Finding Light Through Art: Yayoi Kusama’s World by Teresa Lam
A glimpse into Yayoi Kusama’s world, where art turns struggle into infinite beauty.
Over Easter, I had the chance to visit the Yayoi Kusama exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria. I was amazed by her art and deeply moved by her life story. Born on 22 March 1929 in Japan, Yayoi Kusama is recognised as the world’s top-selling female artist and the most successful living artist. Yet, monetary success has never been her driving force. Kusama has openly said she wants to be famous—not for fame’s sake, but so people can immerse themselves in her art and understand her journey with mental health.
Her childhood on a pumpkin farm was far from nurturing. Her mother disapproved of her creativity, was physically abusive, and even instructed young Kusama to spy on her father’s infidelities. Kusama later shared, “I don’t like sex. I had an obsession with sex. When I was a child, my father had lovers, and I experienced seeing him. My mother sent me to spy on him. I didn’t want to have sex with anyone for years.” Her early life, filled with trauma, shaped much of her emotional landscape.
At ten, Kusama began experiencing vivid hallucinations: flashes of light, fields of dots, and talking flowers. Fabrics would come alive, patterns multiplying until they engulfed her—a sensation she would later channel into her art, calling it “self-obliteration.”
During her studies at the Kyoto Municipal School of Arts and Crafts, Kusama grew frustrated with traditional Japanese styles and became increasingly drawn to the avant-garde movements of Europe and America. By the 1950s, polka dots had become her signature. She described them as “a form of the sun, symbolising energy, and the moon, symbolising calm… Polka dots are a way to infinity.”
In 1958, Kusama moved to the United States at 27. I found her courage as an Asian woman setting out to find her place in a foreign land over 60 years ago incredibly inspiring. Immersed in the pop art scene and the 1960s counterculture, she created daring works—famously painting naked bodies with polka dots in the heart of New York City.
One of Kusama’s most iconic contributions is her Infinity Mirror Rooms. Since 1963, these installations have used mirrors to create dazzling illusions of endless space. My personal favourite is The Spirits of the Pumpkins Descended into the Heavens (2017)—standing inside it feels like being transported to a different world.
Tragedy struck when her close friend, artist Joseph Cornell, passed away in 1972. Kusama returned to Japan in 1973, only to find that the local art world did not welcome her. Struggling with depression, she attempted suicide again.
In 1977, she found refuge in a Tokyo hospital that embraced art therapy. By choice, she has lived there permanently since, spending her days at her nearby studio before returning to the hospital at night. Kusama once said, “If it were not for art, I would have killed myself a long time ago.” She continues to describe art as her lifeline: “I fight pain, anxiety, and fear every day, and the only method I have found that relieved my illness is to keep creating art.”
Kusama’s art spans many mediums, but what speaks most to me are her infinity rooms and her enormous, fantastical sculptures. Her work is deeply personal, filled with hallucinations, pumpkins, flowers, and endless dots—a vivid blend of autobiography and psychological exploration. I admire her resilience, her unstoppable creativity, and her output, still thriving at the age of 96.
While I took many photos, they don’t do justice to Kusama’s work. Her art needs to be experienced in person to truly grasp the depth and emotion she pours into each piece.
Since her early struggles, Kusama’s art has been celebrated worldwide. After Melbourne, her latest exhibition will travel to several European cities later in 2025. If you get the chance, I highly recommend stepping into her infinite worlds—you won’t be the same afterwards.
