The Greatest Crisis Since the Journey Began

Late at night. I was jolted awake by a nudge. When I lifted my head, I saw a large woman standing in the aisle of the bus. The immigration bureau emblem was embroidered on her polo shirt. As I attempted to show my passport, she ordered me to “get off the bus with your belongings.” Following her command, I stepped off the bus to find Mexican soldiers armed with rifles. It seemed to be a checkpoint. The soldiers urged me to enter a warehouse-like building by the side of the road. Inside the dimly lit space, there were around 30 people, all standing anxiously with their large bags. They were migrants.

We departed from the Guatemala border and were on a night bus headed for San Cristóbal de las Casas in southeastern Mexico. I sent a message to Maruo-san, my travel partner and editor, who was also on the bus with me. He seemed to have tried to get off in concern for me but was stopped. “The bus has already departed,” came the message. After reporting my situation, I received a message saying, “I pray for your safety,” and then communication ceased. It seemed he had fallen asleep on the bus. I couldn’t help but feel he was being callous, but there was nothing to be done. It was me who wanted to go to the border. The problem was the current situation.

The soldiers whispered something to the migrants. Each of them sighed as if in resignation when they faced each other. Then, I caught a glimpse of them handing something to the soldiers. This time, the soldiers approached me, brandishing their rifles, and spoke to me in Spanish. Although I didn’t understand the language, I caught the word “dinero” which meant money. It seemed they were asking for money in exchange for turning a blind eye to illegal entry. However, I was not a migrant. It was infuriating to be woken up in the middle of the night, deprived of my means of transportation, and then asked for money. I pretended not to understand the language.

Next to me was a group with East Asian features. There are indigenous people in Central and South America with similar features. They, too, paid and left. I was the only one left. He seemed frustrated with my pretending not to understand, but eventually, he showed a pleading expression as if to say, “Please, somehow, if you could just pay a little, that would be enough.” It was inevitable. As I tried to take out money while leaving the warehouse, the soldier hurriedly said, “I want you to take out the money in a darker area further inside.” Perhaps they didn’t want to be seen by regular passing vehicles. In the end, I was charged 400 pesos (about 3500 yen). The soldier handed all the collected money to the immigration bureau woman.

I checked the time, it was past 3 am. I walked along the road after the bus had left. Looking at my Google Maps, the road seemed to be a paved highway continuing from the Guatemala border called Highway 200.

It seemed to be like a national highway. I understood why immigration control was not functioning at the Guatemala border. They couldn’t openly take bribes at the border, so perhaps they wanted to efficiently collect money by intentionally allowing illegal entry first.

As I walked forward, I encountered the group that had been in the warehouse earlier. They seemed calm. Was experiencing such things a regular occurrence for them? They immediately began camping by the roadside. I joined them and lay down to rest.

One of the East Asian individuals I had seen earlier approached me and spoke. I was surprised by their words; it was Mandarin Chinese. I wondered why there were Chinese people in such a place. When I told him I was Japanese, he bombarded me with rapid-fire questions: “Why are there Japanese people here? Are you also heading to America?” Trying to evade the questions, he abruptly started discussing political issues, saying, “Taiwan is Taiwan. It’s not China,” without even being asked. He was a 36-year-old from Zhejiang Province, an immigrant with a wife and a seven-year-old son who was headed for the United States. He explained to me the reasons for being here.

The excessive lockdown measures during the COVID-19 pandemic in China ultimately resulted in numerous deaths. Feeling terrorized by the authoritarian political regime, they fled China. Their destination was Ecuador in South America, one of the countries where they could travel without a visa from China. They walked for nearly a month to reach Mexico. While trekking through the jungles of Panama, they found fellow Chinese migrants in similar situations, and now they are traveling together as a group of seven. They speak in horror about seeing many bodies of collapsed immigrants in the jungle.

“We don’t want jobs. We just want basic human rights,” they say. Although there is no guarantee they will be accepted into America, they left their country without knowing English or Spanish, believing “it’s still worth the challenge.” Their determination is nothing short of remarkable. I have also noticed other Chinese immigrants, such as groups of university students and couples with children, on the journey. According to what I’ve heard, there has been a significant increase in Chinese immigrants heading north through Central and South America. Perhaps the simple reason I was dropped off the bus is because I look similar to them. Come to think of it, Tony, whom I met under the bridge at the American border, was also talking about Chinese immigrants.

Continued Hardships

As dawn broke, people began to move. They were planning to walk to the next town, a distance of 120 kilometers. Somehow, amidst talking with many migrants, I had started feeling the urge to “aim for America” myself. It’s amazing how easily influenced one can be by the atmosphere. With that mindset, I started walking with them. However, the baseless bravado quickly wilted as the sun rose. It was too hot. My feet began to ache immediately. Walking another 100 kilometers was impossible. Feeling ashamed, I made up some excuse and parted ways with them.

Feeling dizzy, I entered a town called Mapastepec. It seemed I had managed to bypass the checkpoints successfully. With my tired body, I searched for a cheap inn. I figured this town would also be filled with immigrants at night. I managed to negotiate a stay until evening under the condition that I pay. Maruo-san contacted me, saying he had safely arrived in San Cristobal.

I left the inn after sunset. I found the bus terminal and bought a ticket for the 10 p.m. departure. While engaging in conversation with someone in the waiting area, I was stunned to find out that the bus I was supposed to board had left. When I informed the lady closing the ticket counter, she looked at me in disbelief. The next bus seemed to be scheduled for 10 a.m. the following morning. With no room available back at the inn, I found myself once again sleeping rough by the roadside with the other migrants.

Once again, the morning dawned. As I walked with my camera, I was called out, “Photo! Photo!” I ignored it because I didn’t want any trouble, but then a girl suddenly appeared. “Huh?!” I let out a surprised gasp. I recognized her face. It was Cecilia, the girl who had claimed to be “just a tourist” at the Guatemala border. It turned out her being a tourist was a blatant lie, as she had crossed the border river as an immigrant.

It seemed they had also been sleeping rough here since last night. “I slept next to you,” she said, laughing. I couldn’t believe we were meeting again.

It was worth missing the bus. They said they were also going to walk to the next town and waved goodbye as they left.

Finally, I boarded the bus. Through the window of the air-conditioned bus, I saw a constant stream of immigrants walking along Highway 200. I kept looking for them, those who had come from China, and Cecilia, but I couldn’t spot them. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly.

Translation Elie Inoue

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The Colorless Mennonite Villages

The taxi driver dropped us off on a single road surrounded by vast farmland. We told him the address was “Campo 6A”. “Campo” means “farm” in Spanish, so this should be the right location.

Cuauhtémoc, Chihuahua. If you go even further into the remote area, there is a settlement of people known as Mennonites. There are some houses scattered as you walk along the gravel road. But unlike the colorful image of Mexico, these buildings were all colorless. One might call them “stripped-down structures” or “primitive concrete architecture”. You can’t help but use contemporary words like “minimalist” to describe its simple appearance because we live modern, materialistic lives. The Mennonites are not seeking that kind of lifestyle. Here, you won’t find any advertisements or billboards, either.

Mennonites are a Christian sect that emerged from the religious reforms of the 16th century in Central Europe. They live a simple, near-self-sufficient life in their community through agriculture and handicrafts. With highly conservative values, they abstain from alcohol and entertainment, choosing to settle in areas far from secular society. Some communities are so extreme in their conservatism  that they reject modern civilization by opting for horse-drawn carriages over cars, abstaining from using electrical appliances, and continuing to live a life reminiscent of the 19th century. The Amish people in the U.S. live in a similar way.

The history of the Mennonites is one of constant migration. The ones that settled in Chihuahua, Mexico were originally farmers in Russia whose lands were seized during the Bolshevik Revolution, causing them to flee to the U.S. and Canada. To protect their faith and ideal lifestyle, they eventually migrated south to Mexico as the U.S. and Canada began to modernize. Although they settled in Cuauhtémoc in large numbers in the 1920s, modernization in Mexico prompted some groups to settle even further south.

The South American immigrants I met in Mexico were bound North in search of freedom, money, and a better life. It’s surprising to think that, despite the different eras and beliefs, people took the opposite route for the same reasons only a century ago.

With that being said, my knowledge about the Mennonites is limited. I wondered what their lifestyle was actually like. In the city center, there is a Mennonite museum meant for tourists, complete with guides who recreate the past ways of life. That didn’t interest me much (not to mention that it was closed), so I visited the settlements instead.

A Building That Seemed To Prove Mennonite Roots

As I was walking through the settlements, there was an elderly white man who seemed to be wearing traditional Mennonite workwear. He glared at us while clutching a hunting rifle. Perhaps he’s wary of us outsiders. I attempted to speak to him in the broken Spanish I had picked up, but he remained silent. He started to load his gun with what looked like bullets. Tension filled the air. Growing anxious, I changed my pronunciation and greeted him again. The man, puzzled, interrupted me.

“Could you speak in English? I don’t understand Spanish”. His fluent English relieved me so much that I almost collapsed. He introduced himself as Peter, a 78-year-old from Canada who came here seeking the communal life of the Mennonites. Unfortunately, he seemed to be hard of hearing, which made it difficult to communicate. He had been shooting birds that flew into the garden. “You wanna try?” he said, as he handed me what was nothing more than an airgun.

A little while later, two boys arrived on motorcycles: Joshua, 15, and Tobias, 14. The school that they go to is also run by Mennonites. When I asked them about classes, they told me that they learn Spanish, German, High German, and English in school. They referred to their native, Lowland German, as “Germany”, and general standard German, as “High Germany”. Perspectives shift depending on where you’re looking from.

There was a gas station along the road, and a brand new four-wheeled buggy carrying a group of five youngsters caught our eye. They mentioned their grandparents also migrated from Russia via Canada. “They used to ride horses back then. Now, we have smartphones and live just like they do in the city”, they told us. We exchanged Instagram accounts with them, the most modern interaction we could’ve had.

I also noticed some families hosting elegant house parties in their yards. Their lives didn’t seem all that bad. Upon further research, it turns out that many families in the area have been successful in agriculture. In fact, the entire town has experienced significant economic growth thanks to the introduction of the dairy farming industry by the Mennonites.

It’s difficult to imagine the believers who first settled here in search of farmland away from the rest of the world. Nevertheless, I still managed to find a building that seemed to serve as evidence of their roots: a telephone booth. It was a relic from a time when Mennonites couldn’t make phone calls from their homes. Canadian and American flags were drawn proudly on the walls of the interior, suggesting they likely made international calls from there. I’m sure they were maintaining their emotional ties by talking to relatives from back home.

The Indigenous Tarahumara Women of the Mountain Region

As we took the bus to go further into the city, some people wearing vibrant clothing caught our eyes. They were indigenous women from the mountainous Tarahumara tribe. In contrast to the Mennonites, they wore bright primary-colored clothing and soft blouses and skirts that almost resembled pajamas.

I’ve tried striking up conversations with the Tarahumara women before, mostly to no avail. The Tarahumara people escaped from the Spanish conquistadors and found refuge by hiding in mountainous caves to preserve their traditional lifestyle. Those who have been coming into the city more recently may seem overly cautious to this day because of that history.

We saw a Tarahumara family attempting to get on a truck on the outskirts of town. Eventually, I greeted an elderly woman with a headscarf because her outfit intrigued me. When the woman’s daughter questioned why I wanted to take a picture of her mother, I sincerely replied, “because her outfit is beautiful”. Upon conveying this to her mother, she replied with something resembling, “it is what it is”, gave a nonchalant look, hopped out of the car, and posed on the street.

As the daughter watched her mother depart in the car, she took out her smartphone. “Send me the photo”, she said, as she showed me her WhatsApp screen.

Of course, expectations of “traditional lifestyle” always involve outsiders who selfishly create their own ideal narratives. Indigenous people deal with problems regarding land ownership while Mennonites deal with tensions with local residents. Sometimes, people grapple with nature and different cultures. And other times, people maintain a delicate harmony through being mobile, or so we pondered, while moving on to the next town the following day.

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A city surrounded by vast desert

The town of Samalayuca is located around 50 kilometers south of Ciudad Juárez on the national highway. It’s a lonely, quaint town surrounded by a desert landscape, where its main street is lined only with a couple general stores and auto body shops.

Feeling hungry, I found a diner and opened its door. The interior was dimly lit, but I could see the female employees were busy chopping heaps of cilantro at the back counter. I ordered a hamburguesa (hamburger) and a cola. Although there was only one family of customers besides me, there were five or six employees rushing to prepare food. When I inquired, one of the ladies said in quite a hurried tone, “many customers will come today because there’s a festival”.  I had completely forgotten the purpose of my trip here; tomorrow was Mexican Independence Day. While the capital, Mexico City, will be lively with grand fireworks tonight, I came to this small town to avoid all the commotion. They informed me that there will be a modest eve celebration taking place in the town square tonight.

“I heard there are sand dune close by”, said my travel partner and editor Mr. Maruo. When I checked Google Maps, the east side of the town was indeed surrounded by an enormous desert landscape, but the walk there would take around two hours. It seemed ridiculous to walk to see sand dunes from a desert town, but since we had plenty of time until the festival, we decided to head there.

We left the town and walked through the desert. The landscape stretched endlessly with shrubs and cacti sporadically growing through the dry gravel. The strong, no, violent sun mercilessly burned our skin, causing sweat to pour like waterfalls. I began to regret our decision immediately.

I’ve walked vast landscapes in Ukraine before. The soil there was more fertile and sticky, clinging to the soles of your shoes like mud after the snow melted. Back then, I even hesitated to go through patches of grass, since it was possible there were landmines and unexploded bombs still buried underground. I was repeatedly told by Ukrainian soldiers to “always walk in the middle of the road”. That fear still resides, and my legs involuntarily shake every time they trail off the road. I know in my head that this is a completely different soil I’m walking on, but I still carry that memory.

I saw some men harvesting watermelon, zucchini, and other gourd vegetables in the distance. One of them noticed us, picked up a rolling watermelon, then took out a knife from his pocket. He placed the watermelon on the hood of the car parked on the side and skillfully sliced it open. The inside glistened and reflected the Mexican sun. Apparently, this was his invitation for us to taste it. Gratefully, we both took a bite. It was milder than a Japanese watermelon, but it was so juicy that its juices spilled from our mouths. How could such crops thrive in a desert? They watched us with satisfaction as we enjoyed the fruit. Among them was a middle school-aged boy. I tried speaking to him, but after giving a shy smile, he looked down and silently returned to work. We asked them about tonight’s festival. Of course they knew about it.

We walked even further into the desert. There were some slight ups and downs, but the landscape remained largely unchanged. We relied solely on Google Maps on our smartphones to lead us through. My skin was tingling from the sunburns, but I felt an even sharper pain in my foot. It was a thorn from the shrub branches that were scattered everywhere. One of those thorns pierced the sole of my shoe into the bottom of my foot. The shoes I bought at a discount store in Tokyo for 1,900 yen served me well through the harsh landscapes of Ukraine, but they were ultimately cheap. I had worn them out, the soles deteriorating. I took my socks off to find blood oozing out of the sole of my foot. Fighting back tears, I pulled out the thorn and continued to walk the thorny path. The dangers of Ukrainian landmines and Mexican thorns don’t even compare – but it was painful nonetheless.

After repeatedly pulling thorns from my foot, we finally arrived at the sand dunes. They resembled the bottom of an ocean that had been drained of water. There were tall sand mountains in some places and some deep depressions in others. The landscape seemed to stretch endlessly, which felt more unsettling than moving. There was nothing to focus our eyes on among the boundless and desolate terrain. It was impossible to fathom how vast it really was. And we were only still at the entrance of the dunes. We climbed over one of them and saw transmission towers and power lines in the distance. All the way here. Humans are truly remarkable beings. I looked down at my feet and saw an empty bottle of beer. All the way here. Humans really are remarkable beings… It was an unexpected discovery that brought me joy.

The Eve of the Mexican Independence Day Celebration

The feel of the town had changed completely when we got back in the evening. It felt much livelier than the somber atmosphere of the daytime. Men were bringing in cold beers one after the other, and mothers were chasing after their mischievous kids running around. Vendors lined the square, their lights glimmering. As I was basking in the nostalgia, suddenly, I heard a horn. A train with headlights lit up on the rails extending to the horizon was visible beside the square. It was a freight train carrying hopeful South American immigrants we had encountered in Ciudad Juárez. There were men, women, and children in between the train cars and on the roofs. They were likely heading to the U.S. border. Someone on the train yelled, “VIVA MEXICO!”, and the townspeople waved back. We were witnessing a moment where locals who were enjoying the festival crossed paths with those who hopped on the train to leave their hometown.

The hustle and bustle of the festival returned immediately after the train passed. The music started, and the locals started dancing, expanding their circle. Unlike the dance we encountered by chance in the Northeastern Mexican town of Monterrey, which was meant to captivate an audience, this dance was for pure enjoyment. The moves weren’t flashy, but the people moved their bodies and engaged in a cheerful atmosphere. The boy we saw farming in the desert was there as well. He was dancing with a girl who was around his age. He looked more dignified, quite different from when he was carrying the watermelons.

We naively thought we would be able to hitchhike back to Ciudad Juárez after taking photographs of the festival. The dancing, however, would not cease even as the clock struck 2 am. There were no cars trying to leave, and no hotels to stay in. Our only option was to camp out. We had no choice but to wear all the clothes we had stuffed in our backpacks to act as a makeshift sleeping bag, and lay down in the shadows of a building next to the square. I regretted my lack of foresight, but camping out in this small town on Independence Day didn’t seem like a bad idea.

I awoke at around 6 am. It seems Mr. Maruo couldn’t sleep because of the cold. The now abandoned square was littered with trash, making it a feast for the stray dogs. Like the dogs, we were also hungry, and decided to peek inside yesterday’s diner. This place also must have been busy until late last night. I could still feel the presence of all the customers who had left. The female employees weren’t smiling like they were yesterday. They instead continued to work looking very tired.

Photography Hironori Kodama

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“Trump’s Wall” separates the U.S. and Mexico.

We tried to negotiate at the border, but knew it was a game we had almost zero chance of winning. The one we were talking to was not an immigration officer, but a gangster. We were standing on the border drawn just on the hillside of a mountain, and there was nothing like a fence or landmark but sparse cacti and bushes. Even if we get murdered here, we would probably end up being left behind a rock. What went through my mind then was the phrase I had heard several times, “The price of life is cheaper in Mexico.”

Speaking of the U.S.-Mexico border, the immigration issue has long been discussed. Headlines such as “Surge in Prospective Immigrants,” “Escape from Violence and Poverty,” and “Focus of Presidential Election” no longer seem fresh to many people. In fact, the “wall” separating the U.S. and Mexico (the so-called Trump Wall) does not cover all parts of the border lying east and west. We learned that there are some areas where there is not even a fence, let alone a wall. One such area is the mountains outside of Ciudad Juarez in northern Mexico. The mountain straddles the border, but no wall is built because it is private property. When we actually visited the foot of the mountain, we discovered a gap in the steel wall extending from the western horizon.

What lies beyond that point? I went on the mountain path with Maruo, the editor who was accompanying me. Soon after, we saw about 10 people walking in the hollows while trying to conceal themselves. They might possibly be migrants trying to cross the border. One of them approached me and asked, “Are you a police officer?” The man who asked me this turned out to be a gangster. He was a member of a smuggling agent called coyote that had this territory in hand. It is said that immigrant smuggling started as a side business for the drug cartels. Those who wish to cross the border need to pay them a lot of money. When we explained how we ended up here to him, the man picked up a wire at his feet and struck a pose as if he were going to strangle us. We backed away and said, “I get it, I get it,” and walked down the mountain with drawn faces.

Two days later, we climbed the mountain again, this time from the American side. And we ran into the gang again. The story below follows the beginning of this column. Not only did we not learn from what we had experienced a few days back, but we were indeed ridiculous. What did we mean by “I get it, I get it”? In the first place, repeating the same words twice would be a sign of untrustworthiness. The guys we faced this time differed from those we met last time. They yelled at us, “Leave all of your U.S. dollars and Mexican pesos, plus your phones and cameras!” They were saying that if we did not comply, they would take us to the Mexican side. I wanted to buy time through negotiation, but I had only $25 in my wallet. This can never be the bargaining chip. I had no pesos on hand (my card was not accepted at the ATM) and explained I desperately needed a few dollars for the bus fare home, and they took $15 from me. When I showed them the dollars, albeit a small amount, the men forgot about the phones and cameras, and we were released.　Well, how little the price of my life was. The money I had was stingy, but the amount I paid was even more stingy. Maruo, who had been quietly witnessing how things went and whom the gangster hadn’t demanded dollars from, said, “Shall we split the bill?” I appreciated the offer, but I declined because that would have cut the price of my life in half. I went down to the foot of the mountain and spent $5 on the bus to the border. There was only one $5 bill left. We had no choice but to return to Mexico.

Locals were passing by on the border bridge. They cross the border to go to work or school. The city behind the wall is also a part of their sphere of life. Ciudad Juarez, which was once described as the most dangerous city in the world due to the drug war, now seems to be at peace. We returned to the Mexican side and walked along the border. Unlike the mountains we had seen earlier, iron walls and barbed wire were running across our view, and we could see border guards and armored vehicles watching us. Looking at them, I felt as if I were in prison. Scattered around the perimeter were rags of torn clothing, toothbrushes, and other household items. Following the trail, I found about 20 people hanging out under a bridge at the border. They were prospective immigrants, mostly young people from Central and South America. I had not noticed them when I crossed the bridge earlier, but it seems that they are camping out here.

The reality of prospective immigrants at the US-Mexico border

A man named Tony spoke to me in fluent English. He is a well-dressed 54-year-old from Honduras. He has been living here for almost three months. Tony said, “There are no bosses or gangs here. Everyone is like family.” He seems to be a big-brother type of person as he is spoken to in a friendly manner by his peers and shares his fruits with them. “The Mexican people have been very supportive in providing food and clothing, but the Mexican police are no good. They always try to kick us out of here. We’re not monkeys or dogs,” Tony said, shaking his head. Because of their positions, the police make it seem like they are serious about getting rid of them, but it is not easy for them to go along with their empty posturing. As soon as the police leave, he said, they will come back here. “In Honduras, cops kill people easily,” he said, “because gangsters ask them to do it, and they want to make some money out of it. Compared to the situation there, this city is good. America would be even better,” he said, laughing.

What is the purpose of their migration to the U.S.? When I ask them, the answer comes back as lightly as if I had thrown a ball at a wall. In the first place, we impose something undeniably heavy in the word “immigrant.” But in most cases, there is no reason to be surprised. They simply want to live a little better than they do now, and that’s what we hope for, too. The difference is their determination to take a chance, if there is a chance at all. Poverty, violence, and economic collapse. These circumstances probably make their will even stronger.

As the sun began to set, the young people hanging around started to run, shouting loudly. They looked up to see a passerby crossing the border bridge. “Give us a dollar, a peso, whatever! Give us money to eat!” After a few moments, the passerby stopped and dropped a bill through a gap in the railing. The bill drifted in the wind. A group of young people ran toward it. One of them jumped high and tried to grab it but failed. They struggled with each other, scattering a cloud of dust. The one who finally caught the bill just above the ground said to a passerby above him, “Gracias!”. Then another dropped another bill, which then flew in the wind.

The people who drop the money seem to be Americans going back to their country after spending some time playing in Mexico, where prices are lower, or people from Mexico who have returned to their hometowns and are going back to the U.S. again. Quite a few dollar bills are mixed in with the bills that fall. I wonder if they do it out of guilt or altruism. Unfortunately, those who fail to catch on show their frustration, but maybe because how they bite their lips looks funny, the group sometimes burst into laughter. So I didn’t sense despair among them. Looking back at Tony, I see him perched and chilled out on the folding outdoor chair that he has brought out from somewhere. I don’t know whether it was an elder’s composure or a middle-aged man’s reserve, but I was impressed by how he was leisurely watching the young people.

The next day, we went under the bridge again. I noticed a group of people we had not seen yesterday, watching us from a distance. “They must be newcomers,” Tony said with interest. I raised my hand in greeting, and one of them started talking to me. “We’re from Venezuela, and we finally arrived here today,” the fearless-looking man said happily as he smoked a cigarette. I tried to picture in my mind where in South America Venezuela was located. Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala, and Mexico. There are seven countries they had to pass through to cross into the United States. Although that was beyond my imagination, I understood why they did not seem to have a sense of urgency about them. They had finally arrived here. Maruo, who was talking with the young people, said, “They have already succeeded 90% of the time, haven’t they?” All that was left was the wall. But how would they get through the wall? I talked about the mountain where we found the gap in the barrier, but no one knew anything about it. When I asked them how they would get through, they unhesitatingly answered, “We will jump over it.”

Tony took off his shoes and made himself at home. He has been here for three months even though he arrived all the way from Honduras. I wondered if he had already become comfortable in this city, so I asked, “When will you jump over the wall?” He instantly choked on his words. I was skeptical, but he halfheartedly said, “Look at that pipe! I may not be young, but I can move like a rat, crawl through holes, crawl up walls, and do anything else I want!” He pointed hurriedly to a drain that poured into the river, but from a distance, it was no more than 30 cm in diameter. I thought about his slumbering reaction. Given the long road they had traveled, it was only natural that they would be cautious. They cannot fail in this very last process. If I were him, I would be too frightened to do anything. Tony continued, as if to divert the conversation. “Just two days ago, a young Chinese man jumped over the wall. He made it!” He sounded as happy as if it were him. I’m not sure why Chinese people come here to smuggle themselves in. I thought it must be a misunderstanding since some people in Latin America look like people from the East with Indian heritage, and I didn’t listen to him seriously.

The man standing by me pointed to a passerby on the bridge, nodding in that person’s direction. He was like, “You do it too.” Unable to speak Spanish well, I waved my hands exaggeratedly and tried to appeal to the passerby for a while, but no money fell. The man snickered at my helplessness. The other man, who had grown tired of standing and raising his voice, began to lie down on the ground. He remained on his back and called out loudly to the people on the bridge above me. I lay down as well. It was uncomfortable, but the bridge offered the shade and a cool breeze blew. The smell of marijuana wafted through the air. As it began to get dark, more and more people started to “go home” under the bridge.

When I was leaving, I gave Tony the remaining $5.00 I had on hand as I shook his hand in farewell. It was an embarrassing amount for a farewell gift. He just said, “Thank you,” and didn’t even seem happy about it. It was no use giving him the money he could not use in Mexico, but hopefully, I wanted him to use it in the U.S.. Even if they could get over the wall, there are many checkpoints in the city center. It is just like a gamble as they have no idea whether their immigration application will be approved or whether they will be able to find work. Even if “the price of life is low,” it will be worth many times more if they continue to win the game. The young people running to grab the money are engraved in my mind’s eye.

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Leaving Ukraine and arriving in Mexico with a growing desire to continue an “uncomplicated journey”

Before I knew it, all the faces I recognized had changed.

The coach bus filled with passengers traversed countless terminals. The deserts, rocky mountains, and cacti that were once visible from the window disappeared from view. I yearned for a simpler journey, far from the war zones of Ukraine that I visited often for interviews. That desire eventually led me to Mexico.

“I asked the locals. They all said not to ride the bus”.

That was the advice I received from my travel partner and editor, Maruo.

I attempted to convince him at an inn in a small town called Matehuala in central Mexico.

He’s not wrong, either. This country is vast, more than five times the size of Japan. Even locals opt for airplanes when traveling to the countryside since taking a coach bus can sometimes stretch up to 24 hours. It’s also rumored that night buses are frequent targets for police and thieves seeking money.

“But taking a bus is a better way to experience contemporary Mexico”, I persisted.

If we book a flight, we would need to secure tickets in advance and adhere to a set schedule. Given our month-long stay, time is on our side. I envisioned an easy and spontaneous trip, void from any complex plans. Both Jack Keruouc, who wandered the streets of America in pursuit of freedom, and William Burrows, drawn to spiritual experiences, set their sights on Mexico. What was it that attracted them to this place? The recent perception of Mexico, with its drug, gang, and immigration problems, is far from great. Perhaps concealed behind this perception is the reality of the people living here. That’s precisely why I want to travel as my heart desires, to be able to shine a light and experience the current state of Mexico first-hand. I shared with him my genuine motivations for this trip.

Maruo let out a sigh and accepted my reasoning, even though he was eager to go to a show featuring Morrisey in Mexico City. Morrisey, as you may already know, is a British musician. I sensed that this could suddenly alter our course in Latin America, but he was also accommodating my selfish plans. I wanted him to enjoy himself, and we didn’t have any fixed route in mind. Either way, he was going back to Mexico City for a little bit. We agreed to fly into the Northern U.S. border town of Ciudad Juárez three days later to reconvene and commence our southbound journey.

In the meantime, albeit a little lonely, I decided to take a bus to Monterrey alone to get as close to Northern Mexico as possible.

It was nearly evening when I arrived at the terminal. As soon as I got off the plane, the humid air enveloped my body. The electric billboard I had just seen indicated the temperature as 39-degrees Celsius. Located in Northeastern Mexico, the U.S. border town of Monterrey is said to be an industrial city and economic center where many foreign companies, including those from Japan, have established operations. And yet, as I strolled around my hotel, I heard disco music blaring from nightclubs, prostitutes lingering in alleys, and sensed an overall seedy atmosphere.

I set off with my backpack to find another place to stay around the budget lodging area nearby, only to be turned away as all the rooms were occupied. Apparently, many South American immigrants hoping to make it to the U.S. were staying there, and a number of them were congregating around the hotel entrances.

I eventually found a hotel with a spare room, but I can’t say it was clean. There was graffiti all over the door, and the ceiling fan that attempted to ventilate the room merely circulated the hot air. The stifling heat persisted even after taking a cold shower, prompting me to leave the room immediately.

I ate a taco from a nearby food cart alone and returned to my room. Unfortunately, the heat turned my room into a sauna, interrupting my sleep several times throughout the night. I tried to go outside to cool off, only to find the hotel’s exits locked for safety concerns. After multiple showers attempting to cool off, it was already morning.

A Memorial Day parade with 2000 horses and 1000 dancing people

The following day was a Sunday. I strolled down the main street, still sleep-deprived. There was not much foot traffic, perhaps due to the holiday. As I walked along the avenue lined with commercial buildings, a police officer appeared and abruptly began to enforce road restrictions. As I pondered if there had been an accident, I was startled by a rapid succession of pounding sounds on the asphalt.

It was a herd of horses. The sheer number overwhelmed me as they surged forward like a wave. Cowboys atop the horses showcased their skills, and spectators spontaneously emerged out of nowhere. Was it a parade? The horses’ hooves kicked the ground, and the cowboys posed proudly. Each adorned blue jeans, boots, and a sombrero. Some of them even sipped cans of beer and recorded videos on their smartphones while mounted on their steeds. I followed the parade along with the crowd. According to the man beside me, it was Monterrey’s municipal anniversary. Allegedly, they brought 2000 horses into town just for this occasion. Cowboys, referred to as “vaqueros” in Spanish, have deep roots in the history of Spaniards in Mexico.

“The vaquero is a symbol of our confidence, pride, and freedom”, the man proudly declared. Upon arriving at Plaza Zaragoza, the parade’s final destination, the number of horses resembled a ranch. I smiled to myself and thought, “stumbling upon an event like this is a great omen”.

Maria, a female staff member, addressed me in English.

“You must come back here at 5PM tonight. There will be 1000 people dancing”, she said.

1000 people dancing? What does that mean? It was so unexpected that I couldn’t comprehend her words.

After exploring the area, I returned to the square earlier than the designated time and found several groups already gathered, chatting. The girls were dressed in traditional skirts, while the young men sported tight pants and sombreros. I was impressed by their elegant appearance. As I marveled at them, other groups gathered one after another.

I noticed photographers from local newspapers and TV stations convening with their colleagues behind the makeshift stage in the plaza. As I tried to sneak up on stage to secure a place to shoot, a loud voice approached me from behind. When I turned around, a large man suddenly burst out in Spanish. Oh, no. Did I need permission to take pictures? As I searched for a suitable response, he grabbed me by the shoulders and led me over to the other photographers, giving me a thumbs up. He seemed to be saying, “Wait here, I’ll let you go up on stage later”. My worries were unfounded.

The dancing commenced with the start of the band’s performance. The dance featured captivating steps, like kicking the ground with the toes of their boots and twirling their outfits. Witnessing a thousand people dance to the rhythm of the polka was breathtaking. Perhaps it was the carefree spirit of the Latin people in action. Rather than a single, unruly group dance, each dancer genuinely appeared like they were relishing the experience. The local audience, also observing the performance, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they danced along.

As I walked off the stage past the group of photographers, I spotted Maria from earlier, standing in front of the speakers.

“What do you call this dance?” I asked. “It’s Ballet Folklórico!” Maria answered candidly. According to her, the event itself started three years ago with the aim of creating a new trend in an industrial city where traditional culture is difficult to establish. The number of dancers they had was impressive, even for a town celebration

After an hour of dancing, the dancers grew tired and headed for the catered meal. What awaited them was surprisingly, or perhaps predictably, a large quantity of tacos – enough for a thousand people! They joyfully bit into their tacos, their smiles beaming. Although I knew I was jumping to conclusions, I was surprised by the Mexico I was witnessing. While I was reveling in my thoughts, someone approached me and asked if I could take their picture.

The horse parade, the dancing, and these tacos. I felt like I fortuitously experienced the people’s identity just by roaming the streets.

Later that night, Maruo messaged me, dejected. Morrisey’s show had been postponed. I had no choice but to say, “that’s too bad”, and continued to tell him about my day as if to console him.

Two days later, the plane landed at Ciudad Juárez Airport in less than two hours. The runway was wet with rain. My cell phone picked up a signal and sent me the address of a motel where my travel partner Maruo was waiting for me. In the past, Ciudad Juárez was known as “the most dangerous city in the world” because of the drug wars waged by the cartels.

As soon as we got off the plane, Mexican immigration officials promptly began inspecting our IDs and directed foreigners, including myself, to wait at the airport. After the officer carefully checked my passport, I was released without incident, while others were escorted away from the airport in an immigration convoy. What lingered was an atmosphere thick with unease.  Nevertheless, fueled by the excitement of embarking on my journey, I gathered my spirits and  ventured into town in the drizzle.

The post Photographer Hironori Kodama’s Journey Beyond Ukraine: Mexico Diary Vol 1. – Monterrey appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

British designer and creative director Aries Moross is one of them. Aries emerged at a young age with their energetic design works incorporating hand-drawn illustrations and lettering and has successfully led a number of big projects, centered on creative direction in the music industry. In addition, as a transgender person who has undergone gender-affirming procedures and the owner of their design studio, Studio Moross, Aries is a thought leader in the industry, speaking on various occasions to raise awareness about the LGBTQIA+ communities and to improve the working environment in the creative industry. 

Besides, Aries has close ties with Japanese culture, having worked on many projects in Japan, collaborated with singer AI for her album Wa To Yo, and owns two Shiba Inu dogs. We asked Aries about various topics, such as their upbringing, sources of creativity, thoughts on Japanese culture, and even why they are politically outspoken. The second half of the interview explores their perception of Japanese culture, why and how they try to empower LGBTQIA+ communities.

The first part of the interview is available here.

Aries Moross
Aries Moross is a creative director, illustrator and designer. Moross began their career in 2007, illustrating hand drawn flyers for London’s independent music scene, and in 2008, established a vinyl only record label. Keen to expand their practice and build a team, they founded Studio Moross in 2012. Over the course of their career, they’ve maintained close ties to the music industry whilst expanding into the realm of both art and creative direction. Moross has taken on the role as creative director for a range of clients from pop artists to DJs, with projects spanning everything from album campaigns to live shows. Notable clients include Kylie Minogue, H.E.R, Disclosure, Spice Girls, Jessie Ware, and London Grammar. Aries also works in the live music sector as a show director, directing shows for Disclosure, London Grammar and Kylie Minogue.
http://www.ariesmoross.com
http://www.instagram.com/ariesmoross/
http://www.studiomoross.com

Japanese culture is about meeting the expectations of others 

— I saw that you visited Enoura Observatory in Odawara earlier and made some drawings there. How did you find that place?  

Aries Moross (Aries): That was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I found that incredibly profound. And I was very lucky because the weather was so clear. I think I needed to see the water. I needed to see the sky. I needed to see the stones. And I ate the mandarin oranges there. 

— Sounds great. I know you are fond of Japanese culture. How did you develop your interest in it? 

Aries: I’ve been working with The Bee’s Knees for 10 years now. So I have come to Japan, five or six times. The reason why I appreciate and respect Japanese culture so much is that ones expectation is met here. In the UK, you have this joke about expectation versus reality. But in Japan, your expectation is met in terms of the quality of your experience, the taste of the food, craftsmanship of the objects, the consideration of what you need, even down to something like just using a public restroom. It feels like Japanese people have thought about what the human experience is and have realized that it’s important to create experiences, objects, foods, things that are at a level of your fantasy. So that’s why I enjoy visiting just as an experience. 

But then also, I found that I’ve had strong and deep friendships, connections and mutual appreciation with the people I’ve worked here. I went to visit my friend last week and had a lovely conversation with him. But it’s very rare for a foreigner to go to a country and have people take time to come and meet you and talk to you when they have busy lives and things to do. If something comes out of that meeting, it usually does because both people have the same intent and care for each other. And I think it’s rare to have care and the desire to make things together and make them well in the world of capitalism. I found that in Japan unlike any other country. 

— Very interesting. I echo your perception in terms of how customers’ expectations are met here in Japan. But as a Japanese, I sometimes feel a kind of anxiety that there is something underneath this perfection. 

Aries: I know my perception of Japanese culture is very superficial. I am not Japanese and have no understanding of what it is like to be a Japanese person, however, from interacting with Japan in business, I feel that. But of course, I’m sure that there are layers and layers and layers to it all, which I won’t comment on, because I don’t know what that is like. But I think there are, of course, challenges here for queer people, or for LGBTQIA+ people, even coming here as that person I experience challenges. And I think there is a lot of work we can do globally to help people who are not able to be themselves or living under the system of patriarchy or rules in society that are somewhat oppressive. And that’s something I’m very passionate about through my work.

Transness and the reason for being politically outspoken

— You mentioned previously that your transness or your queerness played a large part of your work. Can you share any example for that?

Aries: Yeah, it’s becoming more encouraged for projects that are around LGBTQIA+ topics, or TV shows or LGBT Pride-related projects to work with queer or trans-led companies to create them. So, I get a lot of phone calls in the summer to work on those kinds of projects. I think there’s a desire to make sure if the work is authentic. And, you know, my studio is queer-led, and I have a lot of queer and trans employees. For example, we created the identity for London LGBTQIA+ film festival called BFI FLARE organized by the British Film Institute. We make that identity every year amongst a team of queer people. We’ve worked on title sequence for the TV series RuPaul’s Drag Race, and other big projects around transness for Viacom and MTV. 

Also, there’s a big desire now to diversify the teams working on projects, in general. So big corporate clients are having to have some accountability for the types of people they’re working with. And my team is a group of marginalized people who are making work together. So, people seek us out for that. 

— Along with your creative works, you are having a lot of public talks on empowerment of the LGBTQIA+ communities and the working environments in creative industries. What motivates you to talk openly about that?

Aries: I think it’s important to be authentically yourself in your work. The people whom I admire and have admired in history have done that, whether they’re even if their identity was at odds with what was politically correct or acceptable at that time. And I also think it’s important for me as an older person to demonstrate or show that people can be successful in these industries, even if they are different, and that, even though there are challenges, they have role models and example of people who can navigate the world as women, as trans people, as queer people, because those things will give them motivation or faith that they can do it too. 

And I want to improve my industry as a whole, because it has failures, like every other industry. There are areas that need improvement and development, whether that’s people being underpaid, whether that’s to do with racism in the workplace, shining a light on those things is very important to me. And I have the privilege of being well known and respected in my industry. So I have the opportunity to use that position to educate and inform other people on these things who are maybe not aware or need better education. 

But yeah, I mean, it’s also who I am, so I can’t really hide it. I sometimes lose projects because of it. But that’s a choice that I make. I also get projects because of it. So, it’s like a two-way street.

— You have lost your project because of what you have talked?

Aries: Yeah, sometimes brands don’t want to be aligned with people who are politically outspoken. Also I’m sure there will be clients, now and in the future, who will not work with me because of my identity. I’ve noticed there is less interest on an international level about collaborations with me especially since I came out as trans, because I think big international brands tend to be more nervous about that type of named collaboration. They want to work with people who don’t cause issues in different territories or countries because in some countries, it’s still illegal to be gay. So yeah, I think there are commercial choices around collaboration.

Transgender policy and the positive impact of globalization

— In the previous public talk, you mentioned that your studio has a transgender policy. I was surprised that you have two weeks off for those who have taken a gender affirming procedure. Of course, majority of the Japanese company do not have that sort of clause in their policies. Can you share your thoughts on being a boss and developing an equitable policy for your employees?  

Aries: It’s not common for majority of British companies as well. But I spend a lot of my time writing policies to make workplaces better, safer and more supportive for people. We have great policies for people who have kids. In the UK, for example, if you’re a father who has a child, you get only two weeks off from work, which means that women are persecuted in the workplace because they’re assumed if they have children, that they will not work for one year. So it’s unfair to both women and men. And it’s unfair to people who are not neither men or women. So we brought in new policies to make all of these practices better for everyone, regardless of their gender or sexuality. And yes, if you’re trans and you need to have a procedure, you should be allowed to take time off from your work, in the same way that people who have a broken leg are allowed to do so. If you have any problems or you need to work on something for yourself, you should be allowed to take time off to focus on it.

— You seem to be everyone’s ideal boss! Also, it feels that you need to be creative and innovative to make up policies like those. 

Aries: I’d like to think that working in those areas is just as creative as anything else. Most of the time at work I’m making spreadsheets, which means I am always thinking about money, time, care and policy. And those things might not be very interesting to someone who’s at art school. But for me, that’s something I really enjoy about my job. And I find it very creative, and I get to work with my staff to make better things. They are not tangible, but they have a huge impact on people’s lives.

— Despite the fact that many companies in Japan have declared themselves to be LGBTQIA+ ally, the majority of LGBTQIA+ people feel that their companies do not have specific policies or systems to support them. So, do you have any advice or message for us?

Aries: Um, I think the key here is not to discriminate against LGBTQIA+ people. So those in the company should not prefer others over them just because of their identity. What we need is more LGBTQIA+ leaders, managers, and people who are in authority. It’s all about actually integrating everyone together and creating something that is representative of society. I have no idea what representative of Japanese society is, but certainly in the UK, a large proportion of the population identify themselves as LGBTQIA+ now. So, it’s important that those people are seen in management positions and in leadership roles, and that they’re just present, it’s a long process though.

But maybe globalization may have a positive impact in that respect, because we can share those issues globally. Obviously, globalization also has a negative impact. We need to protect culture and community, society and what we have created within our own communities. But as a global queer community, we can learn from one country that is doing it better than another. Maybe it’s something like mobilization of awareness. And that sort of perspective can be helpful for those who are living in a society where they are discriminated against, because they can look up and believe that there is a future for them in this world, or that there’s somewhere they can go that they feel safer, or they can be themselves. But I think it’s very hard to be yourself. It took me 30 years to work out who I am. But I finally became able to be myself, which I think is the most important. 

— Thank you so much for sharing your invaluable insights and experiences. Your perspectives will definitely be helpful and inspiring not only for queer community in Japan but also for a wide variety of people pursuing careers in creative industry.

Aries: My pleasure. I hope Japanese readers will like it!

Photography: Yoko Kusano
Stylist: Megumi Yoshida
Special Thanks: Risa Nakazawa (The Bee’s Knees Inc.)

(Information for Aries’ style)
Shirt ¥48,400 / supplied by sacai (sacai: 03-6418-5977)
Any other items worn by Aries are of their own

The post An Interview with British Designer Aries Moross Part2: On Japanese Culture, Transness and Being Politically Conscious appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

British designer and creative director Aries Moross is one of them. Aries emerged at a young age with their energetic design works incorporating hand-drawn illustrations and lettering and has successfully led a number of big projects, centered on creative direction in the music industry. In addition, as a transgender person who has undergone gender-affirming procedures and the owner of their design studio, Studio Moross, Aries is a thought leader in the industry, speaking on various occasions to raise awareness about the LGBTQIA+ community and to improve the working environment in the creative industry. 

Besides, Aries has close ties with Japanese culture, having worked on many projects in Japan, collaborated with singer AI for her album Wa To Yo, and owns two Shiba Inu dogs. We asked Aries about various topics, such as their upbringing, sources of creativity, thoughts on Japanese culture, and even why they are politically outspoken. In Part 1, Aries shares stories around their roots, style, aesthetics and design as a career. Please also check out the portraits of Aries taken by photographer Yoko Kusano specifically for this interview

Aries Moross
Aries Moross is a creative director, illustrator and designer. Moross began their career in 2007, illustrating hand drawn flyers for London’s independent music scene, and in 2008, established a vinyl only record label. Keen to expand their practice and build a team, they founded Studio Moross in 2012. Over the course of their career, they’ve maintained close ties to the music industry whilst expanding into the realm of both art and creative direction. Moross has taken on the role as creative director for a range of clients from pop artists to DJs, with projects spanning everything from album campaigns to live shows. Notable clients include Kylie Minogue, H.E.R, Disclosure, Spice Girls, Jessie Ware, and London Grammar. Aries also works in the live music sector as a show director, directing shows for Disclosure, London Grammar and Kylie Minogue.
http://www.ariesmorros.com
http://www.instagram.com/ariesmoross/
http://www.studiomoross.com

I would be too bored if I had to do the same thing

— Thank you so much for having us today, Aries. I’m sure quite a few people in Japan have seen your artwork, but most of them don’t have a concrete idea about who you are. So, can you introduce yourself briefly?

Aries Moross (Aries): Sure. But I do a lot of things, which I think can make it harder for people to connect dots. But that’s the way I like to practice. I would say, first and foremost, I’m a designer, and that encompasses illustration, graphic design, product design, textile design, any form of image making and designing. But I’ve also worked as a creative director for musicians, live shows, campaigns for album releasees and festivals. And I run a studio in London called Studio Moross. We’ve been open now for 11 years, working in music and television, doing graphics, illustration, and branding. I like to do lots of things, the downside of that is maybe people don’t know or understand what I’m doing. But that’s okay. I’m enjoying my job. That’s the most important thing. I would be too bored if I had to do the same thing. 

— Can you explain why you came to Tokyo this time?

Aries: For me, I’ve always enjoyed working here in Japan and I feel like it’s important to be here and meet people. Even though digital spaces have allowed for online meetings and remote working, I wanted to come because I love Japan. So I’m here for visiting and meeting with people I’ve been working with or would like to work with and get to know the country even better. So, work and leisure.

— Can you share any recent project in Japan? 

Aries: Yeah, I’ve been working with The Bee’s Knees Inc. for a long time. We’ve been collaborating on Japanese specific projects, and international projects together. Most recently, I was one of fifteen artists participating in the project to celebrate the fifteenth anniversary of stationary manufacturer MIDORI’s MD Notebook.

I was an insatiable kid who could never be satisfied

— Can you tell us what kind of child you were? And how does your childhood connect to who you are and how you work now?

Aries: I was an insatiable kid who could never be satisfied. I was always wanting to create things and entertain myself with miniature toys, making things, drawing. I was a very chaotic, very playful, and very creative kid who was always making books, dollhouse furniture, anything I could come up with, lots of drawing and crafts. I’ve always enjoyed that sort of outputs. And that has carried over to me as a grown-up. 

— I see. Family environment must have been a significant factor for you to become who you are. Did your parents encourage you to be creative?

Aries: My mum recognized from my young age that I needed a lot of creative stimulation. So, she used to hire art students who would babysit me. So instead of regular old lady babysitter from down the road who would watch TV with kids all day, she would get art students who would make things and draw with me. So I was very much encouraged by my family and parents to continuously be creative. When I was younger, I’m 37 now by the way, perhaps it was less realistic to become a creative as a career than it is now because being creative was a very strong career choice. Nevertheless, even though my parents come from a more academic background, they were still excited and keen for me to be creative. So, instead of saying “you need to do maths and English,” they were happy for me to explore design and art. 

— Since your works are very diverse, it’s difficult to simply define your style, but your body of work still has a consistency. They incorporate a lot of hand-drawn lettering and graphics and vivid and lively color hues. Do you think you can name specific thing, people, or experience that hugely influenced you to establish your style?

Aries: I was always a doodler who would always draw nonsense in my notebook when I was younger. Although I was okay at drawing, I was better at lettering. So I really enjoyed working with words and writing, even though I was not very good at writing itself. And it definitely led to nurturing my strength as a creator. I’ve always incorporated drawings and letterings into my work. Although I started to feel limited in that world and wanted to explore more things at some point, I still very much like hand-made work. Anyway, my hand writing has represented so many brands and projects, and people sometimes borrow my hand writing to represent their handwriting. It’s kind of innate to who I am. I can’t help using it in my work. 

— Interesting. In the early stage of your career, you worked with then independent bands like Animal Collective and Mystery Jets. And now, you are working with incredibly famous artists releasing their music on major labels. How have your own musical taste affected your choice of client? 

Aries: First and foremost, I’ve got a very broad music taste. For me I have to be able to connect with artist as a person. It’s really important for me to connect with them not just in a mechanical business relationship.  

I worked with Mystery Jets actually quite closely. In terms of Animal Collective, that was just a party flyer. I did a lot of flyers back in 2007-8. But now for me, it’s important to connect with the theme and concept, to earn trust from the artists, and to have space to create a world. I like to build the world around the albums, whether that’s for packaging for vinyl and CDs, or merchandise. And I enjoy working for artists that have big audiences and whose scale of output is bigger. That’s why I lean towards artists like Kylie Minogue, because she would release ten vinyl records, whereas other artists might make one. 

And I really like the opportunity of creating as many ways that fans can interact with an album, whether that would be through a live show, a record that they can listen to at home, or T-shirts they buy in the shop. I’d like to sew everything together. 

Focusing on “the span,” rather than on “the depth” 

— I learned that in your university days, you were often told that you need to focus on “the depth” of your creation, but you were more interested in “the span.” Can you say a bit more about that?

Aries: Yeah, my tutor said that to me. I went to Camberwell College of Arts, which was very much pushing me towards conceptual design. Although I was very interested in that, I also had the eye of a business person. I was aware that artistic practice and conceptual design practice were not hugely commercial, and I wanted to make a living, I wanted design to be my career. So, I also enjoyed and developed an appreciation for more broad and commercial design, which I thought was a valid form of creativity. It might not be as intelligent as conceptual ones, it might not have any researcher writing an essay about it, but it is accessible and serves a purpose in society. It’s a kind of design that everyday people interact with and have an appreciation for. So for me, it’s very important for the design world to be more superficial, fun, and carefree. Nonetheless, I still think, some of the things I learned at university were very important in my design practice.  Semiotics, for instance, it helped me a lot in understanding the meaning behind things. But I was a rebel at school, and the teachers were always a bit annoyed with me for doing my own things (laughs).

— Haha. In a university environment where conceptual and academic contexts were seen as important, you chose a form of expression that was accessible to many people and became a designer while also making use of your studies there, and this process is now reflected in your current work. What do you think is the difference between being involved in a project as a designer or creative director and collaborating with a company as an artist?

Aries: In terms of artists, when they work on a specific commercial project, they lend their artistic brands to projects. However, I can be one step further away from a project, and can work more like a creative producer, in a way that my name is not necessarily associated with the project. So, I have a lot more freedom in as much as I can work on things without people even knowing I’ve created something or been part of it. But then I can also choose to be more of a figurehead and be more outwardly endorsing a product or a project. So I am lucky that I get to explore both of those things. Whereas, named artists, or they have to make more difficult decisions about what they lend the creativity to. 

— So, does that mean you don’t necessarily care whether or not having your name on the campaign now? 

Aries: Not really. But it’s tricky because when I started my career, it was very important to sell my name. And I guess I always tried to be ahead of myself and the industry at large.

And I realized that the day of the Rockstar illustrator was short. I mean, the career of practicing illustrators tends to be very finite, except for a few people who transcend their careers and become artists whose works can be auctioned for a hundred thousand dollars, after getting picked up by major galleries or major celebrities. So, I realized quite quickly, that just having a name known isn’t really that valuable, and that the important thing is to have a legacy and have a practice and a studio and educate other people on how to create work and build more of a long-term foundation for the work I want to make, rather than being ruled by trends and fashion, which is also very ephemeral. 

— As an independent creator, you carefully analyzed the situation of the industry at a young age when you tended to focus on making a name for yourself and decided on the path you should take, right?

Aries: Maybe yeah. Also, we’ve seen the decline in budgets for projects. A decade ago, you could get big money for a collaboration with a brand and now the budgets are 10% of that, meaning that you sell your name now for 90% less money. And that means you have to do more work for less. 

It’s also related to the fact that the industry has become more democratic. Instagram and social media have enabled anyone to have a career in design and art. The gatekeepers of them were the art buyers, reps and the agents who would hang onto all the creatives and show them to the ad agencies and the clients. But now, that structure still exists, but it’s no longer an exclusive network. So everything changes all the time, and I’ve always been thinking a lot about the future. 

I might have earned a lot more money or become more widely known. But I would have been less happy. And I would have not been able to create the big and exciting projects that I get to make now as part of the studio. It allowed me to design tours and direct live shows and travel the world and experience things and have deep and creative relationships with other creative people, as opposed to sitting on my own in my house with a pen and paper, which now feels more like a hobby than a career for me. 

— So you’re still drawing your illustration?

Aries: Yeah, mostly for myself. I’ve started to go back to it now. And here in Japan, I’ve been drawing a lot. I’m drawing trees because the trees here are so beautiful. I’ve been sitting in parks, sketching trees just for myself. 

The second part of the interview is available here.  

Photography: Yoko Kusano
Stylist: Megumi Yoshida
Special thanks: Risa Nakazawa (The Bee’s Knees Inc.)

【Information for Aries’ style】
Shirt ¥48,400 supplied by sacai (sacai:03-6418-5977)
Any other items worn by Aries are of their own

The post An Interview with British Designer Aries Moross Part 1: On Their Identity, Aesthetics and Creative Career appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Ryunosuke Okazaki
Ryunosuke Okazaki is a designer of his own label RYUNOSUKE OKAZAKI born in Hiroshima in 1995. Okazaki finished the Graduate School of Design, Tokyo University of the Arts, in 2021 and held his first runway show, “000,” in September 2021. He was selected as a finalist for “LVMH Prize 2022” in 2022. He is currently based in Tokyo.
https://ryunosukeokazaki.com
Instagram：@ryunosuke.okazaki

Okazaki’s debut show, “000” which showcased the organic beauty of formative art created out of everyday materials, made a significant impact, and his second runway show, “001” marking the label’s second season, vividly made its unique dress style widely known. Immediately after that, he was selected as a finalist for the “LVMH Prize 2022,” which led the designer of “RYUNOSUKEOKAZAKI” to accomplish the remarkable feat of getting an opportunity to present his work in Paris less than a year after his debut. The latest presentation, “002”, his first in about a year, was delivered not in the form of a runway show but a solo exhibition held at the creative space “THE FACE DAIKANYAMA” in Daikanyama. We sat down with him and asked about his thoughts on his new collection in this art gallery-like space with its walls lined with wood sculptures.

–The exhibition’s atmosphere is very different from a fashion show and is more like an art exhibition. Is this the first time for you to exhibit your works on the wall?

Ryunosuke Okazaki (hereafter, Okazaki): Yes, it is. Up until now, I have presented three-dimensional works worn by models, so this is the first time I have exhibited my work in a static form like this. You can hang the pieces with red cloth hanging from the ceiling on the wall. I would be happy if the fans of “Ryunosuke Okazaki” could see a new aspect of my work. Also, this is the first time I used wood.

–I was surprised to see how even a wall-hanging work becomes three-dimensional when you create it.

OKAZAKI: If I had to choose between three-dimensional and two-dimensional, I would go for three-dimensional like this. I layer the parts from various angles and attach them side by side. Then, I make them while imagining symmetrical forms.

–How do you express the idea of symmetry?

OKAZAKI: My oldest source of inspiration for symmetrical forms is the torii gates for the Shinto shrine. I grew up in Miyajimaguchi, Hiroshima, where Itsukushima Shrine was located close. As an elementary school child, I fished and played every day, and I could always see the Torii gate just across the shore. Also, one of my most influential experiences was making a bright red Torii gate out of piles of cardboard when I was in kindergarten. I found torii gate really cool, and even as a child, I had a vague but special feeling about it.

–Historically speaking, some in the architectural world have considered asymmetry to be humanistic.

OKAZAKI: Certainly, if you look at architectural styles in both Japan and the West, there are a lot of asymmetrical structures. On the other hand, there is a sense of order and will in symmetric things, and I sense life in them. This sensation is instinctive. Technically, all living creatures, including humans and insects, are asymmetrical, but if you look at their overall forms, they tend to be symmetrical.

Working on artwork with wood

–The name of your new series of works using wood is “PIMT.” What does it mean? 

OKAZAKI: I coined this word by combining the first letters of “Perception,” “Intention,” “Material,” and “Time.” The “time” of “perceiving” the material, sensing the “intention” behind the form, and creating with the “material” is connected to the act of “prayer” that I cherish within myself. So I call it “PIMTO,” and I also like its sound.

–The sound of the word “JOMONJOMON” (a series of dresses inspired by Jomon earthenware) is also impressive.

OKAZAKI: Thank you. Yeah, I put importance on sound because artworks are something to be loved.

–It’s interesting that even when the textile is replaced by wood, your work is easily recognizable as “RYUNOSUKE OKAZAKI.” Is the production process the same?

OKAZAKI: It’s precisely the same. I’m working on various materials as if breathing life into my works. Each piece has its own personality, and I feel as if it is alive.

–I heard that you don’t make drawings. Is it right?

OKAZAKI: I create forms fortuitously by moving my hands. It’s probably the same as how I paint. A painting never ends, does it? My dresses never end as well. How the creation process ends changes according to the level of experience. Experiences introduced to my hands affect how they move, which is reflected in my work. Interestingly, my work is completed when people wear it.

–What made you decide to work with wood in the first place?

Okazaki: It all started when I visited Nikko Toshogu Shrine last April. The wooden structure I saw there struck me immensely. Kigumi is a traditional Japanese construction method used by temple carpenters to build shrines and temples. In my case, I did not use the original form of kigumi, but I was inspired by the process of assembling the wood, how the structure looked when they were put together, and how colorful they were.

–As you mentioned, you’ve got a lot of colorful pieces. The moment I saw them, I thought they looked like Gundam.

OKAZAKI: I get that response a lot. Actually, I have never seen any Gundam anime, but I suppose there’s some connection. I think Japanese culture is good at designing and inventing imaginary creatures, which I think has something to do with our long history of finding the existence of gods in nature. I personally feel that robot animation is also connected to the Japanese culture of prayer, so perhaps it is inevitable that my works look like Gundam.

–And you have created a lot.

OKAZAKI: Actually, there are many more works behind this exhibition venue that I haven’t exhibited yet. I have been working on them since the end of the LVMH Prize exhibition I participated in last year.

–So you’ve been working with wood for almost a year?

Okazaki: Along with the wooden pieces, I also created dress works. The time I spent working with the fabric and the time I spent working with the wood were well-balanced, and the dresses became more sculptural and delicate. This time, since no models would wear them, I could create works that are even taller than I am, with more freedom. Creating a space that allows viewers to face the pieces is an important mode of expression for me.

–Are you working in your studio? 

OKAZAKI: Yes. Ensuring adequate space is such a challenge because many of the works are huge. Among all, I am probably the one who is most pleased to be able to stand in front of my own artworks and face them in this way. I hope many people will see them.

I will keep following my path without distinguishing between fashion and art.

–Your works have been all unique pieces, right? And will they always be?

OKAZAKI: Yes. I’m sure they will continue to be so because I want to communicate with my works, and I also want to connect with the people who see them. So I will keep on creating my pieces, focusing on demonstrating what I feel at the time.

–You have been fascinated with the fashion world since you were a middle school student. So what kind of fashion style were you, a person born in 1995, looking at?

OKAZAKI: I don’t remember a specific fashion label, but I watched many collection videos and fashion magazines and liked to wear the clothes myself. I was attracted to the appearance of fashion style rather than the context of mode. What I was struck by, within collection footage, was something like people didn’t look like people at all, people who seem to be liberated and become wilder, and people in artificial forms.

–You were interested in the act of dressing itself? 

OKAZAKI: Yeah, I was. The art-piece-like outfits you see in fashion shows, in particular, express the essential part of dressing, which links to the question of what kind of things human beings living on the earth wear. People are part of nature, and the Japanese, in particular, are creatures who have been conscious of this. My interest in fashion, especially as a student, was based on my childhood experience, such as catching insects, fishing, and drawing pictures in nature. The fact that I was born in Hiroshima and that my theme is “prayer” is also all connected.

–You have become known worldwide since the debut with “000”. What kind of people have approached you? 

Okazaki: Those of the fashion industry. And their interest opened up my possibility. The experience of being selected as a finalist for the LVMH Prize and presenting my work in Paris meant a lot to me. I want to show my work in Paris again, and I would also like to present my art pieces in New York. The fashion and art markets are different, so a line is drawn between them, but I wouldn’t make any distinction between them. Creators should be freer and should pursue what they like. I have many goals, so I want to focus on intensifying the power of my work, creating and communicating in various places.

–Is there anything you are planning for this year?

OKAZAKI: I will continue to create as always. The works I will present in this process will surely connect me with the world.

–So will this sequential-numbered series go like 003, 004, and so on?

OKAZAKI: Yeah. I want to work on this at least until 100 throughout my life. At the time when I started with “000,” which became a turning point for me, I was already determined to do it up to three digits. Precisely because these simple sequential numbers are given to my works as titles, they express even more vividly the fact that I will be creating history through my life and continuous artistic practice.

Translation Shinichiro Sato
Photography Tameki Oshiro

The post Interview with Fashion Designer Ryunosuke Okazaki: On Vital Instincts Expressed through Symmetrical Forms and Solo Sculpture Exhibition “002” in Resonance with Prayer  appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

In the ninth installment, we look back on Shibuya’s Android Opera®︎, presented last November at the National Art Center, Tokyo, and its possibilities and perspectives along with Kyoji Takahashi’s photographs.

Keiichiro Shibuya
Keiichiro Shibuya is a musician who was born in 1973 in Tokyo. He graduated from the Tokyo University of the Arts with a B.A. in Music Composition and founded the music label ATAK in 2002. Notable works include a Vocaloid opera comprised of no people called The End (2012) and the Android Opera®︎ Scary Beauty (2018). In September 2020, he created the soundtrack for the film Midnight Swan and won the Music Award at both the Mainichi Film Awards and the Japan Movie Critics Award. In August 2021, Shibuya’s opera Super Angels had its world premiere at New National Theater Tokyo. In March 2022, he showed his new Android Opera®︎, MIRROR, a collaboration between an android, Buddhist music, shomyo, and an orchestra from the UAE, at Expo 2020 Dubai. In April, he created the soundtrack for xxxHOLiC, a film by Mika Ninagawa. Further, he established the Android and Music Science Laboratory (AMSL), a science laboratory of androids and music, at the Osaka University of Arts. He explores the boundary between humans and technology and life and death.
ATAK：http://atak.jp
Twitter：@keiichiroshibuy
Instagram：@keiichiroshibuy

“FORWARDISM” – Facing the future and continuing to take on challenges

On November 15th of last year, I had the opportunity to see Shibuya’s Android Opera®︎ with an orchestra for the first time in Japan since “Super Angels” in 2021. It was being shown at the National Art Center, Tokyo. Shibuya’s Android Opera®︎ was presented as the conclusion of the “FORWARDISM BMW THE SEVEN Art Museum”, organized by BMW.

“FORWARDISM BMW THE SEVEN Art Museum” was an event held for the Japan premiere of the BMW flagship sedan “THE i7” and its flagship SUB “THE X7”. The word “FORWARDISM” included in the title, represents the BMW philosophy that promises to “face the future and continue to take on challenges”. The methodology for putting this “FORWARDISM” into practice is the “fusion of art and technology”, and both THE i7 and THE X7 are fully infused with the aesthetics and latest technology that BMW has cultivated over its long car-making career.

An attitude that works towards the future and continues to take on challenges, and the fusion of art and technology –. These may be the key words to understanding musician Keiichiro Shibuya, who studied classical composition at the Tokyo University of the Arts, but who has not limited himself to that field. Instead, he has created cutting-edge electronic sound works spun by eccentric processing/editing using computers, resonating with artists around Mego in Austria and 12k in New York, and who released his first album on his own label, ATAK. In a sense, it seems inevitable that Shibuya’s main project, the Android Opera®︎, would be presented at this event.

After the greeting by Christian Wiedmann, President and Representative Director of BMW Japan (as of November 2022/current President and Representative Director is Masatoshi Hasegawa) and the presentation by Katsunosuke Endo, Director of BMW Japan, the venue shifted into chit chat mode. DJ EMMA began playing, spinning masterful selections and mixes that painted the space into brilliant colors with its groovy house music.

Introducing an “outsider” – an Android – into traditional opera

After a while, the sounds that fill the venue shift into electronic drones. We look towards the stage in front of us, and we see the latest model of the Android Alter series, Alter 4. Already set up and swaying leisurely, Alter begins reading a text in English.

As the atmosphere in the hall suddenly takes a turn, Shibuya and the orchestra’s forty musicians appear on stage and take their places.

As the orchestra finishes tuning, a powerful sequence of beats echo through the venue, accompanied by vivid lighting, signaling the start of the Android Opera®︎. While the audience stares at the stage with bated breath, listening intently for the next sound, Shibuya plays the piano, while still standing. Introspective, melancholic, and richly nuanced, the beautiful sounds and phrases indicate that the next song about to begin is “Scary Beauty”. The orchestra starts to play with Shibuya’s piano, the string and wind instruments’ phrases being delicately and dynamically woven together. After a break-like development in which the parts playing the mid and low registers stop playing, Alter, who had been swaying its body in time to the sound, begins to sing, accompanied by all the sounds of the orchestra.

Sung to a poem by French novelist/poet Michel Houellebecq, this song is the main theme of Scary Beauty, Shibuya’s first Android Opera®︎, which premiered at Miraikan in 2018 (a prototype version was presented in Australia the previous year). An opera is the culmination of a comprehensive art form created by the European ethos. By introducing an “outsider” in the form of an android, Shibuya separates the tradition and the operatic format from its underlying anthropocentrism, and presents new possibilities for artistic expression and a vision that illuminates the future of society.

The awareness of these issues is a continuation of those presented in THE END, an “opera without humans” featuring the vocaloid Hatsune Miku, which premiered in 2013. The Android Opera®︎, however, employs an orchestra to penetrate deeper into the institutional framework of opera, and by creating a situation in which androids and humans resonate and coexist, I believe it achieves even greater expressive intensity and impact.

After the song ends, Orta begins to speak in English, with Shibuya’s piano playing in the background, and explains the importance of forwardism, which was met with surprise and commotion from the audience. To challenge oneself, to open up new paths, and to keep moving forward. Alter explains that this work leads to the enrichment of not only oneself but also others and society.

The future state of life and spirit as illustrated by androids

The band plays the song “The Decay of the Angel” next. The piano, orchestra, and sequencer blend together to form a strong, rich groove that envelops the venue. Around two minutes after the song begins, Alter’s vocals come in. The flowing melody line, which seems to soar to the heavens, invites the audience’s excitement.

“The Decay of the Angel” is a song that was created for the aforementioned Android Opera®︎ Scary Beauty. The song title derives from the title of the English translation of the fourth volume of Yukio Mishima’s final work, The Sea of Fertility. Through the events and dramas that unfold across time and space, we, the readers, are left to ponder about life and death, and the nature of human existence.

Needless to say, as an android, the Alter has no biological life. However, watching the Alter respond while singing to the sounds created by Shibuya and the orchestra gives an impression that our perception of life or a spirit may change in the future.

The session between Shibuya and the Alter that followed was also very thought-provoking. Instead of singing a predetermined part, the Alter improvised along with Shibuya’s improvised piano. The joint work of human and android, exploring and figuring out melodies together, conveys hope and possibilities for the future.

The Android Opera®︎, where humans and non-humans interact

The last song of the day’s Android Opera®︎ is “Midnight Swan”. It was written as the main theme song for the film Midnight Swan (released in 2020, directed by Eiji Uchida, starring Tsuyoshi Kusanagi), and was the title track of album ATAK024 Midnight Swan (2020), Shibuya’s first piano solo album since ATAK015 for maria, released in 2011.

Laying atmospheric electronic sounds as a foundation, Shibuya’s delicate touch on the piano flows out as a massive kick that resonates to the very core of the body, is slowly struck, instantly changing the mood in the venue. The beautiful and emotional piano pieces, filled with sadness, hesitation, melancholia, and sensuality, are given deep, varied sounds and further dynamism by the orchestra, drawing the listener closer into its soundscape.

Like “The Decay of the Angel”, the lyrics sung by the Alter are the result of the joint work between Shibuya and collaborator Takashi Ikegami (Professor of Complex Systems and Artificial Life at the University of Tokyo) and Cypher, an AI lyric and text generator project. The Android Opera®︎ is shaped by the interaction of human and non-human creations and performances.

After the break, the kick switches to four-on-the-floor to heighten the sense of elation to a climax, and the Android Opera®︎ comes to a close with the song leaving a lingering aftertaste. Although it was not a long performance, lasting just over 20 minutes, it was an evening filled with intensity, enough to appreciate the possibilities and appeal of Shibuya’s newest form, the Android Opera®︎, which could be called the culmination of the current state of the art.

Even after Scary Beauty, Shibuya has continued to update his Android Opera®︎s with Super Angels (premiere: 2021, New National Theatre, Tokyo), which featured a collaboration between an Alter and an opera singer, a script by Masahiko Shimada, and a video created by WEiRDCORE, and with MIRROR (premiere: 2022, Dubai Expo), created with Buddhist music/Koyasan Shomyo and the NSO Symphony Orchestra from the UAE. We are excited to see what kind of performance he will surprise us with next, and what vision he will present to us in the future.

■ BMW “EXCLUSIVE VIP PARTY” Keiichiro Shibuya Android Opera®︎
Date: November 15th, 2022
Venue: The National Art Center, Tokyo

Staff:
Concept, Composition, Piano, Electronics: Keiichiro Shibuya
Vocal: Alter4
Orchestra: 45 musicians gathered specially for BMW’s party

Android Programming: Shintaro Imai
Sound: Yuki Suzuki
Visual: Kotaro Konishi
Lighting: Wataru Kawasaki, Go Ueda
Stage Manager: Kazuya Kushimoto, So Ozaki
Android Assistant: Akihide Kimura
Hair&Makeup: yoboon
Production Manager: Natsumi Matsumoto
Production: ATAK

Android – Alter4
Belonging to Osaka University of Arts – Art Science Department
Android and Music Science Laboratory (AMSL)
Design supervised by Hiroshi Ishiguro
Music supervised by Keiichiro Shibuya
Programming by Shintaro Imai
Pedestal design by Kazuyo Sejima & Associates

Translation Mimiko Goldstein

The post The Android Opera®︎’s Collaboration with BMW as Photographed by Kyoji Takahashi – A Report on the Special Event Held at the National Art Center, Tokyo – “Massive Life Flow; Inside the Mind of Keiichiro Shibuya” Part 9 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Shinpei Ueno, a professional skateboarder and director of TIGHTBOOTH, spent nine years working on LENZ III since the release of the preceding video in the series, LENZ II.

The film was premiered in Tokyo, Osaka, New York and London, with countless skaters in attendance. When the screening started, the audience cheered and applauded as if they were watching the skate tricks live in front of them. The space was filled with a raw excitement, more like what you would see on the streets than in a movie theater.

The aesthetic vibes presented in LENZ III are cool and humorous, not only in terms of the skating footage, but also in the computer graphics and background music. The video is filled with these characteristics that are inherent in skate culture. It is a collection of subcultures, just like all the famous skate videos that have been released in the past.

When you feel that something crazy is about to happen, and you know that you are about to witness that very moment, there’s this tingling feeling of excitement that you can’t ignore. You feel like your feet are barely on the ground and you’re dancing inside. That is probably what everyone was feeling at the premiere of LENZ III.  The film must have inspired so many people, and a lot of them even went skating on the streets right after the event.

This work, which documents the cutting edge of the contemporary as an independent company skate scene, will surely be passed down to posterity as a skate video that conveys the early 2020s in Japan. At first glance, many people may feel that producing a skate video isn’t that special. However, it’s quite difficult to create a full-length street skate video in Japan, and to do so on a D.I.Y. basis is a tremendous task, which makes the completion of LENZ III in itself an epoch-making miracle.

That being said, we asked the creator of the featured piece, Shinpei Ueno, his thoughts behind the making of LENZ III and its series, and what he thinks about the immense difficulty of making a skate video.

Shinpei Ueno
Born in Osaka in 1983, Shinpei Ueno is a professional skateboarder for Evisen Skateboards and brand director of Tightbooth Production, renowned for a number of independent skate videos put out over the years, notably his masterpiece “LENZ II” (2014). Other notable works include running an Osaka based skate shop, Shred, creating video content for brands such as Gucci and Moncler, design contribution to Supreme’s inline collections and brand direction for the pizza franchise Pizzanista! Tokyo. In 2023, LENZ III the final piece of his LENZ trilogy is released worldwode.
https://shop.tightbooth.com
Instagram：@shinpei_ueno

I captured the best skaters in each generation

– On the stage of the LENZ III premiere, you said, “I dedicate this to the VX series and MK-1”. First of all, please tell us about the equipment you used for filming and the reasons for using them.

Ueno: I use Sony DCR-VX1000 video cameras released in 1995 with CENTURY OPTICS MK-1 ultra fish-eye lenses, which have been coined “the ultimate skate video camera setting”.

The distortion that the MK-1 possesses allows it to create a distinct sense of realism and speed, and the DCR-VX1000’s unique dry microphone sound and film-like visuals also work great. We’ve been shooting with this setup since 2005, which makes it our nineteenth year of filming this way. For the VX1000, we’ve used more than thirty units in total and more than seven ultra fish eyes. The camera and lenses are no longer in production and can no longer be repaired, and the software for capturing the mini-DV tapes has been having some problems. Even with these issues, I’ve chosen to stick to this setting for nineteen years. I dedicate this work (LENZ III) to the VX series and MK-1.

– What is the concept behind LENZ III?

Ueno: The production of it is very simple. Basically, I direct the entire production while shooting talented skaters in prime locations. I captured the best skaters in each generation, also as a journalism point of view to broadcast the scene.

– I found the flow of this film, in which the CG animation accompanying the skaters transitions into the skating portions of the film, to be very interesting. How did you go about creating this format?

Ueno: For this project, we demonstrated how LENZ III was being made at the fictional research facility VX LABORATORY. The main camera, the VX1000, was modeled in 3D and created in full CG. We shot nineteen years worth of skate videos with the VX1000, so we wanted to create an opening dedicated to this video camera.

And in the VX LABORATORY, we created Rooms for each rider that reflect their personalities and their video parts, which was a try and error process. I would come up with a rough idea, and we would discuss with the CG team how we could make it happen. For example, in the case of the part of Kotora Mitani, a cage was placed in a Japanese-style room with tatami mats and video monitors scattered around to make it look as if a tiger was walking in the room (his name Korora literaly means a little tiger). But it was difficult to show the whole body of the tiger with CG due to the budget, so we discussed the possibility of using only silhouettes for it.

Also, the soundtrack for the JAPANESE SUPER RAT part was by GEZAN, so I stacked the monitors vertically in a bright red room and scattered equipment cables all around. Then, while concert footage of GEZAN was playing from the monitors, I let rats scurry around them. That’s how we built it. The most difficult part of the project was the rendering, which took a lot of effort from conception to assembly. The CG for the intro of each part was limited to 15 seconds, but it took up to a minute and a half to render one frame, which meant it took a day to render one chapter if you included the work. And after checking the preview, it would take another day to make corrections, so I had to calculate how many more renderings I could do before the day of the premiere. We broke out in a cold sweat from the lack of time we had.

– It sounds like CG production is very difficult. 

Next, I’d like to ask about the music assigned to each part. The music was very unique, ranging from hip-hop to techno to punk. For the ending theme, a song by Japanese Synchro System, a unit featuring ILL-BOSSTINO of THA BLUE HERB, was used, which I thought it really a reflection of you. How did you decide on the music?

Ueno: We made our decisions based on the concept of the part and the personalities of the riders. I also wanted to select a soundtrack from my musician friends, so I gathered a large number of songs, including existing songs, new songs before their release, and songs that were still in the demo stage. The closing song by Japanese Synchro System is one that I’ve been listening to since I was in my early twenties, And the verse really have pushed me and my friends to keep going for years and years. I wanted to make a feature film using this song as the ending theme one day. Now, some sixteen years after the song’s release, I think I’ve finally created a work worthy of it.

– I felt that LENZ III focuses on skaters of a new generation. What attracts you to youth skaters?

Ueno: I think the best thing about these young kids is that they’re freeform. Because in addition to complex technical ledge tricks, they’re pulling off everything from gnarly transitions to unprecedented NBDs (Never Been Dones).

– More than a hundred skaters appear in the film. What are the criteria for your selection? And how did you connect to those skaters?

Ueno: The criterion is vague, but basically it’s whether or not I, as the director, feels something special in them. I don’t cast skaters simply because they’re skilled or visually appealing. Perhaps it’s because of my profession or maybe it’s common sense. But when you’re in the skate scene, you naturally know which skaters you should currently be shooting. Also, skaters are basically friends of friends, so they’re easy to connect with. Many of the young skaters grew up with the LENZ series, so it wasn’t hard for me to get in touch with them.

– I was also drawn to the fashion of each skater. Did you ever arrange the styling according to the shooting location?

Ueno:  I sometimes styled the TIGHTBOOTH member riders myself. Also, depending on the location, the impression of the shoot can drastically change if the subject wears a white or black top, so we’d often bring three outfits to the shoot. I’d ask the rider to  come up with three styling ideas in advance that they liked, and I’d make slight modifications from there.

Skate videos contain all the charms of skateboarding

– What do you find difficult or interesting about producing skate videos in Japan?

Ueno: Japan is probably the second most difficult place in the world to film a skate video, number one being North Korea. In Japan, you’ll see security guards and police officers at all kinds of spots, and they stop you instantly. Sometimes, even passersby call the police, which is a special phenomenon that happens here that I’ve rarely seen happen in the rest of the world. Even if they have nothing to do with it and it’s not bothering them at all, some people call the police out of a strange sense of justice. I’ve been skating in many countries, but only Japanese people would do that. 

Maybe it’s the Japanese education system. Of course, part of it is that skateboarding is not part of the fabric of Japanese life, and sometimes skating can be a nuisance to others, which can’t be helped… But that sense of skating being bothersome doesn’t exist outside Japan. Most people don’t care if there are people skating around them abroad. In fact, some even watch the skaters and give comments like, “that trick was really cool”. In Japan, you’re treated like a criminal just for skating. What’s interesting about shooting skate videos in Japan is the scenery and architecture unique to the locations here.

– From your point of view, what do you think is the current state of the skate scene in Japan today, and what challenges do you see?

Ueno: I think skateboarding itself has been recognized a little more due to the Tokyo Olympics. However, I feel that many Japanese people who watched the Olympics have started recognizing skateboarding as a sport, which is sort of aunfortunate thing because it has a huge negative impact on street skating that is the essential of skateboarding. For example, many people in the general public look at street skating and say, “those street skaters are getting in the way and bothering people who are trying to become a proper Olympic skateboarders”. This is something someone actually told me. I think about this issue a lot, and I feel that this is a difficult thing to change because of the national mentality of the Japanese people.

– I felt that LENZ III also attempts to bring the reality of the street skate scene in Japan to a wider audience. Was that your intention?

Ueno: I wanted to show the beauty of skateboarding, even to people who do not skate. I hope that by having as many non-skateboarders as possible watch the video and understand its allure, the current street skate scene will change for the better, even if only slightly.

– What do you feel is the appeal of skate videos?

Ueno: It’s the best “visual groove” that shows incredible skaters making art in the architecture of a city that is not made for skating, accompanied by a high-quality soundtrack. It’s not simply about conveying how cool skating is, but also about the love of creating a piece of art with your friends. Skate videos contain all the charms of skateboarding.

■DVD LENZ III (Tightbooth Production)
February 18th  release
¥24,200 (limited box set) / ¥4,180 (normal edition)
featuring full parts：RIO MORISHIGE, KOTORA MITANI, KYONOSUKE YAMASHITA, GLEN FOX, AYAHIRO URATSUKA, KENTO YOSHIOKA, RYUHEI KITAKUME, RINKU KONISHI

Text Ryo Tajima
Translation Mimiko Goldstein

The post Shinpei Ueno and his Skate Video, LENZ III – The Possibilities of Skateboarding Revealed in its Production Process appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.