Distant in emptiness, dim in shadow.

Set within the fictional town of Yao, Far from Where begins with a house that has long stood vacant. Everyone in town believes someone lives there, and everyone accepts that it has an owner. Yet no one has truly seen him. People may pause at the gate, shelter beneath the eaves, or pass through the space in front of the house, but entry itself never really takes place. Still, the house remains fully absorbed into the order of everyday life: records are updated, taxes are paid, notices are posted. Everything proceeds as if its existence had already been confirmed.

Rather than solving a mystery, Far from Where lingers in a more elusive condition: how judgment persists without contact, how an inaccessible interior continues to shape the world outside it, and how vacancy can be maintained not as an ending, but as a way of being.

From this structure, the exhibition unfolds as an ongoing condition rather than a complete story. Things continue, space remains in use, and meaning appears only to slip away again. On that border of “as if,” everything goes on—simply by continuing.