Kana reflects on its origins: "Butoh was born in the '50s, right after the war. Everything was burned. There was nothing—just a field. And that body, the Japanese body, was waking up, standing up. That’s how my mind’s eye sees early Butoh dancers."​ In her own journey, Kana embodies this resurrection. Her performances are not mere routines but explorations into the psyche, challenging perceptions and evoking introspection. She emphasizes the significance of grounding in her art: "We use our ancient farmers’ body. The gravity is really down." This connection to the earth and history is palpable in her movements, as she channels the weight of cultural memory through her form.

Beyond the physicality, Kana delves into the spiritual essence of Butoh. She describes it as "the most honest way I can express myself. It lets me become something else—something more than myself, it’s hard to explain. It’s like I disappear, and something else comes through me." This transcendence is central to her performances, inviting audiences to witness a metamorphosis that blurs the lines between the dancer and the dance.​ In a rapidly modernizing world, where traditions often fade into obscurity, Kana Kitty stands as a testament to the enduring power of Butoh. Through her dedication, she not only preserves this profound art form but also redefines it, ensuring its resonance for generations to come.

Rather than serving as a fixed style, Butoh continues to evolve as a living inquiry—malleable, searching, and deeply personal. Kana Kitty’s work is a reminder that the body can serve as both archive and oracle, holding ancestral echoes while gesturing toward futures yet imagined. In her hands, Butoh becomes less about preservation and more about reinvention, resisting definition while insisting on presence. It asks not just to be watched, but to be felt—beneath the skin, beyond the surface. And in that asking, it remains urgently alive.