ギャラリーに並ぶ彫刻は、どれも斧やチェーンソーで彫り上げた荒々しい跡が残る。表面はヤスリをかけることがない。表面を綺麗に磨き上げることは、どうやら人の意識が入り込み過ぎる。振り下ろす斧のひと太刀に、人ならざる力が紛れ込み、木を何者かに変えていく。

新庄さんが作品に名付ける「風」とは、植物が発芽するとき、ぷくっと膨れたり、種子が飛んでいったりしたときのわずかな空気の動きのこと。生命の自然に導かれた、その先にある造形。言外に佇む、素直な美しさに、眺める度にふぅと息が漏れるのです。

The sculptures arranged throughout the gallery all bear the rough marks of axes and chainsaws. Their surfaces are never sanded. To polish a surface too neatly, it seems, allows too much human intention to enter. In a single downward strike of the axe, a force beyond the human slips in, transforming the wood into something else.

The “wind” that Shinjo gives as a title to his works refers to the faint movement of air when a plant sprouts and gently swells, or when a seed drifts away. A form that emerges beyond that, guided by the nature of life itself. Each time I look at these works, I find myself softly exhaling before their unspoken, honest beauty.

新庄さんの作品を初めて見たときに感じたのは、羨望のような気持ちだったかもしれない。小さな画面を通してでも伝わってくる迫力。自分の手には負えないような大きなものに、形を与えている作り手への。

圧倒的な存在感がありながらも、威圧的ではない。作品が独立した個体としてではなく、どこかの景色や温度、音や光とつながりながら成り立っているような。どうしてもその彫刻に触れたくなった。そうして作家を訪ねる旅に出た。

When I first encountered Shinjo’s work, what I felt may have been something close to envy. Even through the small screen of a phone, its force came through unmistakably. I was drawn to the maker who could give form to something so vast it felt beyond my own reach.

The works possess an overwhelming presence, yet never feel imposing. Rather than existing as isolated objects, they seem to emerge in connection with a surrounding landscape, temperature, sound, and light. I felt compelled to touch the sculptures somehow, and so I set out on a journey to visit the artist.

招き入れて頂いた場所には、新庄さんが自ら建てたと言う住居、工房、書斎、倉庫の棟が、庭を囲むようにして建っている。その庭には接ぎ木しながら育てたという椿が見事に咲き、傍らの畑には日々の食卓のための野菜たちが生き生きと並んでいた。建物の内外に大小様々な作品や素材、道具とともに、遊び心に満ちた創作のかけらが溢れている。そのひとつひとつについて、筑後弁で無邪気に話をしてくれる姿に、こちらの顔も自然とほころぶ。

他にも、アートスペース千代福という場所を友人と始め、そこで同郷の画家・坂宗一の展示を企画したり、フランスや韓国の作家ともお互いの国を行き来して展示を行うなど、自らの創作だけに留まらない活動について、じっくりと話を伺った。

新庄さんの人柄、生活に実際に触れたことで、作品が湛えていた「つながっている」感覚に合点がいった。自らの手を動かして、自然や人とつながろうとする──いや、むしろつながることに促されて手が動いているような、その純粋に開かれた心の在りようが、作品にそのまま表れているのだ。

Vacant/Centreという場所で展示をしてきた3年は、それ以前に自分が抱えていた「断絶」の感覚から脱却し、自分なりの思考と実践を重ねながら、世界との紐帯を編み直す営みだったのかもしれない。その果てに新庄さんと出会えた幸福を想うとともに、この先の活動を通して、より良いつながりを結んでいけるように、心を新たにする。

The place I was welcomed into consists of a house, studio, study, and storage building, all said to have been built by Shinjo himself, standing around a garden. In that garden, camellias he had grown through grafting were blooming magnificently, while nearby rows of vegetables for the daily table stood vibrant and full of life. Inside and outside the buildings were works of various sizes, materials, tools, and countless fragments of creativity full of playfulness. As he spoke innocently about each one in the Chikugo dialect, I found myself smiling too.

He also spoke at length about activities that extend beyond his own creative practice: starting an art space called Chiyofuku with a friend, organizing an exhibition there of Soichi Saka, a painter from the same hometown, and holding exhibitions with artists from France and Korea while traveling back and forth between one another’s countries.

By actually encountering his character and way of life, the sense of “connectedness” that his works held began to make sense to me. His hands move as he seeks to connect with nature and people—or rather, as if his hands are moved by that very connection. That purely open state of heart is what appears in his work.

The three years I have spent holding exhibitions at Vacant/Centre may have been an effort to move beyond the sense of “disconnection” I had felt before, and to weave new bonds with the world through my own thinking and practice. As I think of the happiness of having met him at the end of that process, I renew my spirit, hoping that through the activities to come I can continue to form better connections.