In an era dominated by digital permanence and high-speed obsolescence, Midori Tsubaki offers a radical counterpoint: art that is deliberately fragile, slow, and destined to change. Emerging from Tokyo’s underground haisai (recycling art) movement of the 2010s, Tsubaki developed a signature language using salvaged materials from demolished machiya (traditional wooden townhouses) and abandoned urban gardens. Her work often invites viewer participation—touching, watering, or adding to the piece—blurring the boundary between creator and audience.
Tsubaki’s choice of materials is never neutral. She deliberately pairs high decay rates (flower petals that brown within days) with low decay rates (rusted iron nails, broken ceramics). In Trace of a Kimono (2022), she stitched actual moth-eaten silk fragments onto a base of galvanized steel mesh. Over the exhibition’s three months, the silk disintegrated entirely, leaving only a ghostly pattern of holes—a “negative photograph” of what was once worn against skin. This process, which she calls nokoru keshiki (remaining landscape), reverses the traditional Japanese kintsugi philosophy: rather than repairing breaks with gold, Tsubaki accelerates absence to reveal structural truth. midori tsubaki
Tsubaki’s 2018 installation Fossilized Breath consisted of 1,000 suspended glass vials, each containing a single pressed camellia flower and a scrap of handwritten tanka poetry. The poems, collected from elderly residents of a soon-to-be-demolished nursing home in Yanaka, were transcribed onto recycled washi paper that slowly yellowed over the exhibition’s run. Art critic Hirano Kei notes that Tsubaki “does not preserve memory; she performs its decay, asking us to witness loss without rescue” ( Bijutsu Techo , 2019). In an era dominated by digital permanence and
Her 2020 piece The Garden of Unspoken Words addressed the erasure of women’s labor in post-war Japan. Using 300 meters of frayed silk thread—salvaged from a defunct kimono factory in Kiryu—Tsubaki wove a labyrinthine web across an abandoned sentō (public bathhouse). Visitors walked barefoot over scattered mustard seeds and broken tenugui cloths, while a recording of female factory workers’ humming looped at inaudible volume. This work explicitly critiques the neoliberal trope of “resilience,” suggesting instead that collective memory requires physical vulnerability. Tsubaki’s choice of materials is never neutral
Midori Tsubaki (b. 1992, Tokyo) is a contemporary Japanese mixed-media artist whose work interrogates the fragility of memory, the passage of time, and the resilience of nature within urban landscapes. Known for her intricate installations that combine organic materials (pressed flowers, soil, thread) with industrial objects (rusted metal, discarded plastic), Tsubaki creates liminal spaces where decay and renewal coexist. This paper analyzes three key works— Fossilized Breath (2018), The Garden of Unspoken Words (2020), and Trace of a Kimono (2022)—to argue that Tsubaki’s art functions as a form of mono no aware (the bittersweet awareness of transience) recontextualized for the Anthropocene. Her practice challenges Western notions of permanent preservation, instead elevating impermanence as a site of meaning.