In this work, the tops of desks made from seven materials (marble, tiles, steel, aluminium, acrylic, composites and styrofoam) and the lattice-shaped legs that support the tops are used as the centre (base) for a picnic around Mount Rokko.

The picnic will take place every Sunday during the exhibition (12 September 2020 - 23 November 2020) and will start with the choice of a tabletop. If you're feeling energetic, you can choose a marble one, if you're feeling a bit under the weather, there are lighter acrylic and aluminium tops to choose from. All the baking sheets have an indentation that closely follows the fat of my tummy. These are made by cutting or carving out (as accurately as possible) the protrusion of my tummy. I go outside with the dimple stuck to my tummy.

I walk carefully, balancing my picnic equipment on the top. I pay attention to the hollows in the grass and the little bumps where the paths meet. If any part of my body gets tired, or if I find a place I am drawn to, I look for a place to put the board. To me, this way and that way look like legs supporting the tabletop. When the top leaves the body, the free body rests and begins to move anew in the place where it has sat.

In this cycle of movement and rest, I store on the tabletop notes, drawings and found objects that I want to keep, and in the evening I bring them back to the gallery with their weight. In the evening I brought them back to the gallery with their weight, and I rearranged them for each picnic.

At the end of the 16 days of picnics, including the preliminary picnic, there were many found objects and many notes on the tops and legs of the exhibition space, mixed together with the picnic utensils, creating an accidental and definitive arrangement.

 The new coronavirus, which has been spreading globally since January 2020, has had a huge impact on those of us living in Japan. During the period of self-restraint, I took walks in an uninhabited forest (Oharano Forest Park) in order to compensate for the various activities that nature, the virus, temporarily deprived me of, but the quiet forest felt too inaccessible and inorganic for me. The picnic in the mountains of Rokko was a way of uncluttering, reconsidering and above all enjoying my relationship with nature, people and my work, between the quiet forest and the life and work activities in which I was usually situated.