Taka Kono (b. 1994) lives and works in Tokyo. Working across installation and objects, his practice investigates how intimacy and distance are configured spatially over time.
Home unfolds inside spaces that imitate domestic comfort while remaining impersonal. Decorative motifs associated with warmth-roses, musical notation, the word “home”-circulate across fragmented installations and transferred surfaces, often worn or misaligned. These elements function like secondhand language inside temporary interiors: recognizable, but unstable, offering familiarity without providing shelter.
lost & found / everything traces ownership and recovery through spaces shaped by belief and chance. The exhibition moves from ground to shelter, from early encounters with land to standardized contemporary interiors, where a bedside lamp marks the final site of presence. By aligning séances with gambling environments, the works approach intimacy and possession as faith-based actions carried out within systems designed to limit risk, yet never guarantee outcomes.
Specter approaches horror as something that has already entered intimate space. References to cultural memory and bodily sensation position fear as embedded within the domestic and familiar, not external to it. What appears is not spectacle, but proximity: a quiet pressure that compresses distance and unsettles the stability promised by comfort and reason.
Spirit Heart Soul Flesh Body brings death, intimacy, and the body into a shared space shaped by suspension, gravity, and post-event conditions. The exhibition moves through moments where physical processes continue after subjectivity recedes, and visibility becomes partial, delayed, or arrested. Intimacy appears as something that persists beyond life, carried by material behavior and systems of record.
ill omen 3 unfolds through intuitive structures and recurring motifs that draw on dream states. The exhibition holds a sense of suspension and low intensity, where materials and gestures accumulate without forming a closed narrative. Meaning emerges through atmosphere and duration, allowing fragments to remain unresolved while still held together.
East East builds an enclosed interior that feels wet and submerged without using water. The space changes through use, as the floor records footprints and movement over time, slowly forming a map of passage. Bodily fragments and surface treatments remain present without resolving into narrative, allowing the room to be experienced through contact and trace.
Only only makes sense if there’s nothing else uses small beds made from plastic, burned until the material softens and slumps. They sit across the gallery without forming a usable resting place. Heat leaves the beds warped and unreliable.