Finding Sanctuary in the Everyday: Why I Paint Pigeons in Paris

I left home at twelve. In the years that followed, I moved from Japan to Florida, then New York, back to Tokyo, and eventually to Paris.

Across those places, one familiar presence kept appearing: pigeons.

They might seem like an unlikely subject for paintings made with traditional Japanese Nihonga techniques. But for me, these everyday birds connect the places I have lived and the person I have become.

Leaving home at twelve

My story begins in middle school. I struggled with traditional academics, and my parents sent me to a boarding school in the Japanese countryside.

Life there followed a strict routine. Our days were organised around roll calls, cleaning, classes, compulsory sports practice, and evening study. Even laundry and showers had to fit into short windows of time. At 22:30, the lights went out.

After two years, that routine was suddenly interrupted.

On March 11 2011, the earthquake severely damaged our school facilities. We were evacuated and spent seven hours on a bus travelling towards Tokyo through gridlocked roads.

With the school expected to close within three years, I faced a choice: stay in an uncertain situation, or learn English and pursue my studies in the United States.

I chose to leave.

A familiar presence across continents

That decision took me to high school in Florida, then to a year of university in New York. After a brief return to Tokyo, I moved to Paris, where I have now lived for ten years.

There is more to tell about each of those chapters, and I will return to them in future posts. But when I look back, I notice a thread running through them: pigeons were always there.

In each city, they lived alongside us, often overlooked. They moved through streets and public spaces that were unfamiliar to me, offering something recognisable.

I began to see them as more than part of the background.

Why I paint pigeons

Pigeons live close to us, yet we rarely stop to look at them. They endure the difficulties of urban life and keep finding ways to live within it.

After moving between countries and cultures, I found something meaningful in that persistence. For me, pigeons became a connection between places, a reminder that something familiar could exist even when almost everything else had changed.

Painting them is a way of paying attention.

Through the slow work of painting, I give an overlooked bird the time and care we do not often give it in everyday life. The pigeon becomes the centre of the picture rather than something at its edge.

Here in Paris, that is where my work begins: with an ordinary presence, and the decision to look a little longer.

Opening the studio

This is the first of a series of weekly reflections on my life and work.

In the coming weeks, I will share more about the journey that brought me here, the traditional Japanese materials I use, and what it means to make art slowly. There will also be plenty more about pigeons.

Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope these stories offer a quiet moment in your week, and a new way to notice the birds around you.

Ryuku