#shinzo maeda

[gacougnol]

Shinzo Maeda

[yama-bato]

 Shinzo Maeda

https://www.onlandscape.co.uk/2011/03/master-photographer-shinzo-maeda/

[fashionbooksmilano]

Sakura, sogni paralleli

a cura di Anna Bonometto

testi di Giorgio Celli, Vilma Costantini, 

fotografia : Franco Fontana, Shinzo Maeda, Hiroshi Fujita, Fumio Takahashi

art director Francesco D’Avino

Cassa di Risparmio di Vignola, (anni '80), 87 pagine, 30,5 x 30 cm

euro 35,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Le riproduzioni delle stampe di epoca Edo sono state gentilmente concesse dal Museo Nazionale d’Arte Orientale di Roma.

Le fotografie della vallata vignolese sono state eseguite da Franco Fontana, quelle giapponesi da Shinzo Maeda, Hiroshi Fujita, Fumio Takahashi.

I testi poetici giapponesi molti dei quali tradotti per la prima volta in italiano, spaziano dall’epoca Nara sino ai giorni nostri e sono stati tratti dalle più importanti raccolte. Alle poesie fanno seguito, a fine testo, note esplicative.

31/01/23

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[takmiblog]

(https://www.yuyakekoyake.jp/exhibition/shinzo_maeda.html)

前田真三

Shinzo Maeda

[the-monkey-ruler]

Shinzo (2000) 爆裂战士マシュランボー

Director: Tetsuo Imasa / Kenji Nakamura / Haruo Kosaka / Toshiaki Komura / Miyo Sasaki / Mitsuo Hashimoto / Tomoharu Arata Edited by: Izumi Higashido / Makoto Kanjima / Kenichi Kaneka / Hiroyuki Kawasaki / Yukito Nonaka / Kenichi Yamada / Yōmichi Shirai Starring: Minami Takayama / Yuko Minakuchi / Yasuhiko Kawazu / Naosuke Tatsuta / Atsushi Kashiwagi / Kyoko Yamada / Ai Maeda / Tsuyoshi Hisakawa / Atsushi Kashiichi / Tomoe Sato / Junko Shimakata / Michitaka Kobayashi / Hideyuki Hori / Kenji Utsumi / Takashi Nakao / Mami Koyama / Toshio Furukawa / Keiko Han / Hiroo Egawa / Takeshi Aono / Banjo Ginga / Takashi Koda / Koji Fukusaku / Kazuko Sugiyama / Takumi Yamazaki / Horinoku / Nobutake Tatsuya / Tomohisa Aso / Norio Tsukui / Ienaka Hiroshi / Chie Seguchi / Hitoshi Domon / Akira Tahara / Kazuya Ichijo / Masaya Takatsuki / Masaharu Sato / Mitsuo Iwata / Keiko Yamamoto / Kunihiko Yasui / Hikaru Midorikawa / Mami Kanazuki / Hisaya Suganuma / Chigusa Ikeda / Hiromi Konno / Daisuke Nari / Yuko Nagashima / Nobuo Satouchi / Daifumi Tanaka / Naosuki Imamura / Takayuki Inoue / Akiki Chatan / Munehiro Ehoku / Rie Aoki / Yo Murakami / Tsuyoshi Nishi / Tsuyoshi Toshita / Higashi Genre: Animation Official website: www.toei-anim.co.jp/tv/mashura/ Country/Region of Production: Japan Language: Japanese Date: 2000-02-05 (Japan) Number of epsiode: 32 Also known as: Mushrambo IMDb: tt0293741 Type: Reimanging

Summary:

In the distant past, the Guardian of the Milky Way galaxy named Lanancuras began to harbor a desire for more power. Because of his connection to the galaxy, he was able to absorb parts of planets and add them to his strength. As a result, he began invading the worlds he was assigned to protect. In the wake of his destruction, a following of creatures from across the galaxy pledged allegiance to Lanancuras and became known as the Kadrians. Taking notice of his ever-growing power and followers, the other Celestial Guardians confronted him; however, he had become too powerful, and they were defeated. Unable to subdue Lanancuras, the Celestial Guardians each gave up a part of their power and combined it into a single new Guardian, Mushra. In a final desperate attempt, they used Mushra's core by transforming it into a powerful card with which to seal Lanancuras in a prison. The prison was created from the remains of planets that had suffered under Lanancuras' tyranny. Because planets are themselves large beings, their combined strength (along with the power of the card) was able to restrain him. Thus Lanancuras was successfully sealed in a large meteorite.

The meteorite was sent off into the galaxy to be sealed forever. Meanwhile, the way Lanancuras had increased his strength had consequences on the planets of the Milky Way On Earth, around the 22nd century, it was in the shape of a virus that merged with human DNA and destroyed the humans that way. In order to eliminate the virus, scientists worked on combining human DNA with the DNA of animals and other creatures immune to the effects. They succeeded and created a sentient race known as Enterrans (a race of engineered Earthlings) which are based on humans, insects, reptiles, birds, sea creatures, wild beasts, and phantom beasts. Eventually, a cure was found and the human race survived.

However, due to Lanancuras' influence, the Enterrans fought their human creators as well as the robots that worked with the humans, driving the human race to a near extinction state. Luckily, a scientist named Dr. Daigo Tatsuro placed his 4-year-old daughter Yakumo in a sleep chamber in hopes that she would save the human race and find the human sanctuary Shinzo and bring peace back to Earth which was then renamed to Enterra. When the meteor that Lanancuras was imprisoned in struck Earth during the earlier parts of the Human-Enterran War, its fragment had struck an infant Yakumo giving her abilities that she would later discover.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shinzo

Link: https://kissanime.com.ru/Anime/Shinzo-Sub/

[de-salva]

... untitled

© Shinzo Maeda (1922–1998)

[rostanoide]

Eikoh Hosoe Man and woman #20 (1960) • Crédits : Eikoh Hosoe

Focus sur la photographie japonaise à la Médiathèque Rostand (partie 1)

Peut-on parler de photographie « japonaise » ? Oui parce que le pays du soleil levant dispose d’une véritable culture de la photographie comme en témoigne le nombre de grands photographes reconnus à un niveau international pour la qualité de leur production. Autre argument qui plaide en faveur de la photographie insulaire, le style de certains des plus grands maîtres qui a souvent engendré de véritables courants artistiques et inspiré les nouvelles générations de photographes à l’échelle planétaire. Historiquement, le Japon a découvert plutôt tardivement la photographie avant de rattraper allègrement son retard.

Comme toute île, la nouveauté ne pouvait que venir de la mer, sous la forme d’un navire hollandais qui accosta à Nagasaki en 1848 avec une caméra pour daguerréotype, une commande pour un certain Ueno Toshinojo. Il faudra attendre près de dix ans pour que la première image soit prise par le nouveau propriétaire de l’appareil, Ichiki Shiro. C’est à cette même période que des traités commerciaux sont signés avec les puissances occidentales (« Kaikoku »), des accords qui permettent l’importation et la diffusion du matériel photographique. Nous sommes alors en pleine ère Meiji, des studios de photo naissent, des photographes professionnels œuvrent à l’image d’Ushida Kuichi qui fournira le portrait officiel de l’empereur Meiji (une photographie « Goshin’ei », soit littéralement « vrai portrait »). Le collodion humide, utilisé majoritairement comme procédé de tirage, limite alors le nombre de pratiquants du fait de son coût élevé.

En 1864, Ryù Shima devient la première femme photographe japonaise, la pratique s’étend alors au monde amateur du fait de l’importation massive de plaques sèches à la gélatine et d’appareils de petites tailles peu onéreux. Les cartes postales illustrées par des spécialistes de l’estampe font alors fureur au Japon et en Europe. La première moitié du XXe siècle correspond à l’ère du pictorialisme (« Geijutsushashin ») avec la création de nombreux clubs et fondations dédiés à la photographie suivi de divers courants graphiques comme celui dit de la nouvelle photographie dans les années 20 (« Shinkôshashin », influence constructiviste) puis celui dit du photojournalisme (« Hodo-shashin ») après la 2e guerre mondiale avec des figures de proue comme Ken Domon (1909 – 1990), Yonosuke Natori (1910 – 1962) et Ihei Kimura (1901 – 1974).

Après la reddition du Japon en 1945, les mouvements d’avant-garde, le pictorialisme et le surréalisme disparaissent pour laisser place à une photographie documentaire et sociale qui interroge une société meurtrie et traumatisée. Dans les années 1970, de grands photographes s’imposent sur la scène internationale comme Eiko Hosoe, Shinzo Maeda, Naoya Hatakeyama, Hiroshi Sugimoto, Shomei Tomatsu, Daido Moriyama et Nobuyoshi Araki. Ces artistes se jouent du style académique et du carcan des conventions sociales et traditionnelles pour produire des images fortes, sans tabou, stylisées et puissantes qui racontent un autre Japon, loin des clichés habituels.

K

[maskedmuses-archived]

I don't know what happened, where I am, or whom I'm with, but I have woken up in naught but some boxer shorts and a top hat stuffed to the brim with 5000¥ notes.

Sinday asks! || Accepting only on Sinday

“That’s it, no more drinking nights between you and Turnip anymore. You know the dog always wins and Irey-san nor Ochaco-chan are here to help me deal with this situation.”

[paolo-streito-1264]

Shinzo Maeda. Walking in the fields, 1957.

[sunkentreasurecove]

[artherbarium]

Shinzo Maeda (1922–1998)

[gacougnol]

Shinzo Maeda

Biei

Hokkaido, Japan, 1989

[yzareenxiv]

Falling Apart

This is gospel for the fallen ones Locked away in permanent slumber Assembling their philosophies From pieces of broken memories

This is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my--

Zareen sat on one of the highest roofs she could find in Shirogane, watching a winter storm cause massive whitecaps and deep troughs far out in the wide-open sea. Her hands itched and ached. Her stomach and side ached and burned faintly with the last vestiges of the poisoned teeth the huge koja had spat at her. It would not scar her body, but she felt the sickness of stomach and the pressure in her head that spoke of other scars.

Arden and C'arha had been sweet and loving. It had been a balm to her soul- one that she had desperately needed in the moment. But now... once she'd awakened, she'd felt the need to be apart. To be close, but apart. To have time to think her thoughts. She'd been good at tactical thinking, at least as her people considered it. She'd been good at self-reflection, too, when her life on the island had still been about leadership and honesty and the tribe.

All of that had fallen so far by the wayside in the more recent years and it ached... knives in the back to realize how deeply her people had betrayed her. How truth and reality and perception and self-deception had twisted and tangled like the deepest undergrowth.

Who the hells was she?

Who did she *want* to be?

The gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds But they haven’t seen the best of us yet If you love me let me go

"You make me want to be something moah than a mirroah that reflects the light of othehs. You make me want to be a pehson."

She'd admitted this to C'arha, with her voice trembling and her heart beating in her chest in fits and starts. It was truth, every word. It was truth, underneath the words. It was truth- more truth than she'd spoken perhaps ever before. She wanted to be a person. Something more than the Jaguar. More...

The soulstone in her necklace flared and eras of voices clamored and Zareen tore at the clasp before breaking it and threw the necklace across the rooftop- and a half-beat later leapt after it as it slid down the tiles to catch and hang from a projection on the roof. The mad scramble caused tiles to crash to the earth below and it was by luck rather than skill that she managed to stop herself from falling. Flattened across the roof on her stomach, one injured hand gripping the necklace and the other splayed wide, Zareen rested her face against the night-chilled tiles and began to sob.

Let me go. I don't want to do this anymore. Please, let me choose to be something better! Please...

‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars The fear of falling apart And truth be told, I never was yours The fear, the fear of falling apart

"Oh go back to fighting, Zareen."

She'd pulled herself back up the roof, the necklace safely in her pack, only the pendant that connected her to Arden and C'arha still resting around her throat. The initial storm of tears had passed- as had the storm out above the ocean. Her eyes were on her hands- the self-inflicted claw wounds. The long black claws that had caused them.

They'd been used to protect people. They'd been used to kill. They'd been used gently to caress and fiercely to mark the skin with her love. She'd never yet been able to hold onto something she loved without leaving the imprint of her claws upon it in some way.

And she hated it. And she loved it. And she hated herself for loving it. She would never be sophisticated. Never be feminine in the way of A'sana, Cerise, Lolah, Evette, Maya, or Miyasuke. She could not be that person- the more she tried, the more she'd tear herself apart.

She wished she could tear herself apart. She was terrified of falling apart.

This is gospel for the vagabonds, Ne’er-do-wells, insufferable bastards Confessing their apostasies Led away by imperfect impostors

Oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart Oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart

Wiping tears from her cheeks, she laid back on the roof and looked up at the cloud-streaked sky, staring at the stars. It was past midnight, the moon half-hidden and shy. She should be sleeping. There was a mission- likely her last with the company she once would have died for. She'd give them everything she could, in this fight. Hold nothing back. It was her way- it would always be her way, this part of her. She knew it was one of the things that made all the rest of her worth having as friend and lover and companion and packmate.

She never feared death. But it ached to know she would have to help with something truly terrible. Something that had potential to scar the hearts of those who she fought beside. Many of them were already battle hardened- but it still hurt. It would still hurt.

Wouldn't it?

It had to hurt. If it didn't...

Shaking her head, she set that aside. She should be sleeping. But she couldn't help but wonder- was Shinzo Maeda the end result of trying to inspire the heart? Of bringing people together? Was Grandmother and Grandfather the result of holding nothing back in an effort to save the ones she loved?

Was she making a mistake?

Had she already made one?

Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world Bury me alive 'Cause I won’t give up without a fight

It had to be enough. It had to be enough. She had to be better. She had to be better. She had to be better. The person she wanted to be cried out in her chest and in her mind and in her soul, tore at her. She would never be soft- but she could be gentle. She would never be unflappable- but she could be calm. She would never stop burning- but she could stop burning other people.

She could never be anything but what she is- but she could choose what that shape that might be. What the Jaguar lineage resting in her might be.

If you love me let me go If you love me let me go ‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars The fear of falling apart

Echos and shades of words, conversations, exasperated outbursts speaking in her memories. Perhaps they had seen her far better than she had ever seen herself. Which, it seemed was only right. After all, what mirror sees itself? She sat on the roof of the highest house in Shirogane and looked at her scarred hands, marred as though with shards of glass, and wordlessly begged her past and her people to let her live. To let her go. ((Tagging for mentions: @ala-mhinyan, @eyespywithmyoneeyegtfo, @talesfromthegameff14, @liana-warden, @kalaisgreen, @witchfightrhythm, @hymntothedarkness ))

[miyasukeietada]

Prompt #16 Makeup: Bond

In the front row of a cellar perpetually coated in a patina of dust, Miyasuke became something of a regular at the clandestine sermons held mostly-weekly. At first she had been a wallflower, silent and captivated, but ultimately too unbearably nervous to come forward. However, with each passing week she crept a little closer in the congregation like slow-growing vines until nobody could recall just how she got there, right within eyeshot of Shinzo Maeda in the first place, but it felt right that she should continue. It became something of a quiet joke, the sort you tell from the back row just before the sermon starts when all great gossip is passed around.

"Sons and daughters of Doma, we share a common thread from a limitless spool that starts with the kami.”

Right away, the young woman sat up straighter, her brow knitting ever-so-slightly in response to the opening declaration.

“They can chase you across mountains and through rivers; they can drive you from your homes and force you to abandon your fields, your families, your friends...They can hunt you from horizon to horizon, but they can’t cut that thread that unites us all uniquely as children of these lands, holy lands.”

He was so warm she could feel it radiating off of him like a torch in the dark, and his presence alone made their cramped meeting space feel like an expansive great hall for worship. But his words—something was wrong. She glanced around her and they all looked perfectly spirited as they often did, dirty faces turned forward to be lifted up and inspired to keep working, to keep persistently surviving in spite of their shared condition. But there was an elusive and subliminal undertone to the effusive man’s words that seemed only perceptible from the proximity she shared in her usual seat.

“We owe the privilege of life to the spirits, who orchestrate our daily living and bless us with wealth beyond measure as we keep the faith and honor them richly. And my friends, I hope you will continue to do so, as I will be leaving this land tonight to make for safer shores.”

The gasps sounded around her, but she kept her dark eyes fixed on the priest’s mouth as though to pull each word from it faster through sheer force of will. “They will try to drive the myriad spirits from this land with their machines, but what they don’t realize is that there is an army on the rise that they can’t see. It lives in all of us, together. We must keep the kami like we keep each other; in safety and in secrecy and in sanctuary.”

She felt like she might faint, the room narrowing considerably. If the man who provided the flint that lit the fires of faith in her chest was fleeing, what hope did they have? He raised his voice over the scandalized din that broke out in the wake of his revelation, determined to finish his piece before the room collapsed under the weight of grief itself, but nobody was listening anymore. He was last seen making for the coast under the cover of night, and from there it was anyone’s guess what would become of Shinzo Maeda.

[takmiblog]

写真のジャンルとしての『風景写真』

甲斐 　その言葉の問題というのは、次に引用しようと思っていた箇所とも関連していて、次のような興味深い話が、同じ特集号に書かれていたんですね。（2代目編集長の）萩原史郎さんの発言です。

「萩原史郎（以下、萩原）　父［引用者注：萩原純一］が経営する会社で、あらたに出版事業を興す際、雑誌を作りたいという話になりました。（中略）雑誌は『ネイチャーフォト』というタイトルを父が考えていました。でも、出版業界には何のつてもなく、その中でなぜか父は、前田真三さんに相談しようと思うと言うんです。前田さんはその時点［引用者注：1988年］でもう巨人のレベルでした。

ところが、電話をしたら会ってくれるというので、父と一緒に東京・青山の事務所に伺いました。（中略）前田さんが「雑誌のタイトルは？」と聞くんです。それで父が「『ネイチャーフォト』です」と答えると、「それだったら協力できない。ただ、『風景写真』というタイトルはどうか？」と。父はその場で雑誌名を『風景写真』と即決していた記憶があります。」（75頁）

これはつまり前田さんが雑誌の名付け親ということですか？

永原 　はい、そういうことになっています。

甲斐 　それは雑誌の中で共有されている考えということですか？

永原 　共有されていますね。あともう一つ「ランドスケープ」という言葉もあるじゃないですか。ランドスケープでもネイチャーフォトでもなく、風景写真なんだよっていう、ことですね���そこでこの言葉を持ってきたことで一つのジャンルをくくってしまったっていうのかな。この雑誌がこういう名前になったことで、風景写真ってジャンルってなんとなくあるよね、みたいな、しかも風景写真というのはこういうものを指すよね、みたいなのが、言葉で定義されていないけど、なんとなくできたかなっていう気がします。

甲斐 　それは多分、前田真三にも関わることだと思うんです。彼のインタビューなどを読むと、自分が撮っているものは「風景」なのだ、という認識を持っていたことがわかります。つまり、雑誌の創刊時にアドバイスする以前から、この「風景写真」という言葉に彼はこだわりを持っていたのではないかと。特定の雑誌のタイトルということではなくて。

永原 　そう思います。ランドスケープじゃないんだよねっていう思いはあったと思います。それと同時にネイチャーフォトじゃないんだよねっていう思いも多分あったと思います。自分がやっているものは、風景写真としか名づけられないよね、と思っていたんじゃないかなと思います。

(https://iiiid.photography/1791)

風景写真の現在：『風景写真』編集長・永原耕治氏に聞く

paper 2023-02

[hanataiyouame]

Two years ago, Japanese record label canceled the production of Xinlisupreme`s works and terminated the contract with Xinlisupreme because Xinlisupreme created a protest song 'I Am Not Shinzo Abe' to criticize Shinzo Abe, a prime minister of Japan. It has now become a taboo in Japan to criticize Shinzo Abe in music and other creative activities. In 2015, Southern All Stars, a popular band in Japan, was made to apologize for publically ridiculing him on TV.  Also in 2016, there were fierce repercussions on the internet against the appearance of Aki Okuda, a leader of SEALDs, a student group to protest against Shinzo Abe, in the Fuji Rock, the biggest music festival in Japan. Even the phrase 'Do not politicize music' became a top trend on Japan's twitter. We all have the right to freedom of expression when criticizing Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, an extreme right-wing politician who allows discrimination, social gaps and nuclear power plants.

They do not specify in the text the label name, but I only remember Xinlisupreme being signed to Virgin Babylon Records (world’s end girlfriend’s label).

As someone who has loved and supported (through buying merchandise) so many of Virgin Babylon’s artists (Go-qualia, Kashiwa Daisuke, WEG, Matryoshka, etc) for so many years, I find it so hard to continue supporting a label that actively censors its artists.

Shame on the Maeda brothers for this. 

If you enjoy Xinlisupreme’s music, go support them by buying their recent album on Bandcamp.