(Laughs) I know. I am sorry. Write it all down. But tell your readers: After you read this, close the laptop. Go sit in a room alone for ten minutes. Listen to the building sigh. That is my real interview. Part 5: Future Work & The "Un-Museum" I: What is next? Your website (which is just a black page with an email address) hints at a project called The Un-Museum .
I call it "controlled neglect." For six months before an exhibition, I stop cleaning my studio. I let dust accumulate. I let spiderwebs grow. Then, I photograph the dust patterns. Then, I vacuum everything clean. The photographs become the blueprint for where I place objects. rie tachikawa interview full
Searching for a transcript is notoriously difficult. The artist rarely gives long-form interviews. She prefers her work to speak for itself. However, during her 2023 residency at the House of World Cultures in Berlin, Tachikawa sat for a rare, uninterrupted 90-minute conversation. Below is the complete, unedited transcript of that interview, providing unprecedented access to her creative process, her philosophy of "Ma" (間), and why she considers an empty room the most powerful canvas of all. Part 1: The Origins of Listening Interviewer (I): Rie, thank you for agreeing to a full interview. For those searching for your name, the first thing they see is the term "silent sculptor." Do you accept that title? (Laughs) I know
Because they recognized it. That cup—it had a hairline crack. The tape was yellowed, brittle. It looked like someone had tried to fix it in a hurry and then simply... left it. When you walk into a pristine white cube gallery, you are an observer. When you walk into a room where a teacup is floating above you, you become a trespasser. You ask: Who lived here? Why did they leave this? That question is the artwork. Not the cup. But tell your readers: After you read this, close the laptop
Because a photograph of my work is the death of my work. My pieces change with the humidity, the time of day, the number of people in the room. A digital file is fixed. It is a corpse. I want my art to be a rumor. You hear about it from a friend. You walk three kilometers to a warehouse. You sign a waiver. You enter a room alone. That journey—the search —is part of the piece.
No. I am a questioner . A story gives answers. I give clues to a mystery that doesn't exist. Part 2: The Full Philosophy of "Ma" I: Western critics often frame your work through the lens of "Minimalism"—Judd, Flavin. But you reject that. Why?