In Noritoshi Hirakawa’s photograph A Room Light, Taipei, a woman dressed only in a top and tights, half obscured by what appears to be a doorframe, seems about to lift her shirt. It is not clear whether she is looking at herself in a mirror, about to undress, whether she is staring into space, or whether there is someone facing her in the room that is hidden from view. The title A Room Light, Taipei might imply intimacy within the home, or at least intimacy within confined walls away from public scrutiny. Typical of Hirakawa’s work, the artist has created an image that suggests numerous narratives depending with what emotions, desires and memories the viewer intuitively invests the image. Hirakawa: “(A Room Light, Taipei is about) a woman who is in isolation looking for a conviction.”