As Aki Sasamoto sees the world, an object is never merely its humble self. It may be, as the artist has written, her grandmother, who became a kimono belt after her death. Or her music teacher, who became a wig worn after chemotherapy. In other words, objects exist within a web of associations and relationships that are utterly personal, but also — at times — bewilderingly universal. Sasamoto, whose work was included in the 2010 Whitney Biennial, makes these connections visible through networks of cords and cables that demarcate lines across spaces and between repeated motifs like lemons and doughnuts. In her performances, she frequently wields a thick marker to draw whirlwind diagrams of coincidence or alliances, as if she were an unusually aggressive math teacher (the field in which she began her studies). The relentless pace of her narration is matched in her nimble and mercurial movements; her installations often act as room-size jungle gyms, from which she effortlessly folds, wraps or dangles her body, navigating around her audience.







