Joel and I stood inside the mirror room of Yayoi Kusama’s exhibition, enclosed by reflections that multiplied us into quiet infinities. Polished surfaces repeated every gesture, every pause, until the body seemed to dissolve into pattern and light. Points of illumination hovered and receded, appearing at once intimate and immeasurable, as though the room were breathing in slow, deliberate pulses.
Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Room offered more than spectacle; it was a carefully constructed meditation on scale and self. The mirrored walls erased boundaries, while the controlled choreography of light—dots, glows, and reflections—extended the space far beyond its physical limits. In that suspended moment, time felt elastic, and the act of looking became inseparable from being seen.
The room invited stillness and attentiveness, rewarding patience with fleeting alignments of light and reflection that felt uniquely personal, yet universally shared. For a brief interval, the exhibition distilled Kusama’s lifelong preoccupation with repetition, obliteration, and infinity into a single, luminous experience—one that transformed photography into an act of quiet witnessing rather than mere documentation.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Treasure Tuesday
