I was invited to participate in an exhibition in Germany focused on Japan. At the time, I was deeply engaged with the idea of Utopia and proposed a concept: transporting earthquake debris—concrete blocks, twisted metal, broken vehicles—from Japan to Germany. My intent was to question how a new world, a new Utopia, might rise from the remnants of catastrophe.

Due to limited time and budget, the proposal proved unfeasible. I then suggested sourcing debris locally in Frankfurt, acknowledging Germany’s own historical weight and physical scars. The curator searched for six months but was unable to secure any materials. I personally travelled to Frankfurt, pushing a wheelbarrow through the city, visiting every demolition site and construction company. Despite my explanations, no one allowed us to collect the debris.

In the end, I painted the imagined debris directly onto the gallery wall—traces of what could have been. I also sent a handwritten letter to the curator, stating:

“Dear the Curator, Dear Gallerist, Dear Public,
In my proposal, I have presented an installation using construction sites’ debris. I wanted to rebuild a post catastrophe like landscape in the gallery space to question “After an End, will be be able to make a better World, an Utopia?”

So, with the curator of this exhibitions, we have been seeking during six months a way to get debris in Frankfurt. It just ended up that construction companies and recycling centers refused to help us. I couldn’t make it.

The biggest reason is, in my sense, that Utopia can only be built from scratch.
I will then exhibit only the traces, the ghost of what I wanted to realize.

Thank you for your understanding.”