At the far end of the gallery, a painting depicting a white-flowering tree is on display. On the side wall beside it hangs an abstract work rendered in rough grid-like strokes, dominated by vivid greens and reds. At first glance, these two paintings appear to bear no relation to one another — yet both were made from the same photograph and are placed side by side as a diptych, a pair of works. The former, which depicts the subject in a more representational manner, is titled "Image"; the latter, which intuitively captures its color and light, is titled "Signal."
According to Ishii, the only difference between the two is one of "resolution" — there is no qualitative distinction of any kind. Indeed, even in his Image works, if you look closely, the accumulation of paint is left clearly enough to be perceived as such; one could say that Signal is already latent within Image. Conversely, from the restless interplay of color planes and line in Signal, we may find ourselves drawing out images that differ entirely from the original source. That said, by placing side by side a pair of paintings that are clearly different in appearance — without establishing any hierarchy between them — their differences are laid bare, and the polysemy of the shared referent is opened up.
The fact that a given phenomenon can be open to multiple interpretations is not unique to painting. But Ishii's concern lies specifically with the diversity of interpretations that arises within the language of painting, and with the site where that diversity occurs. Take, for instance, Window (plant), in which what appears to be a garden scene with a potted plant is captured from three different viewpoints and joined vertically, like frames of film. In this work, vivid colored spots placed over the subdued tones of the ground and motif push forward into the foreground as an excess of the image. This creates a fissure in the relationship between Image and Signal: the painting, which should be a flat surface, takes on depth, and an opaque spatial thickness materializes between us and the pictorial space. It is this thickness that constitutes the "window" particular to the form of painting — the site where our preconceptions and the subject come into tension, and where differences are produced.
This site calls to mind what Giorgio Agamben found in the "/" of "S/s" (signifier/signified). According to Agamben, the "/" is not so much a bond joining the two as it is a wall — or a fissure — that separates and divides them, producing difference; and it is precisely there that "the core of signification" resides. If so, Ishii's aim may not be to generate an excess of differences, but rather to measure the fissure that produces difference — that opaque spatial thickness — and to disclose the structure of signification itself.
It is telling that the motif chosen for this endeavor is the plant. For plants do not merely branch out and generate endless differences; they also release seeds, sometimes giving rise to entirely separate trees — entirely new chains of meaning. Such differences do not simply overturn or negate the existence of a subject; rather, they intertwine in a tangle so dense as to blur all boundaries, through repeated cycles of connection and rupture. To grasp these multiply folded fissures is no ordinary task. Yet it is toward painting that Ishii turns in order to confront this overwhelming reality.
"Art Review" Bijutsu Techo,