Rie Tachikawa Interview [hot] May 2026

In this previously unpublished interview from 2018, we sat down with Tachikawa in her Atelier in Setagaya, Tokyo, to discuss how she un-wove the rules of contemporary craft.

(Laughs) That is very true. I was never interested in the body as a thing to be wrapped. I am interested in the negative space —the air between the body and the room. Most textile artists ask, "How does this feel on the skin?" I ask, "How does this define the air around the skin?"

My father was an architect. I grew up looking at blueprints, not fashion magazines. To me, thread is just a line that forgot to be straight. When you weave enough of those lines, you get a plane. When you fold that plane, you get a room. Textiles are the softest form of architecture. rie tachikawa interview

That series was born from frustration. In Japan, we have this word "ma" (間)—the pause, the interval. I wanted to see if I could make the interval physical. I took industrial felt—something hard, used for machinery—and cut slits into it. Then I wove copper wire through the slits, pulling it tight until the felt buckled.

And remember: The most important part of a woven thing is the hole. The light that passes through. The gap. Don't fill every gap. Let the air in. Rie Tachikawa passed away in 2019, but her pieces remain in the permanent collections of the Museum of Arts and Design (New York) and the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (Kanazawa). Her students continue her seminar on "Critical Textiles," proving that even when the thread breaks, the pattern remains. In this previously unpublished interview from 2018, we

Also, natural fibers lie. They pretend to be warm and organic. But polyester? Polyester is honest. It says, "I am petroleum. I will last 500 years in a landfill. Deal with me." I want my work to make people uncomfortable about their environment, not comforted by it.

Most beginners think weaving is about repetition. It is not. It is about decision . Every time the shuttle passes, you are saying "yes" to one texture and "no" to a thousand others. I wanted them to feel the loneliness of that decision. I am interested in the negative space —the

We spend so much time trying to control the thread. We forget that the thread has its own will to ravel. My last works were a conversation about mortality. You can weave a perfect basket, but entropy always wins. I wanted to make entropy beautiful.