MIHO KAJIOKA - And, do you still hear the peacocks?

A new book by Miho Kajioka published by a Belgium gallery Ibasho and a French publisher the (M) éditions about her experiences following the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster on March 11, 2011, and her return to art.

“This book is my requiem for the last ten years. My new chapter has started from 2011 and it will end when this book is done…
Right after the accident, I found a blog about peacocks that were left in the evacuation zone, within the 20 km limit. I then began imagining those peacocks, walking around the empty town with their beautiful wings spread…
[W]hen I went back to Japan, I took a break from producing art to learn about the world and life. I changed jobs every year, met many people, traveled to different places, and then I ended up working as a journalist producing TV news and documentaries. It lasted for more than ten years. I was sad not to be doing art, however I knew that one day, the time to return to art would come for sure.
For more than a month after the disaster, we could not go back to Tokyo. We covered many stories. I found a lot of stories that touched me deeply, however those were not very suitable for TV news. When I started to feel frustrated about that, I found pink roses blooming beautifully in the middle of rubble in Kamaishi, where many people had been washed away by the tsunami. The roses bloomed simply because it was spring. That beautiful and uncomplicated statement by those roses were beyond our thoughts. They taught me that it was the time to return to art. I finally heard the scream inside of me.”
― from Miho Kajioka's afterword

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A new book by Miho Kajioka published by Ibasho and the (M)éditions about her experiences following the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster of March 11, 2011, and her return to art.

“This book is my requiem for the last ten years. My new chapter began in 2011 and it will end when this book is finished…
Right after the accident, I found a blog about peacocks left in the evacuation zone, within the 20 km limit. I then started to imagine these peacocks, walking around the empty city with their beautiful wings deployed…
[W]hen I returned to Japan, I took a break from art production to learn more about the world and life. I changed jobs every year, met a lot of people, traveled to different places, and then ended up working as a journalist producing TV news and documentaries. This lasted for over ten years. I was sad not to make art, but I knew that one day the time to return to art would definitely come.
For over a month after the disaster, we were unable to return to Tokyo. We covered many stories. I found many stories that touched me deeply, but they were not very suitable for television news. When I began to feel frustrated about this, I found pink roses blooming beautifully amidst the rubble in Kamaishi, where many people had been swept away by the tsunami. The roses bloomed simply because it was spring. This beautiful and simple statement of these roses was beyond our thoughts. They taught me that it was time to return to art. I finally heard the cry inside me.
― from the afterword by Miho Kajioka