I became then, aware that my work had become so “clean” that it had become impersonal and that what gave life to the kinbaku of our predecessors came from this rather messy aspect of their ropes.
Rather than looking in depth at concepts of aesthetics that I could never really grasp as I was not culturally able to really understand them, my choice was to immerse myself in Japanese rope bondage, and try to feel their practice of kinbaku according to my own feeling. Is there a perfection in imperfection? What is the importance of the present moment on what is shared together in ropes, for what is experienced by observers? Does this have an emotional impact on my partner during our shibari sessions, and if so, in what way and how far?
In this continuity, I wondered why some Japanese photographers specialized in kinbaku were taking a lot of pictures with shibari positions that at first seemed identical. Why this choice ? Is there an evolution, a progressiveness between each of the pictures? What was the hidden meaning, knowing that the Japanese rarely do things randomly?
Subsequently, after my partner offered me a bonsai and some books about them, I saw the similarities between my shibari work and these trees. Compared to a rope session, bonsai seems totally timeless, but taking the time to take care of it, I realized the importance of its architecture in the desire to achieve a certain harmony.
By observing a bonsai, and I wondered what could create harmony. The aesthetics obviously, but also what emerges emotionally, and more, the necessary technic to obtain this timeless tree and feel it so alive.