“After the Dream” by Chiharu Shiota

I have crazy dreams, not because I’m insane or some kind of messenger, simply because I sleep a lot. It’s one of my favourite pass-times. If I get any less than seven hours it leaves me very grumpy. This worries me, as there will inevitably come a day when I have to survive on less. What will become of me? Will I lose my mind or just be constantly irritable?

Since moving to France I’ve met a lot of insomniacs, they’re not happy people. They drink a lot of coffee and are stuck in a vicious cycle of, ‘Tired…need coffee. Can’t sleep. Tired…need coffee. Can’t sleep…’ I very rarely have nightmares, but if I had one, it would involve me stuck on this treadmill.

Although this installation is called, ‘after the dream’ it definitely makes the viewer feel as though they are inside the dream. The giant dresses instantly shrink you, leaving you mouse-like. Suspended from the ceiling like ghosts or angels, they seem the right size for a woman, yet too long to actually wear. The weirdest part of the installation is the string. On first glance it doesn’t appear to be attached to anything, like delicate pencil marks, or a possessive spider’s web. Yet, despite its delicacy it feels extremely oppressive.

In a video interview, the artist Chiharu Shiota explains that the string mirrors memory in the sense that it can become tangled or cut and never moves in a straight line.

On top of the strange proportions of the structure, the dramatic contrast between light and dark makes sure there’s no chance of getting too comfortable. It’s not the kind of place where you can make yourself at home.

Shiota is a Japanese artist based in Berlin. Despite recent events I didn’t chose to write about this piece because she is Japanese. Although, if I had known her nationality before I explored the work, it would’ve made me like it more due to my soft spot for Japanese art. Perhaps this is because Japan has such a unique culture, restrained, yet extremely concerned with beauty. I’ve fallen in love with every piece of Japanese art I’ve ever seen, whether its Manga or ancient watercolours, the works always seem beautifully delicate whilst simultaneously a little bonkers.

I’ve been to Japan twice. Once in reality, on a business trip which involved jet-lag, the inside of many meeting rooms and lots of bowing. The second journey was fictional – through the books of Haruki Murakami. Both experiences have left equally big impressions. Shiota’s description of the non-linear nature of memory reminded me of Murakami’s stories, as his stories describe time in the same way that Shiota describes memory.

Like everyone, the catastrophe in Japan has been on my mind, if not at the back of my mind constantly over the past few days. Despite the huge loss it has brought, let’s hope it will at least, inspire a new phase of beauty from its artists.

“The Imaginary Historian”