Ayako Rokkaku was born in 1982 in Tokyo, Japan. She lives and works in Tokyo and Berlin.

Her works are characterized by painting directly with her fingers on various media such as canvas and cardboard. Her works show aspects of colorful abstract paintings through the colorful mixture of colors, while the character of a young girl is visible and hidden in this abstract space, giving the viewers a sense of Western and Eastern views of art and culture.

Self-taught, he began painting around the age of 20, and in 2006 won the Scout Prize at the "GEISAI" art event organized by Takashi Murakami, and held large-scale solo exhibitions at the Kunsthalle Museum in the Netherlands in 2011 and at the Merenstijn Danubiana Museum in Slovakia the following year. After gaining international attention in Europe and elsewhere, he moved his base to Amsterdam and Berlin, and has had a series of large-scale international exhibitions, including a solo show at the LONG MUSEUM in Shanghai in May 2023 and a solo show at KÖNIG GALERIE in September.

His works have developed from his early days, when he mainly used motifs of young girls, to his more mature and abstract works, which are now highly acclaimed not only in Asia but also in Europe and the United States. His works are in the collections of many museums, including the Forlinden Museum in the Netherlands, the Danubiana Museum in Slovakia, and the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum in Spain.

At the time, I had heard from people I knew about Berlin, where I am currently based, that it was a place where various artists were gathering, so I was a little interested in it, but I didn't choose it because it was a base for painting. At first, I didn't plan to stay that long, but before I knew it, more than 10 years had passed.

I was selected by Takashi Murakami's GEISAI event to exhibit my work at the Volt Art Fair in Basel, Switzerland, and I went there and did a live painting. That was my first overseas art activity, and it made me want to live in an environment where I could experience more of the art scene overseas, and that is when I started vaguely thinking about moving to Japan.

When I was 13 years old, my father, who was posted to Indonesia, told me to come visit him alone, and I had the experience of going to his place, so perhaps my resistance to the idea of going somewhere far away began to wane around that time.

When I worked in Europe, I began to think about whether my Japanese identity was incorporated into my works and what position I occupied in the history of art. I began to think about my own identity as a Japanese, and what position I occupied in the history of art.

I had a strong sense at the time that "Oh, I didn't think anything of it."

But even if I wasn't thinking about it, I had the feeling that "there must be some good in my work because I am drawing it now," and I felt that I had to connect that with the part of my work that was being questioned.

Even so, at the Berlin exhibition, I was asked if I was influenced by Georges Seurat, and I think it is interesting that people can imagine a connection to a place that I had not thought of at all.

Japan does not have much of a religious outlook. That is not to say that there is no religion. So, I think there is a natural situation in which life is just lying around, like the gods of the universe.

Recently, especially when I'm painting, I've been drawing abstract colors on the screen, and I've been conscious of things like trying to get my ears and eyes out of the cloud-like shapes, or when something seems to come out and doesn't.

Especially in Japan, where there are so many small and cute things in our daily lives, we have a desire to include something soulful in such things.

For example, stationery, goods, and even train IC cards have characters. But I think it is very interesting that they are so familiar to our daily life and scenery, and yet they are also appreciated like a Jizo or some other idol.

At first, I only drew pictures of girls, but when I gradually started to draw on canvas and the background expanded, there was a time when I was interested in paintings that were only abstract spaces, where the girls seemed to be almost melted into the background.

But I still feel as if I want to pull out a creature from the abstract colors. Then ears and eyes would appear, and characters would emerge in the abstract painting space.

Before I paint, I have a desire to express something, but when I start drawing, I am more immersed in the act of drawing than that. It may feel like you're wrestling. Rather than completing the work while thinking, "This is what I want to express," I think it's more like "the work fits where it should be" while drawing.

There comes a kind of wave of good color riding on the layers of paint, and you might think that such a moment is great and fun right now.

What else is there to do that is more fun than that?

I made the clay prototype with my own hands, and while it was close to the feeling of playing as a child, it was a very refreshing feeling to have the presence of the work in the space in front of me.

It was very interesting to see the various reactions, such as the fact that the bronze work made me imagine many colors, or that the texture created by my fingers was similar to the surface of the painting, or that it was once again interesting from a figurative point of view.