Asami Nakamura

In this interview, Vancouver-based artist Asami Nakamura discusses how her Japanese roots and background in architecture shape her abstract practice. Explore her journey of navigating identity, embracing high sensitivity, and collaborating with the unpredictable nature of water and pigment.

Growing up in the Japanese countryside, what are your earliest memories of creating something using elements from nature?

Growing up in the Japanese countryside, some of my earliest memories of creating are deeply connected to nature. I would collect fallen leaves and nuts, gluing them onto paper to make faces, or draw little expressions on acorns and attach toothpicks for arms and legs, turning them into small figures. I also loved gathering flower petals and pressing them onto white paper, letting their natural colors leave random, organic marks. Creating in this way felt playful and instinctive, and it was my first experience of expressing myself through the materials nature offered.

Why did you choose abstraction over figurative art to represent the natural world?

I don’t think there was a single, clear moment when I consciously chose abstraction over figurative art. Rather, it felt like something I was naturally drawn to. I have always found it difficult to verbalize my thoughts, and I tend to see beauty in ambiguity and things that cannot be clearly defined. I believe this sensitivity gradually led me toward abstract expression.

As a child, I practiced watercolor painting and drawing, often depicting people, animals, and objects in a more figurative way. At the same time, I loved imagining and daydreaming. Over time, my interest shifted toward forms and feelings that are harder to describe or capture precisely. I began to feel a strong sense of curiosity and aesthetic connection to the vague, the subtle, and the undefined, which abstraction allows me to express freely.

One of the aspects I love most about abstraction is the way color mixes with water and creates naturally beautiful forms beyond human control. Although I primarily work with acrylic paint, I use a large amount of water to create bleeding and blending effects. While I carefully adjust the amount of water, the way colors interact and transform on the canvas can never be fully controlled.

This unpredictability is what fascinates me. When unexpected color combinations emerge and something beautiful appears almost on its own, I feel a deep sense of joy. In those moments, painting feels less like controlling the outcome and more like collaborating with nature itself.

Is your studio a sanctuary of calm or a laboratory of chaos? What does your ritual look like before applying the first touch of color?

I would say my studio is both a sanctuary of calm and a laboratory of chaos. In Japanese, there is a phrase “umi no kurushimi,” which refers to the pain of giving birth, and I feel this deeply at the beginning of my process. When nothing is yet defined and my vision is still forming, the process can be emotionally intense. If I struggle to express the world I imagine, even while it is still taking shape, I can overthink to the point of losing sleep, and sometimes it even affects my physical well-being.

Once all the ideas finally come together, however, the process shifts completely. From that moment on, working on the canvas becomes very fast and fluid. When I am painting or embroidering, the act feels almost like meditation—I enter a state of deep focus and create without conscious thought. I often become so immersed that I lose track of time and even forget to eat or take breaks.

My ritual before applying the first touch of color begins with building a color palette. Like many painters, I test colors directly on the edges of the canvas, observing how they bleed, blend, and interact with one another. Only after carefully exploring these relationships do I begin painting on the main surface.

You are now based in Vancouver. How has this geographical shift from Japan influenced your artistic perspective?

Living in Vancouver has deeply influenced the way I see both myself and my work. This experience has made me reflect a lot on identity. I have often heard people with mixed backgrounds talk about feeling unsure of where they belong, and while I am Japanese, I strongly relate to that feeling. I have been living in Canada for over thirteen years now, and when I return to Japan, I sometimes feel that I no longer fully belong there. At the same time, having not grown up in Canada from early childhood, there are moments when I feel slightly out of place here as well—unable to fully share in childhood memories or cultural references.

At one point, I realized that this sense of being “in between” is also reflected in my paintings. When people outside of Japan see my work, they often tell me that it feels very Japanese, almost like traditional Japanese painting. On the other hand, when Japanese viewers see my work, they sometimes say it feels international, or not quite like a Japanese artist’s work. I find this contrast incredibly interesting.

Personally, I have never been very comfortable belonging to a group, even from a young age. Being told that I am different has always felt more positive than negative to me. That is why I receive these impressions of my work with gratitude. Knowing that my paintings feel abstract yet distinct, shaped by multiple cultural perspectives, makes me happy and affirms the individuality I value in my practice.

You talk about turning your "High Sensitivity" (HSP) into a creative strength. How does painting help you filter the overwhelming stimuli of the modern world?

As a highly sensitive person, I am more affected by sounds, smells, and visual stimuli than most people. Volumes that seem normal to others can feel overwhelming to me, making it hard to focus or even follow conversations. Strong or unexpected smells can quickly make me feel unwell, so I try to limit exposure to artificial scents and carefully select my surroundings. Even small things, like the lingering smell of dish detergent mixing with food, can distract me and change my experience of a meal.

While being highly sensitive can be challenging, it also allows me to deeply feel the beauty of nature and immerse myself in imagination. I believe this ability to deeply connect with my emotions and ideas enriches my artwork. One of my goals for 2026 is to dedicate more time to painting and art research, intentionally stepping back from the constant stimuli of phones and social media.

Although social media and other modern stimuli can be stressful, I also find inspiration from other artists—through photography, fiber art, ceramics, and more. These positive influences help me experiment with new techniques and color choices in my own work. Because I am sensitive to overstimulation, I try to balance the excitement of external input with calm, focused studio practice. By allowing myself to absorb the right kind of inspiration and then return to a relaxed, meditative state while creating, I can maintain both my creative energy and my well-being.

Name one artist who inspires you, and tell us why.

One artist who has inspired me is Tsuguharu Léonard Foujita. I first saw his work at an exhibition in my hometown of Hiroshima when I was seventeen, and I was immediately captivated by his uniquely beautiful use of color and his distinctive artistic world. Looking back now, I realize that our circumstances may have some similarities—he also lived abroad in France while carrying his Japanese roots, creating work that didn’t fully belong to any one place. I was also struck by his personal photos; even in a time when it must have been difficult to stand out in Japan, he expressed his individuality through his style and presence. I still remember feeling that his confidence and unique sense of self were incredibly inspiring and cool.

 What do you hope to explore or transform in your future work?

I have many ideas for the future, so this is more of a long-term plan. I hope to continue exploring new styles in painting and enjoy combining different materials in my artworks, so I would like to experiment with new materials and techniques. I also have experience with dyeing from my university days, and I would like to incorporate that again in combination with my current work. Additionally, I am interested in installation art and hope to take on projects in that area someday.

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To learn and see more of Asami Nakamura's work: website + Instagram.