Installation, SUMIDA EXPO 2022/ BOSAI ART AWARD Rainwater, glass jars, 2022 Water is an element very familiar to us, and undeniably vital for human existence and life itself. The gentle murmur of a river evokes nostalgia. The glistening dew on park leaves after a rain never fails to inspire admiration. Yet water can reveal an alternate aspect, too. I recall a friend who lost her father to the sea. To this day, she cannot face the ocean. I grapple with comprehending how the babbling brook, the dew-kissed grass, and the ocean's waves are all manifestations of the same water. Once, in Sumida Ward, stood a decaying wooden "Rojison" – a reservoir collecting rainwater for emergencies. Witnessing raindrops gradually erode solid form, I rekindled a nearly forgotten reverence for nature's might. Sumida's history is interwoven with water, nurturing industries along rivers and weathering the toll of floods. Moreover, during the Jomon period, the Sumida area was submerged beneath the sea. With global warming, this fate could recur. A history of diverse disasters shapes the region, propelling people to confront challenges and craft resilient communities. Everything with form is destined to shatter. Can we embrace the notion that all things eventually conclude? Seeking to reaffirm the terror and beauty encompassed by "water," I harness the expansive force of freezing water within a bottle to rupture it from within. Each shattered bottle stands as a unique testament, illustrating water's pulsating existence. Ice, momentarily warped into a tool, serenely metamorphoses back to its original state, permeating floors and evaporating into air. Its presence often fades from immediate consciousness, yet the lasting remnants are the misshapen bottles. Reality demands only silent contemplation. Breathing in awe of nature, I acknowledge that inevitably water will meld into my very being.