OverView

Over the past few years, I have been drawn to the quiet allure of mud—a substance often dismissed or avoided, yet rich with life and memory. This fascination began at Mizorogaike, a sacred oligotrophic pond in Kyoto, where decaying leaves, microscopic organisms, and iron bacteria form intricate layers of interaction between water and land. On its surface, a rainbow-colored biofilm—created by unseen iron-oxidizing bacteria—appears and disappears, quietly revealing the ongoing, unseen labor of decomposition and regeneration.

This shimmering membrane reminded me of the subtle threshold between consciousness and the unconscious—the inner cycles of memory, repression, emergence, and renewal that mirror the natural world’s own rhythms. Just as iron bacteria and decaying matter perform their quiet work within the mud, our minds, too, carry out ceaseless processes of remembering, forgetting, and reconfiguring, even when we are unaware.

In this residency at the Irish Museum of Modern Art, I have continued this exploration within the Irish peatlands—vast, living archives of organic time. Here, mud once again reveals itself as more than matter: it is memory made physical. From the iron glimmers of ancient bogs to conversations with local communities, I have gathered materials—both literal and intangible—that speak of land, loss, and resilience.

In this record, I am sharing fragments and materials gathered through my research. While these elements will continue to evolve after I return to Japan, I hope they offer a space for us to quietly listen—together—to what lies just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge.