“Torii” 24 x 24 x 2.5 in. (original) Liquid acrylic, sumi ink, 99.9% pure silver leaf, newspaper, manga, cotton rag mat, resin, on deep-cradled wood panel 2508 x 2529 pixels (PNG)

Fushimi Inari is a shrine complex in Kyoto, dedicated to the Shinto god of rice, who is also venerated by tradespeople as a god of business. The site’s most recognized feature consists of thousands of orange-painted torii, or gates, each one donated by a business to bring luck. The torii form something of a partially-covered walkway along a path, flanking walkers with well-wishes cared into their columns.

“Torii” stands apart in some ways from the other works in the “One Hundred Views of Japan” collection. There are no people or other creatures depicted, and the only hint of nature is reserved to a few slivers of blue sky peeking through gaps between the painted timbers. The piece is a visual meditation, an invitation for the viewer to make their way down the shaded, weathered stone path towards an area a short distance away gleaming from the angled rays of sun penetrating the corridor. The path itself is rendered by a tight pattern of perforations consisting of different gauges, with hints of 99.9% pure silver leaf scraped on, and a collage composed from newspaper and manga washed with Japanese sum ink peeking from underneath the holes.

I have visited Fushimi Inari a couple times. My first experience was dominated by the physical wonder of the place, a truly memorable experience of environmental design. The second visit, eight years later, was with my ex-wife and son. We were on a spiritual mission: to say farewell to our beloved 14-year-old cat, Zoe, whom we had to euthanize the day before departing on our trip to Japan. There are places along the path, little nooks, where people leave mini torii and light candles in remembrance of lost loved ones. We placed a tiny porcelain cat on a makeshift altar and said our goodbyes, finding a measure of solace and closure. Then we turned back to the path, and continued on our journey.