Over the past decade, from the early nineties to now, the work of Eri Takayanagi with its astonishingly steady decline into the plain has likewise imploded in size. What exists, exists almost in a nonphysical stratum--wherein mind and object work together to effortlessly share. And it is good. Though, not all things have changed. What continues is Takayanagi's concern with surface, of how things touch, or how they have been [touched].
Often materials, such as wash cloths, are folded and stacked, each layer holding a store of information, depending on [use + function], thus identifying the history and life of the material.
Elsewhere things touch to suggest they really don't. A glass of water has a pencil leaning against. The suspension is an illusion, while what holds the water is true. The oddest truth, though, is experienced when you return to the self from the gaze, and understand what it is that is being held, and what it is that is being suspended. And with that now in mind, one might be tempted to pick up the pencil and begin scribbling down the thoughts as they come on what is available, on the surface of the water in the cup contained.
Eri Takayanagi offers these possibilities as sensations triggered by memory, touch, and habit. These are tiny reenactments, presented by an extra exquisite mind--and, while not easily understood, are found to be ultra worthwhile, when you meet.

Eri Takayanagi--a career survey at the National Museum of Art Osaka.