Depth charge: artist Katsushige Nakahashi re-creates pieces of WWIIBy Megan Ma
The depiction of war can seem alarmingly passé to the generation removed from it. Death and destruction are a given, and we glibly accept them through the linear narrative of documentaries or the History Channel. Of course, what we choose to reflect in art can sometimes, as Roland Barthes wrote, also reflect memories of past and present that coexist.
SF Camerawork's latest show, "Katsushige Nakahashi: Depth of Memory," achieves a fusion of the historic and/or collective memory of what has been and the personal memories that seem to counter the former. Nakahashi makes a full-scale replica of the Kaiten, a Japanese torpedo used in the last days of WWII as a final, desperate resort by the Imperial army.
A literal death trap, kamikaze pilots delivered themselves to a horrible death in these steel machines. But there's nothing solid about Nakahashi's interpretation: it's made up of thousands of glossy square photos of the actual thing, all taped and bound together into an imperfect replica. The 48-foot long surface of the Kaiten is deflated and somewhat baggy, a receptacle for our own interpretations and memories. True to his vision, Nakahashi asked hundreds of volunteers to arrange his photos, re-living together their own memories of war and swapping stories.
Similarly, a flat-wall replica of the USS Missouri, a battleship in Pearl Harbor where the Japanese surrender was signed, is assembled from 5,000 photos. The grainy texture and oxidized craters on the real thing look oddly distorted and offer up a surreal re-creation of the historical site.
The effect of the Kaiten piece is particularly moving, as it hangs from the ceiling like a massive black mobile. But its profound effect stems from Nakahashi's interpretation of disparate pieces from its past, which come together to form a single object. And it's full of flaws. There are gaps and the layers of photos don't often match up, and his camera lens magnifies the surface of the object to make it somewhat fuzzy.
Finally, in keeping with Nakahashi's vision that art is ephemeral, both pieces will be burned at the end of their run. The incineration, like the building of the pieces, suggest the unreliability of our memories, which usually disappear like everything else in the end.
"Katsushige Nakahashi: The Depth of Memory"
Through March 22.
SF Camerawork
657 Mission, second floor, SF
$5 suggested donation, $2 for students.
(415) 512-2020
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