Painter Yusuke Ishigami to Hold Solo Exhibition "Echoes" Depicting the Cycle of Loss and Memory (May 16 - May 31, 2026, at Quadrivium Ostium)
Gallery Quadrivium Ostium will host "Echoes," a solo exhibition by painter Yusuke Ishigami, from May 16 to May 31, 2026. The exhibition will feature Ishigami's paintings exploring themes of loss, memory, and the cyclical nature of past and future.
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Gallery Quadrivium Ostium (Quadrivium Inc., Kamakura City, Kanagawa Prefecture, Representative: Yukiyo Kuroda) will hold Yusuke Ishigami's solo exhibition "Echoes" from Saturday, May 16, 2026, to Sunday, May 31, 2026.
[Gallery Website] https://quadriviumostium.com
≪Echoes≫ 727×910mm / Oil on canvas / 2026
[Message] Echoes (Dedicated to the solo exhibition at Quadrivium Ostium) by Yusuke Ishigami
I walked along the waterfront in the moonlight.
I had lost something precious.
In a corner of my heart, I quietly begged for forgiveness.
We just wandered aimlessly.
Faint light scattered on the water's surface.
When I gaze at the stars in the night sky,
I ponder the gravitational pull and repulsive force that paintings possess.
Something like the magnetic field between paintings.
I think about the immense power contained within the unconscious, and the strong yet weak power of will.
Perhaps forces of any magnitude, large or small, are necessary to form this equilibrium.
Walking through a deep forest, I encountered the entrance to someone's dream.
Mysterious lights, strange occurrences, the presence of beasts, nostalgic scents, distant water sources, fleeting glimpses of faces in unexpected moments, the frighteningly bright starlight filling the night sky.
I can see a little better in the dark than most people.
When a painting is born, past memories, present observations, and future images are developed by drawing materials and support, connecting and overlapping.
Several paintings gather to form a single exhibition. The image calls forth vibrations in space, and people absorb and experience these vibrations, causing echoes and resonance.
Paintings and we, too, attract, repel, and resonate with each other.
Past, present, and future also overlap, connect, and resonate.
The single line we draw with hope now holds a great, great power that can change both the past and the future.
Ah, I want to meet someone.
How are those who once shed their physical bodies doing now?
If I were to meet them in their current form, would I truly recognize them in my current form?
There will be no answers for those bygone days.
Sometimes, painting feels like a process of going back in time.
Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin, seemingly like the playback and reverse playback of a video.
Towards the image of a "painting that already exists in my mind, in the future," the necessary parts are drawn and gathered on the canvas.
As the image of the future replaces the painted past, the painting constantly strives towards completion in the present, trying to remain so.
It was like assembling a plastic model, gathering scattered parts from this world and building them into a predetermined form.
And now, for me, a major exhibition awaits, and I feel like I am gradually gathering what is necessary for its realization.
This place felt like a stopover for collections.
Everything seemed to be in the process of transitioning to the next state.
Surely, paintings, people, and society itself have no true completion, but continuously move to the next state.
At each moment, they show a beautiful form, and that scene is burned into memory, influencing the next state.
We originally have no segmented temporality; we live in a gradual gradient of past and future that softly merges.
Therefore, these eyes can gaze into centuries past, and these hands can touch generations yet to come.
Paintings and people alike seem to be "vessels of memory and image" for transcending segmented meanings.
I strain my eyes.
I feel as if two lights are floating in the darkness.
Deep within eyes like transparent glass, there was no human-like hesitation.
Words making wild choices pierce my eardrums and shake my brain.
With each exhibition, I select a few words, attempting to make the meaning of creation slightly accessible.
Yet, the more earnestly I try to be sincere, the more those words slip through my fingers, becoming commonplace and ambiguous.
I'm sure I don't yet know the exact "words."
Do those "words" truly exist anywhere in the world?
Perhaps that is precisely the wisdom from our ancestors, and the existence of that inexpressible realm is what is necessary for us to be ourselves.
Paintings seek to exist by indicating that realm, continuously speaking without clear distinction.
It is from the painting before me,
From the memory behind,
From me to you,
(From you to me)
From one space-time to another space-time,
An endlessly echoing sound,
Echoes.
Highlights ① Painting and Words Concept — The concept and context of "Echoes".
[Gallery Website] https://quadriviumostium.com
≪Echoes≫ 727×910mm / Oil on canvas / 2026
[Message] Echoes (Dedicated to the solo exhibition at Quadrivium Ostium) by Yusuke Ishigami
I walked along the waterfront in the moonlight.
I had lost something precious.
In a corner of my heart, I quietly begged for forgiveness.
We just wandered aimlessly.
Faint light scattered on the water's surface.
When I gaze at the stars in the night sky,
I ponder the gravitational pull and repulsive force that paintings possess.
Something like the magnetic field between paintings.
I think about the immense power contained within the unconscious, and the strong yet weak power of will.
Perhaps forces of any magnitude, large or small, are necessary to form this equilibrium.
Walking through a deep forest, I encountered the entrance to someone's dream.
Mysterious lights, strange occurrences, the presence of beasts, nostalgic scents, distant water sources, fleeting glimpses of faces in unexpected moments, the frighteningly bright starlight filling the night sky.
I can see a little better in the dark than most people.
When a painting is born, past memories, present observations, and future images are developed by drawing materials and support, connecting and overlapping.
Several paintings gather to form a single exhibition. The image calls forth vibrations in space, and people absorb and experience these vibrations, causing echoes and resonance.
Paintings and we, too, attract, repel, and resonate with each other.
Past, present, and future also overlap, connect, and resonate.
The single line we draw with hope now holds a great, great power that can change both the past and the future.
Ah, I want to meet someone.
How are those who once shed their physical bodies doing now?
If I were to meet them in their current form, would I truly recognize them in my current form?
There will be no answers for those bygone days.
Sometimes, painting feels like a process of going back in time.
Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin, seemingly like the playback and reverse playback of a video.
Towards the image of a "painting that already exists in my mind, in the future," the necessary parts are drawn and gathered on the canvas.
As the image of the future replaces the painted past, the painting constantly strives towards completion in the present, trying to remain so.
It was like assembling a plastic model, gathering scattered parts from this world and building them into a predetermined form.
And now, for me, a major exhibition awaits, and I feel like I am gradually gathering what is necessary for its realization.
This place felt like a stopover for collections.
Everything seemed to be in the process of transitioning to the next state.
Surely, paintings, people, and society itself have no true completion, but continuously move to the next state.
At each moment, they show a beautiful form, and that scene is burned into memory, influencing the next state.
We originally have no segmented temporality; we live in a gradual gradient of past and future that softly merges.
Therefore, these eyes can gaze into centuries past, and these hands can touch generations yet to come.
Paintings and people alike seem to be "vessels of memory and image" for transcending segmented meanings.
I strain my eyes.
I feel as if two lights are floating in the darkness.
Deep within eyes like transparent glass, there was no human-like hesitation.
Words making wild choices pierce my eardrums and shake my brain.
With each exhibition, I select a few words, attempting to make the meaning of creation slightly accessible.
Yet, the more earnestly I try to be sincere, the more those words slip through my fingers, becoming commonplace and ambiguous.
I'm sure I don't yet know the exact "words."
Do those "words" truly exist anywhere in the world?
Perhaps that is precisely the wisdom from our ancestors, and the existence of that inexpressible realm is what is necessary for us to be ourselves.
Paintings seek to exist by indicating that realm, continuously speaking without clear distinction.
It is from the painting before me,
From the memory behind,
From me to you,
(From you to me)
From one space-time to another space-time,
An endlessly echoing sound,
Echoes.
Highlights ① Painting and Words Concept — The concept and context of "Echoes".