Recently, I have found myself increasingly troubled by certain tendencies surrounding creative practice and contemporary art.
This is not simply a matter of low artistic quality. Technical immaturity, or the absence of formal art education, is not in itself the problem. Strong work can emerge from self-taught practice and from states of incompletion. In fact, precisely because something exists outside established systems, it may give rise to forms of expression that would not emerge from conventional art education.
The problem begins when the idea of “myself as an artist,” or language that merely sounds like contemporary art, appears before the work itself.
When a work is shown to others, I think there should be at least a small amount of fear. Is this truly a work? Are these words too large for what is actually there? Is this merely an imitation of someone else? What do I not yet know? Can this work withstand being placed before the eyes of others?
This is not a matter of humility or etiquette. It is a natural process of verification that arises when one treats a work as a work. Even if something has been made by one’s own hands, the work does not simply affirm the author’s self-image. No matter how grand the title, concept, or biography may be, if the work itself cannot support them, the emptiness becomes all the more visible.
Yet in recent years, I have encountered more and more cases in which names, worldviews, representative works, grave themes, claims of uniqueness, and expectations of overseas recognition are presented before the work has fully come into being. In such cases, the work appears not as an end in itself, but as a means of proving that one is an artist.
Contemporary art has, by its nature, greatly expanded the range of what expression can be. A skillful painting or a beautiful object is not the only possible form of a work. Everyday objects, actions, language, documentation, personal experience, and relationships with society can all become art. This expansion was profoundly important.
It was also, I think, a movement that opened expression—once confined within limited techniques and institutions—toward a wider range of human experience. The essence of the world, beauty, feelings and thoughts that cannot easily be reduced to social utility, questions about the present and future of humanity and the world: contemporary art held the possibility of preserving such things in forms that did not fit within existing conventions.
For that reason, the widening of the entrance to contemporary art should, in itself, have been something to welcome. Art that once belonged to privileged spaces could pass into the hands of more people. That was a liberation from closed authority, and an important shift that prevented making and thinking from belonging only to specialists.
And yet, at times, I feel a sadness about the way this opening has unfolded.
It seems as though the questions that generate a work, the fear of standing before the work, and the respect for the contexts built by previous artists have fallen away, leaving only the outer shell of contemporary art in circulation. White walls, abstraction, collage, concepts, worldviews, overseas recognition, statements—these forms and words are being handed over before the work itself.
This is not disappointment that art has reached the general public. Rather, it is precisely the opposite. Because I believe art had the power to reach people more deeply and more widely, I cannot help feeling a kind of helplessness when only its shell begins to circulate.
Behind this, I suspect, are the influences of social media, AI, open-call businesses, and a culture that affirms self-expression. Today, one can create a profile before organizing the work. One can produce something that resembles an artist statement before considering the relationship between the work and its language. Even without exhibition or critical experience, one can imagine oneself being recognized overseas.
Of course, the opening of entrances into expression is not a bad thing. Anyone should be able to make work. It is fine to begin later in life. Creative practice as a hobby also has value.
However, if a work is to be placed before others as a work, there is a minimum responsibility involved. Does the work truly connect with its concept? Is this a work, or is it still a study? Do the words explain the work, or are they being used to make the work appear larger than it is? There is danger in moving toward contemporary art or overseas recognition while avoiding these questions.
A long time ago, someone told me: “Art is not a means. Art is an end. It must be.”
Art may, as a result, become work, income, a place to belong, or a turning point in life. But when a work is treated from the beginning as a means to obtain those things, one’s gaze toward the work itself becomes weaker. When a work is used in order to operate overseas, to call oneself an artist, or to prove oneself special, the work becomes a tool that supports the author’s dream.
What is needed, I think, is not to close the gates. It is not to exclude self-taught artists or beginners. Rather, it is to return to the work.
Fear before the work is not an obstacle to creation. On the contrary, I think it is an important sensibility that brings a work closer to becoming a work.
What exhausts me is not encountering immature work. It is encountering a state in which the self-image of the artist and the language around the work have already been established, while the work itself is approached with no fear.
The words are louder than the work.
In that condition, I sense one of the dangers of our time.
Recorded on May 13, 2026