A Snap in Time

Note. A. Behind the scenes on fashion show day, there are people who send models onto the runway at the perfect moment. They regulate breathing, release tension, communicate walking pace, calling out "Relax, relax." Listening through headphones to the venue's music, they snap their fingers in sync—snap, snap—continuously conveying the rhythm. I was mesmerized by this figure. After watching for a while, I became lightheaded because those snapping sounds seemed like signals transmitted regularly from somewhere far in the cosmos. An existence conducting all time and place, maintaining harmony. The job's called a "moving director." His name was Julien. B. Creating is something like a duty for me. I don't begin creating from interest—I search for motifs out of duty. Within the various things I encounter daily, overlapping "dots" lie hidden. They won't reveal themselves unless you seek them. They won't connect unless you create. C. Visiting graves. A Catholic cemetery on Mount Kinugasa's slopes. Muggy heat. Ascending the mountain path surrounded by tall trees, the view suddenly opens—tombstones glittering in rows under the blazing sun, and beyond them a pale blue cross towering up, almost ethereal. In this silent cemetery where human voices and even, strangely, insect sounds have vanished, only the impossibly smooth and vivid call of a bush warbler—"hō-hokekyo"—rings out repeatedly. Each time, the air transforms. A moment like another realm. D. The rhythm that marks time and moves the heart. The magic that changes time and changes space. E. Touch and raise hand upward, release and snap. Or, touch and snap, release and raise hand upward. For this work, I ultimately chose the former method. Most things can't be understood without actually trying them. F. I've been involved with interactive art for many years, yet I still can't grasp it. To begin with, what should I call the people who touch these interactive artworks I create? "Viewer" doesn't suffice since they don't just view; "experiencer" sounds somehow grandiose and passive; "participant" presupposes too much agency. In reality, the moment someone touches the screen, that person becomes part of the work, and the work changes through that person... or rather, the work doesn't reveal its full form unless that person does something. Is there a word for this kind of mutual transformation? G. There are pitfalls scattered throughout interactive art where you inadvertently try to create rewards. Fighting against the inner voice that asks "So, what is it?"