The work of Horiki Katsutomi (Tokyo, 1929) opens up a wager against the visible. Such is the height of rarefaction and the detachment from any possibility of narration, grasp or formal declension achieved. Indeed, the very nature of telling.

It is not “variation on a theme” that one perceives in his work, but rather the denial of variation: remaining identical to oneself, a quality medieval philosophers ascribed to that which is divine.