Some Paintings Are About Gratitude - Hidemasa Mortia

Today I write this letter with a big smile.

I do not think my artwork has ever led me to a moment quite like today.

My connection with Japan has been present in my life for as long as I can remember. I grew up hearing stories about Japan because my parents lived there before I was born. In our house there was a samurai sword that no one was allowed to touch, almost like a sacred object. I remember watching The Last Samurai as a child and being deeply affected by the idea of honour. I could not understand how someone could sacrifice everything for principles and dignity, and somehow that feeling stayed with me.

As I grew older, that fascination evolved into quieter things. The discipline behind bonsai. The beauty of imperfection in kintsugi. The calmness of Japanese films and music. The attention given to small details. The respect people seem to have for one another. Japan slowly became something larger in my imagination. Almost an idea of peace.

Since 2022, Tarla and I have visited Japan twice, and every time I return, I feel calmer, lighter, more connected to life itself. It is difficult to explain fully in words. It is not simply tourism. It is a feeling. Perhaps that is why, almost one thousand days ago, I started learning Japanese on Duolingo. Not because I needed to. Not because I had a plan. Mostly because I wanted to feel connected to that world in some small way. Today marks 995 consecutive days learning the language. At this point it has become less a goal and more a quiet daily ritual. A reminder that consistency matters. And somehow, all these small connections eventually led me to today.

In 2023, I painted Hidemasa Morita.

Not as a commission. Not because anyone asked me to. I painted him because, for me, he represented a bridge between Portugal and Japan. A player who adapted himself to Portugal with humility and discipline and who became part of one of the most important moments Sporting has lived in recent years. Football has always meant family to me. It is one of the few moments where my father, my brother and I always come together, whether in victories or defeats. My brother lived more than ten years in England, and after returning to Portugal, football became one of the things that connected us again. Curiously, two years ago he gave me Morita’s Sporting jersey as a birthday gift. Today, we took that same jersey to be signed.

This morning we went to Academia Cristiano Ronaldo to finally deliver the painting. I have delivered paintings before, but this time felt different. I was nervous in a way I had never been. Not because I was afraid of criticism, but because I did not want to become “just a fan”. I was afraid of awkward silences, of not knowing what to say, of making the moment feel artificial. But the moment Morita entered the room, all that pressure disappeared. There was something incredibly simple and humble about the interaction. His English is not perfect, my Japanese is very limited, and so we ended up speaking through a mixture of Japanese, Portuguese and English. Somehow that made everything feel even more genuine. We were both trying to meet somewhere in the middle.

Before showing him the painting, I had written a message in Japanese on the back of the canvas using a brush. A message of gratitude. When he saw the text, I could immediately feel that something connected. He even joked that he preferred the written part more than the painting itself. And honestly, that did not hurt me at all. The painting was made three years ago. I have evolved since then and I know I would paint it differently today. But the important part was never perfection. It was gratitude. The message mattered more than the brushstrokes.

For the first time, I felt that my effort to connect with Japan had somehow become real. Like Japan suddenly knew I existed too. Morita signed the jersey my brother had given me years before and wrote, in Japanese, that he loved the artwork and that “once a lion, always a lion.” It felt strangely cinematic. Three years ago I painted him during a moment of inspiration without imagining where that painting would eventually lead. And now, on the eve of his final match for Sporting, the painting returned to him almost like a closing circle. If I had delivered it years ago, it would not have carried the same meaning. The titles had not yet been won. The memories had not yet been created. The emotional weight simply did not exist yet. Today was no longer just an artistic gesture from me. It became a moment of appreciation from Sporting itself towards a player who became important for so many people. And maybe that is what moved me the most. Not simply meeting Morita, but realizing that art can connect worlds. That a painting created silently in 2023 could eventually become a real human moment years later.

Perhaps paintings continue living long after we stop painting them.

And perhaps some paintings are less about art and more about gratitude.

ありがとう , Hidemasa Morita.

お疲れ様でした.