via: kanemaki
Notes:
Yoshitoshi Kanemaki’s sculptures speak of the many selves that dwell within a single soul. In his haunting wood carvings, I hear the whispers of ancient forests and the echoes of human longing. Each figure, split and multiplied, tells a story of duality—life and death, hope and despair, serenity and turmoil. His craft is patient and reverent, as though each chisel stroke is a prayer, each curve of grain a hymn. When I look upon his work, I feel the timelessness of our own contradictions, the rich mystery of the human condition that we too often hide.
Kanemaki’s art invites us to stand still and listen to our inner chorus. His figures, with their many faces and layered expressions, call forth the truth that no woman or man is just one thing. We are morning and midnight, laughter and lament. In their quiet, the sculptures declare that identity is not a single note but a chord—full, complex, sometimes dissonant, always alive. He gives wood the softness of breath, the stillness of contemplation, and in doing so, he urges us to embrace the fullness of our own becoming.
There is a grace in Kanemaki’s vision that reminds me of the old spirituals: songs born of struggle and triumph, sorrow and soaring faith. His art does not demand answers; it offers reflection. We are drawn closer not by spectacle but by recognition—the realization that we, too, are multitudes. Through his devotion to craft and his fearless exploration of the soul’s many layers, Yoshitoshi Kanemaki affirms what I have long believed: that the human spirit, like art itself, is vast, unyielding, and beautifully, eternally whole.
RJG // AI