Japanese artist Fuji Hiroshi: Art reminds us of the cycle of life

On this occasion, Fuji Hiroshi spoke with Nhan Dan (People) Newspaper reporters about the stories behind the dazzling plastic toys and his hope that art can help raise public awareness about environmental protection.

Question: ‘Plastic Dinoland’ is an installation of dinosaurs and various creatures made from around 8,015 discarded toys collected in Japan. How did you come up with this project idea?

Japanese artist Fuji Hiroshi: ‘Plastic Dinoland’ started as part of ‘Kaekko Bazaar’, a toy storage and exchange project initiated by my family. The project involved collecting toys from various regions and historical periods in Japan.

The collection began in 1997 as an experiment in storing plastic waste in my family, called the “Vinyl Plastic Collection”. After three years of not throwing away old toys, I asked my children what to do with them, and they suggested playing shop.

But since I didn’t want them handling money so early, we created a toy exchange market, which the kids named “Kaekko Bazaar.” “Kaekko” is a child’s way of pronouncing “kaeru” (to exchange) in Japanese, and “bazaar” means “market”. By 2008, “Kaekko Bazaar” had spread to many localities in Japan, run by children themselves.

Now, after nearly 30 years, the project has collected over 50,000 old toys. Personally, I always wanted to create something new from these old items, so since 2008, I began making art from them.

From another perspective, plastic waste originates from crude oil, which is about 150 million years old—essentially, bacteria accumulated since the Jurassic period. I find it fascinating to imagine the memories these materials carry from those times, seeing them as a kind of fossilised dinosaur memory. That’s why I create these works.

Works on display at the exhibition (Photo: VN+)

It is fascinating to step back and see how everything is cyclical, including the consumption cycle of toys and the decomposition cycle of plastic, isn’t it?

I was born in 1960, when plastic started to become common in Japan. In just a few decades, humanity has produced an enormous amount of plastic, most of it for fast consumption.

Creating materials from petroleum-based plastics that don’t decompose is, in my view, a negative aspect of our era.

When I think about plastic and the consequences we leave for the future, I feel we need to change. It’s contradictory to keep producing without considering resource cycles.

So, I want to store and display these things for everyone to see. The goal is not to glorify them, but to constantly remind everyone of the cycle of life.

Looking at the origins of these toys and delving into the cycle of consumption, what do you think is the real issue behind the overproduction of plastic toys?

When I started collecting plastic toys, I received large amounts from major manufacturers each year. I realised the real issue lies in the desire for ownership.

The concept of “ownership” only emerged in modern times. Initially, everything was shared. But since the 1960s, the idea of personal ownership has grown, and we’ve seen this expand over the decades, as the value of direct experience and tactile contact became important.

Now, facing global environmental problems, sharing and cooperation are more necessary than ever.

Your works have been exhibited in many countries and territories. Can you share with us about the typical reactions from audiences?

I notice that my works make both adults and children reflect on their own consumption habits.

“Wow!”—many children exclaim, delighted to spot familiar toys among the installations. It’s like a puzzle: thousands of items combined, and after a while, the kids recognise this or that character.

Adults react a bit differently. At first, they found the works amusing and beautiful. But on closer look, they realize it’s all made of waste.

For a moment, they feel tricked. Then, as they reflect, they start to ask: Why are there so many toys? Where did they come from? Who made them? What is the historical context behind their distribution? The final question is often: What will happen to these toys in the future?

Children explore artworks on display at the exhibition (Photo: VN+)

What do you think about these reactions?

I find it interesting to think that the children enjoy my work. In the next 10 or 20 years, when they grow up and realise they need to change their behaviour regarding plastic.

When I was a child in the 1960s, plastic was everywhere and I played with it. But as I grew up, my generation - and younger ones - began to see the downsides of plastic.

I think children in the future will recognise this even earlier and start making improvements in their own ways.

How do you imagine Vietnamese audiences interacting with your works?

I hope my works will encourage Vietnamese audiences to reflect on contemporary environmental issues, starting from a rekindled memory. For children, I just want them to have fun.

When looking at these toys - things that seem worthless - the question isn’t just how to dispose of them, but how to turn them into something more meaningful, creating greater impact for society and future generations. Anyone can start with the smallest actions.

Maybe in 30 years, when I’m no longer alive in this life, plastic toys will be replaced by more eco-friendly materials. But if they still exist, they’ll serve as reminders of a historical period that should not be repeated.

Thank you so much for your sharing!