To be released in the middle of January
　

We are publishing a photobook by Rinko Kawauchi, M/E.

Upon visiting Iceland in 2019, Kawauchi encountered geysers like the breadths of Earth, glaciers surpassing human time, and the inner space of a dormant volcano that was reminiscent of the inside of a womb. She had thus experienced the connection to this planet she had never felt before. Iceland was her point of departure; she continued to experience similar sights such as the nature around her home after the COVID-19 pandemic and the winter land of Hokkaido. She opened her majestic solo exhibition “M/E On this sphere Endlessly interlinking” and showcased a fraction of the “M/E” series. Even today, this body of work is been exhibited around the world. 

The title “M/E” comes from the first letters of the words “Mother” and “Earth”, “Mother Earth” if read in sequence, and also hints at the word “Me”. It reminds us of the certainty that nature as an infinite existence and the small ubiquitous occurrences from our daily lives are not unrelated, but inseparably connected. As the most recent body of work by Kawauchi who returned to her point of origin –the connection between nature and human beings– and thus took a different look at the world during this turbulent time, this series goes beyond “Ametsuchi” and “Halo” through which she had established her perspective by contemplating nature. Bound by Hans Gremmen, the book appears to be a singular book object. A beautifully written essay, the like of a heartfelt letter, by author, photographer, and art historian Teju Cole concludes this publication.
　
* This book was made in co-published with delpire&co, France. torch press is Japanese/English edition and delpire&co is French/English edition.

* This book differs from the exhibition catalogue “Rinko Kawauchi: M/E On this sphere Endlessly interlinking” in that it is a collection of photographs from the “M/E” series only.
　

Some things can only be obtained through moving my body to face my photographic subject head-on.

I have found this an effective way to approach, however incrementally, the unanswerable question of why I find myself alive right here and right now.

After living this way for more than thirty years, I felt the desire to once more confirm the ground on which I stood.

Not in terms of regional or national bounds, but the fact that I was on a planet.

When I visited Iceland in the summer of 2019—I had been there only once before, some twenty years ago—that desire was fulfilled.

I saw geysers like the planet’s breath and glaciers far beyond any human time. And what I saw seemed to illuminate my own existence.

One experience inside a dormant volcano left a particularly strong impression. When I looked up, I saw light spilling in through the crater above, and its shape was reminiscent of female genitalia. As I gazed at this sight, I had the sense of being a fetus enveloped by the earth, and I felt a connection to this planet I have never felt before.

My plans to visit Iceland again in winter to probe these connections more deeply were thwarted by COVID-19. Partly as a result of this, I visited Hokkaido many times in the winter of last year. There I saw things that could only be seen in the bitterest cold, and recalled how small and frail my own body truly was.

In retrospect, the past decade has seen a series of social upheavals, from the Great East Japan Earthquake to the COVID-19 pandemic. On a personal level, I experienced major life turning points like marriage and childbirth, as if living my life within great undulations. 

The days hurried past, but with the advent of the pandemic things seemed to slow somewhat.

Sometimes, while working at my home, I hear the babble of the stream outside, look through my window at the flowing water, and feel a sense of relief.

Spending long periods at home for the first time in many years reminded me of my childhood.

The tedious after-school hours, the long, long summer holidays . . . Is my daughter, now, caught in a similar flow of time herself?

Our hair and nails grow; day by day, second by second, we are closer to death.

When I kept my eyes fixed on the small but certain changes, I felt as if the flow of time that seemed to accelerate every year had somehow been rewound a little.

My aging and my daughter’s development proceed equally; will warming continue the same way, until the glaciers I once saw are melted away? Everything is connected to the life we find before us.

Even if we cannot stop ourselves heading toward death, surely we can improve the places where we live.

Take the initials of “Mother Earth,” and the result is “M/E.”

When I wrote out those two letters, I felt a connection between all things, from those so vast their full form cannot be surveyed with the naked eye to the tiniest individuals—and was reminded of that mysterious sensation I experienced beneath the volcanic crater of inversion and unity between the planet and myself.

Rinko Kawauchi