鎌倉森に入る。
本当は山と呼ぶべきかもしれないけれど、訪れたその日は照りつける真夏の日差しのせいか、妙に葉っぱや枝や花や石、苔とか光のゆらぎとかそれぞれが別個に際立っていて、私には全体というよりまず部分が心に映った。それらを重ね合わせるとようやく森。山を感じるには季節を待ってもう少し登らなければいけないと思った。
こんな個性的なピースが無数にあつまって共同体になっている。見事。
そしてよく見ると、葉っぱはかなり虫食いが多い、有名なあじさいも花季を終えかなり病気が入っているようにも見えた。こんなことで来年は大丈夫か、と思う。
人為的な行為が入っていない手つかずの森は、意外にも(当然にも!)弱肉強食の図。食って食われての姿があらわだ。ふと、食べられてしまった方のピースについて考えてみる。
森の誰かの身体に入り、見えない力となって木立ちを駆け巡る。または風に吹きちぎられ、どこかで朽ちて熟成され次の芽吹きの一端になる。
同時にふと思う。
私たち人は、地球の一部として存在している。わがまま勝手の多い、、しかし大きな目で見ればどんな行為も循環の一つだ。
けれどそれは私たちが望んでいるような循環だろうか?
個々のピースがこの森のように魅力的な力を持って存在しているだろうか。。
そう思っていたら、同じ意味の文言が迷い込んで入った正覚寺の境内にはり出されていた。
今回、切り取られた方の行くえを想像することが、時間のかかるドローイングの作業の中で、楽しかったことの一つだ。
身も蓋もある、が展覧会のテーマだが、その楽しみをこの蓋の下に隠したい。
蓋は、美術家高木薫織の作った器の蓋でもあり、会場である古民家の入り口でもある、と私たちは考えている。
もしかしたら、北鎌倉に降り立った瞬間かもしれないし、ついぞ蓋は見つからないということになるかもしれない。
どちらであっても、蓋をめぐる冒険が始まった瞬間から、私たち人の想像力が思いもよらない方向に溢れ出ることを願っている。
2016/8/18
Kamakura-mori
I walked into Kamakura Forest.
Really, it should be called a “mountain”, perhaps, but maybe due to the overwhelmingly shiny light from the midsummer sun; strangely, I saw every single element as an entity of its own – leaves, branches, flowers, rocks, moss, or even the fluctuation of the light. Instead of seeing a “whole”, I first perceived each individual part. Every one of these parts overlaps and comes together to form a “forest”. I suppose, to really see and experience this as a “mountain”, I would have to wait for the cooler season to come and climb it for myself.
All these unique pieces of leaves gather together in innumerable numbers to form one collective body. It is magnificent. Looking closely at the leaves, I noticed that a lot of them have been eaten by bugs, and even the famous hydrangea flowers have ended their flowering season and are looking sick. “At this rate, is this place going to be okay next year…?” I thought to myself.
A forest undisturbed by human activities is surprisingly (or rather, obviously!) a narrative of the survival of the fittest. It tells the story of preying and to be preyed on. Inadvertently, I think more of the pieces that have been eaten and preyed on. These pieces enter the bodies of some animal in the forest and turn into invisible energy to empower the predator to course through the woods. Or perhaps they get tossed around in the wind and end up somewhere decayed, aged, and in turn reborn to become part of a new green shoot the next season.
At the same time, I inadvertently thought:
Us humans exist as a part of the earth. So many thoughtless and selfish actions… But when we look at things from a broader perspective, all actions are but part of a cycle. However, is that the kind of cycle we are aiming for? Is each and every one of us living like this forest, exuding charming and magnificent vitality? As I was pondering these, I noticed words of the same content written and displayed within the precinct of Shogakuji Temple.
Imagining the whereabouts of the missing pieces of leaves that were eaten was a fun activity amidst the long hours of drawing and sketching. I want to hide that fun and enjoyment beneath this “Lid”.
The “Lid” could be interpreted as the physical lids of the vessels created by artist Kaoru Takagi, or it could also be interpreted as the entrance to the exhibition venue’s old residence. Or perhaps it could be the moment you get off the train at North Kamakura station, or even perhaps you never found the “Lid” at all. Whichever situation it may be, the moment the adventures surrounding the “Lid” begins, I hope our human imagination will expand and overflow in unexpected directions.
翻訳:Translation/ Yi Jing