The older the mirror, the thicker the glass. In other words, the older the mirror, the greater the physical distance between the words written on the surface and the words reflected on the other side. I got the impression that Yamasaki's words reflected on the bottom of the vintage mirrors collected by Nobuhiko Akiyoshi (founder and first in command at galerie a) were something from the past, something that was calling to us from a distant mountain mist and became a double-copy of present words.

In last year's exhibition, which included this symbolic work, I felt that I saw the "work of a poet”. That is, a poet has a duty to continue weaving words together for the future, while also being confronted by— and at times even being perplexed by— his own image and past words being reflected and bounced right back at him.

Since ancient times the mirror has been a symbolic device in which many legends, poetry, and words in this world are derived from.
That being said, I also get the feeling that I may have been taken too far in by the magical atmosphere I felt at last year’s exhibition. Perhaps I should have viewed the work from a more simple and clear standpoint.
The medium Yamasaki used for this exhibition was glass collected by Nobuhiko Akiyoshi. Put differently, the reflective surface of the mirror has been taken away. It is a material that has the potential to pass through the poet's image and words, which were reflected and returned to its original side in last year’s exhibition, adding a magical aspect to the work. In this exhibition, the artist's cultivated skills are quite literally put to the test in broad daylight.

Although techniques vary from artist to artist, there is a long tradition in the world of glass art, in which the surface is decorated with elegant patterns. For an instant, I was tempted to consider the works in this exhibition to have more of a “craft” aspect than those in last year's exhibition.
But, despite the precision of his technique, Yamasaki's works do not treat words as a kind of “pattern", nor does he intend to showcase his precise writing technique or sense of balance. In that regard, his works should by no means be considered crafts.
Yamasaki is particular about his words. As the same words are endlessly written, they accelerate their unique undulating force, losing their legibility. In normal circumstances, a series of letters written like that would take the form of some kind of symbol and form a pattern, but why do Yamasaki's words, written in that continuous undulating manner, keep their form as words and do not transform into patterns? Seeing this directly, I was a little daunted by the intuition of the power in the words and pressure of the pen that Yamasaki had put into his writing.

To say that Yamasaki is obsessed with words would be a little bit off the mark.
Rather, Yamasaki believes in the power of words, which transcends legibility and even meaning.

This exhibition, titled "hyphenated," has a loose connection to its forerunner. But by introducing the transparent material of glass, it will be a challenging exhibition that showcases the strength in Yamasaki's words in a clearer form than last year's exhibition. It will be a challenging one. Those who attend the event will have the opportunity to— quite literally— confront the power of Madoki Yamasaki's words, which continue to undulate and speed up, to see them as they are.
Even without a symbolic device such as a mirror, the strength of these words will still be visible to the viewer, through light passing through the glass. In that respect, this exhibition may even be more magical than last year's.