Though on the surface it's easy to think everyone else has got it sorted out, things are not always what they seem. From time to time we all feel like a blip in the universe, trapped by things beyond our control -- whether unbending social powers, finicky laws, monetary limitations or annoying office politics, the list is endless. In any major city, it is not hard to feel alienated among the masses, who at times appear to be more of everything we're not.

If you've ever had such a feeling, Chris Duncan's exhibition, "Playing Fields," may provide some relief. Showing till Nov. 19 at Nakaochiai Gallery in a tucked-away corner of suburban west Tokyo, the artist's works, which include meticulous, dotted paintings and a celestial string installation that fills an entire room, are an abstract and colorful response to the structures of modern society.

For the San Francisco-based artist, our present world is like a metaphoric playing field where we are all in constant competition. Some hold power, others not, but either way all people "regardless of class, race or gender, are just in the same position."

For anyone who saw Duncan's work at Nakaochiai's group show "Realms of San Francisco" last year, his pared-down new style will seem both surprising and fitting. Gone are the representational birds that for the last eight years have helped order his personal thoughts on life, death and energy. Instead, geometric planes, sewing and tactile surfaces -- such as paint dots -- that served merely as a tool in Duncan's previous work, come to the forefront and invade his frame. These works, which are a 100 percent abstract, communicate through the simplistic means of form, color, light and shadow. As he puts it, they are "forms of energy rather than images."

The most energetic and effective of his works is the string installation that, after meeting with success on the American art scene, is getting its first Tokyo showing. Here, that simplest of materials, common string, is turned into rays of light that radiate across the ceiling to the edges of the room, and fall from the center into a majestic pyramid. The gallery's newly painted black walls, along with the strings' gentle presence, create a sense of peace and tranquillity rather like deep space.

In the next room, the paintings which give the show its name are on display. Dealing more directly with Duncan's view of society, these works harness and create energy through thousands of minute colorful dots and their relationship to a grid. Not only do the colors in the works complement and repel each other -- just like our own individualistic, focused needs -- but the pieces, which are displayed on the wall as if in some chronological manner, tell a subtle narrative. Lightly drawn grids at the start of the series, which appear to house and regulate the dots, are abandoned by the end as chaos lets loose and the dots explode not unlike the Big Bang. But perhaps few would think of such a narrative if they didn't look at the painting's titles for answers -- "World War III" and "The End" don't spontaneously come to mind given Duncan's humanistic, craftlike approach.

Though in formalistic terms these works fulfill their aim, seeing them up close, one has to question if their scale fits their theory. In a piece that deals with society's random confusing nature, one almost expects to be consumed in a work of daunting proportions, rather than asked simply to peer in. Though one might argue this is a minor point, against the strength of the string installation and its blackened room, the dots seem less powerful than they could.

Despite these issues of presentation, the Nakaochiai Gallery, whose residential location is off Tokyo's art-going grid, is a fitting choice. The space, which is run by Julia Barnes, Clint Taniguchi and Yumi Wakiyama, aims not only to revive Tokyo's art-buying scene, but also to give something back to the local community. Housed in a previously disused cake shop, the gallery hopes to also share art with those who might not normally go to see a show. Like Duncan's even playing field, the gallery tries to bring art back down to earth, welcoming all, from local school kids to longtime residents.