Rie Tachikawa Interview Exclusive -

That series was born from frustration. In Japan, we have this word "ma" (間)—the pause, the interval. I wanted to see if I could make the interval physical. I took industrial felt—something hard, used for machinery—and cut slits into it. Then I wove copper wire through the slits, pulling it tight until the felt buckled.

We spend so much time trying to control the thread. We forget that the thread has its own will to ravel. My last works were a conversation about mortality. You can weave a perfect basket, but entropy always wins. I wanted to make entropy beautiful. rie tachikawa interview

My father was an architect. I grew up looking at blueprints, not fashion magazines. To me, thread is just a line that forgot to be straight. When you weave enough of those lines, you get a plane. When you fold that plane, you get a room. Textiles are the softest form of architecture. That series was born from frustration

— This interview has been edited for length and clarity from a 2018 conversation. We forget that the thread has its own will to ravel

Because nature is not my material. The city is my material. I live in Shinjuku. I see plastic banners, acoustic ceiling tiles, the mesh of a construction fence. Synthetic fibers are the skin of modern life.

By Megumi Saito, Art and Form Journal

(Laughs) That is very true. I was never interested in the body as a thing to be wrapped. I am interested in the negative space —the air between the body and the room. Most textile artists ask, "How does this feel on the skin?" I ask, "How does this define the air around the skin?"