Landscapes That Tell Stories: On the Power and Personality of Trees

On a summer day in the past, I came across a massive landslide site called Oya-kuzure in Oyarei, Shizuoka prefecture. The sight of the landslide left me deeply saddened, and I learned that the Abe river, whose source originates from the collapsed area, could also be quite dangerous. This experience sparked my curiosity about landslides and destruction, and I began visiting places like the Osawa-kuzure landslide at Mount Fuji and the collapse scar of Mount Nantai.

Upon witnessing these landslides and rivers, I realized that their appearances and atmospheres vary greatly. Some are still active, while others appear to be settling down or taking a break. Despite their differences, all of them evoke a sense of sadness, as if the rocks thrown out by the landslides are piled on top of one another in layers, creating an unfathomable sadness.

As I stood beneath these piled rocks, I felt a deep and unsettling sadness that seemed to permeate the entire scene. This experience changed my perception of trees and forests. While I had previously found them inspiring, I now saw them as something that instilled anxiety and sorrow within me. The mere sight of tall, straight sugi trees or a single outstretched branch of a camphor tree filled me with a sense of dread, imagining how a landslide could topple them in an instant or a flood could uproot and carry away the trees along the riverbanks.

As the summer season progressed, I came to understand that to truly grasp the nature of landscapes like mountains and rivers, one must observe them throughout all four seasons. Even though late August was coming to an end and a fine rain was falling, I still ventured out to observe the landslides and rivers. The slope affected by the landslide was now hidden in mist, making it difficult to see anything.

However, as the mist cleared and the sun grew brighter, I was surprised to find that the landslide slope still looked desolate and overwhelming. The experience left me with a profound sense of sadness and a new appreciation for the power and personality of trees and landscapes.