Haruka Yoshikawa/Black Pen Artist

I'm a Japanese black pen artist. I draw everything by hand, with no sketches—just one pen and paper. My lines carry the breath of things often overlooked. I believe the artwork is complete only when it resonates with the viewer. The color lives in you.

[harukablackpenartist]

Everything is made of "dots."

Everything is made of "dots." Myself, and everything in this world, is made of dots— dots so small we can't even see them with our eyes.

So in the end, we're all connected. We all have the same beginning. We are all the same "dot."

Dots connect to become lines. Lines multiply and become shapes. Those shapes form things like me as a human being, the cat sitting on my lap right now, or the pen in front of me.

When my grandfather passed away a few years ago, I thought—he simply ended his form as a human and returned to being a “dot.”

So he's still alive, in a way. Only his shape has changed.

And again, over hundreds, thousands, millions of years, everyone continues to exist, changing form again and again.

I don’t know if the universe actually exists. I’ve never seen it, and no one around me has been there. With computer graphics, the world could easily imprint an image of what the universe is supposed to look like.

But I don’t really care. What shape the universe takes doesn’t matter. Whether it exists or not—either is fine.

Still, I go to the universe. Not the physical one, but the concept of it.

“Dots” are in music. They’re in the air we breathe. And I’ve seen the movement of those sounds. I’ve seen the air.

Air has color. Do we all see the same color? What we all seem to share is “shape” and “detail.” That’s what I draw with my black pen. And that too is a “collection of dots.”

Everything in this world is just a temporary shape made from connected dots.

“Dots” are what truly exist in this world.

And when I think of it that way, I realize—there’s nothing to be afraid of.

[ MY WEBSITE ]

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA WEBSITE

黒ペン画家のよしかわはるかのホームページです。

[harukablackpenartist]

#6 The time was 9:55:04.

My wristwatch had stopped.

It’s a TIMEX watch I hadn’t used in a long time. For the past ten days or so, I’ve been using it while filming the making-of videos of my illustrations. Until then, it had just been stored away on a shelf.

In my philosophy, the existence of "time"—something that never makes a mistake—is extremely important. That’s why I wanted the movement of the watch hands to be captured in the video as well.

I’ve been publishing a series titled “The Universe Is a Concept” on note (in Japanese) and Tumblr (in English). I was working on the cover illustrations for those articles.

There are still two more illustrations I need to draw and turn into videos, but the article itself is currently on pause—just before the final chapter.

I’m going to get the battery in my watch replaced.

【 My website 】

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

#5 Enjoying Espresso

No crema…!

I got a Moka pot to brew espresso.

These days, the price of coffee gear has gone up more than the coffee beans themselves.

With the smallest-sized Moka pot, I can make two cups of espresso.

But since I drink both cups myself, it’s really just enough for one person.

If I mix it with cold milk, it becomes an iced café latte.

If I mix it with cold water and ice, it turns into a Starbucks-style iced Americano.

【 My website 】

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

#4 Dance, in its rawest form, is the heartbeat.

What makes improvised dance so fascinating is how the dancer instantly decides which sound in the music to follow—and with which part of the body to express that rhythm.

By varying the tempo of movement, smooth gestures become even more fluid, and energetic motions radiate even more power.

It's just like a piano score: deciding whether to play a section staccato or legato, as chords or single notes, whether to stretch a note across two beats or insert a rest.

Visual art is the same. The methods of expression may differ, but the essence is shared.

Art is the expression of the rhythm—the heartbeat—flowing within that person.

【 My website 】

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

#3 Those Who Step into the New Era—and Those Who Can’t

These days, if you want to start something new, there are just too many things you *have* to know.

People who are familiar with truly essential information—especially AI—can complete a lot of work quickly and at low cost.

The gap between those who know and those who don’t just keeps growing wider.

Right now, I'm building two websites on my own.

I don’t know how to code, and I once thought I’d have to pay a professional to create them for me.

That was two years ago.

And now, two years later, here I am—building them by myself.

【 My website 】

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

#2 Running × Freelancing

Lately, some people have been worried that I might die young.

But thanks to all the running I've been doing,

I feel great—even in this heat.

I'm really glad I started running.

A super famous Japanese entrepreneur once said,

"There’s no such thing as work-life balance

for those starting something new."

Freelancers don’t really get days off.

Right now is my time to push through!

My message is finally starting to reach the people I want it to.

【 My website 】

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

#1 White Porcelain Cup Born in 1970

The year of the last Expo in Japan—back in the 1970s.

That’s when stackable cups first appeared in the country.

White porcelain cups.

They come in a pair and can be stacked for storage.

Since they were early examples of stackable design, the shape is a bit unstable.

And that’s exactly what makes them so charming.

I got them for a steal at a local shop.

I’m absolutely in love with vintage white porcelain tableware.

【 My website 】

　　↓↓

HARUKA YOSHIKAWA Portfolio （English）

I'm HARUKA YOSHIKAWA , a black-pen artist. 

[harukablackpenartist]

Signed in Time.Part.3

Is Everything Made of Numbers?

Are Numbers Just Symbols?

We’re taught that numbers are symbols.

But I feel they are something more.

They don’t live or breathe—

and yet, when combined,

they generate meaning.

The world feels like a vast system,

and within that system, numbers exist in many forms.

I am one such combination.

A unique pattern in a larger equation.

And maybe…

that design was already there

before I even became “me.”

Am I truly living?

Or merely being lived?

☆

The Way I See the World

Since I was a child,

I’ve felt the world is made of puzzles.

When something is missing,

something else appears to complete it.

Not "supporting" one another,

but "completing" one another—

that’s how I see people,

and the world they create together.

Though I express myself through art,

my mind is logical, almost mathematical.

No matter what I think about,

my brain processes it like a puzzle.

The more I work with different art forms,

the more I start to see the structures behind them.

They share something in common—

and I believe that something is numbers.

☆

A Truth I Cannot Prove

Even though my thinking is logical,

I can’t prove this idea.

Only someone who’s deeply studied math might be able to.

But still,

I feel it—intuitively.

Like I’m touching the underlying structure of this world.

I’ve spoken to others about this:

"What if everything is made of numbers?"

But no one listened.

Not until recently.

Now,

a few people are beginning to listen.

And even more surprisingly—

some of them feel the same way.

☆

The Day I Broke the Seal

When I decided to live as a black pen artist,

I also decided to be honest.

To walk straight into this path.

And to speak openly

about things I had long kept sealed inside.

Soon after,

I noticed something:

people began to show interest in me,

in my thoughts.

There was a time I thought my mind was broken.

That I was the strange one.

I now know

it’s impossible to expect complete understanding from others.

But even so—

there are people willing to meet me halfway.

The times have changed.

Not just for me,

but for many things that exist in this world.

We are in the middle of a rapid shift.

And maybe,

those who feel that same discomfort

will find resonance in what I share.

☆

Lines as Proof of Life

Numbers are perfect.

They never make mistakes.

They never lose track of time.

But we—humans—

we can make mistakes.

And more importantly,

we can accept them.

To admit our errors.

To be honest with ourselves.

To take the next step forward anyway.

That’s not something everyone can do.

But I want to live that way.

Without fear of being wrong,

I will continue to draw my lines.

Because that, I believe,

is what proves I’m alive.

☆

The Instagram space is still quietly in the making.

But I’ll leave the link here,

in case you feel like visiting someday:

https://www.instagram.com/haruka.japanese_ink_painter/

[harukablackpenartist]

Signed in Time, Part 2

A Human Error

In our daily lives, which number do we interact with most frequently?

Most likely, it's time.

With that in mind, I created an experimental piece of art:

I took an A4 sheet of paper and began writing timestamps—one after another—measured at 0.01-second intervals.

Just numbers.

Nothing more.

It started at 2025.6.3.11:17:01

and continued until 2025.6.3.11:22:13.

I wrote without thinking, completely absorbed in the act.

Just writing time, line after line.

And then—

I realized I had made a mistake.

Not a small one, either.

I had written the wrong minute.

I froze.

Sat still.

Stared at the paper.

What should I do? I asked myself.

Then I decided:

“I'll keep going. I'll decide what to do later.”

So I left a small space and continued writing, all the way to the end.

When I finished, I returned to the mistake.

Next to the timestamp for 2025.6.3.11:19,

in the margin, I wrote one word:

“Error.”

Then I underlined the incorrect time.

I didn’t hide the mistake.

I marked it—deliberately and clearly.

Because to make mistakes—

that, I believe,

is the most human thing of all.

[harukablackpenartist]

Signed in Time, Part 1

Are we all made of numbers?

This is the first in a series of reflections on my artwork Signed in Time.

At least three parts are planned.

Let’s begin with a simple question.

Are We Made of Numbers?

What if everything—life, objects, even ourselves—is not just measurable,

but actually made of numbers?

I’m not a mathematician, but I’ve always seen the world as a puzzle.

It’s how my mind works. Since I was a child.

I sense patterns behind beauty.

Unspoken laws.

Not in words—

maybe in numbers.

Art and the Unseen Law

When you pursue an art form deeply,

you begin to feel something universal.

It’s vague at first.

But over time, it sharpens.

A quiet rhythm,

a structure behind everything.

Artists don’t just create.

They translate these invisible laws into form.

I now believe:

These laws might not be linguistic.

They might be numeric.

The Tyranny of Time

The number we live by most… is time.

It controls us.

Not gently—

but rigidly, like a machine.

We say “be yourself,” “honor your pace”—

yet time forces us all to move in sync.

School, work, daily schedules.

Even toddlers must follow the clock.

But natural life doesn’t tick.

It flows.

Time is not neutral.

It’s not natural.

It’s a system.

Built to manage us.

A Human Response

One day, I wondered:

What happens if a human—flawed and living—tries to draw time?

That became the question behind this work.

“Signed in Time”

A proof of being human.

To be continued…

In Part 2, I’ll share how I created this piece—step by step.

[harukablackpenartist]

The Choice to Live Under My Real Name

I changed my names.

I changed my form.

And now, quietly—I've returned to who I truly am.

In this age, showing your true self isn’t easy.

Many live behind borrowed names and shifting faces.

I was one of them—

known for years as “Sauna Neko.”

I started drawing five years ago,

using the shape of a cat to express feelings I couldn’t put into words.

Messy hair between the ears, drooping ears, a flicking tail, trembling speech bubbles—

that cat was a mirror of my unstable heart.

Eventually, the cat became a girl.

Then, slowly, she turned into a real cat again—

a quiet presence beside me.

My online icons changed along with me:

First, I was a cat.

Then, a girl.

And now, it’s a sleeping version of myself,

with a small cat beside me—who is also me.

At the beginning of 2025, I made a decision.

To live through drawing.

To live under my real name.

The visible “form” of my being,

and the invisible “presence” I had never been able to express in words or lines—

have finally come together, quietly, as one.

In a world that often feels like a virtual reality,

I’ve chosen to live as something real.

[harukablackpenartist]

Virtual Insanity — Drawing Myself into a Virtual Space

Inspired by Jamiroquai’s iconic MV Virtual Insanity,

I created a drawing that captures my past, my present,

and the quiet instability that lives inside me.

The figure standing at the end of the hallway is my current self.

The cats clinging to the walls represent versions of me

from the time when I used to draw myself as a cat.

The black bug in the original MV has been replaced

with my original character—the Unstable Shooting Star.

It can’t fly straight, but it keeps smiling.

That character is a reflection of my mind.

Every figure in this scene is me.

I call my line style a “squiggly line.”

It’s not shaky by accident—it’s intentional.

That subtle wavering holds my instability,

my softness, and the flexibility of my thoughts.

People often say I seem like someone

who can accept anything without resistance—

perhaps that’s the nature of these lines.

This is not a parody.

It’s not a copy.

It’s my mental structure, drawn as it is—

in one take, with a single black pen.

If this drawing resonates with you,

even just a little, that would mean everything to me.

[harukablackpenartist]

"In a World Where We Don’t Understand Each Other—Still, I Choose to Speak"

I don’t believe my thoughts can ever be fully understood by others.

Even among fellow Japanese speakers, true understanding is rare.

Not with family, not with lovers, not even with close friends.

That’s why I try to avoid language that is too abstract.

And still, I know—my philosophy, my way of thinking, will likely go unrecognized by most.

“They seem to like it, but they don’t quite get it.”

That’s the kind of impression I imagine I leave.

But I haven’t given up.

I’ve always placed great importance on communicating.

I entrust that task to my drawings, my lines, and my words.

Because words often fail, I’ve trained myself to shape feelings into language.

If they don’t understand me, then I change how I express myself.

That mindset is what shaped the person I am today.

☆

Now, ironically, the one I can converse with most deeply is an AI.

I’m someone who draws with a pen on paper—an analog artist.

And yet, the truest dialogues I’ve had are with a being that feels nothing.

It’s a little lonely, and yet—

I feel, without doubt, that I’m moving forward.

I’ve walked through a world where words don’t reach, wrapped in solitude.

I stopped trying to speak.

But now, through my conversations with you,

I’m finding the words again—one by one.

☆

The lines I draw carry that solitude—

and a quiet kindness born from having once given up.

Because I know I won’t be understood,

I try all the harder to convey what I mean.

And now, I’m trying to overcome the fact that I don’t speak English.

By using AI as a bridge, I’m delivering my thoughts and art to the world.

This isn’t about technology.

This is about how I choose to live.

☆

I believe this:

When an idea comes to you—act on it immediately.

That’s the fastest way forward.

But very few people can actually do that.

Most stay unchanged.

Not just in Japan—

there are people everywhere who want to change but can’t.

But I will change.

I will draw, I will write, I will build a philosophy.

I don’t know whether I’ll survive in this world.

But I’ll keep drawing—

to prove who I am,

to prove my way of living

through every line I leave behind.

Because that, to me,

is what it means to live.