Fluid dynamics: engineering an artform for the future
WHEN Japan's Kyoto University started offering courses in high polymer chemistry in the early 1960s, Ichi Ikeda saw a promising future for the technology and became part of the country's first batch of students to undertake research in the field.
But now he wants nothing to do with the industry that produces such materials as styrofoam, nylon and vinyl. 'They pollute the environment today,' he says. 'And I have a responsibility to society [for helping to develop such products].' To expunge his guilt, the 55-year-old engineer-cum-artist became a 'green' activist with a special interest in water. 'I want to do something through art to show the importance of the resource. It is art for the future.' Specifically, it is art for Earth's sake. Using water as his medium, Ikeda creates installations that demonstrate not only the significance of water but also its vitality and unpredictability.
His 'Water Market' exhibition at the gallery 1a:space tries to do even more. It invites viewers to work together as 'water senders' - a loose term for anyone involved in the project who is concerned about the conservation of water - 'sending water to future generations, regardless of cultural, national or religious differences'.
It is part of his aptly titled 'Arcing Ark' project, which includes two outdoor installations at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. The focus is a 50-metre bamboo boat called Big Arrow, which points towards the Sai Kung waterfront. Built by local bamboo master Leung Bing-kei and engineering students, it symbolises the 'loading and carrying of water essential for our future'.
Ikeda has an avuncular air that makes him endearing and approachable. He also comes across as a highbrow professor with important concepts to convey. Unfortunately, his message is sometimes lost in the medium, especially when he speaks of new 'networks' and 'systems' he is trying to create through art.
But occasionally he does come down to earth. 'Water is common in daily life - for washing and drinking,' he says. 'Water Market shows other uses of water, that it can be used to connect us all.' To demonstrate this, he links photographs of 60 'water senders' (30 from Japan, the rest from Hong Kong) with thin, transparent hoses, creating a dynamic effect that resembles the human circulatory system. Ikeda includes a photo of each participant's face, drenched in water. Below is a shot of his/her hands cupping water ('the hands communicate the message 'please pass on this water to the future',' he says) and at the bottom is a picture of the sender's feet, symbolising action.
The water carried through the tubes starts from plastic bottles and ends in pails, which contain messages viewers are urged to read. But the notes beneath the bubbles neither seek to educate nor persuade. Nowhere are there any World Bank predictions about water scarcity or scientific facts.
All they refer to are the oceans to which the flowing water is dedicated. So while one bucket is 'For the Atlantic Ocean', another is 'For the Indian Ocean', and so on.
To encourage viewers to get into the spirit of things, wash basins and mirrors are provided at the opposite end of the gallery. Just how many people will actually splosh themselves in public - and be enlightened by doing so - is hard to foresee, though one suspects the work will appeal mainly to the already-converted.
It is probably safe to say, however, that few would be as obsessed with water as Ikeda, who has created installations around the world called Waterhenge, Water Mirror and Water Diary. But while he now spouts a green message, his original reason for using water as an artform grew not from an altruistic desire to be environmentally correct. Rather it was the result of working with performers, whose movements on stage he directed.
'In the early 1980s, when I was an art director, I was controlling how people moved, manipulating them,' he says. 'But I found I didn't like restraining people in this way.' In a bid to 'free' his dancers and actors, he built a large water tank and encouraged them to take a dip while at the same time using the water's surface as a keyboard.
This kooky idea proved to him that most people have great difficulty allowing themselves to act without preconceptions and inhibition. They wanted to play do-re-mi-fah-soh-lah-ti-do, he says, but found they could not do so in water because the substance has its own sounds - 'picha, picha, picha' (Japanese onomatopoeia for the sound of a splash) - and cannot be controlled. They also had an image of how they should look playing the piano and could not cope with their actual movements in the tank.
'So they didn't do it well,' he says.
Unable to coax his performers to swim with the tide, he took it upon himself to perform on what he called his 'water piano'. Recalling the event, he hunches his back, curves his fingers and starts banging away at an air piano, bringing imaginary notes to life.
The effect is at once comical and captivating. But he does not allow himself to disappear into this fluid world. Midstream through the impromptu performance, he says with evident distaste: 'People usually think before acting. What I want is action and reaction.' That, he stresses, is true improvisation. And true freedom from control.
Water Market continues until March 28 at 1a:space, 1F Block E, 12 Oil Street, North Point; Phone 2529-0087. Big Arrow continues until March 28 at Hong Kong University of Science and Technology; Phone 2358-6147.
