It was the summer of my second year at the university.
During a university's festival in September, while the first-year students were gathered and prepared for creating a custom university's Mikoshi or festival uniforms(coats), the second or higher year students could do whatever they wanted. You could sell your goods at a flea market, could run a street stall, or could participate in a beauty pageant. Or you could choose not to join the festival at all, and it's not uncommon. And I, as many students did, exhibited my artwork. Speaking of which, this was an art university, after all.
Since it's not an assessment submission of the class, I collaborated with two classmates interested in installation art like me. At least, we were in common that nobody had any interests in design despite that all three of us majoring in design.
This is an installation art made with wind chimes and hologram sheets. The innumerable wind chimes were being blown in the gentle incessant winds and jingled in a dim, quiet room. The wind chimes were lighted by a light on the floor and were casting wavering shadows on walls and a ceiling like a reflection on a surface of the water. Hologram sheets, suspended from each wind chime, are glinting in the colours of the rainbow.
We got the Geidai Arts in Marunouchi Award (which was given for artworks exhibited at the festival). Hold on. No, we almost got the award.
This award has been established in collaboration with the university and Mitsubishi Estate, and a winning work is allowed to display the artwork at Marunouchi Building(Maru Bldg., so-called); however, since it's not a gallery, we were unable to exhibit our artwork in a dark room. At least, we were too inexperienced to create a proper dark space like a movie theatre in the middle of the sunny building. Our extremely delicate installation art was not for the office floor that many people were passing. Thus, we declined to accept the award regretfully.
By the way, the title is just a joke. The other two made a poor pun for my nickname (Zuho), so it's utterly irrelevant to the artwork itself. It's like "The Postman Always Rings Twice" by James M. Cain. Besides, I didn't like my nickname that much in the first place, and even tried to stifle it in the class. Well, in that manner, this title has nothing to do with us or anything.