Seta Ichika - I Don-t Have A Mother Anymore- So... Official

Ichika never throws the squash away. She photographs it monthly, watching it decompose. Caption: “I don’t have a mother anymore, so I don’t know if this is love or haunting.”

At first glance, it appears to be a fragment of dialogue, perhaps from a visual novel, a manga panel, or a whispered confession in a slice-of-life anime. But for those who have followed the work of emerging Japanese author and multimedia artist Seta Ichika, these words are not fiction. They are the cornerstone of a creative philosophy forged in the quiet, devastating aftermath of maternal loss. Seta Ichika - I Don-t Have A Mother Anymore- So...

Then, softly: “I don’t have a mother anymore. So… I have become her.” Seta Ichika’s work is not for those seeking catharsis. It is for those who wake up at 3 a.m. and reach for the phone to call a number that no longer connects. It is for the daughter who still sets two plates at the dinner table. It is for the son who keeps his mother’s voicemail from 2017 saved on three different devices. Ichika never throws the squash away

This article explores the life, work, and profound cultural impact of Seta Ichika, a young creator who took the most personal tragedy—the death of her mother—and translated it into a universal question: What do we become when our first anchor is gone? The phrase “I don’t have a mother anymore” is not a plot twist. It is not a dramatic reveal. In Ichika’s 2022 autobiographical essay collection “Mukashino Watashi e” (To the Former Me) , the sentence appears on page 47, nestled between a memory of burning miso soup and a description of her mother’s favorite apron, still hanging on the kitchen hook three years after her death. But for those who have followed the work