Slumbering in a Cage of Lights--Tokyo Sensation in 1974

Slumbering in a Cage of Lights--Tokyo Sensation in 1974

Back in that time in 1974, I was in an unspeakable state of anxiety in the rapidly transforming city of Tokyo. Asphalt covered the memory of the ground day by day, and glass buildings reflected the light of the sky diffusely. The smell of earth and wood receded, and instead the smell of plastic and exhaust filled the air. The sense of seasons that used to be with nature was replaced by the temperature settings of the air conditioner, and I felt as if I was losing the core of my senses somewhere along the way.

To live in the city was to place myself under the strange tension of "acting as if I were being watched. Everyone pretends to be indifferent to others, yet the city is always filled with the gaze of others. I found myself putting on a somewhat acted-out self, shutting out my natural self. Whether on a station platform or in a chair at a café, I could not help but be aware of "me acting as me.

The sensibility of Tokyo was no longer determined by the smell of the wind or the temperature of the sun, but by the sight on display or the catchphrase in an advertisement. Whenever I saw something, I was required to "choose" it before I could "feel" it. In this way, I felt my five senses being completely swept up in the rhythm of selection and consumption. The moment I thought something was beautiful, I would wonder if even its beauty was not backed up by someone else's evaluation criteria.

And then I realize. There is no "somewhere" in this city. The "here" is no longer the place that was once supported by someone else's memory. Neither the buildings I pass, nor the sky I look up at, have the touch that connects me to the city. To live in Tokyo is to live disconnected from a place. To live in Tokyo is to live in disconnection from place. In the midst of all this, I was losing my "power of feeling.

Tokyo liberated me. But at the same time, it may have taken away the "weight of feeling" from me. At that time, I was just groping around the transparent walls in a cage of light, trying to ascertain the contours of myself. In retrospect, it may have been the last gasp of sensitivity.