Shigeru KIMURA was an artist who, in the postwar Japanese printmaking scene, consistently carved the life force of trees and landscapes through the medium of intaglio printmaking. Using copperplate techniques, Kimura expressed the primordial strength of Japan’s original landscapes—scenes that feel moist, heavy with earth, and imbued with the scent of soil.
What decisively defines Kimura’s work is the overwhelming texture generated by countless engraved lines that seem to fill the entire surface of the image. He moved the etching needle with relentless persistence, fixing onto the copper plate the roughness of tree bark, the complex interweaving of branches, and the damp accumulation of fallen leaves on the forest floor. His blacks are extraordinarily deep and weighty; within the stark contrasts of light and shadow, he contains the energy of nature—seemingly silent, yet in truth powerfully pulsating.
The trees Kimura depicts are never decorative. They are portraits of living beings that have endured wind and snow, sunk their roots deep into the earth, and accumulated time itself. His images possess a solemn grandeur that inspires awe, as if the spiritual presence inherent in the Japanese landscape were rising directly from the surface of the print. At the same time, his landscapes are imbued with a profound affection for Japan’s vanishing rural scenery and mixed woodlands, engraved with a quiet accumulation of time and an enduring sense of stillness.
What decisively defines Kimura’s work is the overwhelming texture generated by countless engraved lines that seem to fill the entire surface of the image. He moved the etching needle with relentless persistence, fixing onto the copper plate the roughness of tree bark, the complex interweaving of branches, and the damp accumulation of fallen leaves on the forest floor. His blacks are extraordinarily deep and weighty; within the stark contrasts of light and shadow, he contains the energy of nature—seemingly silent, yet in truth powerfully pulsating.
The trees Kimura depicts are never decorative. They are portraits of living beings that have endured wind and snow, sunk their roots deep into the earth, and accumulated time itself. His images possess a solemn grandeur that inspires awe, as if the spiritual presence inherent in the Japanese landscape were rising directly from the surface of the print. At the same time, his landscapes are imbued with a profound affection for Japan’s vanishing rural scenery and mixed woodlands, engraved with a quiet accumulation of time and an enduring sense of stillness.
