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All the people in my daily life, without exception, have flamboyantly stepped out of phase, and now I am the exception that remains in the folds of the backbone of order. I may have been trying to create a position, condescending and proud of the stairway people who were opening up and racing rhythmically over my head, their misunderstood and grotesque activities, and their sign-making, to a fault. But I had stopped doing that. I decided to continue believing that I had no choice but to carefully direct and express the plat of this place that I could see before my eyes as a sign for an infinitely constructive future. If we were to look far into the past, we would see that the inhabitants of the folds have patiently and persistently weaved their way through the windswept streets with a persistent sense of sadness. Nevertheless, the straight-forward direction of reimagining the present by studying the context, forming cliques with gatekeepers, and placing oneself in the genealogy has now fallen into the realm of fairy tale delusions. Fortunately, I had an overwhelming encounter with the folds and was able to accept the long-range will of art, which bets on the moment when the emotion is transmitted again and awakening occurs, and I was able to touch the possibility of crossing the road that is pushing forward unobstructed. As we entered the Corona disaster, I was rejected by the order of the strata and longed to return somehow, but I still dug up my aspiration from the bottom of my heart as an apostle of art who was determined to make a comeback in the horizontal clearing where the deepest gulfs lie. I believe that many histories, too, have been reconstructed, and on the backs of the words listed here, the intense struggle against the reality of raw disconnection is recorded. Now, in our time, the existing springboard for the pandemic's own party problems and sacrifices to change its course has been shattered at every turn and reeks of decay. And it is clearly a new dawn after 2020, possessing various metaphors, such as the power to point to spontaneous, sweeping locations and festivals with threshold significance. In this case, when considering "art," it seems to me that it would be better to quickly hollow out the successor who can correctly create a narrative of its aspect and value, as if someone other than myself had such an insensitive eye that it can no longer see. Please take care of yourself.

Ryusei Nakajima

Artist Profile

Toi Okuda