masterpieces.

Katsushika Hokusai was an ukiyo-e artist active in the 18th and 19th centuries.

His bold compositions and vivid colors greatly influenced the European cultural landscape, and sparked the birth of impressionism.

A prolific artist, he's said to have painted 30,000 works before his death at age 90.

Look, the room is filled with all the sketches he crumpled up and threw away.

I can definitely relate to that.

I understand that you're fascinated by Hokusai and his work.

What is it about him that appeals to you?

I'm in awe of his incredible linework.

It's his brush strokes when he draws lines.

For example, take his "Hokusai Manga," his series of random sketches.

I once tried to reproduce some of the sketches and was struck by his perception of form.

He was a genius.

He drew both moving and inanimate subjects.

Yes, he was incredibly versatile.

He was able to capture the essence of the subject with just one line.

Unlike me, he could probably create his ideal image on his first attempt without having to waste all that paper.

An exhibition of the "Hokusai Manga," a collection of sketches.

The series was planned and published in the 19th century as a tutorial for people who wanted to study Hokusai's work.

Visitors can peruse replicas of all 15 volumes.

This is amazing.

I'd like to take my time with each volume.

The Hokusai Manga is a repository of incredible ideas.

Imagine drawing a warrior brandishing a weapon from this angle.

He probably drew whatever came to mind.

Each drawing is slightly different, down to the details like the sway and the feel of the clothing.

And of course he had no photos or videos to study from.

He was a pioneer as far as making new techniques as well.

And like yourself, he was very curious and eager to visit different places and take in all sorts of new experiences.

He was an innovator.

In 1817, he held an event in Nagoya where he gathered a large crowd in a courtyard.

He created a gigantic painting on a huge piece of paper nearly 200 square meters in size.

It created an absolute sensation.

No doubt.

There are records of the event taking place.

What resonates with me most are his famous words about how everything he had drawn until 70 was nothing but trivial.

Can you imagine saying such things at 70?

He created more original works in his 80s.

And as he was dying, he lamented, "If only I had another five, or ten years."

He had a clear image of what he wanted to do at 100.

Isn't it amazing to be able to have that sort of vitality and mindset?

I wish I could be like him.

To always strive to become better.

For Hokusai, death was just an interruption of his creative process.

Ah, yes.

He didn't have a set goal in mind.

He was simply going about life one step at a time, and so he regarded death as an interruption to his daily work.

He's probably still drawing in the afterlife.

I hope so.