Talk event June 15 [Sun.] 15:00 to 17:00 An artist talk by Yusuke Nakano (Paramodel) will be held. Interviewers: Masayuki Kawai (video artist), Yuichi Mori (Director, MORI YU GALLERY) ※ Free admission, no reservation needed Painting and text. Paramodel's exhibition this time is presented with the world of Yusuke Nakano at its center. Nakano has gone back and forth in the space between painting and text. When fitting painting and text onto a plane at the same time, the creation and contradiction that spread out there. Such creation, contradiction, conflict and so on he turns into works as 'model play'. This time the exhibition is a reverse version of Paramodel, known for installations using Plarail, and many of Paramodel's various concepts are scattered throughout. Through the works Nakano made, the qualities of the work of the other member, Yasuhiko Hayashi, can also be seen. This is like an acrobatic feat that only they can perform. But what is carved at the end of the conflict between two lines is, for better or worse, probably a 'wound'. What is a 'wound'? There, perhaps, is a hint for grasping what lies 'between' painting and text, for understanding the 'between' of Paramodel. Nakano, who loves Bousquet's words: 'My wound existed before me; I was born to embody it.' Tenashi Inu, who bears a 'wound', is a character who has appeared since Paramodel was first formed. The planes, drawings, videos and so on that depict all things born from the missing forelegs of the wounded Tenashi Inu, from the missing forelegs of Tenashi Inu, like a loophole, a passage, are, in contrast to the gorgeous, beautiful aspect of the Plarail installations that connect to the outside, something meta that forms the reverse version of Paramodel: its core. As Nakano speaks of two-person relationships such as Fujiko Fujio, or Deleuze and Guattari, this relationship overlaps with the problem between two lines mentioned at the beginning. On one side there is the direction from creation, born because two terms, two people, are involved, to contradiction, conflict and then the 'wound'; on the other, Tenashi Inu, who bears the 'wound', exists, and one can create because the 'wound' exists: this bidirectionality can be seen in Paramodel. This is the paradox of Paramodel. In other words, Tenashi Inu can also be understood as the 'wound' of Paramodel itself. If so, it would be no exaggeration to say that Paramodel itself was formed in order to embody the 'wound'. To say that Paramodel is always already wounded sounds like someone's catchphrase, but behind their various concepts, which draw in even the outside, such a 'wound' is indeed hidden. Paramodel's creation and conflict continue like rails, crossing and then parting again. Yes, if you actually look closely at the Plarail installations, you are made to realize, belatedly, that there is an image like a 'wound'. Looking back, from the moment I negotiated with a company and found Plarail for Paramodel's first installation, no, from before that, perhaps I too was wounded,,, as one who could not but meet Paramodel. A 'wound' is a trace. The 'wound', which comes to be produced by the contact of something with something, exists on the horizon of the present as a sensation, different from memory and from external records, that only the one who bears the 'wound' can know. I can also understand it this way: only the 'wound' can express what the two of Paramodel can share; there is no passage connecting the two but the 'wound'. At the very least, the 'wound' is no small proof of this. Tenashi Inu had already been drawn before Paramodel... and this had already been written as text by Bousquet, and Nakano drew Tenashi Inu without knowing Bousquet. Let us return to painting and text. I once wrote about an artist named Aki Kuroda. 'Into Aki Kuroda's work 《Le Monde1991-1993》 (『世界』, 1991 to 93) is written a text by his friend, the novelist Pascal Quignard. Kuroda writes onto the canvas the text of twenty-odd sheets of roughly A4 paper that Quignard wrote for him. No, he draws it. The lines Kuroda wrote, drew, are also letters, écriture. What on earth is écriture turned into a tableau? Is the écriture I decipher Quignard's text or not? Or is it the line Kuroda drew? The threads of écriture that cannot be unraveled vanish into the sea of the tableau, as ice melts. Was it unraveled, or did it melt?' Between Kuroda and Quignard, Kuroda's works and Quignard's works, painting and text: what lies between these two terms? There is a work by Kuroda that may be the key to resolving this. A work titled 《conti/nuit/e》 (『連続のなかの夜』). In the continuum that is time, there is night. When on earth does night begin, and when does it end? As if differentiated, its interval is unclear, yet night certainly exists. Kuroda's paintings are hushed like the 〈eye〉 of a typhoon. But that is only, after all, a 'pause' that came unexpectedly in the midst of genesis and confusion. Where the lines are 'tangled', there is 'night' as 'figure'. But it does not remain tangled. As 'night' announces its end, the tangled time begins to move and the 'wind' starts to blow again. There, the frozen sea begins to melt and the tangled threads come undone. 'Tangling, then coming undone.' But there, there is noise, undulation. Night has a perspective close to darkness. The name of the magazine, 20 volumes of which Kuroda edited with Didier Ottinger as associate editor, was 『NOISE』. Of course, Paramodel differs from Kuroda's approach. But it is similar. The texts that Nakano writes and draws also seem, in the sea of his paintings and drawings, to form and vanish, vanish and form. Like night, they dissolve into morning and noon, and are born again after evening. And one can also think of it this way. Hayashi and Nakano are in the interval of time that is Paramodel (para // model). Then, when the two of Paramodel fix their gaze on each other far, far away, there is a sea between them as a passage. And yet that sea is never superflat; there is a slight noise, no, an undulation. Therein lies what makes them artists of MORI YU GALLERY. And what makes them Paramodel. Plarail floating on the surface of the sea, and the stinging seawater that would recall a deep wound. The Plarail installations are not something merely formal. They are swaying. Perhaps only those who bear a true 'wound' can understand it, but Nakano's paintings of water pipes and Hayashi's pipe installations unravel it for us in an easily understood way. This exhibition is also something that makes us recognize this anew. When the sea that exists between Paramodel grows rough, and the two who are between Paramodel, Nakano and Hayashi, become tangled, figure, in Kuroda's terms, a certain form, a trace, a 'wound' appears. Exactly so is the 'wound' from the contact of the two. Works produced while wounding and being wounded by each other have a strength and pain that none can match and, accompanied by the 'wound' borne by 'Shuntokumaru', produce undulation. Riding in a small boat floating between the two, one can always feel the waves of the sea that lies between them.' MORI YU GALLERY Yuichi Mori From now on, we hope that more and more people will come into contact with Paramodel's various aspects. The version of Nakano seen through Hayashi, too, some day. I think the fun of Paramodel will become more and more visible. Please come and see the exhibition.