INTERVIEWER: Semay Buket Şahin | INTERVIEWEE: Hiroshi Atobe

Can you share more details about your journey in experimental filmmaking? Additionally, could you explain how your education at Seian University of Art and Design shaped your artistic vision?

Winning an award at the Swedenborg Film Festival was deeply connected to my time at art school, where I was determined to capture the essence of Lake Biwa, Japan’s largest lake, located in Shiga Prefecture next to Kyoto. Back then, I was living a life of immense mental freedom, attending art school without working part-time jobs and spending my days riding a motorcycle around Lake Biwa. With an awareness that such a carefree lifestyle might not last forever, I resolved to create my most beautiful and emotionally enriching work as my graduation project before facing the challenges of adult life.

Artistic creation, after all, is also about “production.” Limited to creating with whatever materials I had in my room, I developed an interest in studying established models, such as Bayesian probability. At the same time, I also delved into cosplay (😆). Inspired by Gerhard Richter’s fascination with mirrors and my own interest in record players, I commissioned a factory to produce mirrors the iof vinyl records.

As for Swedenborg, I discovered that a religious studies scholar at the university had secretly conducted research on him. While the scholar regarded Swedenborg as a dangerous figure, I began to wonder:

What made him so dangerous? Are there truly things in this world we are forbidden to explore? These questions emerged during my conversations with the scholar. Around that time, while walking through Kyoto Station, a Christian nun approached me and asked, “Are you a film actor?” This encounter resonated deeply with me, especially since my graduation project had just won a special award at the Swedenborg Film Festival. From that experience, I began to believe in the idea of “meeting destiny through learning and training”.

How do you see the role of experimental cinema in contemporary art and its potential to challenge societal norms?

While working on my projects, I often listened to the music of Franz Schubert. This was true not only during the creation of my work for the Swedenborg Film Festival but also for the FLIGHT Genoa International Film Festival.

When it comes to themes like “beauty,” “order,” and “aura,” everything has already been expressed in classical music. Listening to Schubert provides such a profound sense of “beauty, structure, and order” that it becomes almost effortless to create experimental films embodying these qualities. I find great value in contemporary art’s ability to reimagine and express these concepts in new forms through experimental cinema.

How have your experiences at prestigious festivals like the Swedenborg Film Festival and FLIGHT – Mostra del Cinema di Genova influenced your career and artistic growth?

Receiving awards is an honor, and I have never forgotten the weight and gratitude that comes with such recognition. While my filmmaking involves meticulous planning and calculation—sometimes leading me to believe that “even fate can be guided through study and practice”—I realize this is an overly conceited way of thinking. It’s a feeling I wish to let go of in some way.

Lately, I’ve been riding a racing bicycle around my neighborhood, observing the people and places nearby. This practice helps ground me and fosters an awareness of my own uniqueness within the broader context of everyday life.

I often listen to Franz Schubert’s compositions while working on my films, as was the case with my entries for the Swedenborg Film Festival and the FLIGHT – Mostra del Cinema di Genova. In classical music, the concepts of “beauty,” “order,” and “aura” are already fully expressed. Simply listening to Schubert provides the foundation to create an experimental film that embodies beauty, structure, and order. I find value in experimental cinema as contemporary art when these qualities are reimagined in new forms.

However, the question persists: what happens to the “themes” we once derived from narratives? Can we work without them, or should they remain integral? In my 2024 award-winning piece at FLIGHT, Everything are Delayed, I not only played the piano for the soundtrack but also engaged in prose writing during its creation. This prose turned the initial impressions of harrowing incidents reported on television and online into literary expressions, with each story offering a unique perspective.

The narrative culminates in the realization that the narrator is akin to a blade, sharpened through its role but ultimately becoming dull and discarded in a bag of non-burnable trash. The film did not depict this prose directly through cameras or illustrations. Instead, I expressed the rhythm and emotions derived from the narrative and literature by playing the piano myself and portraying a character in the mirror who flips through pages while embodying an individual ignorant of art.

The hand flipping through the pages in the mirror was inspired by Thomas Eakins’ painting The Gross Clinic, which portrays a surgical operation. Whenever I encounter sensationalized reports of tragic incidents meant to draw in viewers, I feel as though I am the one being laid on a dissection table. Through this, I aimed to express the rhythm and emotions of the stories in a subtle yet impactful way. Receiving awards is an honor. I have never forgotten the weight and gratitude that comes with it, and because I carefully plan and calculate my shooting process, I sometimes think that “fate can also be controlled through learning and practice.” However, this is a thought that feels overly arrogant, and I would like to discard that feeling in some way. Recently, I’ve been observing the people in my neighborhood while riding my racing bicycle, becoming more aware of my own uniqueness.

Have you ever worked on a project that was particularly difficult to complete due to political or other challenges?

(He is showing his short movie on vimeo titled “In the Rigid Station”)

The question of what to do with the “theme” I once felt from a story, or whether it can exist without it, remains ever-present. In the award-winning work Everything are Delayed at the 2024 FLIGHT festival, I also played the music on the piano while composing. I was writing a piece that literaryizes the first impression of horrific events and accidents reported by television and online media, and tells the story of a narrator realizing that they are a blade being sharpened, ultimately leading to the blade becoming dull and being discarded in a non-burnable trash bag. The story was not expressed through the camera or illustrations in the piece; rather, I expressed the rhythm and emotions I felt from the story and literature by playing the piano, flipping pages reflected in the mirror, and portraying a character who does not understand art.

The hand turning the pages in the mirror was inspired by the American painter Thomas Eakins’ painting The Gross Clinic of a surgical operation. Every time I encounter reports of horrific events or accidents designed to generate viewer fees, I feel as though I am placed on the autopsy table. The authorities do not stop this, and the violence being carried out by Japanese people on Kurds in Saitama is similar. Speaking about such things in Japan takes great courage.

Also, the president of the company in Nagano, where I live, once said, “The Japanese Emperor came from Israel,” and it is common internationally to list Japan and Israel side by side. In a recent video I shot, which delves into the roots of political emotions, I realized that there is a lack of “beauty as a force for integration.” Instead, it is exciting.

I don’t know what computing is, but rather than making experimental films according to computing principles, I focus on what I feel from it, think carefully, and try to create visual effects using as much analog material as possible, presenting them in the simplest form, with a touch of entertainment. This is the type of experimental film I aim to create.

Are there any ongoing or upcoming projects or themes that you are particularly excited about?

In my current process, I focus on positioning the camera to capture my own back. A musician who excels in live performances once mentioned the importance of “singing while looking at the audience’s eyes.” Filming, however, is not live but a recording, and for example, in Akira Kurosawa’s film Yojimbo, the shot begins with the back of the protagonist as he walks, which conveys the meaning and value of filming = recording.

Do you have any advice for emerging artists and filmmakers who are trying to experiment with film?

I don’t know much about computing, and rather than creating experimental films based on computing, I focus on what I feel and think from it. I create visual effects using analog materials as much as possible, presenting them in the simplest form, while also incorporating a slight element of entertainment. This is the kind of experimental film I aim to create. This is also something I hope those who are currently aiming to create experimental films will practice.