Materials

SUPCHO works with traditional Japanese painting materials, including mineral pigments (iwa-enogu), water-based pigments (suihi-enogu), and occasionally gold or silver leaf. Washi is mounted onto boards or shikishi, forming a quiet yet resilient ground.

These materials are valued for their honesty. They do not exaggerate or perform, but exist as they are—accepting each layer of color without resistance. As pigments accumulate, underlying and surface colors subtly interact, allowing depth to emerge through time rather than force.

Materials That Invite Attention

What defines our work most clearly is material.

Mineral Pigments (Iwa-enogu)

Traditional Nihonga relies on mineral pigments (iwa-enogu), made by crushing natural stones into carefully graded particles (in contemporary practice, both traditional natural pigments and carefully developed synthetic mineral pigments coexist).

These pigments are valued not only for their origin, but for the remarkable depth and clarity of their color—tones that cannot be fully replicated through synthetic mixing alone.

Each pigment exists across a wide range of particle sizes, from coarse grains that scatter light boldly to fine powders that soften and diffuse it. Selecting a pigment is therefore never only a matter of hue; it is a decision about texture, reflection, and distance. The same color behaves differently depending on its grain, requiring the artist to choose carefully in relation to subject, surface, and intention.

These pigments are not produced at industrial scale, and their availability depends on the quality of the stone itself. As a result, many colors are inherently rare, and each carries subtle variations that resist standardization.

Water-Based Pigments (Suihi-enogu)

Color Built Through Layers

Alongside mineral pigments, our work makes extensive use of water-based pigments known as suihi-enogu—a material that plays a quieter but equally essential role in Nihonga.

Unlike mineral pigments derived from crushed stone, suihi-enogu are finely processed pigments that disperse easily in water and are bound with natural glue. Their particles are extremely small, allowing color to move with the liquid and settle gently into the fibers of the paper rather than resting prominently on the surface.

This behavior makes suihi-enogu especially suited to layering.

Rather than achieving depth through thickness, color is built gradually—layer upon translucent layer—each responding to the one beneath it. Subtle shifts in tone emerge not from mixing on a palette, but from accumulation over time. The process is slow, deliberate, and irreversible.

Because these pigments integrate so closely with the surface, they rely on careful balance to remain stable. Here, the role of the binder becomes essential.

The Role of Glue

Nikawa, a traditional collagen-based binder long used in Japanese painting, acts not as a coating, but as a quiet structure that holds pigment, paper, and time together. Mixed in precise concentration, it allows suihi-enogu to settle without sealing the surface, preserving softness while ensuring durability.

Too much binder, too much pressure, or too much repetition can easily disrupt this balance. The artist must adjust continuously, responding to humidity, paper, and the condition of each layer as it dries.

What suihi-enogu, supported by nikawa, offers in return is a unique kind of presence:

soft edges, quiet transitions, and color that feels embedded rather than applied.

In contemporary practice, these pigments are often overshadowed by the immediate visual impact of mineral color. Yet for us, suihi-enogu allows a different expression—one that favors atmosphere over spectacle, and depth over immediacy.

Bound with this traditional collagen binder, color shifts with distance, angle, and time, inviting the viewer to slow down and look more closely.

For artists accustomed to oil paint, this relationship with surface—lighter, quieter, and responsive to environment—offers a fundamentally different way of seeing color.

Metallic Materials

In addition to mineral and water-based pigments, metallic materials such as gold leaf, silver leaf, and pearl pigments are occasionally incorporated into the work.

These materials are not used for decoration or symbolic emphasis. Instead, they are treated as another form of matter—responsive to light, distance, and the passage of time.

Unlike conventional pigments, metallic surfaces do not hold color in a fixed way. Their appearance shifts subtly as the viewer moves, as lighting changes, and as the surface ages. At times they recede into the ground; at others, they quietly emerge, altering the surrounding color without asserting themselves.

Within this practice, metal is not an accent but a participant. It reflects rather than describes, introducing instability and softness into the surface. Its role is not to draw attention, but to allow color to remain alive—never fully settled, never entirely still.

By integrating metallic materials alongside pigments and paper, the work acknowledges light as an active element. What is seen is never only what is painted, but what unfolds between surface, environment, and time.

Our Practice

Today, our practice is guided by these materials and their behavior.

We choose traditional Japanese materials not to recreate history, but to engage with their unique qualities in the present. They resist speed and standardization, requiring patience, sensitivity, and care. Each layer responds to paper, climate, and touch, ensuring that no two works are the same.

These materials are precious and demanding, not because they are luxurious, but because they cannot be rushed or replaced.

In a world of instant color and infinite reproduction, we value what unfolds slowly.

Our works are not statements of influence.

They are invitations—to look, to pause, and to notice how color quietly lives on the surface.