Many years ago, I picked up a photobook of atomic bomb disaster titled “Hiroshima,” and the photo caption for the smiling children grabbed my heart. It read, “Atom-bombed children say that from now on, they want to live merrily like little birds. But these little birds are extremely self-conscious about the a-bomb scars on their bodies.” Born after the war, we build up our knowledge of the atomic holocaust with fragments of information, as memory that fades in distance with time. But as we learn more about the radiation exposure through photos, films and books, the act of instant killing breaks our heart and reminds us of the terror of nuclear explosion. There is a danger in shutting the door on the past, even though it might let us enjoy our present life. Keeping the 1945 disaster in mind, I hope for the realization of the nuclear-free society, without relying on “nuclear umbrella” deterrence, no matter how long and tough the road is.

While designing this poster, I tried to listen to the voices of those killed by man-made explosives and my inner voice saying that “all life desires to survive.” The living creatures in this poster were gradually formed, expressing time and memory, with photos of sunlight and shadow taken in a clear day by Ryota Atarashi.

These two generations of creatures lament the fading of the memories of war, and with strong anti-nuclear sentiment, urge us to pass on the “memory of 1945” to the next generation.