A Conversation with Nature

The first time I visited AMABIKI was in 2008, when I was a Fine Arts
student at the Tsukuba University School of Art and Design. The place
is located in Sakuragawa City, in Ibaraki Prefecture. That day was a
beautiful late-autumn day, with hot summer weather. The clouds were
flying by as though Constable had painted the sky, and the landscape
was filled with various greens, bringing to mind lush grass, trees, and
forests.
It felt like a new experience. Artworks are supposed to be exhibited in
museums, or inside; or they could be public art, like sculpture. But to
exhibit them short-term—just a couple of months or less—outside,
somewhere like a rice field or another natural space, after which they
have to be removed or destroyed—why would somebody do that? Why
waste such energy on an artwork or project with such a short life-span?
What is the purpose of exhibiting an art work where it can be exposed
the elements, transformed by the weather? Importantly, such artwork
forms somewhat of a contrast to the character of mainstream culture,
for example it cannot be easily transported and cannot be integrated by
art galleries or museums. It is also difficult for such work to attract the
interest of collectors. When the exhibition ends, you need to bring the
artwork back to the studio, or have it stored somewhere.
That day, as we were walking around the beautiful natural surroundings,
one by one the artworks revealed themselves in many places—amid
urban areas, in the rural environment, in a forest, connecting and
recreating harmony with nature, in situ. It was entirely different to
going to a museum: I could feel the wind; I could hear the birds and
insects around me; I could smell the greenery. And I had so many
different views of the art works, each of them with a different story to
tell.
In that way, I started to understand the point of environmental or land
art, and nature. Of course, the natural environment had always been a
part of artistic representation, like landscape painting. But by the end
of 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s, Land Art fostered a more
intimate relationship to the nature and a break with the rule of “framing”
a work. The art work became an experience, without a single view-point
or focus. Such art works have a multitude of views or perspectives, which
are often difficult to capture in a single snapshot for example. You have
to be there, inside or outside, to feel and understand the presentation of
the work.
I have now been a member of Amabiki Village and Sculpture since 2018.
After almost three years with the Covid-19 pandemic spreading
all over the world, this year we were extremely hopeful and started in
earnest to plan another iteration of this exhibition. Planning such an
exhibition requires a lot of work. Participating artists gather monthly
to discuss the details of the exhibition. However, these meetings are
more than just deciding the exhibition details. Each members’ work
is not simply a matter of creating, it also entails getting permission to
use a site, planning the route of the exhibition, as well as designing the
catalogue and promotional flyer, and installing signage. And of course,
we cannot forget about the financial side too. To belong to an art group,
sharing opinions, and doubts, is always important for one’s individual
development as an artist too. For me it has been so meaningful to share
these conversations with other AMABIKI members.
However, there are so many questions when you start creating your
artwork. Looking for the right spot for the artworks, or planning its
creation and the site, and actually realizing and adapting that plan to
a specific space. Under these pressures, all participating artists have a
limited time to finish their works. This also gives AMABIKI a somewhat
different character, more like a big family, working together—but the
artworks have their own soul and personality. The process of creation
always takes a piece of the self that is integrated into the artwork. The
representations of the artworks have countless faces. Some of them
become part of the landscape, floating amid nature; others show a
completely unrelated picture with the materials used and the colors, yet
these too become part of the scene.
The artwork connects with the surrounding lights and shadows,
which are playing on them, giving them so many delicate views in the
scene. Visitors must follow a route, a journey, to see all the art works.
Ultimately, the viewers will always express their own thoughts and bring
something home with them, which may share a little spark of hope in
the turmoil of a world in pandemic.

Participating artist
ZELENAK Sandor