THE STONE
Since taking a lecture on anthropology at an American university, I have been interested in the relationship between anthropology and photography. I investigate the past heritage, reading the spirituality of that era and comparing it with the present. I believe that the new values and imagination that arise from juxtaposing the past and present times are beneficial to the development of culture. I record and collect that heritage through photography, ultimately connecting the fragments of culture to reveal a magnificent world that viewers can visualize.
I travel across Japan to collect fragments of lost Japanese culture. The aspect that I value most in the creative process is the use of shadows. Shadows have been considered the most important element in expressing the aesthetic sense of the Japanese people. In the essay "In Praise of Shadows" written by Junichiro Tanizaki in 1939, the difference in the perception of shadows between Japanese and Westerners is described. "Westerners illuminated every corner of the room, while the Japanese sought art that shone in the shadows." This influence can be seen in Japanese architecture, lacquerware, Noh theater, and other aspects. Incorporating shadows as part of my artwork is an important element in my creative process.
When shooting, by using lighting equipment to illuminate the subject, a delicate balance of light and shadow that was previously unseen emerges, surprising me with its unconventional appearance. At the same time, it awakens my wild instincts. I consider this wild instinct as a realm of liberated and free spirit, released from the conformity pressures of rationality and an information-based society, and I believe it is the source of human imagination.
One day, while visiting a rural area, I found a small dilapidated shed in the middle of a field. The humble shack turned out to be a small temple, housing statues of the Ten Kings. These statues are part of a folk belief that spread among the common people about 400 years ago, seeking relief in the judgment after death. Light overflowed from a hole in the ceiling, and despite their simple style, the statues emitted a tremendous presence. The elderly father, who was a resident of the field, said, "I collected abandoned stone statues scattered in the wilderness and stored them in the shed that was in the field." From that point on, I began to investigate Japan's stone statue culture. I was moved by the diverse forms of these statues, each reflecting the local climate and exhibiting rich creativity. Unfortunately, they had become marginalized in society's wave of rapid economic growth. These stone statues, whose creators and time periods are often unknown, were deemed worthless and left unprotected by the government and local authorities, simply being destroyed and decaying. I wanted to preserve the beauty and creativity of these forgotten stone statues, buried in the depths of oblivion, for the present.
I printed the captured photos on recycled paper used as cushioning material by Amazon. This is derived from the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi. I carefully stretched and cut the simple and humble paper, which even wrinkles when stretched. It is precisely because the paper bends and wrinkles that it carries a loneliness and melancholy that is absent in brand new photographic paper, evoking a sense of ephemeral emotion. I applied calligraphy ink to the background of the printed photos. I believed that I needed to infuse the energy of the stone statues into them.
First, I lightly applied ink to create shades of darkness, and then I brushed on to create a sweeping effect. As I gently and meticulously brushed the brush, reminiscent of an excavation site, various patterns emerged from the applied ink. Text-like shapes appeared from the photo of the Arhat, giving the impression of singing, while the photo of the turtle revealed marks resembling scratches made by the turtle all over. It was a complete coincidence, and I was struck with astonishment and reverence.