I layer colour onto the paper in pastel. That colour is the colour of the hydrangeas I saw last year… I had meant to draw a beautiful pastel mandala. And yet something was not right.

The paper giving out the colour is the ground for the mandala… no — I want this pastel work to take the lead as well. I face that pastel paper and draw a mandala, a mandala that will not be outdone by its ground. Between the two, my heart swayed…

“What do I want to show here?” “Am I aiming for a beautiful mandala?” “Or for the trembling of my heart right now?”

The mandalas I have drawn until now are no longer inside me. I begin again from zero. So it can become anything at all. That once I drew this way and it looked beautiful, looked pretty — none of that matters. I renew myself, always. And what was born is this mandala…