Among the pieces in Satoshi Takahira’s current exhibition — lithograph and woodblock prints of a deceptively minimalist appearance — it’s curious to see one stand out with such force.

Right above the artist’s statement is a small, abstract self-portrait sharply delineated in black ink. It appears almost violent in stark contrast with the other works, which are unframed, simply mounted with pins and subtle in their multilayered approach.

In his latest exhibition, "My Process: Looking & Printing," at Hawaii Pacific University’s Hawaii Loa campus art gallery, Takahira continues his singular approach to printmaking. It’s based on an old Japanese proverb he’s taken to heart: "A moment is in everything, and everything is in a moment."

Commenting on his self-portrait, Takahira said, via email from Japan, that "(in) contrast to my prints with many color layers (that) look blurry after printing, printing and printing with multiple colors, the drawing was simply made by layers of sharp black lines. Instead of the image looking like it’s fading out into blurry space, the black ink just stayed on the paper, not fading out, but it looks flatter than my prints" and represents a contrasting "chaotic heaviness and darkness."

After the initial shock of the self-portrait, gallery patrons will take in the relative calm of his prints.

"When you first look at Satoshi’s works in the exhibition, they seem to be deceptively simple, but they have a Zen-like quality to them," said gallery curator Sanit Khewhok. "The longer you look at each work, the more various dimensions in the works reveal themselves. The printmaking techniques Satoshi used to produce these pieces are very complex and labor intensive. Subtle layers of color and pattern are built up on the surfaces of the prints.

"His work is very original and technically very sophisticated."

the lithograph "A Moment," comprising circular and splatter imagery, was made by placing a bamboo brush, laden with Sumi black ink, into a drill.

The imagery created was random and in the moment. "My prints (are made in the process) of unpredictable incidence."

Takahira’s aesthetic stems from time spent in meditation in a cave in the company of two elderly men.

"When I was 12, I dropped out of middle school, having had difficulties with the established education system in Japan. No one could answer my queries about life and the rationale for existence. No one had any empathy for my distress.

"My teacher said, ‘Don’t worry about such things. Now you should just concentrate on passing your exams, get into a good college, get a good job and marry a nice girl.’ I thought, ‘Is that all there is to life?’ So despite everyone’s objections, and the irony that my own mother was a teacher, I left school."

Takahira would find his escape in nearby Mount Ikoma.

"One day I found a cave and met two old men who were mysteriously inside. They were sitting in Zazen postures, and there was only the light of a candle. I decided to join them in their meditation."

Takahira would spend four years in the company of these men.

He remembers a discussion that would bring the purpose of his art into clear focus.

In the dimly lit cave, one of the men asked, "Do you know how long the candle will last?

"I answered, ‘I don’t know, but maybe three or four more hours.’

"‘Show me then,’ he said, and he gave me a white chalk.

"So I drew a long horizontal line on a wall in the cave, and vertical lines in a grid, in an order of a measure of time, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

"Then he asked me, ‘Where is now?’

"I said, ‘I don’t know, maybe between 3 and 4.’

"‘How can you see that? How can you see the time that you are looking at right now?’

"‘I don’t really know what you mean.’

"‘How can you see past and future?’"

The man then pointed to the candle. "‘What is this that you are looking at right now?’

"I said, without making any sense, ‘What I am looking at right now is what I am looking at right now!’

"‘You’re right. There is no future or past in time, but just (the pres­ent). Thus time is not like a line, but like a dot. Like a sewing machine, a needle of time always hits at the same spot.’

"So for me," said Takahira, explaining his printmaking philosophy, "time is a moment when I printed 100 times."