It’s been a month since we moved to Chiba. The days of cleaning and tidying up are finally settling in. The house was initially stunned by the sheer volume of things, but with the help of a friend, it has become much more organized and orderly.
In contrast to the dense concentration of buildings and houses in the center of the city, this peaceful environment, dotted with houses surrounded by fields, is very similar to my hometown where I was born and raised. The wind is also very strong, probably because there are few obstacles in the way. I cycled back and forth between the home improvement center and the coop, driven by the spring breeze that blew up the earth, and my body, which had become accustomed to city life, began to tighten up.
I looked out the window and saw that the crows that make this area their home are digging up corn seeds. It’s just a hobby now, and we’re only doing enough to eat it ourselves,” the wife of the farmer told me, “but the birds will eat it anyway. But she also said it’s a waste because the birds will eat them anyway. The crows seem to be busy raising their children.
In contrast to the calmness of our house, the world is still unsettled, and our flight to Germany, which was scheduled to take place at the end of April, has been postponed for the time being due to the coronavirus, but this might mean the cancellation of our trip for a year. I tried to take advantage of this opportunity to go to Aichi to work in the darkroom, but it didn’t seem like a good idea considering the risk of infection through transportation, so I was stuck on all sides, staring blankly at crows again.
I haven’t felt like this in my lifetime since the last earthquake. I didn’t think we’d have an outbreak of a global pandemic. Even though I was informed of the horrible terrorist attack, and even though I was faced with the tsunami that swallowed the city, I was too weak to flinch at the out-of-bounds events.
And in this confusion, the stupidity of the Japanese administration was foregrounded. Every time I see the faces and voices of incompetent, interest-obsessed politicians on the news, I feel nauseated and disgusted. I want to be careful not to get too angry and tired.
When I create a piece of work, one of the indicators I use is “despair and hope living together”. To hold on to a certain hope as a lowly being in this shitty world. To continue to produce works that express such contradictions. To do so, I must build up my stamina and clean up with more energy. Let’s live today.