| A text for the Sukima Project |
| Whenever I get on a packed train, the first thing I do is to think of
how I could possibly get myself in it. Squeezing my body in the gap between
individuals, I try to make room for myself. Placing my hands carefully
in order not to be seen as a sexual pervert, I negotiate to ensure a tiny
amount of space. This is not simply a matter for myself but rather a latent
common rule for every individual in the train. When the doors open and
passengers are reshuffled at a station, everybody tries to make such a
subtle gap from the beginning. How could I describe the whole atmosphere,
in that everyone attempts to seek one's right place dealing with the gap
without uttering a word? A passenger, who does not care about the rules
and therefore disturbs the order of the gap, becomes exposed to ruthless
gazes. Before long, he or she physically learns to get along with their
fellow passengers flow. A Japanese artist Saki Satom's project entails getting on a crowded commuter train every day with a piece of clay sealed in a special bag. The clay starts off as a flat brick but as it is pressed in the gap between her and other commuters it becomes unimaginably transformed. In this way, the gap is no longer a simple space but possesses certain potentials. It gives rise to a valuable meaning especially in a society where almost everyone has to travel on a crowded train every day. One day, I overlooked the city of Tokyo from the top floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building. Confronted with thousands of buildings and houses stretched out towards the horizon, I felt both despair and hope. What the hell made this happen? Who the hell was responsible for all of this? What can we do with art in such chaos? I couldn't help but sigh. Compared to the scenes as seen in pictures of burnt, desolate battlefields just after the war, Tokyo has been totally changed. This could be because people of my father's and grandfather's generation devoted themselves only to their work and not to their families. Yet I would not give up all hope of changing Tokyo in 50 years time. When one considers how quickly the past has changed the future might change as quickly as falling dominoes. Tokyo appears to be more or less similar to a game called Tetris, which is a game involving filling space with within time and with efficiency. It is like a real estate game in that you effectively fill the space with buildings or houses in a limited time. The streets are filled with cars. Individuals are always forced to keep moving. Walking on the grass is forbidden. Homeless people are not allowed to sleep on the street. Huge pipes circle underground and enormous amounts of information and energy are quickly diffused to others. On top of the buildings, air conditioning units and billboards dominate the landscape in an imperative manner bound by terms and conditions of the society to such a degree that even a bird might not safely find a place to land. Is there any place left for us in such a city? Sukima could possibly do something for us. Sukima originally means gap or chink. There is a sukima in a physical sense as seen in the space between two buildings or houses. Being noticed or not, architects have created not only fabric but also sukima: the marginal space around it. It is rather neutral because it does not belong to any particular individual. Even narrow paths between buildings, which would allow only a kitten to pass, could give a certain amount of space as a whole. It becomes an enormous amount when taken as whole throughout Tokyo. I would like to perceive another layer of urban space through sukima. From another point of view, a hacker in the computing field exists in the marginal sphere of the system, so sukima could be seen as a gap between individuals or groups of individuals in an inconceivable psychological game. Indeed, present day society is full of sukima: gaps between systems, parents and kids, men and women, politicians and the electorate, the blankness in individual psyche or history etc. It could be said that studying sukima is much to do with seeking an interface within the city structure. It is the interface that connects the layers of family, school, enterprises or city councils. Just as the excellent interface of Apple Computer made possible a rapid expansion of networks, so we need an excellent and flexible interface for ourselves in the complexity of the city. Therefore, what we have to do is not just discuss the city from a distance. Instead, we have to employ our full imagination: squashed on the train, terrified by earthquakes or squeezed in between our houses and neighbors looking up at the sky. I would like to reconsider the relationship between us and the city with Sukima. Masato Nakamura |
| command N machizukuri House Akiba, 1-7-1, Soto-Kanda, Chiyoda-ku Tokyo 101- 0021 tel. 81-(0)3- 5297-3506 fax 81-(0)3- 5297-3507 HP: http://webs.to/command-N |
