Russia and Internment

I like Russia, Russian people and Russian nature.

I also have been self-researching the Japanese interned in the Soviet Union in 1945.
Then, I met Tanaka Takeshi who was interned in the Soviet Union from 1945 to 1949.
He returned to Japan, established a publishing company in Tokyo and published industrial publications “造” (Zou).

At his age of 68, he moved to Khabarovsk, Russia. He was the only one who returned to Russia out of 600,000 Japanese internees.

He was a musician as well. He loved Russian people and often gave a concert for Russian people with his synthesizer “Spiron”.

I respect the way he lived.
His sprits are reflected in these paintings…

Music and wind 2017, 100×65.2cm, Oil on canvas and frame　 I painted Tanaka Takeshi. “The music he plays is of the Russian steppes—the sound of letting you imagine the bog. The sound cannot be seen. Feel the color of the melody. An electronic instrument “Spiilon” gives you not the mechanical sound, but the resonant sound. Heal the people and heal the spirits in the steppes. The sound is never forgotten.”	Music and Wind	Nights in Spassk 2023, 41×31,8cm, Oil on canvas The moment does not lose its luster. It shines as if it happened yesterday. ―Spassk Dal`nii, Russia
The most beautiful moment in the life Oil on canvas 1,303mm × 970mm, 51 x 38inches I expressed death on this painting. Death could be the calmest moment. When my loved one passed away, I couldn’t go to his funeral because of coronavirus. I saw his face from photos of the funeral. I felt his dead face was beautiful and felt I wanted to be next to the loved one until the body rotted away. Not only the physical, but also I wanted to express the sprit is always close to the deceased.	The moon doesn't tell anything Oil and mud pigment on canvas, 72.7×60.6 cm, 28.6x23.8 inches When your loved one dies and even if you pray to the moon, the moon does not tell you anything. This painting shows the silence of death.	Cry When we went through the bush, there was a cemetery for the Japanese internees. One gravestone was standing there. Let us sing the Japanese song. Difficult to sing there. Shaking, bursting into tears. Somebody was passing through my mind. We gave flowers and prayed for them. When I looked back the cemetery, Am I leaving their spirits in there? While hearing the cry of the spirits, the only thing I could was—just praying for the spirits from the depth of my heart. In Komsomolsk-na-Amure
Seeing things from many sides 2017, 100×65.2cm, Oil on canvas My respected person said “If you see the emperor palace in Tokyo from the ground, you will be wondering why this is necessary. I saw the place from the sky by helicopter, and I understood why this is necessary here.” He taught me the importance of seeing things from many sides; and I expressed it on this painting.	Spirits in the forest 2016-2017, 100×80.3cm, Oil on canvas 3 people talked about their experience of the internment in the Soviet Union in 1945. That was my first time to hear this story. Somehow, I could see the beautifully lighting moon in the sky and a place where plants were growing well. Looking close, I could see some spirits. Beautifully plants grow as they purify the land where people passed away.	In the moonlight 30 x 30 x 2 cm, oil canvas 100 years ago, a Russian poet Evgeny Yuriev wrote a poetry “in the Moonlight”. The poetry says “snow is silvered by the moonlight, Troika (a vehicle drawn by three horses abreast) is running, when the horse bells ring ‘ding ding ding’, the sounds are talking to me about many things.” I was thinking about places where entry is not allowed and wanted to express the cityscape talks to you more than any words as in the poetry.