By cloelea, Jun 4 2017
“Where does the parallel world exist? … Is it perhaps possible to see such a world in a dream? Or does it only exist in one’s heart? The world we see is only a part of the entire reality which is composed of many worlds existing simultaneously, side by side. We can find a parallel world whenever we open our eyes and hearts. It is always with us” (Mari Ishikawa).
Mari Ishikawa is a Japanese jeweller, living in Germany. Her work is very sensitive, it feels like a dream, an in between reality. She uses pieces taken from nature (lichens, leaves, moss …) and cast in silver. They are then rearranged in a way that make them look like part of a dream, maybe a parallel world, who knows…
“If we look at nature in the moonlight, we see the colours changing, the green transforming into nuanced shades of grey. Here, once again, we come across a parallel world that we can see for a few short hours” (Monika Fahn, extract from the publication: Mari Ishikawa, Jewellery & Photography. Where does the parallel world exist? 2016).
Her creations are soft and dark at the same time. Mari Ishikawa plays with the way we perceive things around us. She brings to light things that we would not have seen otherwise, because we don’t always look into the details surrounding us. But beauty is not, just and simply, in the details, it is in the way we perceive these details and in the way we re-interpret them with our own sensitivity.
Her work is beautiful and delicate but in a non-conventional way, which makes us question the idea of aesthetic: how can we define it, if it takes shape even in the most unpredictable places, in chaotic compositions, in dark corners? How can one reach its own idea of aesthetic if it can only be found in the most unexpected places? Even more intriguing is how can we all, as a group, find something beautiful if the idea of beauty is so difficult to capture and so diverse, in its intrinsic nature?
Perhaps the parallel worlds Mari Ishikawa talks about is in fact the result of our perception through the lens of our own sensitivity.