Florian Ruiz, Fukushima invisible pain
from TWTGE the end of the world/a new beginning issue, February 2014
Photography is a magical thing, you can create something powerful with cheap stuff and overcome the fear in order to tell the truth. The human eye and the pain captured by a simple pinhole: this is the work of Florian Ruiz who tells us, in seasons, a terrible year in Fukushima. On 11 March 2011 after the tsunami Tōhoku, Dai-ichi nuclear power plant in Fukushima suffered heavy damage. Florian took his pinhole and captured the invisible pain of radiation. This project earned him the second prize in the conceptual category for the World Photography 2013.
Hi Florian, please introduce yourself.
After Law and History studies, I am now a teacher. I started teaching in Syria and that allowed me to travel around. At the beginning I intended to have a kind of « humanist » point of view in desperate, stained, and disillusioned social situations, expressing the atmospheres, feelings, and sensations of desolate places. So, I took pictures of the intimacy of prostitutes’rooms in Pakistan, the frustrated hopes in a mining town in Mongolia, the day workers’ vagrancy in a forgotten area of Osaka... I try to capture the in-between, life at the margins, and borderlines of lives and places. I am currently using rudimentary photographic equipment, a pinhole camera, to capture the ghostly of the destroyed interiors of dwellings and the intimacy of people in the aftermath of the tsunami that wrecked havoc in Japan. My ambition now is to test the bounds of photography by challenging its ability to render an image of what is invisible by means of time and distortion. I am currently living and working in Tokyo. My most recent work, « Fukushima, invisible pain » is second in the Conceptual category for (the) World Photography 2013 (competition) and finalist of the International Emerging Artist Award 2013.
What is your relationship with nature?
As a city dweller I’m in love with the urban jungle. After 7 years spent in Japan , I’ve learnt to conceive nature under a new angle. I realise that I’ve been influenced by the Japanese shintoist way of life. This approach results in the respect of the strength and beauty of nature. This relationship with nature also modifies time perception since nothing lasts; everything can be destroyed by a natural phenomenom like an earthquake or a typhoon. We have to cherish fleeting instants. Much to my surprise, from now on, I can be touched by cherry blossom trees. (Why? Don’t leave it hanging here as it seems like an abrupt thought with no explanations.)
20 years from now, how do you think the World will look?
Like Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said « You’re not supposed to expect the future but to make it happen».
Talks us about Fukushima, invisible pain.
Within the natural environment and in the areas surrounding cities across Fukushima prefecture, I have captured the invisible pain of radiation. With an ear to the rhythm of the seasons as in traditional Japanese engravings and inspired by their refined, uncluttered style, I hoped to capture the fleeting moments, the movements of climatic phenomena, and the ever shifting perceptions of nature, where radiation accumulates the most. I used a pinhole camera with long exposure times to create a record of the presence of radioactive danger. A dosimeter measured the level of radiation in milliSieverts (μSv) received during each exposure. Each photo is an accumulation of visual fragments taken in the same location but from different angles, always accompanied by the radiation level to which my film was exposed. The result is a combination of all those elements. A process of staggered super impression creates a vibration, a departure from the reality of the subject that reveals the presence of radiation in the image. The process reinvents and twists the very landscape, leading to a sort of vertigo or malaise linked to the quivering of the invisible. My ambition with this project was to find a balance and organization in a chaotic world, while emphasizing the intransience of beauty.
Why and how did you start this project?
On March 11th, I was in Tokyo. Two days later I was living in the south of Japan to avoid the incoming radioactive cloud as much as possible. Then when I came back, I felt it necessary to go to devastated places and make a photographic subject of the destroyed interiors. It seemed obvious to me that I had to show this chaos through feelings more than objective reality. I remembered then an interview of my favourite jazz musician, John Coltrane, who said about his music: « I don’t know what i’m looking for, …, Something that hasn’t been played before. I don’t know what it is. I know I’ll have that feeling when I get it. » The idea to take pictures about « the invisible pain » was born, show something I had never seen before.
Which message would you want to send?
My aim was to capture a kind of no man’s land in nature. I wanted to show a dehumanized world like a French movie from the 80’s , « Malvil », that made a deep impression on me. The entire western part of France was destroyed by a nuclear apocalypse. I kept this in mind with the cinematographic shot of landscapes emptied of life and enveloped in a cloak of black mist.
What do you hope people will get out of viewing your photography?
I’d like to portray beauty in the perceived chaos. Then also to suggest a link between a contemporary form of photography and a kind of abstract painting such as some of (first name) Turner’s landscapes.
Were not you afraid of radiation? (Did you use some protection or measuring device?)
Of course I am, but a friend of mine working for the French company AREVA who specializes in nuclear matters gave me a dosimeter to know the level of radiation. He gave me some advice like throughly cleaning my hands before eating and to wash my clothes each evening. I also brought most of my food with me.
How was this experience?
I was really intimidated at the beginning since the danger is invisible. My only point of reference was my dosimeter that rang sometimes during the night when the radiation level rose faster. For the amount of time I spent there, the exposure level was reasonable. It was during the spring season that radiation levels were higher because of the rain. Once I was in a school playground in Fukushima city (picture with the cherry blossom tree) speaking with children who learned some French. Suddenly it started raining and the teachers started yelling « Abunai, Abunai... » « danger, danger ... ». They immediately left the place to go inside to avoid the radioactive drops.
Do you encounter trouble with the local authorities? Did they hinder you?
I didn’t have any trouble because I always stayed in the authorised perimeter which was 30 km away from the nuclear power station.
Which are your instruments for work?
For the pictures I used a very cheap plastic camera, a wide pinhole Holga 120 WPC and a dosimeter to measure the radiactivity during the time exposure.
Why did you choose a pinhole?
I use a pinhole to portray the unexpected, the fortuitous, and the deformed as a multiple reality. It allows me to distort the colors and shapes, to capture unreal aesthetic of the devastated interior created by the Japanese tsunami. Such tools allow me also to capture the Fukushima landscape as time unfolds.
Which type of film do you use?
I use medium format (6x12) because I like their density and that allows me to print a variety of sizes.
What you think about digital technology ? It destroying the analogic world or creating nostalgia?
I don’t like the featureless and cold aspect of digital pictures. This technology brings an overabundance of stereotyped pictures.
You have some future projects?
From now on, my work is focused on the way to catch things that usually you can’t see. More and more, I move towards abstract photography. I’ve started a subject about ghost towns in China and about sacred places in Japan that used to be described as « space of invisibly visible forms».
Where people can find you and your works?
www.florianruiz.com