EXHIBITION & ARTISTS STATEMENT
I live around the block from Kyoto's Imperial Palace grounds, a mammoth landscaped wooded area with grassy lawns, tiny hillocks, a gentle stream, teahouses, tennis courts, baseball diamonds, and thousands of trees: maple, sakura, gingko, a plethora of conifers. When the pandemic began I took leisurely walks in the grounds, the better to settle my melancholic spirit. Having long appreciated the aesthetic qualities of the trees I daily encountered, I became aware of their personalities as well. Some trees were really funny while some assumed an attitude of momentousness; others had an aura of gentleness, a few appeared humbled by man's capricious whims. Because of our climate-control indoor living, we mostly take the existence of trees for granted-- their quietude can lead us to overlook their aliveness.
As this show is happening, the local government's ambitions of commercial development could experientially affect the famous gingko tree lane in Tokyo's Jingu-mae neighborhood. Going ahead with this enormous steel-and-glass project might irreparably damage the botanic atmosphere of an arboreal sanctuary beloved by locals and tourists for generations. This is not necessarily surprising. The Japanese have a very ambivalent relationship with trees. For every older tree they fix buttresses upon so that they may thrive, exponentially more will have their foliage butchered because a mess of fallen leaves on the sidewalk is an "inconvenience."
This show is a reminder that we need trees, not just in the Imperial Palace, but all along our streets, boulevards, avenues, and parks. They are worth our examination, love, and gratitude. We are better off with their shade and shelter, a place under the sun. They are the antidote to endless doom-scrolling-- reminding us of the passage of seasons and our finite moment on Earth. Ask yourself how many more times will you smell the spring flowers or trample maple leaves underfoot?
The sticks and leaves used in the installations were gathered in Kyoto's Imperial Palace grounds. All of the images are handmade darkroom 8x10 C-prints.
SEAN LOTMAN
A native of Los Angeles with a background in narrative fiction and darkroom color printing, Sean Lotman is the author of five photo books, including Sunlanders, Middle Life Notes, Amoeba, The Sniper Paused So He Could Wipe His Brow, and the forthcoming Puking Rainbows Past and Future. He lives in Kyoto, Japan, with his family, Ariko and Tennbo, and their dog, Monk.