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Sho Shibuya

Under a Sky That Changes

Words PLUS MAGAZINE

Photography JAE KIM

Before the city wakes, Brooklyn-based artist Sho Shibuya begins his day in stillness: watching the sky shift, reading the news, and noticing what might otherwise pass unseen. Over time, this quiet ritual became the foundation of his practice.

In Sunrise From a Small Window, he paints over the front page of The New York Times with colors drawn directly from the morning sky, each one marking a fleeting moment in time.

His process is rooted in observation: a specific sunrise, a specific headline, a specific day. In his hands, time is gently recorded, where the passing of time is marked through shifting gradients and quiet gestures.

Beauty is found in the act of paying attention.

PLUS MAGAZINE: You’ve said your mornings in New York—watching the sunrise, reading The New York Times—are essential to your rhythm. What do these moments of stillness reveal about your relationship with the city?

SHO SHIBUYA: When I lived in Tokyo, my life was all work—there was little room for quiet moments, no chance to pause and reflect or even to read. After moving to New York in 2011, my days began to wind down by 5 or 6 p.m., and suddenly I had time again. I began painting, reading, and slowly found a rhythm for my life. Over time, that rhythm became my foundation. Even though we take in difficult news every day, this morning ritual grounds me.
I love the early morning hours in New York. They’re calm, a complete contrast to the daytime noise. I feel joy when I climb up to the roof and breathe in the morning air. From there, I can take in the sunrise before the city wakes up—a quiet moment that sets the tone for the rest of the day.

P: In Sunrise From a Small Window, you use the structure of The New York Times as both a constraint and a canvas. In a world flooded with headlines and urgency, what does it mean to paint over the news—to withhold language or leave something unnamed?

SS: The news is never erased; it’s just hidden under my painting. If you focus too much on the news, it can become overwhelming; if you focus only on nature, you may feel disconnected from society. I try to hold both at once: there’s always a beautiful sunrise rising behind difficult headlines.

P: Since this ongoing series reflects the passing of time, where no sunrise is ever the same, and neither is the news. Has the project become a kind of evolving dialogue between you and the world, where each painting captures a distinct moment in that conversation?

SS: Four years ago, on 11/8/2020, the headline read “Biden Beats Trump.” Then, on 11/8/2024, it was “Trump Storms Back.” The contrast and timing of these two moments is striking. Placing the works side by side was never planned, and no one could have predicted it. The passage of time created this unexpected dialogue, and it continues to unfold. I’m grateful I can still preserve this story through my paintings today.

P: In your studio, a new sculptural work is taking shape: a clear acrylic tower layered with time. Stacks of archived newspapers, the top portion filled with used paint tubes, and what appear to be old letters or paper fragments at the base. What drew you to this form?

SS: I love the stack of recycled newspapers. There’s a certain mood in that structure and it contains a whole month’s worth of news and history. It’s my way of compressing time. I’m still unsure how the series will evolve, but I feel like I’m gradually exploring something new.

P: You’ve mentioned collecting newspapers wherever you go. There’s something physical, even intimate, about holding a local paper from a place you’re just passing through. Are there any you haven’t collected yet but hope to? Whether for what they represent or their visual or linguistic quality?

SS: I’d love to collect newspapers from China, Eastern Europe, South America, and Africa. I’ve seen so much news from these regions through the media, but I’d like to experience it firsthand. To see how local papers circulate within each country. I need to act quickly before they disappear!

P: During the studio visit, as I looked through your extensive archives of paintings grouped by themes like politics, nature, and international events, it felt like a form of storytelling in itself. I was struck by how thoughtfully you remember each painting and moment. Do you think this way of archiving reflects your relationship to time—how it passes, leaves a mark, or is remembered?

SS: It became a collective memory; all the work originated from my narrow perspective of the moment, but the topic I depicted was also something people had experienced. The growing volume of stacked works in my studio represents the passage of time.

P: Lastly, could you share a recent moment that made you pause, one you haven’t been able to forget?

SS: A close friend of mine recently passed away at the age of forty. I truly believe he lived a full and meaningful life. I flew back to Japan for the funeral, and I haven’t been able to forget the sky that day, it was incredibly beautiful. At the same time, I watched his daughter and son crying at the crematorium. That moment, grief and beauty side by side has stayed with me since.