2 NOVEMBER 2026

Where does art come from? Does it stem from lived experiences? Cultural background? Or maybe just what you see out your window? For Takao Tanabe, the answer seems to be all of the above.

And here’s another interesting question to ponder: How does someone go from being viewed as an enemy of the state to receiving some of the highest honors a country can bestow? Such is the fascinating life of this artist, and a recent retrospective celebrated not only his decades-long work, but his 100th birthday.

In 1926, Takao Tanabe was born to Japanese immigrants in British Columbia, Canada. He was the fifth of seven children. They lived in Seal Cove, a small fishing village that was a mostly Japanese Canadian community, and Tanabe’s father ran a commercial fishing boat while his mother worked in a nearby cannery. The family moved to Vancouver in 1937, and it was four years later that their lives were dramatically changed.

In December of 1941, 15-year-old Tanabe was in high school when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Even before America, Canada declared war on Japan. In B.C., Japanese Canadians immediately felt the impact. All of their fishing boats were seized, Japanese language newspapers and schools were shut down, and a strict curfew went into effect. In 1942, the government designated a stretch of land along the B.C. coast as a protected area, forcing out anyone of Japanese descent and taking their homes and businesses. Approximately 22,000 people were displaced during WWII, and the Tanabes were among them.

The family was sent to an internment camp in Lemon Creek, which is on the southeast side of the province. To add insult to injury, the prisoners had to build their own shacks. Tanabe helped his father put up and waterproof structures, and it was his job to apply tar to the roofs. Though there was a way out, the choices were bleak. One was to work on a farm as an indentured servant, which is what three of his siblings decided to do. Another option was to enlist in the military and fight for Canada, but Tanabe refused to do either.

When the war ended, the Japanese Canadians who had been forced out couldn’t go home, and their choices were to either resettle east of the Rocky Mountains or leave the country. In 1944, Tanabe and some older siblings moved to Winnipeg and he began working as a laborer. Because he had never finished high school, his career choices were limited, but he learned that the Winnipeg School of Art was willing to accept students even if they didn’t have a diploma. Thinking practically, Tanabe began taking classes in sign painting.

"I went to art school thinking I could become a commercial artist and make a few dollars that way, and not have to work as a laborer for the rest of my life," he said.

But he also started taking drawing and painting classes, and it was these that sparked his creativity and made him realize that he wanted to be an artist. He put himself through school first by working in a local foundry and then as a part-time janitor at the college.

After graduating, Tanabe spent time in New York and different parts of Europe, and it didn’t take long for his work – at that time he mostly worked in Abstract Expressionism – to receive international acclaim.

An issue Tanabe struggled with his whole life concerns identity. Although his parents were Japanese, he never learned the language and thought of himself strictly as Canadian. But throughout his life – and particularly during WWII – Tanabe kept being reminded of his ethnicity. “I felt the mark of being branded Japanese, not knowing anything about Japan,” he said.

In 1959, after receiving a Canada Council grant, Tanabe decided to visit Japan for the first time. “The whole war and after-war experience of being considered a foreigner in what I thought was my own country… it was time I found out whether I really was Japanese or not,” he explained.

In Japan, he studied calligraphy and sumi-e, which is traditional Japanese black ink wash painting, and he produced many works. But, after two years, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t Japanese, at least not in the way that natives thought of themselves.

For the next several years, Tanabe bounced around between the U.S. and Canada, but eventually he realized that he wanted to return where it all began. In the early 80s, he moved back to British Columbia, settling on Vancouver Island. It was there that he began working on the art that would define his legacy. These were large pieces depicting the coastal landscape featuring misty scenes of islands and stormy skies.

Tanabe’s goal was to view the world around him differently. “What I am trying to do is create new forms based on nature so that I see the world in a new way,” he said.

The works are purposely a little murky and mysterious. “I love the whole idea of not being able to see things clearly, he said. “Indistinct land masses, indistinct water with bits and pieces floating on it. It suits my temperament. Being secretive.”

Over the last several decades, Tanabe has gotten world-wide acclaim for his work. He has also been recognized by his nation, receiving the Order of British Columbia and Governor General’s Award in Visual and Media Arts. In 1999, a half-century after he and his family were imprisoned, he was given the Order of Canada, which pays tribute to people who make extraordinary contributions to the country, and is one of the highest honors a civilian can receive.

How was this issue?

One tap is all it takes.