by Rose Picón, staff writer

There are so many exhibits along the Connective Corridor that it’s impossible to experience each one. This month we bring you a review by Rose Picón of Noriko Ambe’s complex and provocative “Inner Water,” which is currently on display at the Warehouse Gallery, 350 West Fayette Street. The free exhibit runs through May 12, and is easy to visit via the Connective Corridor’s free bus service.

It has been a year since a devastating 9.0 earthquake struck off the coast of Japan, triggering a tsunami that destroyed everything in its path. For Norkio Ambe, a New York City-based artist and native of Saitama, Japan, the impact was profound. She was set to travel to Tokyo just three days later for an exhibition opening, and found herself overwhelmed. Her response was to release her grief through art.

Ambe is a sculptor who expresses herself through intricate carvings cut through stacks of paper. They are often related to theme of nature, which has been an important focus of her work. She is known for examining how natural forces determine the global landscape and her interpretations of the relationship between nature and humans through time.

When Anja Chavez, curator of the Warehouse Gallery, suggested that Ambe host a solo exhibition at the Warehouse reflecting on the tragic 2011 events in Japan, she created “Inner Water,” a site-specific installation featuring large paper cut outs of wave-like structures, along with a stunning video with a similar motif. This is Ambe’s first solo show in the U.S.

Rose’s Review:

“I recently visited Ambe’s exhibition and was blown away by the powerful effect the exhibit had. When I first walked into the gallery’s back entrance, a feeling of foreboding came over me. The lights were very dim and the room was eerily silent. When I fully entered the room, a large circular paper cut out on the floor entered my line of vision. This sculpture resembled the eye of a storm or a topographic image of a hurricane. The paper was cut into a particular wave-like shape with such great detail that the circle almost had a worn down and rippled appearance. I interpreted an immediate sense of water damage. A small, glass, square box to my left had a small magazine inside it. The magazine was helplessly drowning in water.

The second room of the installation was slightly brighter, but only because the room contained video projections on the wall. The room was still rather dim. My heart suddenly felt heavy when I entered this room and saw the combination of wave-like paper cut outs combined with a video of a woman walking on the beach. I felt sad, yet intrigued at the same time. The theme of the work was despairing yet delicate and beautiful. I examined the painstakingly intricate details that Ambe carved into the papers. It’s hard to imagine that the work is constructed of sheets of paper and not a thicker material like marble or clay. This underscores their fragility. One wrong turn or slight touch may cause the paper wave will literally crash into you.

Ambe also created a video which is projected on two wooden boards, each with a hole in its center. The holes in the board make the images look fragmented, and I felt as though this echoed the aftermath of the tsunami. The shapes of the holes also slightly resemble the eye of a storm, speaking to its power and destruction. The video depicts a very beautiful, somber Japanese woman walking along the beach. Water surrounds her in every direction, and she lets the waves crash into her while she walk. With the cut out paper waves around the room, it is easy to feel part of the video, which captures the still somber aftermath of a violent storm. It is darkly pensive and invites reflection, as well as mourning.

Ambe’s installation invokes a variety of feelings. Some paper cuts evoke heavy waves that are at the peak of their break, threatening anxiety and foreboding violence. I could feel the capacity of destruction. Other waves are more soothing, provoking calmness. This seemed metaphoric for the tsunami – unexpected violence, then the soulful stillness that follows.