Thirty spokes meet in the hub,
but the empty space between them
is the essence of the wheel.
Pots are formed from clay,
but the empty space between it
is the essence of the pot.
Walls with windows and doors form the house,
but the empty space within it
is the essence of the house.

The "space between" is related to the Japanese concept of ma, a word that has no true English translation. Ma fills what would otherwise look like an empty gallery at The Contemporary Museum. The window to the garden area is exposed and the walls in the first gallery are bare and yet the exhibit is installed.

Sculptor Yoshihiro Suda has choreographed the placement of his 11 carved magnolia wood pieces throughout the gallery, but to find them you have to look carefully. Suda's installation is sparse, deceptive, and enlightening. Viewing his work demands your full attention and focus. You might ask, "Where IS it?" until you stop looking at the walls and notice the life-like weeds growing up through the floorboards. His work, described as "flabbergasting displays of craftsmanship," heightens the poignancy of this exhibit that arrived in two lightweight boxes and was installed in less than three hours.

Born in 1969 in Yamanashi, Japan, Suda was raised on his parents' peach and grape farm. He graduated with a bachelor of arts in graphic design from Tama Art University in Tokyo in 1992. From his humble beginning — selling his sculpted flowers and weeds out of a parked wagon (continually putting yen into the parking meter) in 1993 — Suda's career has vigorously blossomed. In 2003, his solo exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago garnered rave reviews. He has exhibited his work in Europe, South Korea, Canada and Australia, as well as Japan and the United States.

With the help of interpreters Kana Sakai and later Hiromi Saito I interviewed the artist in the gallery during his recent visit:

Q. Why do you use only magnolia wood for carving?

A. At first, I tried many other woods but magnolia wood is perfect to carve. It is not too soft or too hard. It felt right to me. This wood is meant to be carved. I carve each piece in sections and then glue them together with Krazy Glue.

Q. How long does it take you to carve a flower like the magnolia in the exhibit?

A. Now it only takes a month. Ten years ago it took more than three months. It's getting easier.

Q. Your work is so low-tech and minimalistic. How much wood do you need to have on hand to carve a piece?

A. Ten years ago I bought a piece of magnolia wood that is 3 meters (about 10 feet) high and about 20 inches in diameter. I take slices off of it to carve. I am still using that same log for my work today.

Q. How do the Japanese pigments you use differ from our paints in the United States?

A. I mix my pigments from traditional materials used for Japanese nihonga painting. This is a 1,000-year-old form of painting that came from China and still exists in Japan. I use natural pigments from minerals, rocks and other things and mix them with nikawa, or animal-hide glue. I also grind colored glass powder into these archival pigments to give them a modern component.

Q. Your work and its installation have such a Zen-like quality. Do you meditate before carving?

A. No. I carve while watching television — that's my meditation. It's very relaxing for me. My everyday life is not tidy. My house is a mess and I'm not very good at organizing. Maybe that's why I can concentrate and make this art so exact.

Q. Do you use live plants as inspiration?

A. I do, if they are available. I also use my own photographs and pictures from books.

Q. You graduated with a degree in graphic design. How did you get into sculpting?

A. In my freshman year in college we had to take basic art classes. One was a sculpture class. Our homework assignment was to carve a dried fish and paint it. I picked a dried squid. That was the thing that triggered my interest in carving as a hobby. I carved my first flower in my junior year.

Q. Have you ever seriously injured yourself using the sharp tools you carve with?

A. Ten years ago my carving tool slipped and I needed 20 stitches in my left hand. I'm more careful now.

Q. Do you have a favorite piece that you've carved?

A. Weeds — that's why I keep making them. They are so poignant. I think I am like a weed. I like simple things. My father was a farmer and farmers hate weeds. He used chemicals to kill the weeds on our farm. I wanted to fix that. (He chuckles.) I am making up for the sin of my father by re-creating the weeds.

Q. What does your father think of your work?

A. At first, he was confused and laughed. He said, "How can you make a living making weeds?"

Q. There's theatricality in this installation. Do you like to watch people's reaction to your work?

A. I love it. When I make my work I imagine their reaction and that's part of the work. But even if the viewer misses seeing a weed, leaf or flower, that's also part of the exhibition. Missing it is also part of it.

Victoria Gail-White has been writing about art for The Advertiser since 2001.