Dear reading friends, buenos dias buenas noches bueníssimas tardes!
The story I share today is an invitation I’ve been weaving over the past few weeks.
A few months ago, I had the pleasure of discovering the work of artist Ameka Nakamura during her solo exhibition in Ebisu, Tokyo. Through letters, I was able to learn about her references and imagination, and in the process of absorbing her work, I drew parallels and interpretations that naturally stem from my own perspective.


My home is relatively far from Ebisu, a little over an hour by train. And honestly, I went there solely to visit the exhibition. I remember seeing this image in the promotional material:

And have my heart stolen!
But before delving into the artworks, here’s a general overview.

Flower-child: past, childhood, nostalgia.
From the landscapes that surround us and shape our gaze; what remains, what we choose, and what moves us. Perhaps it’s an eternal question and a metamorphosis in the journey to understand ourselves in order to express ourselves. As Ameka Nakamura brushes over her influences, she stirs up her memories.
Her home was, in itself, a sensory microcosm: her father, owner of an antique thrift shop, and her mother, a seamstress, created an environment saturated with colors, textures, the scent of old fabrics, and objects holding hidden stories.
Amid piles of historic hues and sometimes foreign shapes, among the palettes and tools of a tailor’s studio, lies the promise of a silent dialogue between past and present—already taking root in the fertile soil of imagination.
In her words:
1960~70年代の音楽、カルチャーを愛す現代のflowerchild.
"A flower child born in modern times who is passionate about the music and culture of the 60s and 70s." - Ameka Nakamura, 2024. (My humble translation)

Tokaido Shinkansen!
I can only lose myself in thoughts about how exactly this passion and immersion colored the artist’s life, ideas, and work. However, from a simple chronological perspective, aside from the stimuli at home, these were also years of great prosperity on Japanese soil—not only in economic growth but also a cultural effervescence, marked perhaps by a certain rebellion among traditions, glimpses of the future, foreign influences, rapid modernization, and the postwar era.
I interpreted the spirit of the time through Nagisa Oshima’s cinema, the manifestos of the Gutai Art and Neo Dada Organizers groups, and the rise of new graphic design and experimental advertising, which introduced dramatic breaks with formalism and visual conventions in favor of avant-garde approaches. As an example, I look to the so-called Golden Age of Japanese Posters (60s/70s), with major contributions from artist Tadanori Yokoo, who mixed traditional Ukiyo-e, Shodō, and local myths with pop and psychedelic elements, as well as visual fragmentation.
The art and design of that era reflected an inventive atmosphere, a dialogue with global avant-garde movements, the counterculture, and the wave of student protests, all of which deeply influenced social life and pop culture. This context, combined with an unprecedented economic boom and the consolidation of modern infrastructure, continued to foster abundance, exchange, diversity, experimentation, and the sweet sense of a future full of opportunities, especially for the youth.

Ameka Nakamura was born in 1976 in the city of Tokyo.
Can we think back?
I’ve gathered a few images so we can take this journey together.



The Intention and the Colors

Let’s then dive a bit into her pieces.
When writing to me, Nakamura-san shared beautiful words. I asked how she views and identifies herself as an artist, and she spoke about color.
I’ve come to understand color in her practice almost as an autonomous entity that very much has its own volition. Nakamura then steps in as a maestro, conducting a visual harmony and polyphony. In her oil painting technique, she likes to describe making a “mille-feuille”—yes, like the pastry—by layering color upon color. In my view, she acknowledges the original individuality of each hue, the coherence of its blends, and the consonance of its nuances with the shapes and tones of the whole; a polyphony within an integrated system.
Eager to orchestrate them like a musical composition, these layers build texture—tactile palettes. This is perhaps my favorite quality in her work: color transformed into fabric. It’s evident in her delicate smudges and overlays. I love spotting subtle details of hidden colors within the gradations, getting a glimpse of the artist’s process in her paintings.
On the subject of sounds and colors, I’ve set aside two compositions that, to me, resonate with the artist’s in between nuances (I recommend listening while reading):
Nakamura also emphasizes the importance of intention, stating that her choice of colors is not left to chance and comes without ambiguity. According to her, a painting without intention does not penetrate the viewer’s sensitivity—it does not “pierce” them like an arrow imbued with meaning. For this reason, she also prefers matte finishes for her canvases, as they allow the color to be expressed in a rawer and more visible way—an aspect I wholeheartedly echo.
By layering colors, I create a depth that cannot be defined by a single color, much like the resonance of a polyphonic musical composition.
Ameka Nakamura, 2024. (My translation)

彼は誰時「かわたれどき」
In our conversation, the Japanese expression 「彼は誰時」(Kawataredoki) arose, which she explained essentially as a “who is he?” moment. It refers to a time of day when the light is so limited, and the forms so indistinguishable, that one can only know who crosses their path by asking. Dictionaries indicate that the term originally referred to dawn or twilight, but twilight eventually came to be differentiated by the similar term 「たそがれどき」(tasogaredoki).
The non-negotiable aspect is creating depth in the painting. I aim for a poetic quality, with hints of pain and sorrow as seasoning. Paintings reflect the artist’s humanity and cannot lie, which is a comfort to me. For an artist, creation is the best therapy, transcending reality and warping into a timeless dimension. I call this the “zone,” and an artist is someone who can move freely between two realms. For me, being a painter is not just a profession, but a way of life.
Ameka Nakamura, 2024. (Japanese to English via Translation Software + a humble review by the author)
After our correspondence, I found myself often thinking of Nakamura-san on my way home at twilight, especially in midwinter when the sun, sadly, sets so early. Even in Tokyo, away from the main streets, there’s little lighting. Faces become silhouettes. If there’s no fear, there’s a curious interlude of shadows, petroleum blue in the sky—a harbinger of night, the day’s demise. I recall my father often talking to me about that color—what he calls the most beautiful blue of the day.
I love knowing about Ameka’s fondness for the evening mystery—eyes attuned to phenomena, perhaps to the magic of transitions, the spirits in all things.
I read this beautiful passage about the color blue recently:
“Just as we pursue with pleasure a pleasant object that escapes us, we delight in seeing the color blue—not because it presses upon us, but because it draws us in its wake.” Blue attracts us because we usually associate it with an inaccessible depth into which we wish we could dive: “the zenith and the distant spaces / slip away, blue, into infinity.”
Goethe, Theory of Colours, cited and commented on by Pierre Hadot, Don't Forget to Live.

The Birds
You may also have noticed a recurring silhouette on the canvases. I was seized by curiosity to understand what the bird—sometimes fluttering, sometimes silent—meant to Nakamura.
Observing her works, I imagined it might be an entity, a visiting spirit of her imagination, or a symbol of her own ghost.
She tells me she began painting birds about five years ago.
The bird on the canvas is me and you (the viewer).
Ameka Nakamura, 2024. (Author’s translation)
While walking in the mountains, she became inhabited by images and memories of the landscapes, and naturally, creatures and beings began to inhabit her images as well.
It is certain that the bird is looking somewhere far away, without looking at us. It is also certain that it is lonely and cannot be captured by anyone. What kind of existence do I want to portray? I want to portray an existence like that of an alpine plant that blooms proudly and with dignity without being known by anyone. I am entrusting this bird with an ideal soul. The bird I paint is not a bird tamed in a cage, but a nameless bird that does not exist in picture books. Therefore, I want people who see my paintings to enjoy the pleasure of imagining a story by adding names, adjectives, and poems of their choice. The bird that was born in my imagination is a bird that humans can never seize, a bird that cannot be touched, a bird that looks somewhere far away, that does not flock with anyone, but is waiting for someone…
Ameka Nakamura, 2024. (Author’s translation)
In Don’t Forget to Live, Pierre Hadot recalls Goethe’s character Wilhelm from Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, stating that for him, the bird is the symbol of the poet: “the poet, like the bird, can soar above the world” so as to gain a unique perspective on the whole. He then mentions “Elevation” from The Flowers of Evil by Baudelaire:
Above the lakes, above the vales,
The mountains and the woods, the clouds, the seas,
Beyond the sun, beyond the ether,
Beyond the confines of the starry spheres,
My soul, you move with ease,
And like a strong swimmer in rapture in the wave
You wing your way blithely through boundless space
With virile joy unspeakable.
Fly far, far away from this baneful miasma
And purify yourself in the celestial air,
Drink the ethereal fire of those limpid regions
As you would the purest of heavenly nectars.
Beyond the vast sorrows and all the vexations
That weigh upon our lives and obscure our vision,
Happy is he who can with his vigorous wing
Soar up towards those fields luminous and serene,
He whose thoughts, like skylarks,
Toward the morning sky take flight
— Who hovers over life and understands with ease
The language of flowers and silent things!
Baudelaire, "Elevation". In: The Flowers of Evil, translation of William Aggeler. (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
(Dedicated to my dear friend Lucas! Hello, friend!)
Inner Landscapes

We are a landscape of all we have seen.
Isamu Noguchi
What charms and draws me to Nakamura-san’s work, in essence, may be found in her connection to the natural environment and her sensitive, imaginative reinterpretation of these landscapes, which evolve in her own dreams and thoughts. When I gaze upon her nocturnal pieces, I feel an intense desire to wander through her drawings as if in a dream; and, in the introspection of these scenes, I bump into myself—my memories, emotions, the artist herself, passersby, and the inner transformations we all experience in our own complexity.

It comforts me, however, to feel that this reflective walk through her mountains, fields, gardens, and forests will not overflow or be excessive or destructive, but rather hushed. As though I could quietly observe myself, acknowledge different facets, address my desires and needs, without being devoured by my own shadow.
Ameka tells me about her care in creating atmosphere and lighting in her paintings, together with her wish to evoke a sense of repose that channels deeper, internal narratives. The bird is me and you (the observer). For me, the bird is omniscient, comprehending all the pain and beauty in the eyes; it cries, breathes, and meditates on the pain and beauty of the world.
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Thank you for reading and see you next time.
Ayana
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Nakamura-san, for bringing us closer to this sensitive, fantastic, and graceful possibility of perceiving nature as an element that shapes our own imagination. And of course, for contributing with so much kindness and care to the making of this article.
Footnotes
Interviewed artist: Ameka Nakamura
“Loves mountain trips, nature, camping, music, picture books, letters, and art.”
Born in Tokyo, 1976.
The exhibition at Nenohoshi Gallery featured a series of medium to small oil paintings and two three-dimensional collages with painting. The themes I observed included imaginary landscapes, birds, nests, flowers, the night, dreams, prints, music, the figure of a young woman, and the symbol of the Cross in various forms.
Career – Ameka Nakamura
Graduated in 1997 from Joshibi Junior College of Art and Design, Department of Fine Arts, Oil Painting Course.
Since her first solo exhibition in 1999, she has been consistently presenting her work.
16th solo exhibition, “Gentle Color Rain,” in May 2024, at Gallery Ko-no-Hoshi in Daikanyama.
2022 “BIRD’S SONG,” at Gallery Ko-no-Hoshi in Daikanyama.
2020 “Letters from the Mountains,” at Gallery Ko-no-Hoshi in Daikanyama
Many other solo and group exhibitions
Awards
2023: Selected for the 2nd FEI PRO ART AWARD
2021: Excellence Award in the Adult Picture Book Division of the 6th Picture Book Publishing Award
2016: Selected for the 11th Kumagai Morikazu Grand Prize Exhibition
2013: Selected for the 10th Kumagai Morikazu Grand Prize Exhibition
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