Fumika Tsuchitori was born in Hyogo in 1995 and currently lives and works in Kyoto. Graduated from the department of art and craft at Kyoto University of Art and Design (currently Kyoto University of the Arts) in 2020. Through her two series of works, “I and You,” which depicts two people, and “a scene,” where elements such as colors and shapes are extracted from landscapes, Tsuchitori has created paintings and drawings by thinking about the irreplaceability of specific objects, as well as the relationship between people and individuals.
Her recent exhibitions include Fumika Tsuchiotori, Hou Yijie “I Recognized Myself Through You” (2026, MANGROVEGALLERY, Shenzen, China), solo exhibition “Swaying Outlines” (2025, Gallery & Restaurant Butaiura, Tokyo), group exhibition “To Sway and Surround : Japanese Female Abstraction” (2025, Each Modern, Taipei, Taiwan), solo exhibition “Frames and Breath” (2024, MITSUKOSHI CONTEMPORARY GALLERY, Tokyo), solo exhibition “Drawings” (2024, WAITINGROOM, NADiff a/p/a/r/t, Gallery Room of BABY The Coffee Brew Club, Tokyo), group exhibition “Collectors III -Turning the World” (2024, Fukuoka Art Museum, Fukuoka), group exhibition “A Personal View of Japanese Contemporary Art: Takahashi Ryutaro Collection” (2024, Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo, Tokyo), solo exhibition “Sleeping with me holding in my arms, Silence” (2023, WAITINGROOM, Tokyo).

Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I was fascinated from an early age by anime and manga featuring young girls as the main characters, and I began drawing by following their example. At the art prep school I attended for my university entrance exams, I discovered the joy of observing objects placed before me and depicting not only them but the surrounding space as a whole. At university, through encounters with artist professors, senior students, friends, and exhibitions in various places, I learned the reality of continuing to live through making art, and I have been able to keep creating ever since.

Who or what are your biggest influences, both artistically and personally?
I have been most influenced by shōjo manga artists. I was deeply drawn to their exploration of personal narrative—questions such as where the self comes from, how it has come into being, and what kinds of surroundings have shaped it. I found myself captivated by both their methods and the depth of that inquiry.
I continue to reference the way their works pull the viewer into that depth: the richly decorative quality, the delicate yet dynamic linework, the rhythm between solid black areas and negative space, and the placement of color. As a child, I didn’t consciously notice it, but their works also contained references to painting, film, and music, which quietly created connections for me without my realizing it.
Additionally, after reading Aoko Matsuda’s essay “Kanojo-tachi ni Mamorarete Kita” (“Protected by Those Women”), I realized how much “side stories” —short bonus manga included at the end of the volume or between pages—have influenced the way I live. These stories depict aspects of the characters’ lives outside the main story: how the characters approach their work, what they do in their daily lives, and how they balance work and life. Through these additional stories, I believe I learned ways of living both as an artist and an independent adult woman.

Your practice often explores intimate relationships. Can you talk about what interests you in this theme and how it guides your creative process?
I think it is partly influenced by shōjo manga, but “intimate relationships” have been a recurring subject from classical painting through to the present. I feel that human desire—to seek someone else, or something beyond oneself—has not become obsolete.
At the same time, I experienced a significant shock when I realized that the message I had learned from fictional stories—that anyone can love anyone—has not been accepted in reality in the way those words suggest. There are people and things that are rendered invisible, and people who are simply “there” but never described beyond that fact. This continues to influence my themes and motifs to this day. I also think about intimacy as something that can sometimes form a closed relationship.
When I encounter an image of two people embracing, or an object that embodies that kind of relationship, I sometimes feel a quiet sense of relief. There is a feeling of creating something myself and caring for myself through it—of constructing a space that feels safe.
Looking back, shōjo manga and online interactions have long functioned as a kind of hiding place for me, like a cave that protected me. I hope to create spaces—both on and off the screen—where “I” and “you” can come into being as such: not reduced to invisibility, and open to the possibility that anyone can love anyone.

How do your personal experiences or surroundings influence your choice of subjects or approach to abstraction?
Recently, I have been re-affirming that personal experiences inevitably emerge in the way I draw things, even without intention. I find myself daydreaming: “Maybe this is my formative experience? Or perhaps this one?” I also find it interesting to imagine parallel versions of my life—how things might have turned out differently if even one small detail had been altered. I am gradually trying to examine whether these are merely fantasies, or whether they truly form the roots of who I am.
Both the place where I was born and raised, and the area around my current studio, share a richness of nature. What I particularly like is that a large river flows nearby. I often go to its wild riverside (until a few years ago, there were even stray dogs living there), and through regaining a sense of light reflected on the water, its openness, and its vast scale, I feel as though I am returning to a starting point.

What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?
There are many issues, forms of confusion, and internal divisions that I have not been able to resolve, but I always feel that there is something that resists articulation—something that cannot take shape in words. Creating—meaning not only painting itself, but also the small fragments of notes and traces surrounding the act of painting—feels like a way of standing in for things that cannot be expressed in language. I feel that these fragments, whether in the form of poetic gestures or as a way of preserving experience as it is, have helped me.
Since childhood, I have been exposed to the internet, and I became fascinated by its speed—the way new things continuously appear as you scroll. But the more absorbed I became in that speed, the more I became aware of the weight of my own body. When I began drawing and painting, I feel as though I rediscovered my body—or rather, learned how to use it again in a new way.

What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?
I’m planning to publish a book that brings together my works to date. I hope you’ll look forward to it!
Text and photo courtesy of Fumika Tsuchitori

Website: https://tsuchitori-fumika.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fmk____mm/



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