I have mental illness. Years ago, I spent two months in a closed ward. There I lived a limited life of everything. Walking freely, eating food to eat, meeting familiar people. One was not free. What I could do in it was just, I was just imagining the freedom helplessly looking out the window every day. Now, from the ward, I still get the feeling trapped in stereotypes is a closed ward. My thoughts are buried in stereotypes, One thing is not free. The breakthrough that I found in such troubles was to make works only. Just as I have drawn freedom outside the wardrobe, The work becomes the only window where my thoughts can be freed.
From the beginning of art to mental illness The act of making a work was like having sex or crying to me. The cause was not resolved, but at that moment, I felt a feeling of liberation from reality.
In front of the reality confined to unresolved ideas, I hope that my work will present a sense of liberation for a while to the viewer.