紙の蛾

The story of Kami No Ga

In 2012, I found an old copy of the Nouveau Petit Larousse Illustré (1934) at a local dump. It was destined for the landfill, its pages forgotten and its once-revered knowledge rendered obsolete. That moment sparked an idea—one that combined my love for books, my fascination with fragile creatures and origami, and my passion for exploring the ephemeral nature of human understanding. 

Since then, I have spent countless nights folding delicate moths and butterflies from the pages of discarded encyclopedias. These books, once symbols of authority and enlightenment, are now relics of a bygone era. By transforming them into small works of art, I aim to challenge our perception of knowledge, its fleeting relevance, and our tendency to discard what no longer serves us. 

 

Why Encyclopedias? 

Encyclopedias were once treasures—meticulously curated, printed at great expense, and cherished as the pinnacle of human knowledge. Today, much of that knowledge has been deemed outdated, and the books themselves are discarded without a second thought. Through my work, I seek to honor these ‘useless treasures’ while inviting reflection: What we accept as truth today will one day be cast aside. Knowledge is transient, but wisdom endures. The world is in constant motion, and clinging to the past is futile. Instead, we must embrace the present and adapt to the future. 

 

Why Moths and Butterflies? 

Moths and butterflies are perfect symbols of fragility, transformation, and pursuit. The butterfly’s metamorphosis speaks to renewal and the beauty of change, while the nocturnal moth’s tireless chase for light mirrors humanity’s search for knowledge, even when clarity remains elusive. Their delicate forms echo the fragility of understanding—both beautiful and fleeting. Like the discarded encyclopedias I use as my medium, they remind us of the impermanence of all things.