Her airy studio seems to flow seamlessly into the field outside (and in winter, the chill comes right through the mud-plaster walls). Ribbons of shredded gampi hang from the eaves and tangle into piles on the floor along a bank of windows across the front of the house—a modern renovation to the rustic building. There’s an open charcoal fire pit, and jars of umeboshi—pickled plums, her favorite ingredient—ferment on a shelf. The same indigos and subdued greens of her artwork, her imposing Land Rover, and the Japanese countryside are here and there in the objects inhabiting her home and the clothes she wears. She has the air of elegance and subtlety that women from Kyoto (her home town) are known for, but with a joyful, impish smile that can’t be contained.