The work of Yuji Agematsu is a catalogue of grime and detritus, dirt and packaging, all brought into meticulous order in his instillations. With his eyes downcast, he trawls for proof of decay  and transience, often stooping to snatch up cigarette butts, bits of chewed gum, pieces of plant matter, matchbooks, discarded packaging scraps, and swatches of ripped cloth… The result is a contradiction of time and a peculiar interpretation of space: Agematsu’s pocket sized cellophane envelopes are systematically spaced on shelving units, as if mimicking the grids of a monthly calendar, and neatly plot an entire year using the city’s refuse.