CASHI

Kazuki UMEZAWA Beyond That Screen 2025

“Image Phantasm”
March 1, 2025 (Sat) – April 5, 2025 (Sat)
Artists: Kazuki UMEZAWA

CASHI is pleased to present Image Phantasm, a solo exhibition by Kazuki Umezawa (b. 1985 in Saitama, Japan), on view from March 1 (Sat) through April 5 (Sat). After graduating from the Department of Imaging Arts and Sciences at Musashino Art University in 2008, Umezawa has been actively exhibiting works in which he reassembles images found scattered across the Internet.

By deliberately rendering the overwhelming “chaos” of massive amounts of information onto a flat plane, Umezawa presents the ostensibly nonexistent “images” found on a display as though they are real. This act can be viewed as a form of idolatry—an expression of faith in “images” within our digital society.

In Image Phantasm, Umezawa showcases new works that center on the concept of “Gazou” (image), a subject he has been fascinated by for many years. Through the process of transforming these digital, intangible “Gazou” into paintings in a physical exhibition space, the artist’s dedication to preserving this “illusion” becomes all the more apparent.

This marks Umezawa’s first solo exhibition at CASHI since Black Omen in 2020—his first in five years. We warmly invite you to take this opportunity to experience his latest exploration of “Gazou.”
We look forward to welcoming you at the gallery.

Press Release(en)

Artist Statement

[Related Program 1]
“912133-297-94”
Venue: CON_
https://www.contokyo.com/912133-297-94/
Artists: Kazuki UMEZAWA, Kei URUNO, GILLOCHINDOX☆GILLOCHINDAE
Exhibition Period: March 1 (Sat) – March 30 (Sun)
Open: Thu-Sun 14:00 – 19:00 (Closed : Mon, Tue, Wed, public holiday)
Opening Reception: March 1 (Sat) 18:00 – 21:00

[Related Program 2]
Kazuki Umezawa Miniature Solo Exhibition “Meta Museum”
Venue: honkobooks (inside the bookstore shelves)
https://honkbooks.com
Exhibition Period: February 27 (Thu) – March 31 (Mon)
Hours: 12:00 PM – 8:00 PM (Closed on Tuesdays)
Please note that the venue may occasionally close for private events. Check social media in advance for the latest schedule.

Artist Statement

I’ve long been fascinated by the word gazō (画像). When I held my first solo exhibition, Eternal Force Gazō Core, it was essential for me to include the word “gazō” in the title. As I obsessively collected and collaged images, I kept thinking that this term was crucial; back then, Twitter had only just launched, and I often posted tweets related to gazō.

While gazō can be translated as “image,” it differs subtly from the katakana “imēji” (イメージ). If you consider the phrase “gazō wa imēji desu” (“a gazō is an image”), the difference becomes clear. What exactly is that indescribable feeling—something I can only call a “gazō-ness”—that is condensed into the word gazō?

At a talk event I once attended (Note 1), the photographer Kenta Kobayashi remarked that “pixels are contained within gazō.” What he meant was that the Japanese character 画 (ga) contains 田 (ta) in the center, which is made up of four squares—essentially representing pixels.
“Gazō contains pixels!”
I was astonished—“Exactly!”—and found myself increasingly drawn to gazō, while paying respect to Kobayashi’s insight. In calmer reflection, it’s more of a clever pun, and I’m honestly not sure if it has any academic validity (Note 2). Still, that moment of discovery—when I realized gazō is made up of pixels—and the surprise and excitement I felt were undeniably real for me. It’s something like wordplay, an illusion, or maybe a kind of magic. And I believe that this wonder, this spark of excitement, is what truly matters.

On the other hand, gazō does not actually exist. Even if some character appears on a display, while the display itself is real, it’s simply a configuration of electrical signals and wiring; there’s nothing physically present there. Yet the fact that we perceive it as if it does exist is what’s important. In that sense, it’s akin to the various practices within “art,” where gods, ghosts, or the deceased have been depicted as though they were truly there. By representing something that may—or may not—exist, we can make it feel as though it does. It’s like a magic trick or a form of sorcery.

One could argue that presenting gazō as if it possessed physical form—by displaying it on a flat surface—is merely a way of disguising the fact that it’s an illusion. One might also say that releasing gazō as an NFT would be a smarter approach. But the reason I continue to output gazō into real exhibition spaces, to paste it up and make something resembling paintings, is simply that I want to keep believing in this illusion.

There are indeed pixels at the center of 画 (ga), and gazō does exist.”

Note 1: A talk event titled Gazo to Iu Kottō o Megutte (“On Images as Antiques”) was held during the “卍Eternal Portal卍 Rinne MIX” exhibition at mograg gallery in 2016. The participants included Kenta Kobayashi, Shota Yamauchi, Kazuki Umezawa, and Kazuki Takakura.
Note 2: The kanji 画 (ga) is said to have originated from activities such as “picking up a brush to draw intersecting lines” and “illustrating farmland boundaries on a diagram,” suggesting a profound connection to the very acts of writing and drawing.