Beautiful flower paintings offer comfort to people.

Ayuko Teika, Japanese painter

Ayuko Sadaie

Born in Shiga Prefecture in 1982. Graduated from the Kyoto City University of Arts Graduate School of Fine Arts. She has a deep love for nature and paints motifs such as flowers and insects using traditional techniques.

In 2015, the 1200th anniversary of the founding of Koyasan, she dedicated seven fusuma paintings to Eikoin, a semi-special head temple of the Koyasan Shingon sect.

In 2018, she dedicated eight fusuma paintings to Hojuin, the head temple of Koyasan.

Her published works include the illustrated essay collection "Beautiful Things, Beautifully: The World of Japanese Painting as Depicted by Teika Ayuko" (Tankosha).

My mother was the first to notice, "This child loves drawing."

I started drawing when I was about one year old. Apparently, I was the kind of child who couldn't play alone and would cry if I couldn't see my mother.

But one day, my mother wasn't crying even though she was away. My mother came to check on me to see what was wrong, and she found that I had drawn something all over the sliding doors with red and blue pencils. We were renting a house at the time, so she couldn't have known. That's when my mother realized, "This child loves to draw." Since then, she has given me art supplies, and I have always been a child who draws, whether we are out or on a family trip. We were a very ordinary family, but both my father and mother loved art, and they had a complete collection of Western paintings, which I often looked at instead of picture books.

When I was in the third grade of elementary school, I called it "One Drawing a Day" and continued to draw like a diary. Eventually, it became "One Thousand Drawings in One Thousand Days." And I held an exhibition of them at the classroom.

[Photo: (From left) Since the third grade of elementary school, he has continued to draw "one picture a day," and has finally achieved "one picture in a thousand days." On the back of each picture, he has written a short message expressing his feelings, which is heartwarming. / Teika's current work. His motifs of nature, such as flowers and small insects, remain unchanged from the past to the present.]

The only thing I ever wanted to study was painting.

When it was time to go to university, my parents insisted that I attend a national or public university, specifically one in the Kansai region. After thinking about it, I realized there wasn't a department I particularly wanted to attend or one that truly excited me. If there was one thing I wanted to study, it was painting. However, I mistakenly believed that a degree in Japanese painting (specifically, art) would make finding a job difficult, so I applied to a design department, thinking it would be easier. Unfortunately, I failed that year.

Later, I learned that there were various job opportunities even with a Japanese painting major, so the following year I applied to an art department and passed. Once I started studying Japanese painting, I found it incredibly enjoyable. However, I graduated right in the middle of the job market freeze. So, after much thought, I decided to go to graduate school.

[Photo: Teika's studio, bathed in plenty of natural light. Along with malachite, a raw material for mineral pigments, is a paperweight shaped like an ayu (sweetfish), named after "Ayuko."]

I realized that all I had was art, so I pursued a career in art.

Around that time, I was approached to hold a solo exhibition. It might be common now, but back then, it was extremely rare for a student to have a solo exhibition. But I wanted to take on the challenge. Through that experience, I decided that instead of getting a job, I wanted to make a living as an artist, even if it meant facing hardships.

However, the circumstances surrounding me at that time were tough. My father was suffering from a serious illness and needed care. My younger sister was preparing for entrance exams, and my mother was a full-time housewife. I had no one to rely on. It was full of difficulties. In the midst of all that, could I really pursue my own path? I felt like I was about to break down. Getting a job might have been a safer bet. But I had a gut feeling that painting was all I had, so I deliberately went in the opposite direction. I thought, "I'll just keep going a little longer, I'll give it my all."

[Photo: Works featuring seasonal flowers and plants displayed in the studio. Flowers are one of the motifs that symbolize Teika. (Top row from left) "Ornamental Cabbage" / "Cherry Blossoms" / "Iris" / "Ginkgo" (Bottom row from left) "Plum Blossom Garden" / "Hydrangea" / "Daffodil" / "Lotus"]

In Kyoto, where Japanese painting is an integral part of daily life.

My solo exhibition was a great realization for me. Through my paintings, I was able to meet people, connect with their lives, and feel that the world that only existed in my favorite art books had become closer to me. My life and work became tangiblely connected. That made me very happy.

With Western paintings, there is a sense of physical distance, and I feel like there is a clear separation between the painting and the viewer. Perhaps it's because I'm in Kyoto, but Japanese painting and life are not separated at all. You might see a tanzaku (a strip of paper with a poem written on it) by Takeuchi Seiho hanging casually in an ordinary Japanese confectionery shop in town. When I see a festival, I think that the artist who painted that picture must have seen this scenery and painted it.

[Photo: Cherry blossoms depicted on a fan, typical of Kyoto. It evokes the feeling of spring, as if the fragrance is faintly carried on the breeze.]

A major turning point was the fusuma paintings at Ekoin, a semi-special head temple of Koyasan.

At first, I couldn't eat anything at all. Sometimes I would survive on just one sweet bun. But I didn't make any plans or anything; I'm where I am today because of the connections I made along the way.

A major turning point might have been in 2015, when I was given the opportunity to paint the sliding screen paintings for Eikoin, a semi-special head temple, on the occasion of the 1200th anniversary of the founding of Koyasan. The head priest was a fan of art and had even come to see my solo exhibition. With sliding screen paintings, the space becomes a place of life, a tourist spot, a gathering place for believers. The paintings aren't just independent; they're like landscape paintings that change dramatically from moment to moment because of the presence of various people with various emotions. It's the ultimate reward for an artist.

[Photo: Mineral pigments neatly arranged by similar color. Many of the mineral pigments used in Japanese painting are made from natural materials. For example, white gofun is made from seashells, and vibrant green is made from crushed malachite. "From gofun, I can see the scenery of the sea, and from malachite, I can see the scenery of the mountains. I feel a sense of depth in painting flowers with Japanese painting materials that hold the memory of grand landscapes," says Teika with a smile.]

Using mineral pigments with a history of over a thousand years, I paint the magnificent flower of "the present moment."

People often say, "When you think of Teika, you think of flowers," and indeed, I was captivated by the flowers depicted through the aesthetic sensibilities of the pioneers of the Kyoto art world and Kyoto culture, which led me to immerse myself in Japanese painting. Through flowers, I want to depict light, serenity, warmth, and gentle, inexpressible feelings that connect to the depths of the heart. It

might not have to be flowers, but for me, flowers felt the most natural. As I paint flowers, I feel as if the boundary between myself and the flower disappears and we merge together. It's as if there's a flower inside me, or as if I see myself in the flower, and when I feel myself and the flower overlap in this way, I feel a sense of relief and hope.

[Photo: "Making beautiful things beautiful" is Teika's theme. He heads out today to sketch flowers in his large sketchbook. The photo on the right shows his sketching shelf. Flowers and insects from spring, summer, autumn, and winter are neatly categorized in drawers. The flowers are organized by type.]

I want to paint lightly, as if you could feel the light and wind through the flowers.

When painting flowers, I especially value sketching from life. I want to paint pictures that capture the light shining on the flowers and the wind rustling through them, while I paint my favorite flowers.

Life is often heavy, isn't it? That's why I want to paint things that are light and transparent.

I want to grow more and more, both as an artist and as a person. I want to continue learning through art, and not just through art.

[Photo: For this occasion, Mr. Teika kindly painted a spring-like cherry blossom picture for Sakuraé. (From left) Carefully grinding the white pigment in a mortar / Dissolving the white pigment in water / The beautiful pink color is achieved by first applying vermilion paint and then delicately adding white white pigment little by little. It is like the color combination of Heian period noble attire, "Sakura no Kasane" (layered cherry blossoms), where thin white silk is layered on top of red silk to represent cherry blossoms. "I like the freshness before the paint dries," says Mr. Teika. Thank you very much.]