このプロジェクトは、「passing通用すること」−周囲の人に気づかれないように特定の場所に入り込もうとすること、失敗すると解っていな がらも京都 の日常生活に忍び込もうとすること‐の問いかけとして開始されました。しかし、「言語」、そして「出自」に対する問いかけは、よりいっそうアイデンティ ティ意識を高めることになり、そして「passing」は「passing back and forthやりとりをすること」といった意味でより私の関心をひくようになりました。言語や意味の交換は、私にとって人やもの、場所の間の距離をたどる ための手段となったのです。どこへ行こうとも−アーバン・プランナー、旅行者、あるいは地元住民、どのような者としてであれ−、私たちは自 身を取り巻く環境と関係を取り結ぼうとする 生来の、そして本能的なマッピング・プロセスを持っています。しかし、地図が私たちにもたらす最大の錯覚とは、土地は整然とした図面や格子で表現され、川 は図式化された形として表現されているにも関わらず、そこに信頼性や具体的な客観性があると思わせてしまうことです。実際、都市の表象としての地図は、空 間に固定された地点の軌跡であるが故に「物語」の多様性を示しているともいえるのです。したがって、京都を学ぶことは、実際の変数を知るというより、同時 に起こる「活動の結果」について知ることになるのです。同じ意味において、アイデンティティは行為に基礎を置いています。ミシェル・ド・セ ルトーは「何かをしようとする意志(un vouloir-faire)」によって人間を評価します。そしてその意志は私たちが、普段繊細なメタ・コミュニケーションの中でバランスをとっている現 実と願望、ありのままのものと加工されたもの、伝えられたものと受け取られたものの間にあるギャップにあると私は考えます。そこでは、かつて確実性を持っ てとらえられていた時間と場所はもはや確実性を失うのです。‐そして、私たちは日々円を描いているのです。This project began as a question of ‘passing’, of trying to insert oneself into the situation invisibly, of slipping into the daily life of Kyoto in a premeditated failure of assimilation. But very quickly, language and the question of nativity led to a much more relational sense of identification, and ‘passing’ became much more interesting in the sense of ‘passing back and forth’. Language and the exchange of meaning became the tools with which to trace the distances between person, object and place.Wherever we go, whether as tourist, native resident or urban planner, there is an inherent and instinctive mapping process with which we engage our surroundings. But the greatest illusion of the map, however, is its misleading sense of authority, of concrete objectivity in the face of a neatly laid out plan, a grid or a logically designed river. In fact, the map, as an image of the city, is a multiplicity of narratives inasmuch as it is a trajectory of points fixed in space. To learn about Kyoto becomes less about a real mapped variable than a simultaneous ‘result of activities’.In the same sense, identity becomes based upon production. de Certeau measures being by “un vouloir-faire”, or will to do, and it is within these gaps between reality and aspiration, natural and fabricated or transmitted and received that we find the rhythms of a delicate meta-communication. The former rooted-ness of time and place are no longer valid. We walk in circles everyday.

waiting for the bus, the wrong bus

Posted by f | more »

one wednesday evening on my way home

Posted by a | more »

one tuesday morning on my way to work

8am. sunny but still cold outside. can’t wait for the bus any longer so i decide to walk to the train station. quiet residential street, people walking fast, all in the same direction, looking very determined, as if they are all already late. on the other side of the street i notice a tall young guy with sunglasses on standing on the sidewalk looking in the other direction. he has a stick in his hand and is moving back and forth in a strange rhythm. am wondering what he is doing. as i approach him i realize he is blind. am feeling guilty for being able to stare without feeling guilty about it. as i walk closer i can now see he is carrying a baby in a pocket in front of him. a tiny baby. he is standing in the only spot on the sidewalk where the morning sun is falling. it must keep them both warm.

Posted by f | reply »

a bird’s move

one darn cold day a bird landed there soon another bird landed there the right one started to approach only to find with every inch he moved leftward she moved an inch leftward it was a darn cold day with sand, wind, no sunshine he moved leftward and she too one minute felt like one whole day she took off she flied away here he was, lonely, wondering why

Posted by haxi | reply »

i try to stop drinking coffee.

you taught me that the coffee would be better if you fold the flaps of the cone-shaped paper coffee filter. the bottom flap to one side, the side flap to the other. i didn’t really believe you at the time, it seemed like such an unimportant detail, but i wanted to be polite and said, oh i see, following your instructions. but later, when you were not around, i became lazy, placing the filter into the coffee maker without the careful creases, still thinking that the coffee tasted great. later still, a nice coffee machine with its own reusable mesh filter, and i did not have to think about you and your careful, creased paper cones. i tried to stop drinking coffee. but now, years later, another apartment, another city, no coffee maker. the coffee here is pretty good, but the cafés are expensive. i gave in and bought one of those plastic one-cup drip filters. started making coffee again every day. the motion came back to me, and i’ve started folding the flaps of the paper cone again, the bottom flap to one side, the side flap to the other. i still wonder if the coffee tastes better. still think of you every day.

Posted by 丫 | more »

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