How did it pass, that soft afternoon, when all the colours of the world lay gentle and still, when not nary a sound lilted in the air, and there you were—observer, tasting the moment, trying to hold onto it forever? 

In the delicate interiors of Rie Koizumi, one can find that moment held in perfect suspension. An empty room, laid bare but for the little remnants of our lives: glasses, both empty and full, a bouquet of flowers, vases, paintings on the wall; the little knicknacks we keep to nourish ourselves. An archive of the way we live. 

Rie Koizumi captures the state of the domestic human in a subject-less world, where one has just left the house, taken a pause, a breath in the midst of bustling hurry. She holds the world still for your gaze—look, here is your life as you’ve left it, she says with her work. Your life, anyone’s life, this little natural thing that is our internal lives, that connects us by the very thing we always return to at the end of the day: home. 

How often do we document our interiors? 

How do we keep them alive, the memories of a place most safe and cherished? 

Rie Koizumi offers an answer, in quiet rendition.