The Violent Gaze; Talking with Ghosts.

(right) Midnight Endeavor, Photo Collage, 2023

(left) In the backstreets of society's shadows, Photo Collage, 2023

(right) Boy's Don't Cry, Photo Collage, 2021

Can you tell me about a significant turning point in your practice?

The turning point in my current practice was the sudden experience of phantom pain in 2021. This was based on my experience of being assaulted more than a decade ago. Until then, violence had not been a source of fear for me, nor an event noteworthy enough to leave a lasting impression. Therefore, facing the phantom pain experience was deeply unsettling for me.

The experience of phantom pain served as a catalyst for me to reacknowledge the fears and complexes I held within. It was then that I realised I had also been one of those who had been ignoring the impact of violence on myself, unaware due to my own repression. At the same time, I rediscovered the version of myself that I had been suppressing. This has contributed to my development not only as an art model but also as a creator.

Does art help you address other areas of your life?

Indeed, art has been beneficial. Let me give two examples:

Firstly, while creating print art, I have also been learning Python. My initial goal was to enhance my image and video processing skills as an image editing professional and graphic designer. Now, I am studying machine learning to deepen my practical knowledge of image generation itself. Programming through an interactive shell using the interpreter method involves a lot of trial and error. Writing code is creative and improvisational, allowing me to fully utilise my aesthetic sensibility as a creator.

For me, art acts like a hub that elevates experiences from various aspects of life into creation. Now, life itself feels like a part of my creative activities.

Secondly, in my doctoral research from 2016 to 2019, as a creator, I proposed a practical/experimental model that applies metaphysical art philosophy (for instance, Heidegger's major artistic discourse, The Origin of the Work of Art, centred around an ontological/phenomenological framework) to physical exhibition spaces in artistic activities. My artistic practice as a creator enabled a phenomenological attitude [Edmund Husserl], and academic insights brought dynamic discipline akin to a spring to my thought space.

I feel that this transdisciplinary and inheritable application of practical and theoretical knowledge was possible precisely because of art practice.

What are you struggling with right now?

I'm currently struggling with the social implementation of my artwork. Especially in my current project, establishing connections with the queer community and organising exhibitions is an urgent issue, yet I have not been able to realise it. Moreover, my artistic activities do not generate any income.

At present, I am sacrificing my living to continue creating. In extreme terms, even if my life falls apart, I cannot stop making art. It's like a kind of addiction.

What are you working on at the moment?

My current project is a photo-collage series of my experience of being assaulted called Boy's Don't Cry, which started in 2021. The groundwork of the piece is memories brought back by flashbacks and thousands of documented photographs of the immediate aftermath of the assault. A trinity of photography, drawing, and art printing methods forms these works. I have utilised partial machine learning (based on the Python library) in some of the pieces.

In these works, I confronted violence as a creator, not a victim, and also positioned myself as one grain of social noise, not a protagonist.

As you know, the collage method is also a technical metaphor for manipulating nature and society. The latent diffusion model, utilised in some works, realises super-resolution by removing image noise and redundancy. I reflected on this metaphor, myself as noise, and the diffusion process by editing. I questioned the whereabouts of the body from beyond latent space.

Violence isn't just a tragedy; it's a homeland for me. After the injury, I lost facial expression, yet my belly became a reservoir of energy that accumulates as a social force through which the artist or viewer can project their fears, desires, and dreams.

When viewing this work, confront it with your violent gaze freely. My body accepts the gaze steeped in these diverse desires, fears, and sadness.

What is the role of an artist in society, and why is it important?

In my view, even when creation begins as a private endeavour, it eventually transcends individual concerns, developing into a form that carries shareable social significance and breadth. Often, this blossoms in exhibition spaces, where, through appreciation, it fosters personal and collective self-discovery and stimulates dialogue. Furthermore, when appropriately displayed and preserved, these creations can endure as potential existences across time. The importance of this lies in the fact that, beyond our era, the existence of these works acquires a certain historical significance, existing as sustained events within society.

For instance, the rapidly changing trends and movements in the era of shared values in technology-dominated societies that advanced nations face, often laden with information overload, are frequently criticised as ephemeral and superficial. Artistic endeavours do not simply abandon or break down these questions thoughtlessly. Artists actively engage with such dominant signs, continually facing the era and participating in the trends, thoughtfully contemplating and diagnosing. In doing so, their works are offered to the times. In this sense, these works represent events for us, mechanisms of historical inheritance, and are akin to gifts or talismans bestowed upon the limitless peaks.

What's the end goal of your work?

My final goal is to work hard to prepare my work for social implementation as a possibility that will cross over the ages. I believe my life as a creator is a preparation period given to me to bring as many works as possible to the world. My final goal in the self-support activities is to create an orphanage that can host continuous care across the ages after my passing—this attempt, too, is strongly tied to artistic practice.

My work and practice reflect that my vision as a creator and practitioner extends over a macroscopic phenomenological perspective that spans the future and times. These works are entrusted with the functions of "watching over and giving."
All artworks can be potential existences that span the ages, beyond the time and era in which they live as creators (as long as they are correctly preserved). In other words, works (as historical existences) have potential encounters with unknown various appreciators across generations and times.

Eventually, after the artist passes away, works will continue to watch over the times beyond their private time as creators, through public expansion and solidarity, and sustain such time and space.

In this sense, my artwork is equal to a space of prayer.

Where are you from, and how does that affect your work?

I'm from Japan. I have been involved in self-reliance support activities for orphans, ex-convicts, and other individuals issuing SOS for over a decade. This private endeavour originates from the societal divisions silently confronted by Japanese society, seemingly peaceful on the surface. This societal division is characterised by a stark division or segmentation between its visible and hidden facets. The latter remains invisible from the surface, and there seems to be no intersection on its face. At first glance, this might seem like an ideal structure. However, there are several social problems arising from this quiet social division.

One of the pressing issues is the unsettling reality that the hidden communities (underworld?) and their outskirts function as societal pockets where people, forgotten or erased from mainstream society, are cast aside. Not only do these realms serve as a final refuge or dumping ground, but these hidden communities seem almost eager, with open arms, to receive these isolated and vulnerable individuals.

Another issue is the extreme indifference or ignorance of the broader society towards this irrational and one-sided division. It's crucial to understand that this societal space, where forgotten individuals and people find solace, also functions as a repository for the responsibilities that mainstream society unjustly shifts and projects onto them. The responsibility that someone casually abandons in order to continue living comfortably doesn't just conveniently disappear. Instead, individuals singled out as vulnerable bear this responsibility for a lifetime. It is almost akin to being deprived of the right to live one's own life.

Despite this, the reality is spreading: some people continue to rise to power by conveniently blaming others and portraying them as villains to keep living in their clean, unblemished worlds. I have observed these realities and, acting as a mediator and creator, tried to bridge the gap between these two facets of society in my lifetime.

Many aspects are hard to articulate, and my first step was to try to engage in dialogue by sublimating my own experience of being subjected to violence into my work first.

My creation always depends on an existential relationship with inner social issues that touch the skin in such a way. Having undergone such a baptism in Japanese society, my strength as a creator lies in no longer shying away from being made the villain. My life has been a series of being scapegoated in place of others. I do not run away from any responsibilities imposed upon me. And it is beyond such struggles that my work exists.