Relay Column: A Space to Build Bodies that Build Spaces (akitsu sekkei)

In June, with the temperature slightly high and a weak rain typical of the rainy season, I boarded a small train with an umbrella in one hand, heading towards the Isamu Noguchi Garden Museum. I got off at the nearest station and began the 20-minute walk. The museum doesn't allow visitors to roam freely; instead, it's set up like a tour with specific time slots. I had enough time to make it comfortably if I walked straight from the station to the museum. However, the road from the station to the museum is lined with stone shops, and there are massive carved stones lying around, either intended for future use or remnants of past projects. Since Mure is a region historically known for its stone industry, it's only natural that Isamu Noguchi set up his studio here, making the abundance of stone shops unsurprising. Excitedly reacting to the variously shaped stones, I stopped frequently to take lots of photos. By the time I arrived at the museum, the tour had already started.

Led by the museum staff, around 20 of us entered the fenced area, all holding umbrellas. There was a workshop and, right in front of it, a semi-circular stone-walled garden with sandy soil, scattered with Isamu Noguchi's various stone artworks. At that moment, my sense of scale lightly wavered, and my gaze stretched towards the vast sky. The artworks were positioned such that only a few steps would bring me from one to another, allowing for an almost whimsical tour around the pieces. It felt like viewing a miniature garden from above while simultaneously walking through it. The brief but pleasant walking distance to reach an artwork after wanting to touch it—neither too cramped nor too wide to tire one's legs—naturally allowed for a liberating sense of movement, dissolving tension in my joints and muscles. Step by step, I moved my feet as I felt, and my right foot was free, and my left foot was free, too. The ground’s gravel seemed to perfectly harmonize with my feet.

A self-centered sense of omnipotence filled me, almost like an animal leaping in a predator-free field. Given that Isamu Noguchi intended it as a working space, he must have crafted it as a place where one could feel capable of anything.

Since the fenced walls blocked any view beforehand, the inside was a surprise—like stepping into a different wind. As I recall it now, writing "into the wind" lightly, I realize the exact sensation was like being in the eye of a storm.

The exhibited works embodied the character of such a space.

Works are created by the artist's body, which in turn is shaped by the environment. The visible scenery, light, temperature, and weather constantly alter one's body. The body’s center of gravity shifts with the ground, and the scent and mood change with the room's walls. The upper part of the vision and the crown of the head are always aware of the ceiling.

These are not exaggerated notions. In a cramped space where elbows might hit the walls, artworks would form accordingly, and if arms had infinite space to move, their movements would still be dictated by the distance to the walls. Sitting at a desk, with feet under it, and then with feet out, one can notice how the hip joints subtly tense when the knees might hit the desk. Bodily movements are influenced by the environment, and emotional movements are influenced by the body’s movements.