GALLERY MoMo

GALLERY MoMo Ryogoku is pleased to present "Listening to the Voice of Sediment", a solo exhibition by Kumiko Muroi, running from May 16 to June 13, 2026.

Throughout her career, Muroi has confronted fundamental themes of life and death, as well as the threshold between "Higan" (the other shore) and "Shigan" (this shore), rooted in personal experiences of loss, disaster, and illness. Her time living in the mountainous regions of Tohoku sparked a profound interest in the mountain worship of Yamagata. Subsequent physical journeys to sacred sites across Japan—including the Oshira-sama traditions of Tono, the spiritual grounds of Osorezan, and the Utaki of Okinawa—have led her to an even deeper and more resonant perspective on mortality.

Muroi’s work focuses on the "hazama" (in-between) opposite elements: light and darkness, memory and oblivion, joy and emptiness, and the boundary between "this side and the other side." Using a palette primarily of purples and grays with fluid, sweeping brushstrokes, she has established a unique style that defies simple classification as either figurative or abstract. Her canvases manifest contradictions and give form to the formless.

The exhibition title’s keyword, "Ori" (Sediment), refers to the matter that settles at the bottom of water, or the accumulation of forgotten emotions and souls. For Muroi, the annual rings of ancient trees, the layered cloths of Oshira-sama deities, and the layers of paint on her canvas are all equally "sediments of time."

In a departure from her previous darker tones, this exhibition features large-scale oil paintings with vibrant colors reminiscent of the open sky. Alongside these, the show will include monotypes and drawings—latest works born from a dialogue with figurative forms and settled memories—offering a glimpse into a new stage of Muroi’s artistic expression.

As Muroi states, she seeks to "reflect the boundary itself, rather than choosing between figuration and abstraction." We invite you to experience the "voice of sediment" that rises from the interstices of her work, awakening a sense of the "other side" that we so often lose sight of in our daily lives.

 

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Artist Biography
Kumiko Muroi (b. 1975) completed her MFA at Tokyo Zokei University in 2009. She taught at Tohoku University of Art and Design from 2015 to 2023 before returning her base of operations to Tokyo in 2025.
Her accolades began early in her career; she received the Encouragement Award at the Gunma Youth Biennale in 2005 while still an undergraduate, followed by selection for the VOCA Exhibition in 2006. In 2012, at the 31st Sompo Japan Nipponkoa Art Museum Foundation Selection Exhibition, she was highly praised by jurors as a "pioneer among young abstract painters" and received the Encouragement Award.
In 2013, she participated in an artist-in-residence program hosted by the PROSPER Foundation in Georgia. Her work has been featured in notable exhibitions such as the "Yairo no Mori Art Exhibition" at the Ikeda Memorial Museum of Art and the Yamagata Biennale 2020.

 

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Artist Statement

What lies between the other shore (Higan) and this shore (Shigan)?
I travel. To the mountain faiths of Yamagata; to the Oshira-sama of Tono in Iwate; to Osorezan in Aomori; to the sacred realms of Izumo in Shimane; to the Utaki of Okinawa; and to the Sokushinbutsu (self-mummified Buddhas). I visit these sites of faith to immerse myself in the time and atmosphere that breathe there. These journeys are neither tourism nor academic research; they are an act of layering my own senses upon the accumulation of memory known as folklore.

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In the folk beliefs of this country, there is a fundamental will to treat the boundary between the dead and the otherworld with great care. In mountain worship, exemplified by the Three Mountains of Dewa, the mountains themselves are seen as dwellings for the souls of the departed. Practitioners (ascetics) have long experienced the threshold between life and death through the physical act of walking steep, rugged paths. The Oshira-sama of Tono are enshrined in layers of cloth—a form that is the very embodiment of memory piling up in strata. The Itako of Osorezan call the dead back to this shore through the medium of words. In the sacred lands of Izumo, myriad deities gather across time and space. In the Utaki of Okinawa, ancestral spirits reside within the forests, where women known as Noro or Yuta mediate between the spiritual world and the present. I have also gone to meet the Sokushinbutsu several times. Their bodies, remaining on this shore while consciously embracing death, are the crystallization of the boundary between the two shores, rendered into flesh. Every faith arises from a sense of keeping the departed close to our daily lives rather than distancing them.

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When I walked through Osorezan in Aomori, the searing heat of the ground and the incredibly clear blue sky spreading overhead rushed toward me at once. It felt as if my own body stood as a single boundary between hell and heaven. When stepping into places where few people visit, one is sometimes enveloped in a sensation of something that had been submerged at the bottom of the water gently floating to the surface. "Ori" (Sediment) refers to that which settles at the bottom, or the stagnation itself. It is the invisible accumulation hidden in the depths of clear water—sometimes a deposit of forgotten memories, emotions, or souls. The "voice" emitted from there is an unspeakable whisper, an afterglow of the past, a fundamental resonance of existence.

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I have also go around visiting giant trees. Trees that carve centuries, sometimes over a millennium, into their trunks—connecting to the depths of the earth with their roots and stretching toward the heavens with their branches. Standing before them, the smallness of my own body and the sensation of certainly standing on "this shore" rush over me simultaneously. The annual rings of a giant tree, the layered cloths of Oshira-sama, the layers of paint—all are "sediment." Time settles, atmosphere accumulates, and eventually, they take the shape of a single voice.

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And now, I live in Ome. Okuchi-no-Magami, enshrined at Musashi Mitake Shrine—this local faith that reveres the wolf as a divine messenger—resonates quietly with the memories of my distant travels. Within my daily life, the "other shore" is already woven in.

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I used to practice calligraphy and archery. In a single stroke of the brush, there is a moment when the body moves before thought. The same is true of the instant an arrow is released in archery—it is only when you stop "aiming" that you finally hit the target. Standing before a canvas, I recall that sensation. Hands move, paint layers, disappears, and remains. Just as Sesshu allowed the spiritual aura of the mountains to reside within the yohaku (blank space), I too attempt to place the "other side" within the unpainted areas. Layers of time and physicality pile up on the surface, eventually forming a certain presence.

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Countless stars scattered across the night sky hold no meaning in themselves. Yet, since ancient times, humans have drawn lines between points, finding myths and forms of prayer. Constellations are the fundamental human impulse to visualize the invisible. My act of facing the canvas is similar—drawing faint lines between countless traces. The screen, swaying between color and matter, is neither figurative nor abstract, but seeks to reflect the boundary itself. The other shore is always within the margins of this shore. And we are always standing on this shore, drawing lines toward the invisible.

 

Kumiko Muroi, 2026