Toshio
Iwai doesn't consider himself an animator. He told me this during our daily
walks over the three weeks we worked together selecting competition films
for the Hiroshima International Animation Festival. As we walked, we never
talked about the films or the screening process. We talked about our own artwork.
Iwai has been called a "cult figure" and a "truly great multimedia
artist." He may not consider himself an animator, but at the Hiroshima
Festival, animators were talking about his work more than they talked about
any of the films in competition.
Iwai is an innovative multimedia artist working with new technologies. The
concepts for his installations spring from the archaeological roots of the
motion picture. This intersection of pre-cinematic devices and modern technology
creates a hybrid that allows viewers to reconsider the media in their modern
lives.
Like many children, Iwai doodled in the margins of his school notebooks and
made little flipbooks on the pages' corners. He was a science buff. But, unlike
many children, these were not casual interests. As a nine year-old, he had
created a sketchbook with drawings of inventions, motors, propellers, light
bulbs and gears. He even built hand-cranked and mechanical toys. His parents
encouraged his interest in science and invention, bought him books on crafts
and tools, and even joined him making toys on weekends.
Antiques and Modernity Collide In college (1982), Iwai did a series of
Phenakistoscopes, using a Xerox machine to create the multiple pie-shaped
images which were glued onto the black slotted disc. Much of the imagery has
a Japanese reference. Strings ooze in and out like soba noodles. We see a
running horse, resembling the photo studies of Eadweard Muybridge, but these
have been pushed out of a layer of rice, the horse defined by the negative
space. An origami-folded paper crane gently lifts wings in flight.
In college, Iwai made a scratch film and
flipbooks, but then began researching the roots of cinema. He discovered three
pre-cinema toys which inspired his installation pieces: the Phenakistoscope,
the Zoetrope, and a hand-cranked music box.
The Phenakistoscope was invented in 1832 and is attributed by some historians
to Joseph Plateau. This optical toy uses persistence
of vision to simulate movement. Evenly spaced slits are cut in the edge of
a thin disc about the size of a dinner plate. The device is black on one side,
with slightly differing drawings on the other. The viewer spins the
disc and looks into a mirror at the drawings through the slits. The slits
create a strobe and the illusion of movement.
The Zoetrope, or "wheel of life," was another source of inspiration
for Iwai. This 1834 device is similar to the Phenakistoscope, but it does
not require a mirror. The slits are cut into a cylinder which spins on a turntable,
with strips of drawings on the inside base of the drum.
In 1988, Iwai began constructing 3D Zoetropes, inspired by Etienne-Jules Marey's
experiments with placing three dimensional models, rather than drawings, into
the Zoetrope canister.
An Iwai Experience
After hearing about his work, I was eager
to see Toshio's interactive installations at the Festival. I had arrived a
day early, and looked for him, ready to offer installation assistance. The
signs were not yet up, but music drew me to the space. The room was darkened,
but the installations were all up and running. Three Zoetropes marked the
entrance, a wall of Phenakistoscopes were spinning near a bank of televisions,
and, in the middle of the room, three eerie crystal domes pulsated with moving
shapes and light. I felt like I was visiting a cinema museum on a spaceship.
Or were these crystal balls offering a vision of the future? Whatever it was,
I put down my catalog and decided to explore.
The Zoetropes could be hand cranked, and included a human figure modeled
from clay, and a worm shape moving up stairs. At first, I thought the interiors
were projected, and I peered over the top to assure myself that they were
real models. The light seemed almost silvery, magical, and I couldn't figure
out why. Later, I asked Toshio about this. I don't think this would be a
trade secret - he told me the clay figures were painted with golden acrylic
paint, reflected in silver paper edging the slits.
The Phenakistoscopes were framed in wooden boxes, under glass, displayed
as moving paintings. Curiously, there was no strobe light, or cut slits,
but they were animated nonetheless. In 1990, Iwai had developed a Step Motion
system. These stepping motors created intermittent movement, so that the
images moved constantly, so fast that the intermittence was not visible.
It was elegant, and it looked effortless. That is, until one began to question
how this animated movement could be achieved without strobe lights or slits.
The "crystal ball" installations,
from the Time Stratum series, were compelling. The largest piece was
a pyramid-like structure. Inside, 120 little paper dolls of the artist wearing
a TV head were mounted on a disc three feet in diameter, surrounding a reflective
silver ball. These dolls gyrated, moved in and away from each other, turned,
and rotated. It was like a crowded dance floor of choreographed clones.Three
slightly smaller domes vibrated with metamorphic plants, animals and crystals.
Video monitors were suspended above each dome, tube down, playing a strobe
light signal with changing colors and rhythms. At one point, the video signal
stopped strobing and the disc just swirled past, a blur of movement. By showing
us the video strobe and the effect, Iwai intentionally exposed the technology
for us. With the changing colors synchronized to music composed by Iwai, I
stayed for a long time enjoying these reconfigured Zoetropes.
Musical, Digital Insects In 1990, inspired by this technology,
he created a computer game called Music Insects, as a tool for visual
music performance. In the game, the player can make marks with a mouse, which
are akin to the punches on the music roll. On the screen little insects react
with sound, direction and color changes when they hit a mark. Later, he made
a more complex version of this for Nintendo, called Sound Fantasy.
The third pre-cinema inspirational toy for Iwai was a hand-cranked antique
music box. This little toy uses paper cards, punched like the rolls on a player
piano. It also came with a punch, so that the owner could create their own
musical punchcards. Iwai found this device intriguing -- an early depiction
of "visual music."
Unfortunately, this game was never launched
commercially, so in 1996, he released a more
developed version as the CD-ROM Sim Tunes
in collaboration with Maxis, Inc. In these games, as with the hand-cranked
music box, one can see the notation for the music visually on the screen,
just as one does on the paper rolls that can be held in the hand. The punch
one makes on a paper roll plays a note when it passes the music box. On the
computer, one makes a mark, and when it passes an insect, it plays a note.
But there were added elements that only could be achieved with the computer.
For instance, the marks one makes not only create a sound, but also a visual
animation to go with that sound. Plus, a "Starfly" insect would
create music automatically. The program could also generate new music based
on the player's composition. The Permanent Works
After the festival, I went to Tokyo to see
Seven Memories of Media Technology, Iwai's permanent installation at
the InterCommunication Center (ICC). Like seven
haiku poems, these pieces combined digital and physical technology fragments,
activated through a touch screen. In one, a real flipbook was under glass.
As one touched the glass, a wire frame computer generated flipbook was projected
on the paper pages. With one's touch, one could flip forward, backward, at
different speeds. In a version of the visual music box, one's touch created
small lines of light which flew onto a rotating disc. As the disc rotated
past a music box, notes were played. At each rotation, some of the notes (and
sound) disappeared, some stayed. I was sure I was annoying the gallery guard
by making so much sound for so long. However, when I returned later to these
installations, I found the gallery guard playing with the same piece.
In recent years, Iwai has created several
public installations, including remote Internet
projects. He currently has permanent installations at the San Francisco Exploratorium,
the Nadia Park in Nagoya, Japan, and the ICC in Tokyo. Early this year, I caught up with Toshio
via e-mail. He was in Seoul, Korea, building an installation at the National
Museum of Contemporary Art. He would soon return to Tokyo, where he is an
artist in residence at the Mixed Reality Systems Laboratory, creating new
pieces for the 1st International Symposium on Mixed Reality to be held next
March in Yokohama, Japan. Iwai will also install a permanent work for the
new digital gallery of the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television
in Bradford, England next April. After that? Whatever it is, it's bound
to be interesting.
Deanna Morse is an animator and Professor in the School of Communications
at Grand Valley State University, Michigan. She serves on the International
Board of ASIFA (Association International du Film d'Animation) and is President
of the midwest U.S. chapter, ASIFA/Central.
Links:
[1] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4534
[2] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4535
[3] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4536
[4] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4537
[5] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4538
[6] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4539
[7] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/4540
