The Japanese Zen Master was asked by the American journalist, “what is it like to be enlightened?” He replied, “It's just like ordinary everyday experience, except about two inches off the ground.” 

    Yukari 海堀 Kaihori’s Two Inches off the Ground draws on practices located in Japanese folk animism, to consider the life-force in materials and things. Attending to the found surface of the Gallery floor, Kaihori’s low-lying encounters and material responses form moments of ‘En’, a Japanese concept likened to chance, karma or fate.

    The materials of Two Inches off the Ground reflect pocketed arrangements carried by the artist throughout the City. Though just as often, Kaihori conspires to find, as ‘encounters’ belie acts of crafting in bronze, pewter and plastic composites. Found in nature and formed in artifice, Kaihori’s arrangements slip between these modes, appearing indeterminant. 

    Alongside the small - oftentimes, unnoticed - forms of Kaihori’s practice, are containments of tapeware, plastic slips and prescription packets that carry the constellations. Resonant of the gathering and accrual that is central to the practice, these vessels evidence the idiosyncratic processes that begin in the studio. Directly listening to materials, Kaihori draws parallels with Japanese theorist Keiji Iwata on the theory of animism; “If you want to learn about bamboo, you need to listen to bamboo. If you want to learn about pines, you need to listen to pines.” 

    And there is room to listen within Two Inches off the Ground, as the Gallery appears emptied. The white-walled room is proposed as a space to be still, and attend to what remains. The latin “anima” - to breathe - carries its sounds onto “animism”, and a sensitive perception allows substance to speak. Perhaps, the Zen Master’s conceit has a material conclusion – a low-domain of consciousness, and a poetics of small amendments.