Why Art Matters

I Was the Only One Trying to Draw

Last month, I held my first children’s art workshop in Japan. It took place in a community centre built on the site of my former elementary school. The timing coincided with my visit home, and I was able to welcome 22 children and their parents for a two-hour session.

People often ask me, “What made you decide to teach art?”The answer lies in a moment of shock and revelation I experienced as a teenager.

When I was 17, I attended a summer school at an art university in London. It was described as an “illustration workshop,” so I packed my sketchbook, pens, and acrylic paints, ready to draw. But when I arrived, I was the only one with drawing tools.Everyone else was writing poetry, making music, or experimenting with sculpture. I was stunned. Until then, I’d believed “illustration” meant drawing on paper. But here, “expression” could start anywhere — with sounds, objects, movement — and the idea that there were no boundaries was completely new to me.

That shock made me realise how rigid my thinking had been.

But the very next day, I left my sketchbook behind. Instead, I created an installation using a garden hose, water, and fire. To my surprise, it was well received by both teachers and classmates.That was the moment I realised: art isn’t judged by how perfect it is — it’s about what you express. That experience made me want to study in the UK. I later enrolled in a British art university, and after graduation, I began leading art workshops alongside my own creative practice — all rooted in that life-changing moment.

From my art workshop in Fukuoka, Japan

Remembering a Feeling of Powerlessness

I wanted to bring my workshop to Japan because I remembered a very specific feeling from my childhood: a kind of helpless frustration.

When I was in third grade, we were asked to draw a picture of “your mother putting on makeup at the sink.” I felt proud of my work — until my teacher added wallpaper patterns to the background without asking.The drawing went on to win a prize, but I wasn’t happy. I felt like the world I saw — the one I had wanted to share — had been overwritten by someone else.What’s more, the teacher seemed pleased with their edits. To my young heart, that felt cold.

Since then, I’ve made it my mission to protect and nurture the emotional truth in children’s expression.

Over the years, I’ve worked with many children in the UK. I’ve noticed that when they’re very young, they all draw freely and joyfully. But around the age of seven, more and more begin to say, “I’m not good at drawing.”Maybe someone said something that made them doubt themselves. Maybe they started comparing.That’s why I always tell them, “You don’t have to draw well. Just express yourself.”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how Japanese children would respond. I was a little worried that some might also have lost confidence. So at the start of the workshop, I told them, “It’s okay not to draw well.”But — to my surprise and joy — not a single child said they were bad at drawing.Perhaps they’ve grown up in environments where they feel free to create. It gave me hope.

Art is About the Process, Not the Prize

In both Japan and the UK, I try not to say “That’s good!” or “Well done!” when children show me their work.Instead, I want to draw their attention to the joy of expressing, not just technical skill.

I tend to say things like, “Oh, I love the way you chose to do it this way,” or “That shape you made here feels really exciting.”By focusing on their decisions and personal choices, I’m encouraging them to value their own way of seeing and creating — not to chase someone else’s idea of what’s “good.”

Watching the children create so freely this time made me feel that a shift is happening in Japan, too.In conversations with parents, I heard many say things like,“I used to enjoy drawing, but a teacher’s comment made me stop.”Once again, I was reminded of how deeply adult words can impact a child’s creative spirit.

To me, art is not something we do to be judged —It’s something we do to explore, to enjoy the process, to find our own way of seeing.

This idea — of valuing how we arrive at an idea, how we explore and expand it — is central to art education in the UK. It’s had a major influence on me.But I also believe I wouldn’t have found my own approach if I hadn’t grown up in Japan. I’m deeply grateful for that, too.

Even small moments — like a local workshop — can spark a child’s joy in self-expression.And I hope we build a world where children can continue to create their own worlds, in their own ways, without fear of judgment.

Art is not for recognition.It is listening to your heart, and shaping what you feel.And that, I truly believe, is a light that can guide you through life.