Always Moving

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私は石を拾う。

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そこで、私と石、という関係が生まれるけれど、そもそも、僕と出会うとか関係なく、僕が知らないところで石はゴロゴロと転がり流されながら普通に在ったのだろう。

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石は流されながら割れ、小さくなりやがて小石になり・・と耳にするが、僕は実際に見たことがない。

おそらく、濁流に揉まれ、流されていると想像するけど、黄土色の水の中を見ることは叶わない。

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動きの中にあった石を拾って観ることで、初めて留まった物として私の前に現れる。

くり抜かれ、肌理を残した石はもう動かないが、

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今度は、観る人を動かしていく“もの”になる。その連続した在り方の中に僕は今、確かな何かを感じている。

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Always Moving

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I pick up a stone.
In that moment, a relationship arises between me and the stone.
And yet, regardless of ever encountering me, the stone must have existed quite ordinarily somewhere, rolling and being carried along in places I know nothing about.

I often hear that stones break as they are swept downstream, grow smaller, and eventually become pebbles—
but I’ve never actually seen it happen.
I imagine them being tossed and churned in a muddy torrent, yet it’s impossible to see what unfolds within that yellow, clay colored water.

By picking up a stone that had once been in motion and observing it, it appears before me for the first time as something that has come to rest.

Hollowed out, its textures still intact, the stone no longer moves— but now it becomes something that sets the viewer in motion.

Within that continuous way of being, I feel that something certain is taking shape in me now.