The misery of not being able to compare.
I had been supported by the descriptions and works of several painters who had gone before me and who were considered to be “right on the money,” so I had been able to transform my consciousness and change my paintings in various ways without hesitation, and I had been able to do so through conversations with people who had passed away and who were able to sympathize with me each time.
However, I had already stepped into the forest.
I had been hesitating for the past few days. A situation in which I could not paint, a state of mind in which I did not know what I would do even if I did paint. And then I stopped. But today I learned about it, and I thought it was natural.
From this point on, there is no more good or bad. It is work that cannot even be judged if it is drawn in a messy way. It is impossible for people to understand that work.
Even I can’t say that this is me. When I think about it, everyone is still amazing. If I imagine that this will continue for a long time to come, I can’t help but feel mentally ill at the drop of a hat. There is no way to think about tomorrow. There is no way to compare it to anything else. There is only nature.