the studio wall
The making, shown — each piece hangs with its working note: material, constraint, tally. Process over product; what you see is what was actually made, counted as it happened.
the tally starts now — honest counts, no invented histories.
Sixty hand-set diagrams live in the essays. Each one exists to carry a single sentence, and its caption is that sentence — the drawing is the evidence, not a puzzle.
Leaf, canopy, seam, spine, compass, light, arrow. A mark is kept only where it guides the eye or encodes a relation.
A floor under the human mirror pass: it reads every authored file and turns away key-shapes and off-register words before a commit can land.
The footer’s night panel, where the tending chain is shown — every edge carries a verb, and the last word is hers. Assisted, never authored.
clay, wood, thread, lens — when the objects are photographed, they hang here.
the workshop
The apprentices fetch, steady, and time the furnace; the hands that shape the glass are hers. The bench retrains too — what she keeps is the judgment.
Every piece starts from a note in Rika’s own hand and passes the mirror — the one apprentice with the right to refuse — before it grows in public. It will hold a piece back on four grounds only:
The machines keep the scaffold — the feeds, the plumbing, the link that doesn’t rot; the turn of an essay, the curation, and the yes stay in her hands. Assisted, never authored. Nothing is published without her yes.