Shinkan Tamaki

The light through the window was recorded at time compressed to one hundred twentieth during the season when the altitude of the sun is the lowest. The light deeply went into architecture lighted up form of space and expression of the structure. I imagine the existence of the atmosphere and infinite course of the light through flickering variation. If time is defined as a motion of sunlight by Earth’s rotation, I can say that I’m observing “time” as well as space and light.

The winds asked me to go on a journey.

Perception changes ambiguously between moving images and sound. I went on a journey by water. I had been gazing at the calm sea for hours on the back deck. Before my eyes was endless sky, the nearly leaning sea horizon, strong sunlight shining on the surface of the water, and trails on the sea traced by the ship. The sound were of the engine and waves, vibrations propagated through the ship hull, and a pleasant breeze. I’m trying to sense every moment. I am here to watch the sea. Thinking this, I will daydream even before I know it. Occasional whistles make the scene in front of me clear.

Takashi Makino’s source of inspiration, our place in the world and the universe, never seems to dry up in view of the never-ending flow of immersive films. Generator may well be the earthiest of his films so far, made as a reaction to the Fukushima disaster. A reality check, but in the world that Makino shows, this can never be achieved without looking inwards too.

An observation of the texture of the subject and the film, as well as motion in moving image, by going through a four-second-long footage duplicated in a large volume.