A Housekeeper Discovered His Story on Children’s Bookshelves

What led you to begin your creative practice?

I lived in Tokyo for about seven years, from 2018 until around the end of 2024. During that time, I worked in several different roles, including modelling, and spent roughly the last three and a half years working as a housekeeper.

While cooking and cleaning in different homes, I would sometimes organise the children’s bookshelves. I kept coming across picture books such as The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Guri and Gura.

I was amazed that books created before I was born were still here, continuing to delight children today. I had loved drawing since childhood and had always hoped to make a picture book someday.

The idea that my work might remain after I am gone and bring joy to children who have not yet been born felt deeply exciting to me. It would make me happy, and hopefully make others happy too. That feeling is what led me to begin creating.

It sounds like you had ideas from an early age. Were you already creating original characters back then?

Yes. I loved Barbapapa and Bam and Kero, and I would imagine things like, “I want to live in a house like this,” or “I wish everyday life could feel like this.” I was also drawn to slightly frightening things, such as yokai.

Even with existing characters, I would add my own ideas, thinking, “They would look cooler with wings,” or “This would make them cuter.”

I also enjoyed tracing characters from Pokémon and Digimon, but to me, that felt more like copying than drawing. I truly felt that I was drawing when I could transfer the world in my head onto paper and create something that had never existed before.

What led you to begin pursuing your work more seriously?

It started when I visited a solo exhibition held by a fellow model at a gallery in Harajuku. When I said, “I’d like to try this too,” they encouraged me by saying, “It’s actually easier to organise than you might think.”

I decided to hold my own exhibition the following year, announced the plan to people around me, and created a social media account to share my work.

At that point, I had not yet decided on a character or theme. But once I began drawing, the Kinosei emerged naturally.

That shows a real willingness to act. What inspired the idea for the Kinosei?

Both sets of my grandparents were into bonsai and gardening. I grew up playing among greenery, flowers, and trees, so plants were always a natural part of everyday life.

Another influence was the first time I saw a ginkgo tree after moving from Okinawa to Tokyo. There are no ginkgo trees in Okinawa, so I remember thinking, “I had no idea a tree could be this beautiful.” The photo I took that day is still the lock screen on my iPhone.

When I began creating, I wanted the work to come from my own life and emotions, rather than from ideas borrowed from somewhere else. That brought the ginkgo tree back to mind, and I drew the first character.

When it was finished, I thought, “This might be it.” Part of me felt that I had created the character, but another part felt as though the character had chosen me. After that, more characters began to appear, one after another.

How do you create your work?

I mainly use an iPad and Procreate. At the time, I lived in a small studio apartment, so creating and storing dozens of physical canvases was not realistic. An iPad takes up little space, makes it easy to share work on social media, and simplifies the process of sending files to printers.

At the same time, I try to avoid the cold, mechanical quality that digital work can sometimes have. I use brushes that resemble pencil, crayon, and watercolour, and print my work using giclée, a high resolution printing method on fine art paper. I want the finished work to look as though it was drawn by hand and to retain that sense of warmth.

Whenever I encounter a feature I do not understand, I research it on my own, experiment, make adjustments, and continue until I find an expression that feels right. People often describe my colours and combinations as gentle, calming, or grounding. Perhaps that is where my own style comes through most clearly.

What has felt like the biggest challenge in your work so far?

Deciding to hold a solo exhibition was a major challenge. I had never formally studied art and did not know how to organise an exhibition, but I chose to begin by simply giving it a try.

More recently, I created my first picture book. I had been developing the idea for some time and continued refining it through several exhibitions before beginning the full production process around early summer 2025. From writing and illustrating the book to placing the order and receiving the finished copies, the process took about 100 days.

Looking back, I barely took any time off that summer because I was so focused on making it. I was able to present the book at an exhibition, hold reading sessions, and sell copies. It was a demanding project that required a great deal of discipline.

What changed after holding your first solo exhibition?

Around 250 people came to the three-day exhibition I held in Harajuku. People who would not normally be in the same place gathered there, looked at my work, and enjoyed it.

Seeing that made me feel that, after 25 years, I had finally found myself.

Until then, I had worked in different roles, including modelling and housekeeping. I enjoyed them and always gave them my best, but part of me felt they were temporary. With creative work, though, there are still so many things I want to make and draw. For the first time, I felt that this was something I could continue for decades.

What did it feel like to have “finally found yourself”?

Drawing began by fulfilling something within me. As I gradually learned to give form to what I wanted to express, I started to feel a greater sense of fulfilment in everyday life.

When I shared my work from that place, the people who saw it also enjoyed it and felt fulfilled. First, I fulfill myself. Then, what overflows from that reaches and fulfils someone else. That cycle felt very natural and healthy to me.

Before that, I often felt that what I did began with other people rather than with myself, or that I was pushing myself to keep going. With creative work, I can begin with my own joy and then bring joy to others. It was the first time I had experienced that, and it made me think, “This might be it.”

I see. How did you begin working as a housekeeper, the job that eventually led you toward becoming an artist?

Around 2021, a state of emergency was declared just after I moved from Kanagawa to Itabashi. At the time, I belonged to a studio while pursuing acting, but all of the work stopped, and I could not find a part time job. I ended up without work for about two months.

While wondering what to do, I remembered that my brother had once said, “You are good at cleaning and cooking, so why not try housekeeping?” I was still a student then, and the idea of entering strangers’ homes felt intimidating. But I thought that as more people began working from home, more of them might want help with housework. So I decided to give it a try.

I also thought it would make for an interesting life if I could one day tell my grandchildren, “I worked as a housekeeper in my twenties.” I was drawn not only to the potential demand, but also to the story it might become.

Do you think the families and children you encountered through that work influenced what you create today?

I think they did. I saw many different kinds of families, approaches to raising children, and relationships between couples. It sometimes felt a little like travelling, and I learned a great deal from those experiences.

Watching how children behaved and interacted with their parents sometimes gave me ideas for my work. The printing company I used for my picture book was also introduced to me by a web designer who had been one of my clients.

Looking back, the three and a half years I spent working as a housekeeper were a meaningful part of my life.

What do the Kinosei mean to you?

In some ways, they feel like my children. But in other ways, they are more like other people or friends, beings I may never fully understand. As I draw them, they often make me notice things or teach me something.

Part of me feels that I created them, while another part of me feels that they chose me.

When the picture book was finished and I held it for the first time, I sat alone turning the pages and cried. I remember thinking, “Thank you for staying with me this far,” and, “You’ve grown so much.” That may have been the first time I felt something like parental affection.

I had spent every day with them while making the book. There were joyful moments, but also times when I struggled, thinking, “Something is not right,” or, “I cannot make this work.” It was not only happiness or only difficulty. We grew together through both. I have never raised a child, so I cannot truly know, but I wondered whether it might feel a little like that.

What title feels most fitting for the work you do now?

I have thought about that myself, but it is difficult. I want to make picture books, but I do not want to be only a picture book author. I also enjoy events, and recently I started making Chota, one of the Kinosei inspired by the ginkgo tree, out of clay.

In the broadest sense, perhaps “artist” feels closest. I do not want to limit myself to one form. I want to create many different things. I also enjoy planning events and seeing how people respond in person.

What does working as an artist mean to you?

I think the moments when I feel most like myself are when I am creating something, sharing it, and talking about it.

By putting my thoughts into words, as I am doing now, I can explore who I am again and face myself more honestly. For me, creating is not only a way to express myself, but it may also be how I come to understand myself and remain true to who I am.

Why did you leave Tokyo and choose Okinawa as your base?

I wanted to devote the rest of my twenties to drawing and making things. I love Tokyo, but living there meant balancing housekeeping work, everyday chores, and creative work, so the time I could spend creating was limited.

When I asked myself what I needed most at that point, the answer was time to draw. Moving back to my family home in Okinawa meant I could create more. I also have a goal of getting my picture books into bookstores across Japan by the time I turn 30. To make that happen, I want to prioritise drawing and making as much as possible, so I chose Okinawa as the place where I could devote the most time to my work.

Tokyo feels like a second home to me. I lived there from the age of 18 to 25, and it was the place I needed in order to become who I am now.

Whenever I hold an exhibition in Tokyo, I often find clues that lead to what comes next. People gather there from many different places, including people I would not meet in Okinawa, and they often bring new possibilities with them.

If there are many doors between where I am now and the place I hope to reach, Tokyo is where I receive the keys to open them, one by one.

Looking back, when do you feel that you have grown?

It is quite difficult to recognise my own growth. I have an idea in mind of how far I want to go, but I often feel that I am still a long way from it.

Still, the characters evolve a little each time I draw them. When I think, “They are getting closer to the form I imagined,” or, “They are growing,” I feel that perhaps I am growing too, through the time I spend with them. In that sense, they allow me to see my own growth indirectly.

Part of the ideal is already visible to me. But another part may take a form I have not yet imagined, or lead somewhere through a natural process. I want to keep moving toward what I can see while leaving room for what still has no answer. I hope to enjoy both the act of drawing and the uncertainty of where it may lead.

I would love to keep creating for the rest of my life. If I think of having another 60 or 70 years to make things, there is still so much room to grow. I want to see how far I can go. Perhaps I am the person most excited to discover who I will become.

When do you feel happiest while creating?

I am happy while I am drawing, and even more so when I create something better than I had imagined. I sometimes surprise myself and think, “I did not expect this to emerge.”

I also feel happy when I see people enjoying my work. Whether it is a close friend or someone I have just met, seeing them connect with the characters gives me a kind of parental feeling. I think, “They are doing well.”

I also enjoy spending time with people who share similar ambitions, talking about where we are now and what we hope to do in the future. Moments when we say, “Maybe one day we can create something together,” feel especially bright and joyful.

On the other hand, what do you find difficult about continuing this work?

What I imagine in my head does not always take shape exactly as I hoped. Sometimes I spend hours drawing something, only to decide that it is not right and discard it.

People come to my exhibitions not only for the first time, but also after attending the previous one or even the one before that. I want them to enjoy the work even more and feel that something has changed again. Because of that, I set the bar higher for myself each time.

It is not enough for me to enjoy the work alone. I want the people who see it to enjoy it and feel moved as well. There is a part of me that cannot create purely for my own satisfaction.

How do you overcome those difficulties?

I look back on the previous exhibition and write down what worked well and what I want to improve. Then I consider what I could add next time to exceed the expectations of the people who come.

There are people who return to every exhibition and take the time to look carefully at the entire body of work. I believe that if I can create something that moves those people, it will reach others as well. I picture specific individuals as I create and use them as a guide for surpassing what I did before.

What would you like to achieve in the future?

First, I want to create an illustrated guide to the Kinosei. There are already more than 20 characters I have introduced, as well as others I have not yet shared. I want to give each of them their own story and develop the world into a series.

Someday, I would love to travel abroad, enter a bookstore in another country, and find one of my books translated into the local language.

I want to create work that lasts across generations and helps children feel that the world is an exciting place, and that there is hope in the life ahead of them.

What would you say to your past self, or to the person you were when you first began this work?

I would say, “Let yourself struggle, and fully experience each moment.”

The more deeply you allow yourself to feel both joy and pain, the more those experiences can later become emotional nourishment and creative material. By truly knowing uncertainty and hardship, you may be able to create work with greater depth, work that reaches someone on a personal level.

So I would tell myself not to look away, but to face whatever I was feeling at the time. And I would also say, “It will all lead to a happy ending, so you will be okay.”

Since beginning this work, more friends my age have come to me for advice. They tell me, “There is something I really want to do, but I cannot find the courage,” or ask, “How did you make the decision?” Some want to leave their jobs once their own work becomes sustainable, but feel uncertain about taking that step.

Because I went through similar periods of doubt and difficulty, I can honestly say, “I understand how that feels.” Those experiences now allow me to support and encourage people who are still searching for the courage to begin. Looking back, I think the time I spent struggling had meaning too.

Thank you. This is our final question. What do you think you would be doing if you were not pursuing your current work?

I recently found an answer that feels right. I have loved doughnuts since I was a child, so I might still be living in Tokyo, working at a doughnut shop and learning to become a doughnut maker.

I think I could devote just as much passion to making doughnuts as I do to my work now. People also bring me lots of doughnuts as gifts at my exhibitions, so every exhibition turns into doughnut heaven. (Laughs)