I visited Chiharu Shiota: Threads of Life at Hayward Gallery.

Walking into the space, you’re immediately held.

Beds suspended in a dense field of thread.
Lines crossing, tightening, almost vibrating.

During Sleep sits somewhere between weight and suspension.
Between what is there, and what is no longer.

I found myself standing still for longer than expected.

What struck me most was not the scale, but the restraint.

Very little, in the end.
Thread. Objects. Space.

And yet, within that, something vast opens up.

Something like memory, or the trace of it.
Something that stays without being fully there.

It made me think about how little is actually needed.

When the form is clear, and the intention precise, the work carries everything else.