My exhibition explores the multifaceted and often contradictory nature of water—its ability to calm and destroy, resist and seek freedom, sustain life and suffer from human misuse. Water becomes not just a natural element but a symbolic medium to explore themes of control, vulnerability, and transformation. Each work contributes to a broader investigation of how water reflects human values, behaviors, and consequences.

 

Inspired by Katsushika Hokusai’s 36 Views of Mount Fuji, I was drawn to the stylized lines, scale, and visual rhythm in his prints. His depiction of water as both beautiful and threatening shaped how I approached composition. I also incorporated Japanese Zen garden philosophy, where water is abstractly represented through sand raking, symbolizing reflection, impermanence, and repetition. These influences merged with contemporary environmental concerns like pollution and extinction, shaping my conceptual development.

 

I aimed to present water as both physical and metaphorical—revealing the relationship between humanity and nature through formal choices, symbolic contrast, and layered meaning. Throughout the exhibition, I used color and material choices to support mood. Cool tones evoke serenity or melancholy; stark monochrome enhances dramatic contrast. The principles of balance, contrast, rhythm, and emphasis helped unify the exhibition as a whole.

 

I selected works that reflect water’s opposing characteristics—tranquility and chaos, life and loss—while intentionally varying media and form. The exhibition includes two-dimensional works (printmaking and drawing) and three-dimensional works (ceramics and mixed media), allowing me to explore water’s complexity from different perspectives. My linocut prints of Noah’s Ark and a stylized wave use exaggerated curvature, diagonal motion, and high tonal contrast to emphasize water’s destructive energy. Inspired by Hokusai’s formal techniques, these prints use positive and negative space to guide the viewer’s eye and create dynamic tension.

 

In contrast, my Japanese karesansui (rock) garden employs minimalism, repetition, and implied lines to evoke serenity and balance. The use of natural materials like sand and stone, along with symmetrical arrangements, reinforces the meditative qualities of water without depicting it directly. The ceramic sculpture of the extinct Scioto Madtom fish was created with exaggerated scale and organic forms to amplify its presence. A trailing plant emerges from its mouth, acting as a symbolic motif of growth and loss. The glossy glaze enhances texture and contrast, highlighting the tension between life and absence. In my ceramic cube, water bursts from rigid geometric confinement. The piece uses slab-building techniques and expressive glaze to contrast structured and fluid forms. It emphasizes water’s resistance to restriction, symbolizing its resilience despite human control. Grouped together, my bioluminescent wave drawing, fish sculpture, and fish drawing reflect on aquatic life and ecological vulnerability. Their shared cool palettes offer a sense of calm reflection. 

 

The arrangement of artworks guides viewers through a conceptual and emotional progression. It opens with the fish sculpture, fish print, and bioluminescent wave drawing, grouped to emphasize aquatic life and water’s fragility. Their cool tones, varied textures, and subtle spatial separation evoke disconnection, serving as a quiet introduction to ecological vulnerability.

 

Progressing through the narrow path, the viewer encounters the ceramic cube, displayed alone. Its placement as a midpoint highlights its conceptual role: water escaping containment. The contrast between its rigid form and expressive glaze draws focus, symbolizing both release and defiance. As a transitional piece, it marks a shift from reflection to confrontation. The linocut prints, grouped vertically, build a cohesive visual narrative through the repeated formal elements of line, color, and the recurring subject of water. I used simplified and colorful images to show water’s destructive and renewing qualities to reach a broader audience.

 

At the top of the staircase—the final point in the exhibition—the Zen garden and plastic naval mine face the viewer as a looming conclusion. Their proximity creates a powerful contrast between water’s meditative symbolism and the threat of human exploitation. The natural materials of the karesansui garden—wood, sand, and stones—oppose the plastic bottles and metal cans in the naval mine, creating a chilling contrast and commentary on water’s current role as humanity's polluted commodity. 

 

Each curatorial decision—from grouping and pacing to spatial placement—was intentional, guiding the viewer through water’s emotional and symbolic journey. As viewers ascend physically, they also move conceptually, ending not in resolution, but in critical reflection.