Decorator Crab: The Heavy Bag

Takehiro Iikawa’s works demand deliberate effort. Not collaboration or cooperation—whether it involves pushing against an obstructive wall, steering a rigid handle, or carrying a bag that is far heavier than it appears and transporting it over a long distance, his works require viewers to exert effort. It is not merely a matter of physical exertion, like walking up a hill. Iikawa’s works require a certain commitment, like lending a hand to someone trying to lift a heavy object right in front of you.  

When someone struggles to lift a heavy object, their effort is visible. Helping feels worthwhile because their hesitation and distress are clearly visible in their expression. In contrast, what the effort is directed towards in Iikawa’s works remains concealed. What lies beyond the handle is left unseen. Even when one traces the rope with their eyes, it vanishes into a gap in the wall. The bag has a weight that demands attention, but its contents are unknown. Carrying such a heavy bag without knowing what it contains produces an intense sense of unease. Out in the world, there are forms of illegal irregular work that evoke a similar sensation. 

Hidden interiors… Carlos Ghosn… There is an installation by Spain-based artist Santiago Sierra in which ​​illegal immigrants were hidden inside large cardboard boxes. The act of lining up boxes large enough to contain human bodies recalls techniques of minimalist art. When one pushes Iikawa’s obstructive wall, it reveals itself to be a gigantic rectangular cuboid. Although far larger than the human body, it is nonetheless reminiscent of a shipping container. 

The bag appears light, yet is heavy, while the towering wall is light enough to be pushed by a single person. In this sense, both exhibit forms of mimicry. Viewing these acts of mimesis through Iikawa’s proposed theme of “Decorator Crab” reveals a certain perversion. Mimicry is mimicry—it is meant to remain undiscovered. Indeed, what Iikawa seems to emphasize is the moment of revelation, when a lump cloaked in a guise is revealed to be a crab. 

Red tends to draw the eye. Car​a​vaggio stands as the quintessential example of this. The color red, more than any other color, has the power to leap into view. The opera red of Mr. Kobayashi, a cat, also strikes the eye, whether it be hidden in the shadow of a house, sheltered among forest trees, or concealed at the back of an exhibition room. Think Pako Hayashiya, known for her signature color. The clear form of Mr. Kobayashi donned in opera red—his body is shown in profile, but the face is straight on—forming an undeniable Gestalt.  

Just as the mirror image of the character Chiikawa（short for chiisai kawaii, meaning “small and cute”）is Dekatsuyo （short for dekai tsuyoi, meaning “big and strong”）, cuteness is a sort of powerlessness. Or rather, I should correct myself: Cuteness is an expression of powerlessness. Whether in performance or in reality, the sight of someone tottering along with a heavy object invites others to lend a hand. We are living in the midst of a recession, where the deflation and inflation of all kinds of values are accelerating. Trust is no exception—nor is cuteness. “Is being cute not enough?” Mr. Kobayashi the cat seems to ask with his nonchalant expression. His eyes, like ocelli—a form of pattern evolved to mimic eyes—capture our attention, yet it is impossible to tell what he is looking back at. 

Iikawa’s drawing series ​Referee Stop depicts, as the title suggests, the moment a referee intervenes to stop a boxing match. Even after the outcome has been decided, the referee restrains the still-frenzied fighter in a bear hug, preventing further attacks and protecting them from injury. It is a literal act of focus and effort, but it also resembles an embrace. 

The composition of Referee Stop closely echoes Gustave Courbet’s The Wrestlers, in which two wrestlers are locked in combat as if fused into a single entity. Yet when I first encountered Iikawa’s drawing—debuted in a 2024 two-person exhibition with the author—it evoked Caravaggio’s The Taking of Christ. Judas embraces Christ and kisses him to betray him to the soldiers he has brought. That embrace, while appearing like an embrace of love, is an exercise of power. Similarly, Christ too can be seen as exercising his powerlessness, in anticipation of resurrection. 

The unknown identity and its revelation. The deliberate effort, or the commitment that Iikawa’s work demands from the viewer draws them into a struggle over the very nature of expression. When pushing against the massive wall, a striking moment occurs. The ceiling lights, previously hidden behind the box, become exposed once a certain threshold is crossed. Light floods the space, illuminating the individual doing the pushing. There, I recalled another Caravaggio—The Calling of Saint Matthew. Christ suddenly appears in the room, calling out to Matthew, a common laborer, and invites him to become a disciple. Without fully understanding what is happening, Matthew finds himself pointing to himself, as if beginning to grasp his own identity. The light falls from the right, illuminating the room, a tax collector’s office. 

Euske Oiwa（Artist）
*Translated by Yume Morimoto, Ben Cagan（Art Translators Collective）

【Solo Exhibitions by ​Takehiro​​​​​ Iikawa Held Concurrently】
*A collaborative project will be implemented in connection with the exhibited work Decorator Crab – Make Space, Use Space featured in this exhibition. 

‘Takehiro Iikawa: Gathering Matters and Mediations’ 
Art Tower Mito（Ibaraki） 
February 28 – May 6, 2026  

‘Yokohama, Cat, Ping-Pong Table’ 
Art Center NEW （Yokohama） 
February 28 – May 23, 2026 

‘Takehiro Iikawa | Decorator Crab: No Two Alike’ 
gallery αM （Tokyo） 
April 11 – June 13, 2026 

Image:
Takehiro Iikawa
Documentation of Decorator Crab: Make Space, Use Space (in transit), 2025
From Artemin Gallery, Taipei to Neiwei Arts Center, Kaohsiung
Courtesy of the artist