安藤 広樹

Hiroki Ando

We witness moments when particles of light rise into the world as traces.
People notice, overlook, remember, and forget—
not by will, but as these moments quietly disperse within the flow of time.

Just before general anesthesia, in the brief instant before consciousness fades,
I remember seeing images drift across the back of my retina.
The boundary between reality and memory loosened,
and the world seemed to tremble, still made only of particles.

Before existence is fixed into form,
might it not seep into the world as a trace?
On a layer different from the bodily boundaries of life and death,
the time and feelings carried by living beings and things sink into light,
quietly continuing somewhere within the world.

Around the moment an image becomes fixed as a photograph,
there may be particles of light that rise, sink, and drift away.
Within that wavering, I sense something certain, quietly concealed.

This exhibition is a place to dwell within that layer of fluctuation,
and to calmly face the subtle presence of the world before it becomes an image.

Drawing close to the traces that surface in the world,
following those fragile connections,
I wish to quietly weave a story.