Toshihiko Ikeda

Post-humanist anticipations: freed from his spatial constraints, what changes transform the man whose life goes on forever? Time at work marks, weakens and manipulates physical form, and transforms it into the image of lived life. The environment and the experiences it experiences leave traces, rub off and permeate the bodies that have passed through them. Furrows and dots hollow out and transform the represented bodies, like a pantomime of time passing and passing over the flesh. As the body lives, it gets tired, erodes, decomposes little by little; the blank white page fills and darkens, the duration of its existence gnaws at it, little by little. Just like time, Toshihiko dissolves the grain of metal by etching, the bite of the flesh by acid. The deepest, most beautiful black becomes a mass of time tested, a life lived and lengthened. Can we approach a furrow, a fine line that has become a tunnel, extending and crossing the body, the stigma of eternal life?