Motoi Yamamoto: Everlasting Transience

floating garden (detail), 2013, salt 

It is unavoidable to link the idea of the impermanence of material life to the concept of sustainability. As sustainability essentially means the ability to last for a long time (1), the concept becomes infused with concerns about life and death.

Further, as we take into consideration the definition of sustainable development from Our Common Future, a.k.a. the Brundtland Report (2), and we learn that

Sustainable development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs

it becomes clear that the concept of sustainability requires that we see the world as composed of systems — one of which is a system that connects time. This means that, as we think of the world as a system over time, we realize that our decisions will survive our deaths and impact the lives of people who have not yet born. Thus, sustainable development reflects essential questioning about the connection between death and life.

Life appears to be an ongoing process of regeneration. As molecules degrade, they are renewed; cells multiply to replace those who die; and, in this way, life goes on. An organism therefore cannot live - this means, they cannot continually regenerate - unless its cells die. It is in light of this that one must understand the words of Heraclitus: "to die of living." In other words, life is a constant struggle against death, which includes the use of death itself. (a)

This complex struggle, found naturally within the ecosystems, is, somehow, disconcerting. The food chain allows animals to live at the expense of other living organisms, and so, as herbivores feed themselves on plants, small carnivores eat herbivores, and large carnivores eat small carnivores, and so on. Not to mention that the decomposition of large animal feeds, in its turn, scavenger insects and worms, while their mineral salts are basic nutrients needed for plants to grow. The life cycle is also a cycle of death, which implies that death is the reverse side of life: they are interdependent. (a)

The work of Motoi Yamamoto epitomizes this interdependence between life and death as it occurs in nature. Known for making art work with mineral salts in the form of temporary, intricate, large-scale labyrinths, Yamamoto destroys his work at the end of a predetermined period of time and returns the salt to a body of water – an action which reflects a deep understanding of the existence of the very thin line between living and dying.

Yamamoto’s work emanates from a powerful personal experience rather than spiritual tradition. Salt is a symbol for purification and mourning in Japanese culture. The artist’s connection to the element began while mourning the death of his twenty-four year old sister from brain cancer. He views his installations as necessary to his healing. The results radiate an intense beauty and tranquility, but also convey something ineffable and endless. (3) 

Michelle Rumney tells us that "despite the lengthy process of constructing his pieces, the dismantling, or destruction of these saltworks is an equally important and rewarding process for Yamamoto. In contrast to the solitary way he works when creating the pieces – the meditative part so to speak – the tidying up part when the artwork gets taken down and the gallery is returned to its ‘neutral’ space, is a communal experience, and a joyous one. Nothing is wasted – the energy he created during the show is simply moved or transported elsewhere. (4)

Rumney also says that Matoi invites people to come and help with the clean up, each collecting a bag of salt from the floor and returning it to the sea in their own way. This is no mean feat, as some of his installations are made up of over 900kg (2,200lb) of salt. Scooping, cleaning and scraping is followed by releasing, letting go and, for the salt, rejoining the universe – a return to the form it may once have had before Yamamoto’s brief intervention with it. (4) 

Yamamoto says, “Drawing a labyrinth with salt is like following a trace of my memory. Memories seem to change and vanish as time goes by; however, what I seek is to capture a frozen moment that cannot be attained through pictures or writings. What I look for at the end of the act of drawing could be a feeling of touching a precious memory.” (3, 5)

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a) Morin, Edgar. L'homme et la mort in La mort et l'immortalité : Encyclopédie des savoirs et des croyances. Eds. Lenoir, Frédéric and Jean-Philippe de Tonnac. Paris, Bayard, 2004: 39-49