The Source of My Power

A large-scale exhibition of works at the Hundred-Step Staircase of Meguro Gajoen is right before me.

Going out several times for advance inspections, repeating the climb and descent of the hundred steps, I find myself pathetic—legs gone wobbly, breath grown ragged.

In spirit I still fancy myself young, but that the body responds so honestly is, somewhat, a shock.

My real contest ought to be not the climbing of stairs, but the making of works that move many people.

Believing a certain person’s fine words—”Aging does not mean the decline of the body, but the decline of the spirit”—I rouse myself once more, and it is funny to see myself, guts bared and huffing and puffing, spurred on as if to say, I won’t lose to these stairs.

At the very least, to make an exhibition this large a success, my strength alone can do nothing; I am helped by the power of so many people—the organizers, the operating company, the sponsors, the support of my colleagues at the firm, the help of the production staff, the encouragement of many acquaintances and their tips on flower materials, and so much more.

Holding gratitude toward everyone involved who gives motivation and power to my body and spirit, today too—having reached the preparations for the main event—I cracked the whip on myself, huffing and puffing all the while.