The third artist I met in Tokyo as part of the ARTIST ALT+0179 project was
@ryuichiooohira
(b. 1982) — Japanese sculptor and painter.
I first saw Ohira’s work in 2014 at the original
@nanzukaunderground — a small, hidden basement in Shibuya. Eight years later, I stumbled into one of his performances: he was using a Bosozoku-style chainsaw to carve onto mounted wooden shields. It was raw, loud, and unforgettable.
When I visited him in Barakinakayama, I didn’t expect much. But then a vintage Nissan Laurel pulled up to the station.
The door opened, and 15 minutes later, I found myself speaking with one of the kindest, most open artists I’ve ever met.
In photographing Ohira-san, I wanted to capture the fragile balance between his daily life and the chaotic, symbolic energy of his artworks. I asked him to pose in his garden, surrounded by chainsaws — trying to connect the digital myth with the physical reality.
Just before I left, he suggested a quick performance.
He pulled out a 30km/h road sign, grabbed a can of blue spray paint, and climbed onto the roof of his car.
He painted a zero. Suddenly, it became 300km/h — a fast and funny gesture that says everything about his love for cars, and the way it leaks into his art.
In one interview, he said:
“Why do I feel the need to make blue, upside-down pineapples? With goats, with telephones, with cars. I don’t know why. But I keep making them. And maybe that’s the point.”
#projectalt0179
