Untitled (Dust Pic) Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 25 x 34 cm 2019
Untitled; Asian Winds series Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 34 cm x 25 cm (H x W) Private collection
From Dust to Dust:
Anthropocene Art Adventures in Asia Michelle Zacharias (Saitama)
Writers are always advised to write about what they know and the same thing applies to artists and their art as well. What, in my everyday life, is unique to me and how could I express that in visual form? The flowers in my garden? The Tokyo art world dismissed them as simply “pretty.” I needed something more conceptual, unique, and more representative of myself. Being an outsider? Maybe. My allergies? Bingo! Having lived and worked in southern Japan in the shadow of a huge chemical factory that looks like a science fiction metropolis, I’ve been regularly exposed for many years to aeolian dust—or, yellow dust—which comes from the semi-arid areas of the Asian continent, such as the Gobi Desert in China, as well as toxins from the factories in the area. As a prairie girl, I developed sensitivities to the smog and other types of pollution that surfaced annually and had reactions that were similar to allergies but are actually common reactions to smog or fine particulate matter (called PM 2.5 in Asia). The Kyushu area has more yellow dust than PM 2.5 and the Kanto area has more PM 2.5 than yellow dust, but both areas have yellow dust and PM 2.5. I have become an expert on the different reactions triggered by each of those two types of dust and rarely need to look at the details of the air quality index (AQI) anymore. So, why not use my art to talk about air pollution? I started drawing the flow of air across China—the spring
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winds which carry yellow dust from the Gobi Desert as well as other pollutants, blowing across the entire Asian continent. I felt like I had to push it further and tried painting portraits on masks, but that felt too gimmicky. At the same time, I tried self-portraits dirtied by the suggestion of air pollution by using layers of plastic. I was trying to use coloured pencil since I had developed a reputation for using that medium in unusual ways, but I felt I had to stress the conceptual aspect even more. Then I got the idea to make paint from the dust in the air. Yes, that’s right. D-U-S-T. I even asked the staff at Pigment, an incubator for artists in Tokyo where I had been taking occasional classes if they thought it might work. Pigment focuses on traditional Japanese materials, such as specially crafted, lacquered-handled brushes, to help preserve artistic traditions and introduce them to artists. One of their regularly held classes teaches how to make paint from the powdered pigments made from crushed stones, clay, or minerals, that line their walls. Pigment’s staff agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, that my idea should work in theory. They even emptied the Roomba vacuum cleaners and gave me their dust! They also suggested using a glass muller to crush the particles for a smoother paint. To prepare the dust, I filter out bugs, cat hair, leftover popcorn, and other bits from the vacuum. More than 80% of the household dust blows in from the outside. Japan is
