is a Japanese-born artist based in Berlin whose work explores the space between writing and drawing. Influenced by Japanese calligraphy, his practice centers on gesture, line, and the physical act of mark-making. Working primarily on paper, he creates compositions that balance control and spontaneity, where each line records movement, rhythm, and time. His work reflects an ongoing dialogue between Eastern and Western traditions, engaging with ideas of language, translation, and cultural exchange. Nakahara has exhibited internationally as part of a broader contemporary approach to drawing.

Kaylyn Murphy: Your work brings together influences from Japanese calligraphy and contemporary drawing. How has this background shaped the way you approach your practice today?

Kazuki Nakahara: My early experience with Japanese calligraphy, which I learned from my father and grandfather, laid the foundation for my understanding of the movement of lines. Today, this understanding has evolved not only into drawing regular, repetitive pencil lines on paper, but also into improvisational performances with a dancer or dancers.

KM: In your artist statement you describe your work as existing “between writing and drawing, between East and West.” How has living and working in Berlin influenced this dialogue within your practice?

KN: When I came to Berlin 2005, the city was not developed as today and many foreign cultures were mixed. Many artists from around the world had expressed themselves with their own background, gender, their differences and diversity were already marked in this city. Living in such a place as Berlin was stimulating and has led me to reflect on my own cultural background and identity. I began to look back at the roots of my interest in Japanese calligraphy techniques, discipline, and spirituality. 

Then I studied experimental drawing in the class of Hanns Schimansky, who specialized in contemporary drawing at the Weißensee Academy of Arts Berlin. We explored the idea of expanding the concept of “drawing.” Specifically, we considered the notion that all human activities—such as walking, singing, sewing, and praying—contain elements of “drawing” or hold the potential for it. In this process, I revisited the act of “writing,” focusing on whether it is possible to express this as “drawing,” as well as on the relationship between drawing and calligraphy.  I also engaged in research about primitive writing systems—such as those found in ancient cave paintings—from the period before written characters were established.

KM: Looking back at your career, were there any early exhibitions, mentors, or opportunities that played a key role in helping you gain visibility as an artist?

KN: I came to Dresden in 2004 to study art. Before that, I had studied economics and a bit of German as a foreign language. However, I failed the entrance exams at five or six art universities in Germany. After that, I attended a drawing class taught by Professor Hanns Schimansky at the Weißensee Academy of Arts Berlin. His drawings appealed to me deeply because he worked with black ink on paper—it reminded me of Japanese calligraphy. I immediately spoke to him and told him how impressed I was and that I would love to study under him. That was my last chance to change my way to the art—and it worked! If it hadn’t worked out, I would have returned to Japan and might have worked at a Japanese bank! This encounter with the professor, and my first success in art, is my answer.

KM: How did you first begin working with galleries, and what do you think makes a strong and productive relationship between an artist and a gallery?

KN: I met Inga Kondeyne, a Berlin-based gallerist who has been running a gallery specializing in drawings since 1980, at an open campus event at the art university.  After holding my first exhibition there with the renowned artist Eve Aschheim at her gallery in 2009, while I was still a student, we decided to begin working together.

KM: How have you seen the market for drawing evolve during your career, and how has that affected your practice or opportunities as an artist?

KN: Until a few years ago, there was a view in the art world that traditional craftsmanship was in decline as digital technology and artificial intelligence became more widespread. That is true.  However, it is now a fact that drawing by hand —its counterpart—and the primal, sensory art that digital technology cannot replace are being rediscovered. For this reason, I think the European drawing market has become more active over the past decade. In particular, art fairs specializing in drawing—such as Drawing Now in Paris, Paperpositions in Berlin, and Art on Paper in Brussels—have become firmly established. This seems to reflect a more casual trend of acquiring affordable drawings by emerging artists rather than purchasing expensive works at large art fairs.

KM: When preparing for an exhibition, how do you balance your own vision for the work with input from curators or galleries?

KN: When I finish creating a piece in my studio, I can’t immediately view it from an objective perspective. Unless some time has passed, I still can’t judge how it will appear to an audience or whether it’s a good drawing or a bad one. On the other hand, curators often select works and offer advice on exhibitions from an objective perspective, taking into account factors such as the venue, the physical space, the community, and art collectors around the galleries. Therefore, communication with the curator is extremely important when preparing an exhibition, and I think it is necessary to maintain a certain balance between subjective and objective viewpoints.

KM: You have exhibited internationally in a variety of contexts. Have you noticed differences in how audiences or art markets respond to your work in different places?

KN: I think that the way people perceive art varies depending on the individual, the country, and the cultural background. To give one example, the interpretation of empty space—a frequently seen element in my drawings—differs between Asian and other countries. Empty space is not merely an area left unpainted; it embodies the philosophical concept of emptiness.  In Japanese or Chinese aesthetics, it is precisely because of this “emptiness” that viewers are able to imagine something and let their associations extend freely.

KM: What has helped you sustain your practice professionally over time?

KN: In my artistic practice, I think it is important to notice and enjoy even the smallest changes. Even when simply drawing a single line with a pencil on paper, that line can vary depending on the time and place.

Light, temperature, and state of mind while drawing all transfer from my hand to the pencil, and through interaction with the paper, subtle variations naturally emerge in the line. Drawing is life itself. For example, as we age, our hands may tremble, causing these lines to become unstable.

However, rather than viewing this as a weakness, we can accept the unique quality inherent in those lines and cultivate a new sense of balance that differs from before. I don’t believe there is such a thing as failure or success in the practice of art.  What matters is to keep going—and whether we can find joy even in the slightest of changes.

KAYLYN MURPHY lives and works in Paris, France. Her drawings are created in dissociative states, exploring how memory and affect overlap, dissolve, and transform over time. She works through gestures shaped by shifting states of awareness, allowing marks to emerge as traces of psychological movement. Working within conditions of duration, white noise, and hypnopompic states, the surface becomes a site of return, where fragmented moments reassemble and shift in meaning. Murphy observes how consciousness moves in relation to the present, mapping patterns that arise within these conditions as perception loosens and reorganizes.