pastime life

Living in Watari, one encounters an abundance of life. As the name Tori-no-umi (Sea of Birds) suggests, visits to the coast or river reveal black-tailed gulls, snowy egrets, black kites, and even pheasants. In summer, the chorus of frogs rises from the rice paddies, and one might suddenly spot a crayfish scuttling across the road. Meanwhile, the main thoroughfares are lined with drugstores, car dealerships, convenience store chains, and large-scale factories. This landscape—where vibrant flora and fauna blend in a curious balance with inorganic structures—is perhaps the true essence of Watari.

In this town, I have started a new daily routine. To clear my mind and refresh my spirit, I find pockets of time to fold origami. Though I grew up in the urban heart of Kobe, I spent much of my childhood catching insects in vacant lots, running outdoors, and gathering acorns. When I returned home at dusk, I would busily fold origami—using whatever supermarket flyers were at hand—to recreate the insects and animals I had found outside, or the dinosaurs I had seen in picture books. Perhaps because of this, even now, if there is a scrap of paper nearby, I find myself absentmindedly folding it. Just as some people can’t help but play with chopstick wrappers at a bar, I seem to be of a nature that finds peace in the aimless movement of my hands. It is an origami practice purely for distraction and leisure.

As I empty my head and simply fold, the emerging form begins to resemble a living creature before I even realize it. From that point, I continue to shape it to match the biological image that has manifested. Though I fold without a plan, I naturally end up creating animals, and day by day, these colorful lives multiply. Looking at these creatures that rise aimlessly from a single flat plane, I feel as though the activity of life itself is purposeless. If that is the case, perhaps it is perfectly fine to view our lives as a long, quiet stretch of time spent simply passing the day.

January 2025
Eiji Uozumi