The paintings of Kirico Tanikawa are as evasive as forensic photographs, like evidence they present a series of clues that refuse any obvious reason or purpose. Casually objects sit and wait for imagination, a mood board of bits and pieces without script or conclusion.
Abandoned landscapes, empty car parks, the wet roads that frame a peripheral vision, these are cinematic vignettes of the overlooked, transformed into urbane reliquaries as familiar as they are dislocated.
Whilst perhaps thinking how a crime scene might be rendered or even a hint at erotic fantasy, the eye becomes entangled in the background. These grey coloured surfaces are filled with textures, yet principally they are images of empty spaces. Of course nothing is ever empty and into this apparent nothingness emerges paintings as beautiful as a Summer's day.
The gravel transformed into a small mountain range of a crystal surface, a microscopic cartography. Once seen we can only then contemplate the hours spent rendering such details, are they of a Heavenly rapture or perhaps an exercise into oblivion, is this the kind of perspective one needs to transcend an indifferent world?