[Art Exhibition 2026#21] Sol LeWitt: Open Structures at Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo
Exhibition Period: Thursday, December 25, 2025 – Thursday, April 2, 2026
In the late 1960s, Sol LeWitt fundamentally transformed the nature of art through his efforts to prioritize the ideas behind a work and the process of its creation over the visible object itself. His work, which includes wall drawings executed by others based on his instructions and three-dimensional pieces that reveal the continuous transformation of structures, poses the question, "What can art be?" Through a selection of his representative works—including wall drawings, three-dimensional and two-dimensional pieces, and artist books—this exhibition traces the trajectory of LeWitt's thinking, which has consistently encouraged a reconsideration of existing frameworks and systems while opening up possibilities for alternative structures.
Every time I visit the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, I see this work drawn on the wall, but↓
Since this was my first time seeing a collection of Sol LeWitt's works in a solo exhibition, I was looking forward to this show at the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo.

A wall stands, blocking the view of what lies beyond.

I thought it was just a partition, but when I got closer, I saw countless lines drawn on it.


The caption contains a set of instructions.
I feel that the moment it becomes "non-straight," it is no longer a pure "vertical line," but instructions like "maximum density" and "uniform" are also ambiguous, leaving room for the site supervisor and the draftsmen to interpret and make decisions.
There is also a work drawn on the back of "Wall Drawing #46."


Since the instruction is to draw "about 4 inches" at "random," this also has a surprising amount of freedom.

This massive wall features the shapes used in the key visual for this exhibition.


Reading the instructions, the diameter of the circle is set at 200 cm.
In other words, as a basic premise, this work, "Wall Drawing #283," cannot be drawn on a wall that is not at least 2 meters high and 2 meters wide.
First, the position of the circle is determined by the shape and size of the wall.
Next, the red line goes from the point specified in the instructions toward the top right corner of the wall.
Then, the starting point of the yellow line is determined, and finally, the yellow line is drawn.

If this were to be drawn on a vertical wall about 2.5 meters wide, it would look like this ↓

Since there are no instructions for the wall color, I wonder if patterns like this are also possible? ↓

Since there are no instructions for line thickness or saturation, I wonder if patterns like this are also possible? ↓

The instructions available to the public do not strictly specify the concrete thickness of the lines or the saturation of the colors as numerical values.
However, it seems this is usually left to the physical characteristics of the tools used.
(Standard crayon or pen tip thickness, tape width, etc.)
And in reality, the site supervisor and the draftsmen interpret 'LeWitt's philosophy' and judge the intent of the instructions so, as a result, patterns that are clearly not LeWitt-esque are not adopted.
Therefore, even if the site supervisor or draftsmen change, as long as the instructions are the same, they will not deviate significantly from 'LeWitt's philosophy' but even so, depending on the era, location, and timing, some variation will occur, and it should never be exactly the same.
That process of exchanging thoughts, and the fluctuations, margins, and tolerance for them that arise there, likely give the work depth and ultimately establish it as an unwavering piece of art.
This work is the closest to the image of LeWitt that I have held in my mind.
Perhaps that impression is strong because there used to be a T-shirt with a design like this in an old UT collection.

Two-part drawing on a black wall
Part 1: Squares, circles, and triangles overlapping (outlines)
Part 2: Rectangles, trapezoids, and parallelograms overlapping (outlines)

This, too, is not just mechanical painting, but because there is an analog margin where a third party interprets the instructions by hand each time depending on the space where it is drawn, I think it still maintains its strength as a work of art.
If this were a type of work where only what LeWitt drew himself was recognized as the work, or if it were a type of work printed via silk screen, it might not have remained in art history until now.
LeWitt's works are, to use an analogy, 'music'.
A musical score itself is just an instruction manual of paper and ink, but conductors and performers interpret the 'composer's philosophy' and judge the intent of the score to perform it.
The arrangement may change depending on the era, trends, location, conductor, or performers, but the essence of the music does not change.
When we listen to a live performance at a concert hall, isn't it precisely because of those fluctuations and margins that we are more deeply moved by the music?
On the other hand, even if you listen to a recorded CD source that always emits the same sound in the same concert hall, you are just listening to loud sounds emitted by speakers, and (while there may be some level of emotion) it would be far from the presence and immersion of a live performance.
There are not only two-dimensional works but also three-dimensional works.

1978-80

Personally, I prefer the two-dimensional works.
The two-dimensional works intertwine conceptual elements and analog elements in an exquisite balance, and especially with wall drawings, although the instructions are mechanical, when actually drawn on a wall, I think a unique beauty and sense of immersion are born from the texture of the wall surface, the traces of the draftsman's handiwork, and the light in the space.
On the other hand, when it comes to three-dimensional works, I felt that the sculptural elements were too strong (although I certainly understand what they are trying to say).
Once a three-dimensional work is made, it sits in the space as a solid 'object,' and its physical volume and shadows seem to block the essence of the work like noise.
Compared to the transience of wall drawings that are erased when the exhibition ends, three-dimensional works have too much of an industrial product-like presence as an 'object'.
To quote the previous analogy, three-dimensional works feel like listening to a recorded CD source.
The same sound wherever you listen, the same object wherever you place it.
I think the essence of LeWitt's work lies in the process of living thought, but I feel as if I am only being shown thought as a result that has been packaged in the form of a three-dimensional work.
This piece also exudes a truly industrial presence, and if anything, it even looks like a simple chair.

I think this, and look at the caption posted next to it, but the artwork and the instructions still don't seem to match up.
Just to be sure, I ask a staff member.
“Um, sorry to bother you, but is this not an artwork?”
“Oh, that is a chair.”
A chair, seriously!
Even though they have a sign like this standing right next to it, ostentatiously making it look like an artwork, it's a chair!

Damn it, MOT, you put something that looks like art there on purpose, didn't you?
In that case, is this a chair too? (Of course not)

1983
My daughter is obsessed with Minecraft at home, but to me, it looks like SimCity.

Of course, if you observe it for a while, the rules become apparent on their own.
However, while there is a joy in discovering the rules, it feels like just completing a clerical task of checking answers, and there is no aesthetic emotion in it.
As expected, the fluctuations and margins inherent in the wall drawings are extremely scarce, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just being made to listen to a recorded CD track.
In the second half, colorful works also appear.

Asymmetrical pyramids with color ink washes layered over them
Since the 1980s, the visual elements have changed significantly, and shapes and colors that didn't exist before have become prominent, but to me, they looked like “cheap popular music with trendy arrangements added.”Only the superficial splendor of the finished product stands out, and the instructions and the process of thinking about them are hard to see.
As a result, the simple and stoic strength of the early pencil-only lines, like the 'Cello Suites,' has been erased, and the intellectual process of 'deciphering and performing' has been swallowed up by a muddy torrent of cheap, trendy sounds... that's the feeling I got.
On the other hand, the prints hung here and there felt like 'a stylish melody improvised by the composer himself,' and I found their live feel and light atmosphere pleasant.


The final room features valuable materials such as documents and photographs.
Among the vast collection of photographs LeWitt took as reference material, he documented beauty and discoveries in everyday life, including some shots of ukiyo-e, which is very interesting; it is a pity that photography is not allowed in this room.
I will transcribe the parts of the materials that I found interesting.
Conceptual art has almost nothing to do with mathematics, philosophy, or any other academic discipline. The mathematics used by most artists is nothing more than simple arithmetic or number systems. The philosophy of the work resides in the work itself and does not illustrate a specific philosophical system.
Whether or not the artist's concept is understood by looking at the work is not a major issue. Once the work leaves the artist's hands, how the viewer perceives it is beyond the artist's reach. Even when looking at the same thing, the way it is understood differs from person to person.
If LeWitt himself says so, then my own arbitrary interpretation must also be one valid answer.
There was also this.
Lately, more has been written about minimal art, but I have yet to find anyone who identifies as such. Primary structures, reductive art, ... (omitted)
The best thing about mini (minimal) art is that it reminds one of mini-skirts and long-legged girls. Perhaps it refers to very small works. This is a good idea. A "mini-art" exhibition could be packed into a matchbox and tour the country. Could a mini-artist be a small person under five feet tall. In that case, we would find masterpieces in elementary schools (primary structures for primary school, so to speak).
Nowadays, this would be a triple combo guaranteed to cause a firestorm of sexual harassment, lookism, and old-man jokes.
Until now, I had the impression of Sol LeWitt as a pretentious figure, the forefather of conceptual art, but after reading this drunken old man at a dive bar style nonsense, I feel a bit more affinity for him.
[Masterpiece Chairs at the Museum] ↓
[Art Exhibition 2026] Summary Magazine ↓
いいなと思ったら応援しよう!
ありがとうございます。励みになります。