Rie Tachikawa Interview Upd Guide

That series was born from frustration. In Japan, we have this word "ma" (間)—the pause, the interval. I wanted to see if I could make the interval physical. I took industrial felt—something hard, used for machinery—and cut slits into it. Then I wove copper wire through the slits, pulling it tight until the felt buckled.

My father was an architect. I grew up looking at blueprints, not fashion magazines. To me, thread is just a line that forgot to be straight. When you weave enough of those lines, you get a plane. When you fold that plane, you get a room. Textiles are the softest form of architecture. rie tachikawa interview

We spend so much time trying to control the thread. We forget that the thread has its own will to ravel. My last works were a conversation about mortality. You can weave a perfect basket, but entropy always wins. I wanted to make entropy beautiful. That series was born from frustration

I would lock them in the material library. Literally. I told them: "For one hour, you cannot touch a loom. You can only touch the thread. Smell it. Stretch it until it breaks. Burn the end and watch the bead of plastic form." I grew up looking at blueprints, not fashion magazines

By Megumi Saito, Art and Form Journal

Break it. On purpose. The first thing I do with a new material is find its breaking point. Then I work just to the left of that line. Respect the material enough to know where it dies, then dance right next to that edge.

Because nature is not my material. The city is my material. I live in Shinjuku. I see plastic banners, acoustic ceiling tiles, the mesh of a construction fence. Synthetic fibers are the skin of modern life.