It’s Easy to Make Art, Hard to Be an Artist— And It’s Worth It

People often think becoming an artist is about talent, inspiration, or the ability to make beautiful things. But what I’ve learned — through immigration, loss, community rebuilding, teaching, and starting from scratch more than once — is that making art is the easy part. The harder part is choosing to live as an artist, to let creativity guide your life even when it’s inconvenient, uncertain, misunderstood, or financially risky. And yet, after more than two decades of moving between countries, classrooms, disaster zones, and creative communities, I’ve learned this: it’s worth it. Being an artist has given me a way to connect, to imagine, to rebuild, and to help others shape possibilities for their own futures.

Making art is accessible; being an artist requires persistence, vision, courage, and generosity.

The Dream

A Young Artist Steps Into the Unknown

I moved to the U.S. at 25 with a dream of becoming an artist. At the time, I wasn’t sure what that really meant. I had just graduated from university in Japan, majoring in English, inspired by a childhood wish to connect with people across the world. My first art explorations in Monterey, mostly printmaking, were joyful experiments—playful acts of curiosity that felt simple and immediate. Making art was easy. Being an artist? That was something else entirely.

Learning What Being an Artist Means

Graduate School and the Shift from Making to Being

Graduate school in San Francisco changed my perspective. There, I realized that art was not just about objects—it could shape lives. A comment from a gallerist made me see that my work could be educational, and that insight led me to teaching. Through education, I discovered that being an artist is about integrating creativity into every aspect of life, not just producing work in a studio.

Inspiration from Radical Artists

Kusama, Ono, Asawa, Shiomi: Life as Art

I am inspired by artists whose lives exemplify this principle. Yayoi Kusama, for example, created radical early performances that were often misunderstood. Her public interventions, nude happenings, and obsessive polka-dot actions challenged conventional ideas of art, and viewers frequently questioned whether they were “real” art. I relate to this deeply. My own practice exists outside traditional forms: it involves everyday actions like eating, greeting, or having conversations. For those unfamiliar with socially engaged or experiential art, the question—“Is this art?”—is often raised. Like Kusama, I’ve learned that being an artist requires courage, persistence, and embracing misunderstanding as part of the creative process.

Yayoi Kusama, Infinity Mirror Room - Phalli's Field (Floor Show), 1965

Yoko Ono has profoundly influenced my work. Her instruction-based and performance art inspired my ongoing project, Kiwifruit, which enacts her instructions—and others’—through video. The project’s name comes from a 30-year-old fear of eating kiwifruit after a severe allergic reaction in elementary school. By merging personal experience with performative instruction, Kiwifruit demonstrates how life and art can intertwine, how play, risk, and reflection are central to being an artist, and how everyday acts can become art.

Yoko Ono performing ‘Cut Piece’ at Carnegie Recital Hall, New York, 1965. Photo: courtesy of Japan Society.

During a Kiwifruit performance, I even asked myself, 'Is this art?' — then answered, 'Yes, it’s My Art.'”

Ono’s work also shows how art can inspire hope. Her instructions, performances, and participatory projects encourage viewers to imagine possibilities, see the world differently, and act creatively—even in small ways. This resonated deeply during my time in Tohoku, where youth and community members, devastated by the earthquake and tsunami, found hope through creative engagement. I realized that art does not need to be grand or conventionally “serious” to matter; it can be a tool for envisioning better futures. My own practice strives to carry that spirit forward, fostering hope and imagination in everyday life, even if it sometimes feels naive or utopian.

Yoko Ono, Ceiling Painting, Installation, 1966

The playful, introspective work of Kiwifruit reminds me that art is not just about making objects or images—it’s about engaging with life, with community, and with imagination itself. This philosophy resonates deeply with Ruth Asawa, whose teaching and sculptures demonstrated that creativity can shape both our daily lives and the environments we share. Inspired by her legacy, I founded Play Full Ground, a microschool where young people—future makers—can explore, imagine, and co-create their own visions for the world. Just as my performance asked, “Is this art?” and answered, “Yes, it’s My Art,” Play Full Ground asks students to step into their own creativity and say, “Yes, this is our future.”

Ruth Asawa’s legacy resonates with my work as well. Her sculptures and her commitment to accessible, community-centered creativity inform the philosophy behind Play Full Ground, my microschool. Her name graces an art high school in San Francisco, and her vision of nurturing imagination and curiosity continues through my teaching. At Play Full Ground, young people engage in socially engaged art, exploring collaboration, problem-solving, and creative thinking. My goal is to imagine and create the future together with these young people—the future makers—and to share hope and possibility for generations to come. Being an artist, like Asawa’s life demonstrates, is not only about making objects—it is about fostering creativity in others and contributing to community life.

Ruth Asawa and her children at home in San Francisco, 1957. Photo: Imogen Cunningham. Artwork: Estate of Ruth Asawa, Courtesy David Zwirner.

Mieko Shiomi, a pioneering Fluxus artist, exemplifies the experimental and process-oriented side of being an artist. Her instruction-based and participatory works transform ordinary actions into experiences of art, inviting engagement, reflection, and play. Like Shiomi, I believe that socially engaged, everyday actions—performing instructions, interacting with others, imagining community possibilities—are as vital to artistic practice as creating tangible objects.

Japan Society, Out of Bounds Exhibition, 2023-2024.

Identity, Influence, and Freedom

Navigating Labels and Heritage

I’ve never liked being categorized—labels like “Japanese” or “woman” used to frustrate me, as if they could define or limit who I am. Yet through my practice and my life as an artist, I have come to see how deeply I am inspired by these artists and their philosophies: making art from everyday life, engaging community, and valuing experience over object. I still seek freedom from social expectations and categories, but I also appreciate the ways my background and heritage have shaped my perspective, my curiosity, and my creative voice.

Art in Action

From Tohoku to California: Creative Engagement in the Real World

My own journey has been shaped by these lessons. I lost my H1-B visa and returned to Japan just as the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami struck. I moved to the affected region to support recovery through creative education, working with youth to envision the future of their communities. This work was far more transformative than any print I had made—it was real-world art in action. Returning to California, I continued with programs like Y-PLAN, combining creativity with civic engagement and leadership. Every step reinforced the truth that being an artist is a lifelong practice: challenging, uncertain, sometimes isolating—but profoundly rewarding.

A small act of imagination — Tōhoku students inviting North Richmond neighbors to trade trash for plants — reminding me that art, education, and community building can grow hope together.

Reflection

Making Art vs. Being an Artist

Looking back, I am grateful for a life defined by creativity, risk, and purpose. Financial stability has been elusive, and I have navigated nontraditional paths, but my journey shows that it is possible to own a unique future, make life itself a creative practice, and see art and education as inseparable. Making art is accessible; being an artist requires persistence, vision, courage, and generosity—but it is a journey worth taking.

Art isn’t just what we make—it’s how we live.