"I make my own limits which are drawn according to my own taste"

A declaration of agency and responsibility: boundaries are not cages imposed from outside but tools chosen with intention. To make one’s own limits is to design the frame that gives the work its integrity. Without a frame, attention leaks; with a wise frame, attention is focused, decisions become simpler, and style gains coherence. Limits are not admissions of weakness; they are the grammar of a personal language. They tell you what you will refuse even when it is tempting, what you will emphasize even when it is unfashionable, and how you will conserve your time and energy for the things that matter.

Taste becomes the compass that draws those lines. Taste is shaped by study, experience, and care; it evolves as you do. It is not mere preference but a disciplined sensitivity to quality, proportion, and honesty. When limits follow taste, they serve growth rather than fear. Consider Sakai’s own practice: a commitment to clean storytelling, clarity of line, respect for history and folklore, and restraint that keeps violence and spectacle at the service of character and theme. Such constraints can look narrow from the outside, yet they open a vast interior space for nuance and mastery. By refusing the noise of trends or the pressure of markets, the artist protects a terrain where craft can deepen.

This stance travels beyond art. In work, relationships, and daily habits, self-drawn limits guard attention from the churn of algorithms and the urgency of other people’s agendas. They preserve the quiet where judgment ripens. Yet the statement carries a challenge: taste must be cultivated, not used as a fig leaf for comfort or bias. The lines should be revisited as knowledge grows; good limits are firm but revisable. To make your own limits according to your taste is to accept both freedom and accountability: to become the author not only of your work, but of the conditions that make the work possible.