‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’ At Cento Gallery
Yuki Okumura seeks 'escape attempts from identity’, or so the curatorial text describing his ‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’ claims. Yet this is surprising for a show consisting of a series of abstract paintings, which feel organic, intimate, and handmade. I found myself stuck on this for a while, not finding immediate comfort in this outlook on the work, but wanting to better understand how it could make sense. This is where Okumura’s work poured into me, being stuck in my head every night on walks and every time I went to see a new show. The work draws the viewer into a search for meaning, truth, and memory throughout Okumura’s work, the legacies of On Kawara, and 20 Albert Road. All while exploring the importance of identity within contemporary art. It is a journey to understand not just ‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’, but a maze of things which fit together like a topographical puzzle. Working in fascinating and tantalising ways through different modes of understanding and decoding that question and embody the art object as a catalyst for thought. ‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’ is possibly the most rich yet understated exhibition I have ever seen.
Cento, the curatorial group of 2 who put on the show, shares 20 Albert Road with 2 other groups, and this is the ground Okumura sinks his feet into. Drawing on Britain's colonial history through the name of the gallery, Okumura explores 136 locations with the same name, and the 956 intersections created on google maps throughout the world. While this shows the far reaching influence of the English language, it also conjures both metaphorical approaches to exploring what an intersection may be, and examines the process of displacement, of movement, and of not being static, something the curatorial text puts as ‘(Okumura) currently lives and works in the central european time zone’. Here is the first of many references to Japanese artist On Kawara, who was intentionally vague about such things as age, or where he was based, highlighted by his extreme focus on both time and location. In a similar way, Okumura is able to understand the value of impossibility and paradox throughout the show. Narrowing in on the intersections between different things to provoke contemplation.
‘29 Locations and 68 Intersections in the Rest of the World’ (2024).
The show contains 3 paintings, 2 of which are painted using emulsion on board. These boards are taken from around the space, one from the left hand wall and one from above the bathroom, and both are created using the same emulsion as the walls. Similarly, the tender brown pigment is imbued with traces of plaster scraped away from the space. The final painting is created using the same paper kept at 20 Albert Road for exhibition texts, with the same emulsion. Yet it feels thicker, its presence against the wall exaggerated by its empty corners permeated with slender nails.
The board paintings are filled with intersecting points, they create warped perspective planes, things that awkwardly fit inside a rectangular space in which they are never allowed to touch the edge. They clash and fuse and morph, creating a variable array of walls, floors, and space. As you look around the gallery the way the boards continue under the walls, the way a stone pillar continues through them, the way the beam juts across the ceiling, all create a breakdown of the way the space exists in your mind, rebuilding it in a new way. These paintings are of course based on the intersections created by google maps, but are far more organic and soft than this. They transform, move, and ripple in different ways across the bizarre space they inhibit, deconstructing their own perspective and constraints by highlighting them. In a similar way, they announce their history of living on a rectangular screen, they show the flattening out and slow abstraction through different forms of depiction that the space has undergone, taking the viewer with them.
Detailed View: ‘7 Locations and 2 Intersections in Scotland’ (2024)
The paper painting is more subtle. The thick buildup of paint surrounds it like an open wound, inside of which the emulsion feels more flesh-like. The white around it appears like hairs and bumps. And yet it questions itself, questions the need for this transformation into a different space. All the works were made on site, and it’s obvious just by looking at them.
Though not labelled, the holes and gallery space make up a crucial aspect of the work. Behind the white painted wall a maze of wires and pipes exists. They hang empty and unlit, revealing veins which quickly hide themselves behind another layer of walls. By making the space the focus of the work to such an extent, by performing surgery on it, Okumura removes himself and highlights himself at once, while giving a shared gallery an identity of its own, one that lives and breathes.
Similarly, the postcards and exhibition booklet are integral aspects of the show (if not just for obvious reasons linking them to Kawara), however I do not feel it is necessary going into depth on them here.
It seems that every part of the show meant to conceal Okumura just increases my curiosity, just makes me want to better understand his work and life. Especially since the show acts as a stepping stone of a continual body of work. His use of objects and the exhibition as a catalyst, something both unessential to understanding how Okumura comments on identity, but also a necessary gateway to discover a hidden vein in the work, is exceptional. It can also be said that Okumura has mastered the creation of a catalyst that draws the viewer in in such a potent way that it leaves them wanting to discover what lies under the surface to benefit their understanding of already compelling work.
However, what was most powerful in this show was Okumura’s comments on identity. Yuki Okumura has had a long history with ‘work concerning art and place, and his interest in the legacies of conceptual art’, exploring exhibiting the work of others during his degree, collaborating with artist Hisachika Takahashi to create work, and, crucially, in ‘The Man Who’ creating the myth that Stanley Brouwn and On Kawara were the same person. This is the most important precursor to truly being sucked into ‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’ to me, as it is the relationship of these works that creates a layered and diverse scope of understanding of this show. In ‘136 Locations, 956 Intersections’, Okumura merges himself with On Kawara, and to a lesser extent Stanley Bruown. He loses his identity in a history of someone artists often identify with, by exaggerating the similarities the 2 share, continuing artistic legacy in a different way in a new world. He examines the mythology of reclusive figures while honing in on the way that creates a yearning to be similar with them. Similarly, he reminds us of residual modernist ideas still etched into contemporary art, which value artist over artwork. Though the work is in many aspects interesting and unique, it is precisely Okumura’s ability to recognize the links it shares to others that make it so special. His ongoing collaboration with a now dead artist creates fascinating and new opportunities for creating artwork. Put simply: by highlighting the similarities he and Kawara share, he is imbuing them with strength. In turn, the work is able to benefit from all the aspects of Kawara’s identity as an artist, and the legacies of conceptual art that it seeks to highlight.
It is pure coincidence that Yuki Okumura was born in the same year as On Kawara’s first child.
‘10 Mayo’ from ‘Today I Got Up’ (1968), On Kawara
