Is it possible to experience the depth of foreign landscapes rather than their wideness?
To experience a forest which isn’t doing anything but being itself? Does my meeting
with a forest through the eyes of local inhabitants deepen my knowledge or would it just
be part of a geo-poetical-quest? Warped and weft, the horizon meeting the trees, illusions
as ways of knowing.
In the final stage, the textile sculptures are rinsed in the ocean, under the washing moon.
The weavers know exactly when it must be done. Based on the intimate intuition of
everything hiding below the surface of the landscape.
Textiles made by:Satomi Nagahama, Yumiko Shimanaka, Yayoi Shimanaka