Rei Hayama (b. 1987, Tokyo, Japan; based in Tokyo)
"On the collinear and reflected on the water" 2018
Video (H.264, 1440x1080, 24fps, 50Mbps) (4:00 min.)
Courtesy of the artist and Empty Gallery, Hong Kong

During the pandemic, I was very lucky to live in a small house surrounded by trees and the ocean on an islet in Hong Kong, which helped tremendously to ease the fear of eschatology in the time of quarantine and lockdown. The soothing power of nature is unquestionable, it humbles you when realizing all of your surroundings are larger than life itself. In these moments, I believe art can transmit such energy and help us understand more non-human centered intelligence than ever.

When I came across Rei Hayama’s artwork a few years ago, I was immediately struck by her sensitivity to images and her relationship with nature. In On the collinear and reflected on the water, one enters a hypnotic journey while listening to the protagonist recount a strangely intimate encounter with an emu against the backdrop of projected and re-photographed film footage showing the bird behind bars at the zoo. As Hayama filmed the emu, she noticed a tear dropping from the corner of its eye, suggesting a complex reflection and miniaturization of our inner and outer world—it evokes the selfishness of human behavior, the cruelty of disaster, and more. This magical moment captures and enlarges, frame by frame, the sense of deep anxiety and guilt that emerges from staring at the emu, or visa-versa. It is as if the more you look at the bird, the more embarrassed you feel. During a pandemic and amidst ever accelerating contemporary tragedies, we wish for a sight of grief for relief, even if it’s as fleeting as a teardrop.

By Freya Chou (based in Hong Kong and Taipei, Taiwan)