In the left-hand space, a video composed of multiple digressions offers a mosaic of moments from Kawauchi’s life: everyday scenes, glimpses of nature, and fleeting impressions of meteorological phenomena. By juxtaposing discontinuous moments, she paradoxically creates a continuous thread, emphasizing unity through fragmentation and multiplicity. There is a resonance between what is photographed (a spider web, dew drops, a ray of light) and her creative process itself: she draws parallels to form an interdependent whole with elegant simplicity. In the right-hand space, a dozen images echo one another, forming a quiet narrative of fleeting brilliance and ephemeral moments.

Finally, in the space in the back, an installation made up of suspended printed fabrics unfolds with a lightness that literally allows visitors to physically move through the images. This compelling metaphor highlights the fragility and precariousness of all things as well as the direct impact humans have on their environment; indeed, passing through these images stirs air currents, which in turn ripple through the fabrics—a tangible reflection of our interconnectedness. This space offers an opportunity to experience Kawauchi’s vision of existing «between» things or ideas, evoking a profound sense of presence and flow. Extending this notion, it is tempting to reference haiku, that form of Japanese poetry with short and impactful lines, of which Bashō is undoubtedly the best-known representative (17th century). While this analogy feels fitting—if somewhat frequent—Kawauchi’s work also invites associations beyond Japanese culture, whether Latin—revisiting the verses of Virgil’s Georgics in François Bon’s magnificent«contemporary» translation—or Native American, offering alternative ways of connecting to nature and time. At its heart, Kawauchi’s work is a celebration of the Earth—simple, yet universal. She speaks to everyone and to all times.

Kawauchi’s attentive gaze captures the smallest details of life, from a drop of water on the verge of evaporation to a child’s gesture, her images bear witness to the enigma of life. She records, assembles, isolates to reveal or at least open perspectives on the elusive. In Kawauchi’s work, there is an act of vision. ‘‘The fertile Eyes’’ as Paul Eluard put it. To see there, but also and above all to see here. To see better than others. To see differently from others. Can this help overcome the crisis of sensitivity that confronts our era? In any case, there is gratitude and continual offering in Rinko Kawauchi’s work, and this helps us to live.
Or to die. A matter of perspective.