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Komorebi no Soko
木漏れ日の底

This series begins just beneath the surface, where light no longer moves in straight lines. It bends, folds and splinters. It sketches across stems and stretches across the underside of leaves.

Komorebi, the Japanese word for sunlight filtering through trees, becomes something else here. It enters water and slows down. It breaks into geometries. It reveals the structure of things not by illuminating them fully, but by tracing their edges through distortion.

Komorebi no Soko means the bottom of that light. These images are drawn from that threshold—where visibility becomes an act of interpretation, and where forms dissolve into something almost abstract.

The lily stems rise like ink strokes, some taut, others wandering. The leaves cast shadows that do not match their shape. Reflections tilt, and water holds both the object and its echo at once. Each image studies how form changes when light and liquid meet. Each frame is a tension between stillness and movement, line and blur.

Perhaps the water lilies are more than just flowers.
They are memories that resist time, they are fragments of the memory that, even in the shadow and cold, something beautiful can emerge and remain.

Like stars fallen in the water,

they await the gaze of those who know how to recognize their silent melody

うごき出す

たましいもあり

春の水

Even souls

begin to stir—

spring water.

- Basho