The First Distortion
Even as a child, I struggled to find a place within my own family.
The words “We should never have had you” sank deep and hardened over time.
I kept failing art school exams, and when I finally entered a Nihonga program, the department was abolished.
My life was not allowed to begin on any “normal route,” and a twisted way of moving forward took shape.
Society Cracks Open
The design company where I first worked was taken over by right-wing factions, collapsed, and withheld our salaries.
People told me to give up, but all I could think was, “If I give up here, I’ll start giving up everywhere.”
It wasn’t justice.
It was the fear of hearing my own core snap.
I taught myself web design, found work, and confronted copyright violations on my own.
Not to step on those who stepped on me, but because staying trampled felt like dying.
This was when the circuit of breaking and rebuilding became permanent.
Normal Operation and Inner Disagreement
Exhibitions increased, I showed work in museums in Japan and China, and I opened an art school.
From the outside, it looked “stable.”
Inside, distortion continued.
Abstract work and figurative portraits collided, and contradictions surfaced.
It was a time when success and misalignment coexisted, and I realized my “normal” would never be flat.
Collapse and Reconstruction
Conflict with my ex-wife led to depression, then eventual remission.
Even after it ended, phone calls came from the place where the relationship had already died.
The deeper my mind sank, the more my abstract work shifted.
Materials became rougher and yet more precise, and the collision of those extremes created the first texture of Super Dekoboko.
Recovery was not linear.
It refused to become uniform.
Family Chaos and Local Reality
My family relationships fractured, I moved out, and trouble found me again.
Harassment from a neighbor with schizophrenia made the ground behind me feel like it was collapsing.
Some said I got involved because I confronted things.
But the truth was the opposite: I was inside a structure that collapsed harder if I didn’t confront it.
I moved because not moving would break more.
The Uneven Future
I’m using AI, building an English site, and shifting my axis toward overseas.
There is no miracle here—just the simple fact that today’s choices shape tomorrow.
I no longer intend to flatten my work or my life.
Moving unevenly, recording unevenly, and letting that become the concept feels natural.
Super Dekoboko is not a philosophy.
It is a geological faultline built from accumulated years.
Looking back, nothing progressed according to plan.
But a twisted path has its own twisted strength.
My life became uneven.
So did the work.
They were never separate—just points on the same line.
Unevenness is not a flaw.
It is simply the only shape I could move in.