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