Kohei Art Telluric

Kohei Fukushima Since childhood, I have lived with the feeling that my consciousness is divided. Conflicting impulses, emotions, and ways of thinking coexist within me. For many years, I tried to unify these contradictions, believing that a coherent identity was necessary to live in society and create meaningful work. Yet the more I assumed unity, the further I felt from myself. Through painting, I came to realize that this conflict is not a flaw but a fundamental part of being human. Rather than resolving these contradictions, I allow them to coexist. This idea shapes my practice: I assign opposing roles to my hands—my left hand is guided by freedom, while my right hand seeks balance and structure. Their tension becomes visible on the canvas. My paintings are not illustrations of predetermined ideas but traces of an ongoing negotiation between opposing forces within myself. From this process emerged the central question of my practice: What is light? I am interested not only in physical light but also in an invisible inner light. It cannot be seen, yet it shapes how each of us experiences the world. We do not perceive reality as it is. We unconsciously separate figure from ground and construct meaning from what we see. The world is not inherently meaningful; it becomes an image through the inner light formed by memory, emotion, values, and lived experience. This light cannot be defined. It shifts throughout our lives. Today, I understand it as something close to our values—what we find beautiful, what moves us, and what we cannot ignore. Even when looking at the same landscape, each person experiences a different world because each carries a different inner light. Light does not exist only in extraordinary moments. It quietly resides in everyday experiences: the smell of morning coffee, clouds reflected on still water, or fleeting scenes that often go unnoticed. These ordinary moments reveal how we truly encounter the world. In a society increasingly driven