In Mariak Sakurai's paintings, figures of indeterminate species and gender gather in compositions reminiscent of family portraits.

Built up through countless ballpoint pen lines, the paintings evoke a sense of nostalgia that feels both familiar and difficult to place. 

We spoke with Sakurai about childhood memories, artistic influences, and the ideas that continue to shape the artist's practice.

A Sense of Color Born from Colored Pencils

— To begin, could you tell us about when you first started drawing?

I grew up in Fukui Prefecture with my mother and my two triplet siblings. We were very close growing up, and we still keep in touch today.

I loved drawing and was constantly sketching on scraps of paper.

In elementary school, I would get colored pencils from the school's lost-and-found box. The colors that were never claimed—the ones people seemed to care less about—were often muted shades like beige and gray. Every now and then, friends would give me brighter colors like orange or pink, and I would gradually add them to my drawings.

Looking back, I think my sense of balance between muted and vivid colors was formed during those years.

— I heard that you also practiced calligraphy.

There was a calligraphy teacher who lived across from my house, and I studied with her from first grade until I entered high school. She would always talk about the control of the brush, including stops, flicks, and sweeping movements, as well as the role of negative space. She taught me that it was the presence of that empty space that made people stop and look.

Even now, when I intentionally leave areas of my paintings unfinished, I think back to those words.

Something You Can Create with Nothing

— You went on to study at Tama Art University. Could you tell us about your student years?

While I was in my second through fourth years of university, I was actually a rapper. I had loved hip-hop since high school, and after entering university, I started rapping because I wanted to pursue something I could create with nothing but myself. I performed live and wrote lyrics.

Around that time, whenever I put up flyers or posters for my shows, they would often disappear. That experience made me start wondering if I might have a talent for drawing after all. (laughs)

A Second Home for the “Outsiders”

— Your works feature unique beings whose gender and species remain undefined. Where does this idea come from?

The concept behind my work is that “outsiders” create a second place of belonging, which eventually becomes a place where others gather. I deliberately depict things that were overlooked: colors that were never cherished by anyone, things that were never given the chance to become the main character, and things that have fallen outside established categories.

I believe they can ultimately become sources of strength, or grow into a kind of generosity large enough to embrace others.

The concept behind my work is that “outsiders” create a second place of belonging, which eventually becomes a place where others gather. I deliberately depict things that were overlooked: colors that were never cherished by anyone, things that were never given the chance to become the main character, and things that have fallen outside established categories.

I believe they can ultimately become sources of strength, or grow into a kind of generosity large enough to embrace others.

“Family” as a Universal Theme

— Could you tell us why you continue to return to the theme of family?

The starting point was an illustration of a typical family scene in an elementary school home economics textbook. It looked completely different from my own family experience. I kept wondering whether there could be a broader, more inclusive image of family.

That is why I now depict beings whose species, gender, and blood relationships are intentionally left undefined. I value a certain sense of ambiguity. Because unless we create something beyond our expectations, our preconceived ideas will never be challenged.

This ambiguity also serves as intentional negative space, allowing viewers to see someone they know within the figures.

— Are there any comments you often hear from viewers?

People often tell me, “It feels nostalgic, even though I've never seen it before.”

I’m not referencing any specific characters or animated works; instead, I think it is because I gradually weave sensory memories—such as smells, textures, and the softness of the air—into my paintings.

The Hug Series and the Continuation of Everyday Life

— Could you tell us more about your Hug series?

This series depicts embraces as a form of nonverbal communication that transcends differences in gender, species, and even the boundaries of language. These works were created for an exhibition themed around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and I created them with diverse forms of family in mind, including beings with different skin tones and relationships formed through adoption.

I want to avoid presenting a single, definitive image of what a family should be. Although there are no words within the works, I created these images with the hope that, after seeing them, viewers might feel like saying “thank you” to someone, or share their love with someone.

— Is the format of painting itself important to you?

It is extremely important. By cropping scenes into compositions reminiscent of family photographs, viewers can more easily imagine what exists beyond the edges of the picture. I think there is still much more to explore in the possibilities of this kind of cropping. The circular canvases I used in the Hug series also came from the image of a round table, where family members gather and come together.

— What do you hope to convey through your work?

I hope my work can exist as an extension of everyday life—something familiar to everyone. If it can expand a viewer’s imagination, even just a little, that would make me happy.

Through my work, I want to give back a sense of warmth and love, the joy of imagining, and opportunities to pause and reflect.