[Special Feature: 30 Years of SFC] SFC and Me: Weaving the Meaning of the Future and the Past

In 2003, I entered the Faculty of Environment and Information Studies and became a first-generation student of the "Information Design Seminar" launched by Professor Akira Wakita (currently Dean of the Faculty of Environment and Information Studies), who arrived at SFC the following year. I received various inspirations from the professor. During my time as a student, I received strict guidance and a grade of "D." After graduation, I had the opportunity to contribute a short essay to the professor's book (a somewhat unexpected development considering my grades). Later, as the professor gradually intensified his activities as an artist, he recently appeared as a guest on a program where I serve as a personality at an FM radio station.

There, the professor mentioned that he views writing papers like music production.

Indeed, it seems quite interesting to overlay the metaphor of a music album when presenting a paper to the world. For example, one might decide to write a paper with the intention of including it in an album like "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." The author views the multiple papers to be released not as individual units, but as a group of works with a sense of unity under a certain concept. It is as if the single paper currently being written is the opening track. Rather than the act of releasing all songs at once, it is a declaration of intent to the world and to oneself toward a series of productions that are about to begin. As the work progresses, one can naturally form a plan for how to close the album with a certain song.

Moreover, this metaphor seems capable of expanding beyond the future-oriented framework of this "next album." For example, after three or four albums' worth of work (multiple papers or some kind of work) have been released, one can select songs from all the songs produced in the past based on perspectives such as "songs by George Harrison" or "live recorded songs" and re-weave them into a separate album. Then, a concept album with a completely different quality from the meanings projected so far emerges. When looking back on one's own journey, the meaning of the past becomes multi-layered.

Putting aside conventional interpretations of the past and looking at multiple events from a new perspective requires great effort. Relativizing an unconscious framework of thought means moving away from the cognitive patterns one has become familiar with. It is even an act of dismantling one's own accumulated history.

I recall the constellation "Canis Minor." As a hunting dog looking up at the heroic hunter Orion, it is often depicted in illustrations in a posture looking up at Orion. However, if you look closely, the stars that make up the constellation are only two: Procyon and Gomeisa. Even if you connect them with a line, they only form a single straight line. It is difficult to find the image of a "small dog" from this. But people once certainly found a "small dog" here.

It is easy to simply connect stars, that is, points. Can one form the image of a small dog after connecting the lines? The work of extracting new meaning when looking back at the past is exactly like drawing this "small dog" in one's mind.

It is said that the Tuvan language used by the Tuvan people of Inner Mongolia has a reversed correspondence between time and direction compared to Japanese or English. In Japanese and English, the "future" is in front and the "past" is behind. "The day after tomorrow" is located on the other side, and the past is always something to "look back" on. On the other hand, in the world of the Tuvan language, the past stretches out "in front of one's eyes" and the future stretches out "behind." It seems counterintuitive, but if you think about it carefully, this also makes sense. People are walking backward while turning their backs to the future. Only the past enters the field of vision. Only the past that has gone by is reflected in the eyes, and the future never enters the field of vision.

This also matches the sensibilities of those of us living in the world of Japanese (and English). Furthermore, it overlaps with the "rearview mirror view of society" proposed by sociologist Marshall McLuhan. We are driving a car toward the future. But the future society is not visible beyond the windshield. Society only appears as a passing image in the rearview mirror.

History appears as a coincidence at the moment it happens, but it becomes an inevitability when looking back. We find meaning retrospectively in the past reflected in the rearview mirror. But after a while, we can look into the mirror once more and continue thinking with increased materials. Meaning changes its form many times. That is why we can weave an album from a different perspective. And then, we plan the concept for the next album.

I will take the liberty of declaring here that I want to weave some kind of album with Professor Wakita. Starting from a "D" during my student days, we have reached a relationship where we can somehow have a dialogue after graduation. If we can stack more unexpected coincidences from here on and do some kind of work, I feel that it would be like making a new constellation emerge.