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片岡 俊

『Life Works』

定価:5000円+税

Book Design:名久井直子

発行:赤々舎

Size:H250mm × W188mm
Page:100 pages
Binding:Hardcover

Published in April 2024
ISBN:978-4-86541-184-3

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庭という小さな場所で見る、植物と人の重なり

片岡俊は、「自然」と「人」の関わり合いに着目した写真作品を制作しています。初の写真集『Life Works』は2010年の作品制作の始まりから現在に至るまで、ひとつの庭を舞台に撮影したシリーズになります。
半世紀以上にわたりその庭で、野菜や植物を育て、草をむしり水を撒いてきた祖父の営み。しかしその年齢が80歳に差し掛かる頃、変化が訪れます。鬱蒼と育っては枯れるを繰り返す、自生する植物の存在 ──。自由に育つ植物と祖父の手の二つが交差した時間が、カラーフイルムによって丹念に焼き付けられています。
地面に落ちた種子の一粒から始まり、絶え間ない変化を生む植物の密集した循環の歳月。場所に関わる人の手の跡が混じり合い、やがて人がこの世から去った後も手製の枠は残り、葉擦れの音はやむことがありません。時がもたらす変容や堆積が、片岡の「見つめ」続ける態度によって克明に刻まれていきます。
どこか懐かしい緑のバインダーを思わせる装丁にくるまれた、植物と人との共生。庭から始まる宇宙。『Life Works』は、片岡の作家としての基点を告げる一冊でもあるでしょう。
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"人が植物を求め営み共生すること。人が移り変わり場所が姿を変えること。それはこの場所に限らず幾多の場所で、数え切れないほどに存在しているのだと思える。繰り返され、めぐり流れるものに末路はないのか。庭という限りある空間を見つめることは、私たちが暮らすそのそばに連綿と続く、植物と人の重なりを知ることだった。緑に触れながら目を瞑るとき、その境界線が混ざり合う。溶け入るような命の住処に私はいる。"
── 片岡 俊『Life Works』あとがきより
"まるでカオスと思いたくなるこの庭に庶民の工夫の痕跡がいっぱいに詰まっていることも、私は無視できない。(中略)
民は自分しか使える労力はなく、道具もできるだけありあわせのもので工夫して使う。再利用と誤利用のあいだの領域で、植物たちが気持ちよさそうに根を生やし、葉を茂らせている。
持ち主が亡くなっても庭は生き続ける。よそからタネが落ちてきて、新しい植物が古株の植物集団の仲間に入る。枯れた植物はつぎの世代の養分となる。庭に幾重にも残された祖父の痕跡もまた、写真家の糧となっている。"
 
                           
── 藤原辰史(京都大学准教授)「民の庭」
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Life Works

Shun Kataoka

In the small space of a garden, the dense cycles of time are seen.

Taking photographs is a way for me to halt the flow of the passing days. It renders invisible the repetition of seasons, which can be likened to a circle, and blocks a direct view of changes. Through photography, I arrest this flow around a specific place, creating lines of demarcation where none existed before. This gives rise to questions regarding the places I photograph. The color green informs my approach to one particular garden. I am fascinated by plants. They exist as an unending cycle of change where lush growth withers and flourishes and fades again.

 

My grandfather grew plants and vegetables. He weeded and watered them, continuing this work for 50 years. 
This garden is a place where traces of his efforts are felt everywhere. He used the leftovers from meals to make compost, and mixed different types of soil suitable for each plant. Every year he created handmade trellises and stakes to help the plants grow. Odds and ends leftover from everyday life played a part here as tools. For only a brief moment, these various objects lent their power. Inadvertently, the garden became a kind of basket that held all sorts of seeds and living things. Seeds planted in pots were overtaken by self-seeking co- habitants who came to live with them. Fruit split open and dried up, spilling their seeds out over the ground. [...]

Here two forces intersect: plants wildly growing, and my grandfather's hands. Though the moment when the ratio reversed cannot be known now, this convergence of life that began with seeds planted 50 years ago has drawn near, like the ripples of a pond, and has spilled out a little more each time the seeds have sprouted.

How many plants have taken root in the garden? I wondered about this as I watched the repeated cycle of this green ebb and flow. In the winter of my fourth year as a photographer, my grandfather departed from this world. The planter of seeds was absent. Even so, the garden, laid open to the transition of seasons, took hold of the seeds in its soil with an expansive embrace and helped them sprout. [...]

People desire plants. They raise them, and co-exist with them. People come and go and places change their appearance. This happens countless times, not only in this garden, but in a great number of places. Does the repetition and circular flow of things continue without end? To look intently at this garden's limited space is to know the unceasing intertwining of people and plants. When I close my eyes and touch the greenery, these boundaries intermingle. At that moment, I am in a dwelling where all life blends into one.

Excerpts from the afterwords

by Shun Kataoka

Although one wants to view grandfather's garden as having descended into chaos, I can't ignore the traces of the ingenuity of ordinary folks that are evident everywhere in it. [...]

Ordinary people must rely on their own labor and make innovative use of the tools at their disposal. Somewhere between reuse and misuse, the plants contentedly take root and grow leaves.

Even though its owner passes away, the garden lives on. Seeds that come from elsewhere fall on the garden and new plants join the aggregate of old plants. Dead plants become nourishment for the next generation. And the many-layered traces of his grandfather that remain in the garden are also nourishment for the photographer.

Excerpts from the text "An Ordinary Garden"  

by Tatsushi Fujihara(Associate Professor, Kyoto University)

 

出版社HPより

 

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