SHIGETA KOBAYASHI

The Shape of the Plateau

In the fall of 2022, during a residency at the Kumonodaira Mountain Hut in the Northern Alps of Japan, I became interested in the shapes of the marshland ponds scattered around the hut. I may never have been so aware of shape itself before. The word “shape” refers to the appearance, outline, or form of something. As I focused on the shape of the ponds while photographing them, I found myself reflecting on the gradual formation of both the ponds and the ecosystems stirring within them in that very moment, all while overlooking the Kumonodaira plateau.

Two years later, when I revisited Kumonodaira in the summer, my attention this time was drawn to the shapes of rocks and trees. Observing the exposed rocks on the nearby mountain slopes visible from the mountain hut, I initially felt a distant sense of time while imagining them as the remnants of the volcanic eruption that shaped the plateau. However, when I realized that no vegetation grew there due to the lack of sunlight, which caused the winter snow to melt more slowly, the distant past suddenly felt much closer—as if the event were unfolding right at my feet. As I walked across the plateau, I also noticed a particular group of trees, tall and sparsely branched. They had developed a unique shape from exposure to blizzards during the harsh winter months, while the shorter surrounding trees, shielded from the blizzards by the accumulated snow, retained a vibrant and healthy appearance. This contrast between life that cannot survive without snow and life that thrives because of it made me realize that my perception of the “harsh winter” was only one facet of a much larger picture. Looking upon the imposing rocks, likely formed during the eruption that created the plateau, and the eerie drift of branches on trees that have survived many winters, it seemed as though my very attitude toward capturing something—visiting this place only at my convenience—was being subtly called into question.

The rocks, trees, and ponds each create unique relationships with their surroundings, and it is these very interactions that makes their shapes so captivating, as if appearing to hint at events that have unfolded on this plateau. I roamed the Kumonodaira landscape, driven solely by a curiosity to “listen” to these forms which, in one sense, are a kind of language. Nevertheless, if I consider the observed scenery using a time scale that cuts through the plateau, even the most striking natural phenomena are nothing more than fleeting moments, while the shapes of the rocks, trees, and ponds that define the landscape are constantly and subtly changing.

When I revisited the site of a certain pond I had photographed two years earlier, I found that, due to the ongoing summer drought, the water in the pond had dried up. While there were no other noticeable changes, this was enough to prompt reflection on what lay beneath the visible surface. By sitting before the pond and attempting to glimpse the moment its shape appears fixed, it might be possible to imagine the vast passage of time that has shaped the pond’s present form and the ecosystem within. This can be likened to tracing the texture of a rock with one’s fingers, or following the branching pattern of a tree with one’s eyes.

Unfathomable and yet undeniably present, each is immersed in its own distinct time. As I engaged with these forms, I sensed that the shape of the Kumonodaira plateau was subtly revealing itself.

by Shigeta Kobayashi

The Mirror of Memory

The sky reflected on the water’s surface, the texture of moss and mud, black volcanic rock and the grasslands that envelop it, trees standing half-ossified in the alpine zone, mountain ranges stretching into the distance.

As I turn the pages of Shigeta Kobayashi’s photo collection one by one, I find myself descending, almost unknowingly, into the depths of memory that form the very fabric of this world. His images evoke the gaze of “time” that unravels the stories of existence. Behind the current forms of both living and non-living entities, humans and the earth alike—all things, on any scale—lies a vast backdrop of countless phenomena spanning millions of years, and the emergence and dissolution of relationships. It is the traces of these immense events that have given shape to the landscapes and forms we see today.

The relationships between the marshland ponds, volcanic rock, and trees that Kobayashi captured at Kumonodaira also form a layer of memory. Take a step into this realm and the boundaries between individual events dissolve in the blink of an eye.

The terrain that characterizes the gentle landscape of Kumonodaira was shaped by lava from volcanic eruptions that occurred 100,000 years ago. How, then, can beautiful grassy plains covered with marshland ponds and alpine vegetation exist in such a seemingly barren place, where peeling away the top layer will reveal only rock beneath? In this cold and damp alpine environment, microbial and fungal activity is limited, and the remains of dead plants do not decompose fully. This results in the formation of a dense, clay-like peat layer, which acts as an impermeable barrier, while groundwater flows just beneath the surface. It is in places where the clay, water, and volcanic rock intersect that the formation/phenomenon of marshland ponds arises, around which small clusters of alpine wetland plants such as rock cress and alpine sedge establish themselves. Even the seemingly universal presence of rock is in constant flux. Volcanic rocks, which easily absorb moisture, soon become covered with lichens and moss. The organic acids they secrete gradually dissolve the rock, converting it into nutrients that plants can absorb. When the nutcracker drops seeds of the dwarf stone pine, the seeds eventually sprout, drawing minerals from the rock as they grow. The rock slowly transforms into the pine, and over tens of thousands of years, a vast sea of dwarf stone pine slowly extends outwards.

Rocks become plants, plants turn to soil, and soil forms a water basin, while the ponds’ surface reflects the dreams of every season. We “momentarily” refer to this particular stage in a ceaseless process of transformation as “Kumonodaira.” When we realize that the landscape before our eyes is a trace of innumerable memories, we also come to understand the fragility and brilliance of our own lives.

by Jiro Ito (Owner, Kumonodaira Mountain Hut)