The inward world of Kure Haru

Born in Tokyo in 2000 and a graduate of Musashino Art University’s Nihonga (Japanese painting) department, Kure Haru (呉晴) belongs to a generation that effortlessly moves between analog and digital.

Kure’s hands often still return to the traditional textures of mineral pigments and washi paper, yet the work drifts just as naturally into digital spaces. Across these mediums, what remains constant is the vision, the incentive behind the work, one that looks inward like a mirror.

“I’ve never been interested in flashy subjects or dramatic themes,” Kure explains. “What I draw is rooted in myself. Even when I’m walking through the city, or even asleep, it feels like I’m facing my own inner landscape. Everything I see is filtered through that, and that’s what I try to capture.”

The result is a body of work that feels diaristic, though not in the literal sense of daily notes. The drawings often arrive slightly surreal, echoing a version of the artist already receding into the past. By the time a piece is finished, Kure laughs, “it already feels like an older self.” This sense of time lag infuses the work with distance, as though memory itself has been flattened into image.

“My characters are intentionally unpersonal,” Kure says. “But that’s exactly why people comment, ‘This is me!’ which is exactly how I want it to be read.” Kure’s characters appear again and again, stripped of individuality until they resemble game avatars in their earliest state.

Kure’s illustration style is instantly recognizable for its plain lines and planar space. From the start Kure was drawn more toward lines rather than form, surface rather than depth. And most obviously, manga, too, left an undeniable trace in Kure’s work, its shorthand expressions of emotion and its ability to compress the inner life into marks.

In the end, the work feels like a subtle rebellion against spectacle. Instead of shock or novelty, Kure offers a mirror for repetition and the ordinary. That very ordinariness becomes the point: a flat surface on which anyone might find themselves reflected.

Looking ahead, Kure keeps the ambition grounded. “I just want to continue making work, the same as always,” he says simply. In practice, this means sharing pieces on social media, participating in events like COMITIA, and staging small exhibitions. For now, the act of showing remains secondary to the act of drawing itself.

For viewers, the invitation is clear: look for yourself in the unassuming figures, because just like a diary written in lines, kure’s work is holding up a mirror.