Portraits Of Jennie By Yasushi Rikitake108 Better May 2026


Prepared by:
[Your Name] – Art Research Analyst
Date: 25 March 2026

Prepared for: Curatorial and Academic Stakeholders interested in contemporary Japanese digital art.

Since Yasushi Rikitake is best known for his ethereal, long-exposure photographs of dancers in motion (particularly the series Portrait of Jennie inspired by the 1948 film), this write-up treats "108 better" as a philosophical and technical upgrade—referencing the Buddhist bonnō (108 earthly desires/temptations). portraits of jennie by yasushi rikitake108 better


The number 108 is sacred in many Eastern traditions—Buddhism, Hinduism, Jainism. It represents:

To make Portraits of Jennie 108 better is not merely to increase quantity or resolution. It is to transmute the photographic act into a meditational performance. Each of the 108 portraits would represent the dissolution of one specific desire: fear, longing, ego, jealousy, attachment to form. Prepared by: [Your Name] – Art Research Analyst

This report investigates the artwork series “Portraits of Jennie” created by contemporary Japanese illustrator Yasushi Rikitake, focusing on the “108 Better” version that has gained notable attention on digital platforms. The analysis covers the artist’s background, the conceptual framework of the series, stylistic and technical characteristics, the meaning behind the “108 Better” designation, audience reception, and the work’s positioning within current trends in illustration and digital art.


Much of Rikitake’s signature work utilizes the square (1:1) aspect ratio. This format changes the psychology of the image. A rectangular image often implies a landscape or an action happening left-to-right. A square image implies stability and focus. The number 108 is sacred in many Eastern

By placing Jennie in the center of a square frame, Rikitake forces the viewer to confront the subject directly. There is nowhere else to look. The background is often a simple, monochromatic wall—sometimes beige, sometimes grey—rendering the environment irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the connection between Jennie’s eyes and the lens.

Rikitake has spoken obliquely about the series as an exploration of mono no aware—the Japanese awareness of impermanence. But unlike traditional wabi-sabi aesthetics that find beauty in decay, Portraits of Jennie finds beauty in evanescence itself. The photographs do not mourn a lost person; they mourn the act of losing. Jennie is less a woman than a function of memory: she exists because you cannot quite hold her.

In this sense, the series subverts the very purpose of portraiture. A traditional portrait arrests time, declares “this person was here.” Rikitake’s Jennie declares instead: “She was here, and now she is not—and even when she was, she was already leaving.”

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