Perrotin Tokyo is pleased to announce Cherries Bloom in April — the first solo exhibition in Japan by German artist Gregor Hildebrandt. The following is an essay authored by artist and curator Andreas Schlaegel on the occasion of this exhibition.

Hildebrandt’s passion for art, poetry, and music is as extensive as it is infectious. His ability to internalize and contextualize what he sees, reads, and hears informs the connections he draws in precise and distinct material form – poetic and open-ended, inviting viewers’ reflections.

“…And Yet Something Makes Cherries Blossom in April” is the full line which inspired Gregor Hildebrandt’s title for his first exhibition in Japan. It comes from a rather obscure early-eighties song by German singersongwriter Konstantin Wecker, in which the singer voices petty grievances that keep him from thinking outside the box and venturing into the realm of his imagination. But then, with emotional piano flourishes, the song takes an unexpected turn: suddenly, cherries blossom, rekindling a sense of life and opening a window for change, creativity, and new dreams.

The images we encounter in Gregor Hildebrandt’s work are nearly always created in an intense dialogue with music, striking a balance between heightened presence and notable absence. He refrains from offering mere illustrations or direct visual translations of music. Instead, he presents images created from the very materials music recordings are made of – be it tape or vinyl. Fully embracing their materiality, texture, and colors, he also integrates the connotations of the music contained within them.

A fresh body of work fills an entire room in the exhibition, reflecting the theme of cherry blossoms suggested by the title: a series of seven or eight tape paintings in various smaller formats, no longer black or brown, but a surprisingly bright red. Unlike his other tape paintings, they stand alone, lacking positive or negative counterparts. Together, as an ensemble, the red tape paintings perform a Reigen, a circular dance.

The artist created these from the red tape that, in compact cassettes, precedes the magnetized tape onto which sound can be recorded. Collected over many years, they are rare and precious remnants from previous work (only a few centimeters of lead-in tape exist in every cassette, and red ones are particularly rare). The series experiments with different shades of red, punctuated rhythmically by the end markers. Inside a cassette, the red tape embodies the silence before the music begins – akin to the moment of focus when the conductor raises the baton before the orchestra plays.