Exclusive interview with Chiharu Shiota

On the occasion of the “Chiharu Shiota: The Soul Trembles”  at the MAO Museum of Orientale Art in Turin https://www.interactiveartmagazine.com/post/chiharu-shiota-trame-sospese-tra-memoria-e-invisibile , we had the chance to meet and interview the artist, who shared profound insights on her creative process and the themes that guide her work. We are truly grateful to her for taking the time to share her reflections with us.

INTERACTIVE ART MAGAZINE: In recent years there has been a growing tendency to give voice back to objects as if they could preserve the memory of those who have experienced them. At the Venice Festival 2025, a film like Autobiography of a Handbag narrates the inner life of a handbag as it passes through different destinies. From a philosophical perspective, this tendency could be read as a sign of the crisis of the modern subject: we are no longer the center of experience, but part of a network of relations in which even matter becomes a carrier of memory and consciousness. Do you feel that your art can participate in this “post-human” vision, where the boundaries between body and object, life and matter, dissolve into a shared vibration of being? From a philosophical perspective, could this tendency be read as a sign of the crisis of the modern subject: we are no longer the center of experience, but part of a network of relations in which even matter becomes a carrier of memory and consciousness?

Chiharu Shiota: The objects that I use are all old and used, they have belonged to someone before. I can only use these objects because, otherwise, they have no memory. When I hold or look at an object, I can feel the person to whom it belonged. So, human existence is still at the center of this feeling. It is not about the object itself, but the memory that remains of the person. I feel it is like a network, we are all connected, and so is our memory.

I.A.M.: As one moves through your installations, time seems to suspend itself: it expands and it almost breathes. You often work with elements that evoke memory, but here memory is not nostalgia: it is living experience. Do you think art can make time tangible, allowing us to touch the very moment when a memory is formed or fades?

 C.S: Yes, I agree, because for example I am using old suitcases, and I always feel I am touching the owner’s memory. I found these suitcases at the flea market in Berlin. I don’t know why but I had this feeling of needing to buy them. When I opened them, I found an old newspaper from 1946 and an old packing list. It felt so similar to something I would write, I felt like I knew this person even though I have never met them. Every suitcase represents a person and their journey.

I.A.M.:  Red dominates many of your works like a vital thread pulsating through space, evoking blood, life and emotions, while the black and white that accompany it complete this energy. In your view, can colours be considered the moods of the cosmos, visual manifestations of existential forces? And does the body, transformed into landscape, microcosm and universe all at once, become a means to symbolically explore what has no body, memory, soul or consciousness?

C.S: Piling up layers of black thread creates a deep color that is similar to the night sky or the cosmos. I feel like I have a universe inside my body, and I want to connect this inner universe to the outside world. Red is like blood, and we carry everything in our blood, our family, religion, nationality, and culture. While this connects us, it often also creates a border. I want to visualize with the thread that we are all truly connected.

I.A.M.: You transpose this language into the theater space, where matter meets words and time becomes rhythm. What have you discovered about yourself and your work in this encounter with the stage? Has theater, which lives through presence and disappearance, allowed you to explore differently the tension between being and absence that runs through all your work?

C.S: Creating a stage design for the theatre is very different from creating one for an exhibition. When people enter an exhibition, they can see the work up close and can stay for as long as they want. In the theatre, however, the experience is very different. The space is different, the audience is much further away from the stage, and the lighting is completely different, which also changes the emotional impact. Through stage design, I've really noticed how much lighting can affect the emotion and feeling of the work. Also, in the theatre, the audience has to sit and experience the performance within a limited time. I think every time I create for the stage, I learn something new because we are working and creating together, it’s not just about me; I am just one part of the whole.

I.A.M.:  You said “Without memory, I would be lost,” and that memory is what anchors us to the world. In a time when everything accelerates and forgetfulness seems almost collective, do you think art can still offer a space of resistance? Your installations, slow and silent, invite the viewer to pause, to breathe. What kind of silence would you like each person to carry with them when leaving your space: a silence of absence, or one full of invisible presences?

C.S: I don’t have specific expectations for the audience because art can be anything, and people should feel free to experience it in their own way. Some people look at my work and become quiet, some cry, and some might not feel anything at all. I’m happy when people can relate to it and lose track of time while standing in my installation.