When the nuclear reactors exploded at Fukushima on March 12, 2011 the world went into apocalyptic shock. A program system failure that would devour a generation and forever change a civilization.
The truth is, the nuclear plant explosions should have come as no surprise – a fated consequence of industrial design, technological advancement, and natural disaster. In Kurosawa’s 1990 film Dreams, he depicts a haunting foreshadowing of Fukushima through the sequence Mt. Fuji in Red. A power plant near Mount Fuji has begun to melt down sending plumes of color-coded smoke into the sky. Crowds of people run manically through the streets and into the ocean knowing that the radiation from the toxic clouds will eventually kill them.
It is Death by Design. Pre-programmed cell suicide. Every cell responds to a signal. When the signal is death, the cell boils then shrinks into a condensed mass to be swallowed by a neighboring cell. The process is neat so the organism can survive continuous cell death without injury or trauma. The Game of Life in action.
History looms heavy for Japan. The water is poisoned and the land is barren. The illusion has shattered. These formations bring movement and paralysis but never death. Cells change but can never disappear.
On the wall, images drift between the moment of explosion and collapse. When the cell knows its fate, and flowers to the surface of the skin. Pastel hues of ink fade into cotton candy dreamscapes. Fabric is worn and bundled. A kimono is strapped to the floor. It is the wake of a failed technological era. A de-evolution of cultural innovations. But the process remains. And each infinitesimal entropic mishap carries us through from heartache into bliss.
Text by Katerina Llanes
Ania Diakoff is an artist and designer living and working in Los Angeles. Her work takes an open approach to art and design practice, often crossing and collapsing contexts and mediums. She has degrees from the School of Visual Arts in New York and CalArts in Los Angeles.