Takuma Uematsu was born in 1977 in Kanazawa, Ishikawa, Japan. After graduating from Kansai University in 2000 and working in publishing, he began presenting sculptures, paintings, and installations in museums and galleries in Japan and abroad from 2001 onward. With a background interest in natural sciences and philosophy, his practice explores boundaries and relationships, as well as the function of place in life and society.

Could you tell us about your background and how you started your journey as an artist?
I grew up in Minoh City, Osaka, a place rich in nature, in a family where both of my parents were artists. From a very young age, I was constantly surrounded by art—it was simply a natural part of my environment.

After graduating from university, I began working at a publishing company where I was involved in editing magazines. I was in charge of artist interviews, and through listening to the words of numerous artists, I became increasingly drawn to the idea of “living as an artist.” Gradually, and quite naturally, I found myself starting to create art myself. After leaving the publishing company, I started creating artworks while working as a freelance writer and part-time assistant at a modeling production studio.

In 2001, the year I officially began my artistic practice, I participated as a performer in Fluxus Trial, a performance by Mieko Shiomi—one of the original Fluxus members—held as part of a special program for the Fluxus in Germany 1962–1994 exhibition at The National Museum of Art, Osaka. That same year, I also saw Plateau of Humankind, curated by Harald Szeemann, which left a powerful impression on me. It was an exhibition that re-examined the fundamentals of humanity during a time when the internet was beginning to shift values in dramatic ways. As a young and impressionable artist, that experience deeply influenced my creative direction.
Since then, I’ve had multiple opportunities to take part in Fluxus performances curated by Mieko Shiomi.

How do you maintain inspiration and motivation when creating new works?
I try to view things without prejudice or fixed assumptions. Detaching objects and ideas from their existing meanings or contexts, and looking at them anew—that’s the starting point of my creative process.

Art has the power to transcend time and touch people’s hearts, changing the way we see the world. By encountering how past artists viewed the world, one can gain insights even more profound than personal experience. Such encounters and moments of realization are what drive my motivation to create. I believe that living as an artist means to actively seek out those transformative experiences.

How has your artistic style evolved over time?
In the early stages, my work was rooted in an interest in natural science and philosophy. I focused on themes like invisible relationships and connections in the increasingly digital society. For example, my transmigration series was inspired by the Buddhist concept of reincarnation, while noosphere explored collective consciousness in the information age through the use of minerals. In world tree, I re-examined the structure of the world through the symbolic lens of the tree of life. Using forms from nature—such as animals, plants, or minerals—to capture the present moment is, in a sense, akin to how ancient people found meaning in nature and translated it into forms.

Later on, I began creating works like the palette series, which actively generate relationships. These works incorporate chance and interaction with viewers. Through these experiences, I started to shift my interest from borders and relationships to human warmth, energy, and the power of coincidence. My video piece observatory, which documents energy exchanges between astronomers and living organisms at an observatory, is one such example that focuses on the energy shared between people and nature.

How do you balance visual beauty and conceptual depth in your works?
My mentor, the artist Yoichi Hirata, once told me, “Don’t create forms based on secondhand ideas. Instead, feel nature directly and output from there.” That guidance remains with me to this day. I don’t always know exactly where my ideas come from, but I value those moments in everyday life when my emotions are stirred—moments when intuition leads the way.

Your works often contain a sense of playfulness or humor. Is this something you consciously include?
Yes, humor and playfulness have become especially important elements in my more recent works, which involve relationships with viewers. That’s because humor functions as a smooth entry point into the work. For example, everyone is familiar with popcorn. When viewers enjoy popcorn while engaging with themes like sculpture or philosophical inquiry, something seemingly simple can begin to take on layered meanings. In this way, humor lowers the viewer’s defenses and tension, allowing the work to reach them from unexpected angles. This sensibility may also come from my involvement with Fluxus, whose works and performances often used seemingly silly or absurd gestures to deliver sharply insightful critiques of society and humanity.

Could you tell us about a challenge you’ve faced and how you overcame it?
In fact, I’m currently in the middle of a significant challenge. I’ve had the idea for an installation that parallels the constant reversal of values in today’s world with the popping of popcorn. But due to technical issues, cost, and limitations in available exhibition space, it has remained unrealized for quite some time. Still, I know how to get through challenges like this. As many people say: never give up until it’s realized. I’m always open to collaboration and support.

Through your work, what kind of experience or questions do you hope to evoke in your audience?
Lately, rather than wanting to “present questions,” I’ve been more interested in creating environments where questions naturally emerge.
When people think of sculpture, they often imagine a completed object. But I’m more drawn to the “events” and “relationships” that arise between people and the artwork. If someone finds personal meaning in a piece, or a conversation begins with another viewer, then I believe the work has fulfilled its role as art. If that encounter shifts one’s perception of the world, then even without gaining anything material, it may feel as though you’ve received the richness of two Earths.

Can you share any new directions you’re exploring or challenges you’d like to take on in the future?
This year, I created a work called The Sculptor’s Snack. Through popcorn, this piece explores the fundamental themes within sculpture—gravity, surface, volume, boundaries, transformation through heat, and the concept of the readymade.

Building on this, I created a sculptural version of Japan’s uniquely styled bar known as a “snack.” It’s a space where people can enjoy popcorn while discussing sculpture, with the hope that unexpected energy, relationships, and ideas emerge.

Next, I’d like to turn this space into a mobile kitchen truck, where I wait for new ideas—no matter where they come from—while sharing popcorn with others.

Text & photo courtesy of Takuma Uematsu

Website: https://takumauematsu.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/takumauematsu_studio/