Tokyo / Politiken / 2015
Between cloud and crust the ground flashes alternating colour with the same speed of the neon sparkled skyline; your vision permanently plugged into to new combinations of swatches of colour, arrow road markings and swirling red lights; firmly placed into the tarmac that serve to mechanise moving pedestrians.
From green painted rooftops pruned, rose-coloured scaffolding-like structures germinate and grow. The flying vehicles above enjoy the sight of them. During rainfall, black-stemmed umbrellas reflect the pastel-toned lighting back into the eyes of passer’s by. Petals become crimson, violet, rose. Amber, azure, turquoise.
Photosynthesis occurs also. During the daytime the dimmed neon lighting absorbs energy from above to spend throughout the night. The sun sets. Buildings breathe.
New buildings are born and treated tenderly. The gentle land now a maternity ward. A surgical white steel curtain (on wheels) is pulled across to give the building privacy from the thousands of public eyes during labour. A light festival ensues at the gate to the ward, making people both aware and joyful of the new-born. A careful selection of lights (mostly red) illuminate the pathway, and a host of stewards dressed in flashing vests holding neon candles man the area (one of whom is chosen, notably, to create a mural from light cable across the partition).
Save for a difference in decibels, the affectionate bleeps of street vacuums are easy to confuse with that of a smooth-moving police car; this combined with high-decibel J-Pop beaming from tower-sized amplifiers accompanying video commercials while the silent, focused many surge through the labyrinth below.