Umico Niwa

Lives and works in Japan

Artist statement

There’s this dull ache between my legs as my mother helps to pick out a suitable pad, one with maximal absorption. I’m embarrassed but I savor the bittersweet moment as my father awkwardly hovers beside us. There I was, twenty-six years old, experiencing for all intents and purposes my first, and last, ever period. The spotting was a result of having undergone a bilateral orchiectomy surgery, a gender-affirming procedure in which both of my testicles were removed. During the following year, I began to experience these vivid dreams of seed pods germinating, sending their tentacles down into the cool ground as they yearned upwards, towards the blazing sun. These phantom sensations were subtle, distant but mine. I needed to know what became of that part of me, so I began to investigate the medical waste system of the clinic where I had been a patient. It’s been a couple of years since then and I can report back on the whereabouts of my balls: they were transported down to an ecological landfill in the mountains of Miyoshi, on Shikoku island, my home country of Japan, and cremated alongside the testicles and breasts of my transgender siblings. Every so often when I check to see if there are any updated satellite images of the location, I see fresh patches of green and I can confidently say that the future is forest. Those pixelated aerial shots are reassuring, but after the surgery, there was a period of time where I felt barren. My heart would ache at the sight of babies and...

Artwork