I live in Sakurae Town, a collection of villages and hamlets of about 3,500 people scattered over 110 square kilometers along the Gono and Yato rivers. Sakurae is in central Shimane, in the Iwami area. I have lived in my village, Tanijyugo, for a little over a year and a half now. I came here after spending 2 years in Kyoto.

With its 3,000-plus temples and shrines, and having been spared bombing raids during WWII, Kyoto is a nice enough city, possibly the nicest in Japan, but city life drove me crazy. The tiny living spaces, overcrowding, noise, and pollution-all made me desperate to move into the countryside. Before coming to Japan I had lived in Navajo Country in the desert of southwestern U.S.A., where the distance between neighbors is measured in multiples of miles, not inches. As a painter, my output decreased to a couple of paintings a year while in Kyoto. Because I am concerned with the patterns, cycles, and rhythms of the natural world, and our spiritual connections to them, the city was not fertile ground for me.

My wife, Yoko, and I made several trips to various parts of rural Japan, searching for houses to rent, but everywhere we went we received the same answer: "That is difficult," which essentially means "no." A friend phoned us and told us about an "Experience Countryside" tour she had just been on in Shimane, organized by Iwami Magazine, an organization that helps city people move out into rural Shimane. I must admit, I had never heard of Shimane, but after few minutes of searching on the internet I discovered some very interesting facts. Shimane is the most-forested prefecture in Japan; it is also the second-least populated prefecture. The Gono River, which runs through Shimane, is the longest river in western Japan, and within its watershed there is absolutely no major industry. Encouraged by this information, we contacted Iwami Magazine and explained that we were very interested in moving to the countryside, but we didn't want to wait 6 months until the next tour. They invited us down and, on the following weekend, introduced us to the area and to some of the 70 families who had already made the move from cities to Sakurae. A month later we came back and looked at a few available houses. The rest, as they say, is history.

We now live in an old farmhouse that could contain our old apartment within its entrance hall. We have a huge garden that supplies all our vegetable needs, and I am back to painting prolifically. When people ask what life in Sakurae is like, I usually answer by telling them what we don't have. Sakurae has no pachinko parlors, no karaoke boxes, and no fast-food joints. There are no convenience stores; there is not even a place to rent videos. What we do have is an abundance of peace and quiet, fine scenery in every direction, and supportive neighbors.

Part of my nature is to understand the place I live. I often ask myself: where does the water come from? What grows here? I am also interested in the human history and culture of the place: how have people lived here? How do they live now? To learn these things, I have taken to exploring Sakurae on foot, on the hundreds of kilometers of back roads barely traveled by vehicles. Traveling slowly and quietly, I have encountered wild boars and monkeys on many occasions; one morning I came upon a troop of more than 20 monkeys feeding in the trees by the roadside. Although Shimane has had more bear sightings than any other prefecture (almost 400) this year, so far I have not met any. However, on foot, I have met many people. Walking through isolated hamlets as a stranger, and a strange-looking one at that, people often engage me in conversation: where are you going? Where have you come from? Invariably, during these encounters, I become acquainted with some feature of historical or cultural interest.

The communities of Sakurae and the traditional Navajo Indians have parallels, for both are comprised primarily of elderly people and have roots in a lifestyle based on the land and on a genuine communality. However, their landscapes vary significantly, and my paintings have changed to reflect the difference between the desert in Arizona and the dominance of water and vegetation here in Shimane. Furthermore, Shinto symbols have become a rich source of interpretation, and I look forward to exploring my new home for many years.