For more than three decades, Mariko Mori has traced the contours of consciousness and humanity’s place within the natural and cosmic order. First recognized in the 1990s through her “female cyborg” works, her practice then shifted toward singular environments that asked for viewer presence. Drawing with care from Buddhist philosophy, prehistoric cultures, and scientific collaboration, Mori intuitively approaches technology as a conduit to what lies beyond the visible.
Opening at the Mori Art Museum from October 31, 2026, to March 28, 2027, her major international museum retrospective follows this ever-evolving pursuit, where time bends, perception recalibrates, and “Oneness” emerges as both an ecological and ethical condition for our collective future.
The Early Years of Mariko Mori
Mariko Mori, portrait by Shimomura Kazuyoshi, courtesy of the artist.
Mariko Mori, “Primal Rhythm: Sun Pillar,” 2011, layered acrylic, 400 cm, site specific installation, Seven Light Bay, Miyako Island, Japan, photo by Richard Learoyd, courtesy of Faou Foundation.
WHITEWALL: When you reflect on your earliest works today, what do you recognize as the core questions that have remained with you?
MARIKO MORI: While many of my early works were directed outward, toward society, the pieces involving the “Body Capsule” were fundamentally different. In those works, the “Body Capsule” functioned as a symbol of a space beyond time and physical reality. During the photographic process, I actually entered the capsule and meditated.
My father’s passing in my early twenties became a decisive turning point. I began searching for answers about the destination of the soul once it leaves the body. That inquiry has remained with me continuously for the past 36 years. Even as the forms of my work have evolved, the essential question—concerning the nature and continuity of consciousness—has continued to unfold in ever-deepening ways.
“I began searching for answers about the destination of the soul once it leaves the body,”
-Mariko Mori.
WW: What spurred the transition from self-representation to the creation of immersive environments centered on the viewer’s experience?
MM: My encounter with Yogācāra Buddhist philosophy led me to explore the realm of deep consciousness. In order to visualize the inner world of the mind, I began working with computer graphics to create moving-image works for Dream Temple (1999). In this piece, viewers enter individually into a spherical projection chamber housed within a glass temple structure.
While my earlier photographic works dealt with themes of reality, unreality, and the reality of the simulacrum, I felt increasingly compelled to move toward abstraction. The transition from self-representation to immersive environments emerged from a desire to create spaces in which the viewer could directly experience states of consciousness, rather than observing them through my physical presence.
Ancient Cosmologies and the Idea of Oneness
Mariko Mori, “Ring,” 2016, Photo by Stephanie Leal, courtesy of Mariko Mori Studio.
WW: How has your understanding of time shaped the way you imagine art’s role in an era defined by environmental and technological transformation?
MM: I often feel that, in our understanding of both time and space, we may not yet have arrived at what we call ultimate truths. The concept of cyclical time has been proposed in various contexts—from Neolithic sites and Buddhist philosophy to contemporary cosmology, such as Paul Steinhardt’s cyclic model of the universe in The Endless Universe. In recent years, I have also reflected on creation myths such as those found in the Kojiki, contemplating narratives about the origins of the world.
There appears to remain a vast unknown before us. I see one possible role for the artist as opening doors—one by one—into these still-unmapped dimensions. At the same time, each new technological development offers new expressive possibilities and stimulates curiosity. For me, technology is not separate from metaphysical inquiry; it is another means of approaching the unknown.
WW: How do you think participation itself becomes a form of spiritual or ethical practice within your work?
MM: I have long sought to visualize the luminous realm that resides within our deep consciousness. In Wave UFO (1993-2003), three participants share the experience simultaneously. Although they are physically separate individuals, I hoped they would sense a deeper connection at the level of consciousness—a lived experience of a “Connected World.”
This work engages with the concept of Oneness—not as a simple interconnection among separate entities, but as a condition in which separation is understood as a conceptual construction. At its ground, there is no original division between self and other, subject and object.
Participation itself can become an ethical and spiritual act, because it encourages openness—to oneself, to others, and to a shared field of awareness.
WW: Your research into Jōmonculture, Celtic stone formations, and prehistoric sites frames ancient knowledge systems as technologies in their own right. What can these early cosmologies teach us about coexistence today?
MM: It sometimes seems to me that contemporary society struggles with a sustained sense of coexistence with nature—a recognition of our embeddedness within it. We inhabit systems in which nature and society are frequently conceptualized as divided. Yet in many prehistoric and pre-agricultural cultures, humans appear to have understood themselves as inseparable from the natural world.
This worldview resonates with the concept of Oneness. What appears fragmented may, at another scale, reveal deep interconnection. Cultures grounded in nature-based spiritual traditions often suggest philosophical frameworks that offer alternatives to the notion of human domination over nature. In this sense, ancient cosmologies offer not nostalgia, but a radical reorientation of perspective—one that may be urgently needed in our data-driven era.
Where Science and Metaphysics Intersect
Mariko Mori, “Tom Na H-iu,” 2006, glass, stainless steel, LED, and real time control system, 327.4 x 115.3 x 39.6 cm, Photo by Richard Learoyd, courtesy of Mariko Mori Studio.
Mariko Mori, “Dream Temple,” Date Unknown. Courtesy of Mariko Mori Studio.
WW: Collaboration—with scientists, engineers, and physicists—has been essential to your practice. How do you navigate the meeting of empirical science and metaphysical belief?
MM: One aspect of my practice is the visualization of the metaphysical. In Tom Na H-iu (2006), I worked with detected neutrino data, simulating within the artwork the state of neutrinos during a supernova explosion as well as the real-time display of what the system detected. By presenting scientific phenomena in a perceptible form, the work suggests the presence of what remains invisible.
In this way, empirical science and metaphysical speculation need not be opposed; they can intersect productively within an artistic framework. I use what can be measured and visualized as a means of evoking what exceeds measurement.
“Recognizing our interconnection is not merely philosophical, but materially consequential for our collective future,”
-Mariko Mori.
WW: How has working with local communities and landscapes reshaped your understanding of authorship, care, and responsibility as an artist?
MM: By installing permanent works in specific landscapes, I have formed enduring relationships with those places and their communities. I feel a deep commitment to those connections. One tangible expression of this is the development of educational programs that allow local children to encounter art and culture directly.
One of the high school students who participated in the earliest program has since become an educator. That continuity brings me profound joy. It reminds me that the work extends beyond the artwork itself—unfolding through care, dialogue, and long-term engagement.
WW: How do you hope audiences—particularly younger generations—will understand the idea of Oneness that runs through your practice?
MM: I sense that younger generations often possess an acute awareness of sustainability and an ability to critically examine the illusions generated by consumer culture. For them, the idea of Oneness may not be foreign; it may already resonate intuitively.
With this retrospective, I hope to contribute to that awareness and perhaps inspire future artists who will carry forward this inquiry. The urgency of Oneness today may lie in its capacity to question the assumption of separation—and to suggest that recognizing our interconnection is not merely philosophical, but materially consequential for our collective future.
