Yutaka Sone

Double Log (Washinoyama tuff) 2020

「約束の凝集」vol. 1 曽根裕|石器時代最後の夜
Halfway Happy vol. 1
Yutaka Sone: The Last Night of the Stone Age

Guest Curator: Arata Hasegawa

gallery aM
August 29 – November 14, 2020

The Last Night of the Stone Age, 2020
The Last Night of the Stone Age, 2020
The Last Night of the Stone Age, 2020
The Last Night of the Stone Age, 2020
The Last Night of the Stone Age, 2020
Birthday Party 1965-2020 (2020)

Artists – Yutaka Sone, Kosuke Nagata, Dai Hijikata
Curators – Min Nishihara, Arata Hasegawa
Shooting and Editing – Yuji Oku
Creating an environment for bonfires – Dai Toshio
Drilling air holes in the drums – Yukihiro Toshio
Making lanterns and tables – Yoshiki Ura, Tamiko Ura
Purchasing ingredients – Yoko Toshio
Surveying – Akira Watanabe
English Translation – Renna Okubo
Recitation – So Kurosaki
Production – Studio Quarter Century

“Geological strata and concepts”
Takumi Fukuo

August 8, 2020

Shooting / Editing Yuji Oku
Recording – Yu Araki
Projection video – Yutaka Sone, Yuji Oku
Snow leopard production – Yutaka Sone
Cooking – Kosuke Nagata
Operation / Progress – Shin Hasegawa
Cooperation – Washinoyama Stone Company Co., Ltd.
Production – Studio Quarter Century

Repeating ceaselessly, in the dark, dark night. Decisions were made only and solely to ensure our survival.

This was long, long ago in a time much, much before time, when I did not rely on landscapes to distinguish myself from the stones, birds, animals, and rivers.

I am amid a din of noise that my people make. I do not know how many there are, I do not know where they come from, I have never seen so many of us, and there may be enemies amongst us, but perhaps amid this noise, it is only the cowardly me that thinks such thoughts. I do not know how long this has been happening, it probably has been happening for a very, very tong time.

We are knowledgeable about many things, and we do not yet know that there are things we do not know. Trees and grass, mountains, and creatures around us have names, and so words exist as names to be yelled out. Each name has an image attached, so there are very few words besides names that exist Or, even the rarest, the most memorable impression is given a carefully selected word, thus a single name, or it is expressed through its repetition and through the number of times it is repeated. The poets weave together many words, and because it is pleasing to the ear, we all imitate them.

When we encounter those who are not one of us, we kill that enemy, or we are the ones killed. Even amongst our people, should that sense of comradeship be tested, we kill. Or we will be the ones to be killed.

Normally, two to three families live together in a cave. As long as I remember, we have been holding the festival, so I do not know what it is like to live a normal life. None of us really knew what we were all trying to achieve through the festival.

Throughout the years of the festival, our family has been working ceaselessly to make sure the fire will not die out by gathering things to burn In the first few years, there was a forest nearby where we Would gather wood. But it has been many years since we burned the last tree there, so now we walk two days to another forest to gather wood.

There are about twenty two of us in our family and my brothers, father, and mother all have the same name. But there are beautiful landscapes that define each and every one we have been able to call out to each other without confusion.

That said, even though we are a family, the spot to dig up the black rock that can easily be split vertically is still a secret to all of them. This is because the sharp rock can be peeled flat and be readily used as a tool and a weapon.

Usually, most killings are done very very easily, by picking up rocks that are lying around to hit each other with, or sometimes to throw them at each other. Most living humans have had the experience of killing. That is why we are still alive.

But with this festival, fights spurred by discontent and frustration never happen. Sounds could be heard from morning to afternoon to night, someone would sing and someone would dance. When the sun rises in the morning, the mountain’s long shadow would tread across our land. It will be at that moment when we would be born again, so we would sing songs to be born again. When night falls, everything would die, so we would sing songs.

This was before we had connected death to fear.

There was fear, and there was joy. Sadness was a very, very precious emotion, so the poets had to be called upon to express it.

And so none of us know what the festival is for, but as a whole, we feel we know why this is taking place. And that is because there is steady and sure music that plays and plays.

Yutaka Sone
October 1, 2015


All images and clips courtesy of the artist and gallery aM