We are finally getting closer to starting the renovation.Everything takes time, a lot of time, but given the scale of the project, it feels inevitable.

I expected a more vibrant art scene, a city as daring in its exhibition spaces as it is in its architecture.

It wasn’t a photography show but a plunge into a parallel universe, a jubilant and uninhibited dialogue between painting, Japanese pop culture, video games and contemporary art.

I would have loved to meet one of the founders or directors of Objectifs, a non-profit gallery dedicated to photography and moving images, and one of the most inspiring in Singapore.

At the heart of Gillman Barracks, Sundaram Tagore Gallery conveys a quiet elegance.

The space, luminous and elegant, highlights a discerning selection of contemporary painting, drawing, sculpture, and photography.

I see something else. A shattered constellation, an abstract canvas, a shower of colored stars.

Tokyo is a city you never finish discovering. I didn’t manage to see all the galleries and exhibitions I had planned. Here, everything moves fast, everything renews itself. The art scene is alive, constantly shifting, and every street feels like a potential exhibition space. 

The word escapes the worksite, a secret lexicon, an involuntary poem.

My last visit in Tokyo was to a bookstore, just a short walk from my hotel. There are several Taka Ishii bookstores across the city, but this one is often recommended for its wider selection of art books and its small exhibition space.

I have a soft spot for Roppongi as it’s where I lived for two months during my very first stay in Japan.

Here, in Tarascon, art can spring up anywhere - even in a sleepy old pharmacy.

I only managed to see two exhibitions at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum: Thought of a Distant Window and Innervisions by Pedro Costa

Then came the spark. The almost imperceptible shift from daydream to plan.

It’s not yet 6 p.m., but night is already settling over Shinjuku.

Beneath the tiles, the scars of water.

A red devil greets me and invites me in.

The living room, vast yet obstructed, waiting for light.

Sleeping façade, waiting for the light.