For the group show “Ghost Letter“

2024. 06

Recently, I increasingly use AI to generate images in the process of production. This is because I usually create paintings based on images taken from the Internet, and it is easy to experiment when I want to make a slight change or see a pattern.
AI is already being used everywhere in the world, whether we are aware or not. I am sure it is in the content you see today. When I think about it, I feel that my own thoughts, choices, and even the subjectivity of my own practice beyond that are being deprived little by little.
So I wondered if I could somehow resist AI. I wanted to show them something incomprehensible that would make them hold their hands.
I have previously depicted a wearable stuffed animal under the theme of what can be seen by hiding things. The stuffed animal which is the origin of the wearable stuffed animal is a substitute for an animal or character. A human being wears a stuffed animal inside and poses as a character. There is a grotesque perversion in wearable stuffed animals that injects a sense of vividness into something fictional. Here I sense a certain kind of humanity.
I then drew out a picture of the AI-generated image of the wearable stuffed animal. Looking at the completed picture, I felt it was like a proof photograph. It seemed to me that the emptiness of forcibly capturing the surface and identifying the individual, and the hollow image created by the AI, were connected by being made into a painting.


For the group show “Ghost Letter

Text by Edel Assanti for Online solo exhibition

2023. 06

Hidetaka Suzuki’s figurative paintings depict uncanny, transient fragments of everyday life that blur the boundaries between reality and fiction.

Luxuriating in their absence of context and thematic dissociation from one another, his paintings are unified by their soft focus and wistful colour palette.

Suzuki’s paintings are translated from found online images, rendered in a distinct, horizontally vibrating brushwork that assumes a conceptual effect equivalent to pixels on a screen, drawing our attention to the mediation of his subject matter.

The ongoing series of Untitled paintings draws their compositions from AI-generated images, an interest that stems from Suzuki’s professional experience working as a programmer.

These images are treated with equivalence to his other source imagery, which include crops of intimate anonymous family scenes, still lifes and portraits, further frustrating our ability to differentiate between original and copy, truth and fiction.

Informed by the texture and ephemerality of digital images, Suzuki’s works vacillate between the virtual and the resolutely painterly, addressing technology’s capacity for appropriation with art historical modes of reproduction. Stripped of their contexts and cropped beyond recognition, these scenes are suspended between evocations of a before and after, as though severed from a lost sequence residing in someone’s memory, or on an unidentified hard drive.





これらの画像は、匿名で親密な家族の情景や静物、肖像画などを切り取った他の画像と同等に扱われ、オリジナルとコピー、真実と虚構を区別することをさらに拒否している。 デジタル画像の質感と儚さに影響された鈴木の作品は、バーチャルと絵画的なものの間で揺れ動き、テクノロジーの流用能力と美術史的な複製様式に取り組んでいる。



BY Edel Assanti

September, 2022

2022. 09
I was fascinated at a certain point in my life with finding family photos on the internet.
I was attracted to the sense of guilt and the strange feeling of being able to see other people’s private photos, which I had nothing to do with. Things opened up in front of me that I would never usually have the chance to see.Once I reblogged a family photo on Tumblr that was probably from overseas, and there was a comment on it. It was a comment in English. It was an angry “Why do you have my father’s picture? Delete it immediately”.Of course, I did not upload this photo. Nor do I own it. It was a photo taken somewhere, uploaded to the internet by someone else, and for whatever reason, it showed up on my dashboard. If I deleted the post, the data would never disappear from the internet, but I immediately deleted that reblog.When I read the comments, I felt an eerie sensation as if I was suddenly touched by something damp and caught a glimpse of a gaze from out of nothing. Something supposed to be fiction was somehow connected to reality and haunting me. The place I believed to be safe was, from the other side, just within their reach.





Text by Sophie Arni for ArtConnect’s Artists to Watch ’21.

2021. 06

Hidetaka Suzuki stands out for his technical ability and purposefully minimal compositions.

The oil painting medium, known for its hyperrealistic tendencies and its technical difficulties, makes up for an interesting contrast to Suzuki’s choice of radically simple subject matter.

Whether it’s red peppers, such as in Red Basket, or a half-cut lemon, such as in Bomb, the viewer is left wondering what made these items so special for the artist to dedicate time to paint them. Suzuki doesn’t speak, he suggests.



Red basketのような赤ピーマンであれ、Bombのような半分にカットされたレモンであれ、見る側は作家が時間をかけて描くほどこれらのアイテムが特別なものであるのかどうか疑問に思うことだろう。



Sophie Arni / Curator

Text by Emilia Yin for Foundwork Guest Curators Program

2021. 06

I resonate with Hidetaka Suzuki’s quote about image-making and its function—he says, ‘Our future is woven from these fragments.’

Perceiving painting as a subjective glimpse, each of his works seems to occupy a space somewhere between the mundane and the uncanny: the cross-eyed pigeon, the hairy neck of a Geisha, or aggressive fire coming out of an ordinary stove.

The brushwork of his paintings is tender and playful, as if subtly reminding you not to forget the absurdity of our own existence, but with a dose of love and care.





Emilia Yin / Curator and the founder and director, Make Room Los Angeles