the In Darkness series

2009—present

Absolute. Darkness.

When i perform, neither I nor the audience can see. Just a piano and invisible witnesses.

Vision is completely removed. What remains is pure sound, the weight of the keys, and the physical presence of bodies breathing in a shared space.

Each performance is entirely improvised. No composition, no score, no predetermined structure. I do not know what I will play until my hands find it. In darkness, the usual feedback loops of performance dissolve. I cannot see the keys, I cannot see the audience, I cannot see myself. The piano becomes memory. The room becomes ceremony.

What interests me is what emerges in this condition.

When the last light goes out, the first truth walks in. I play different for shadows than I do for faces, but the shadows don't judge. Nobody can prove they were there. Nobody can prove they weren't. The sound remains.

Each performance exists only once. More than one hundred times since 2009, each one unrepeatable. It can never be repeated. The master documentation is not a recording of the work. It IS the work, capturing a moment of pure improvisation that will never exist again. It all happens once.

This is not a gimmick. This is not a trick. It is an investigation into what happens when you strip away everything except the sound and the truth.

What is observation?
What is improvisation?
What is shared experience?
The practice is ongoing.
What happens in darkness continues.
Long after the lights come back on.
"And as light returns some audience were moving their bodies to the rhythm and some covering their eyelids to wipe away their tears."
The Asahi Shimbun