ISSUE #9 'a glove is a "lighthome" isn't it?'

“Why is there always one single glove lying on the ground?”
A lone glove using fallen leaves as its blanket.
A lone glove mistakenly stuck on a pole as if reaching for its owner’s hand. A lone glove passed out drunk on the asphalt in the park.
A lone glove politely guiding you: “This way to the venue.”
A lone glove flashing a peace sign, delighted about something only it knows.

Just recalling my usual walk home or the familiar routes I take, countless such scenes appear.
And on one of those beer-in-hand journeys back home, I found yet another lone glove.

While walking, I wondered:
“Where is this lone glove trying to return to? “

The thought came and went.
Nothing special happened that day; I simply tucked the idea into my pocket and went home with the rest of my beer and my favorite music.

Seasons passed, and I finally had the chance
or rather, I made the chance
to see Matisse’s paintings.

I wanted to know what kinds of homes Matisse and Van Gogh looked at,
what kinds of people, scents, seas, and air filled their days.

So I put aside my reluctance to travel once more, tucked it away in my pocket, and visited the places connected to them.

I fell in love with the murals inside Matisse’s chapel.
The decisive, unwavering line drawn in a single stroke pierced right into a heart that had felt a bit tired.

“A single stroke can enter the heart this deeply. “

One stroke, one thing, one side…
A single glove.

That memory overlapped, and I found myself thinking about it again.

Gloves. Chopsticks. Shoes. Earphones.
Red Riding Hood and the Wolf.
Many things only function as a pair.

But the things that matter most—
the heart, one’s inner self, family—
each exists as only one.

The glove I had tucked away in my mind slipped out of that pocket,
and along with my affection for Matisse,
it began to dance across the canvas in my head, forming a collage.

That’s when I began thinking again:
Where is this lone glove trying to return to?

The thought slowly shifted:
Things like the heart or family—those irreplaceable ones—are the places we return to.

And with that realization:
Maybe this glove isn’t trying to return somewhere…
maybe it is someone’s home.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about “one”—
one object, one home, one place to return to.

I’ve researched, sketched, and listened to music. 
Recently, I’ve been creating playlists for each issue.
Music feels like the only medium capable of shaping indescribable sensations.

 Perhaps guided by those very sensations,
I came across two works—one song, one EP—
each containing the word ‘Lighthouse'.

I once thought: A glove is someone’s home.
But perhaps the glove, like a moonlit beacon,
guides wandering thoughts, illuminating the path like a lighthouse.

Layer by layer, this idea stacked itself together,
naturally forming one conclusion:
The lone glove is both a home and a lighthouse.

A place you can always return to—
and a quiet light showing you the way home.

And because I believe in both interpretations,
I chose to slightly play with the word instead of using “Lighthouse” directly for the title.

Through this process, the glove—once just an inorganic sign one might spot on a walk,
like a traffic signal or a street sign—
became something organic,
transformed by the light of a home or a lighthouse.

Of course, a glove is neither a house nor a lighthouse.
But instead of translating it literally as “a glove is a glove,”
I realized I wanted to create a translation that can’t be explained logically:

A glove is a home, and a lighthouse.
It might not make literal sense, 
but it might evoke empathy—
something a machine can’t replicate.

That is the kind of design I want to create.

As I continued painting, every scene turned out to be winter.
The motifs—moon, winter, home, walking—
are foundational elements that have long existed at the base of who I am, beyond reason.

Filtering these scenes through different lenses—
changing their colors, adjusting their density,
diluting them with milk, topping them with whipped cream—
I present them to you like dishes on a table:

“Isn’t this kind of scenery delicious too?”

Perhaps that’s what I wanted to say.

This time, I used the lone glove as the material,
mixed it with memory,
pulled out the crumpled passion that had been stuffed too deeply in my pocket,
and warmed it carefully together with the motif of winter.

And the conclusion became this:

“Why is there always one single glove lying on the ground?”

“I’m home.”
“Welcome back.”

If those voices could be heard—
wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Issue #9 — “a glove is a lighthome, isn’t it?”

References 

Koji Ishii — Introduction to Lost Glove Studies 

Koji Ishii — LOST GLOVE On The Road 

Ukrainian Folktale — The Mitten 

Andreas Samuelsson — Houses 

Koji Ishii’s philosophy from September 

Matisse’s Chapel

- Soundtracks -

M1: Lighthouse Melodies (WHALE LIVING) — Homecomings

M2: Perth (The Lighthouse Project – EP) — Amiina

M3: 12 & 1 Song — Janis Crunch & Haruka Nakamura

M4: For Now I Am Winter — Ólafur Arnalds & Arnór Dan

M5 (Secret Track): 筆舌 (Anew) — RADWIMPS