What does it mean to experience a place seemingly designed to replicate—or reimagine—an idea of nature? And how does one’s perception shift when every element in the landscape, from tropical gardens to planetariums to owls, appears as an artificial version of something that should feel spontaneous?

These are the questions at the core of W.E.I.R.D., Nicolò Rinaldi’s photographic project developed during his residency in Japan. It explores the many ways in which contemporary humans attempt to reconstruct, control, or aestheticize the natural world. It’s a visual inquiry that doesn’t settle for critique alone—it leaves space for disorientation, perceptual ambiguity, and a kind of fascination with the artificial.

Along this path—leading up to an exhibition scheduled in Palazzo Ducale of Genoa from November 11 to 23—Rinaldi also encountered something that seemed to exist on a different level of reflection: that of sport, or more precisely, of sports culture as a collective ritual. Baseball, though technically an ‘imported’ sport, reveals itself as a near-sacred, deeply internalized presence in Japan’s urban fabric.

In this dialogue between photography, social observation, and visual memory, simulated nature and hybridized culture intersect in a narrative that cuts through the layers of contemporary Japanese everyday life. The result is a lateral, precise, and deeply human gaze on a world that, strangely enough, often feels more real than reality itself.

What mindset and ideas did you bring with you to Japan?

NR: “This question gives me the chance to introduce a concept that’s still relatively unknown: the artist residency. Until a few years ago, I didn’t know much about it myself—but I’ve come to understand how valuable they can be. It means spending time in a place that isn’t your own, with the sole purpose of conducting research. In my case, I was hosted in a traditional Japanese house with tatami floors, paper-thin walls, and a separate studio space just for me. The anime-like imagery I had imagined turned out to be very real. Sharing that space with other artists played a big role too—we’d have breakfast together, talk for hours. That kind of exchange really broadened my perspective.”

Let’s get into the heart of your photographic project—what is W.E.I.R.D.?

NR: “W.E.I.R.D. started in late 2023. Its aim is to explore how contemporary humans replicate nature: sometimes in poetic ways, other times disturbingly so. I’m referring to visual, artistic, and technological reproductions: planetariums, aquariums, zoos, tropical greenhouses, artificial biospheres. I wanted to create a kind of visual map of humanity’s attempts to imitate, contain, or domesticate nature, and to understand the reasons behind this obsession. It’s not a direct critique; I intentionally leave space for the viewer’s interpretation. But underneath it all, there’s a clear thought: I find it absurd that we invest so much in recreating artificial natural environments, rather than protecting the real ones.”

When introducing the project, you mentioned “constructed experiences.” Is there a part of W.E.I.R.D. that also leans into disorientation, into the uncanny effect of your compositions?

NR: “Absolutely. The goal is to confuse the gaze, to make viewers question: ‘Is this nature real or fake?’ For example, a symbolic image is the one taken inside a shopping mall. There’s a large tree, but it becomes clear that it’s an artificial environment only later: when you notice the ceiling lights illuminating the space, along with the fire sprinkler system discreetly hidden among the leaves. I’m deeply fascinated by this idea. We’ve become so used to constructed or reconstructed experiences that we often fail to recognize their artificiality. You visit a museum, a theme park, an “Instagrammable” city… and everything feels real. But it’s not. And the more we consume simulations, the more we risk losing the ability to recognize actual reality.”

Within all of this, how does Japan fit into the picture?

NR: “I chose Japan precisely because I knew I’d find radical examples of this culture of the artificial. And that’s exactly what happened. From Tokyo Disneyland to exotic animal cafés, to mini zoos inside shopping malls: every place seemed designed to deliver a pre-packaged version of a ‘natural’ experience, always for a price. One place in particular left a strong impression on me: Owl Forest in Kyoto. It’s a room inside an ordinary city building where you walk in silence along a circular path, watching owls tied to branches. Some can be gently touched, and photos are only allowed without flash so as not to scare them. It was surreal. They didn’t even feel like animals, more like stage props. And yet people lined up to get in. That was definitely one of the most weird moments of the entire trip.” 

Let’s shift to a different theme—sports. I know that during your residency, your lens also encountered a sport that’s deeply emblematic in Japan: baseball…

NR: “Baseball entered my radar by pure chance. At first, I was completely absorbed in the research for my photography project. I worked intensely: exploring during the day, editing, writing, and studying at night. Then, while walking around the city, I started noticing something: in every neighborhood, there was a baseball field. Always active, always full. Training sessions, games, kids in uniform. At that point, I wasn’t even trying to understand it: it was just something I observed passively. But over time, I came to realize that this sport isn’t just popular in Japan, it’s a major cultural force, deeply rooted in society.”

Given its American origins, did baseball feel to you like part of the same artificialization process explored in W.E.I.R.D.?

NR: “I’d say it belongs to a separate line of inquiry. Baseball doesn’t really fit into the core W.E.I.R.D. exploration of ‘nature replication.’ It’s part of a parallel reflection on how certain American cultural elements have been absorbed, adapted, and almost ritualized within Japanese society. Baseball, along with chains like Starbucks, McDonald’s, or the ubiquitous convenience stores, is a marker of this deep Americanization of the everyday. But it’s not a simple copy-paste. It’s something much more sophisticated: a highly organized, codified, almost sacred reinterpretation. The baseball I witnessed in parks and stadiums didn’t feel like ‘just a sport.’ It felt like a collective ritual, with a sense of order, respect, and discipline that I’ve rarely seen elsewhere. At first, I was confused, I kept wondering: ‘Why are there baseball fields everywhere? Why are they always busy?’ Then I realized: it’s one of the most visible expressions of this Japan–America cultural symbiosis. But it’s been entirely reframed through a Japanese lens. Nothing is left to chance. The diamonds didn’t become part of the photographic corpus, but they colored the background of W.E.I.R.D. They were omnipresent, and in some way, influenced my perception of the urban landscape. The constant presence of baseball made me reflect on how certain cultural symbols integrate seamlessly, even into contexts that seem, on the surface, so distant.”

And on an aesthetic level, what did Japanese baseball reveal to you?

NR: “There’s something special about seeing kids on the subway, all in uniform, bats and gloves in hand, heading off to train. It’s moving. And during practice, I noticed the constant presence of spectators—friends, classmates—who show up just to watch. In Italy, for instance, it’s rare to see people watching youth team practices—let alone at the school level. In Japan, there’s a genuine following, even for these young teams. Baseball felt like a core part of the social fabric. Then one thing really struck me: seeing a baseball diamond in the neighborhood where I was living—a more traditional, slightly suburban area. Low houses, maybe a bright orange torii gate in the background… and right there, in the middle of it all: a baseball field. It was such a visually powerful composition. Anyone closing their eyes and imagining a baseball field probably pictures something American: grandstands, hot dogs, New York or Boston. But there, you had Japanese kids training in front of a temple. It was disorienting—but also deeply fascinating.”

So, an aesthetic insertion, but also a cultural one?

NR: “I did some digging. Historically, Japan had a militarized approach to sports. The idea wasn’t leisure—it was discipline. After World War II, during the American occupation, a general was tasked with reorganizing Japan’s school sports system. Baseball was chosen as the flagship sport. It already existed in Japan, but it was relaunched as an educational and popular activity. And it took root massively, for exactly these reasons. Take the Koshien, for instance—the national high school tournament. It’s a huge event. Over 3,000 teams participate, but only one per prefecture makes it to the final stage. And it’s single elimination—if you lose, you’re out. Knowing Japanese culture, and the weight they place on failure and perseverance… it must be an incredibly emotional event.”

Besides baseball, did you encounter other elements that highlighted this sense of cultural duality—between tradition and globalization?

NR: “Many. As I mentioned before, the widespread presence of Western chains is one of the most visible signs. But even in the most traditional places—temples, markets, artisan workshops—you can feel this tension between preservation and hybridization. It’s hard to put into words. It’s as if two layers are always coexisting: one ancient, rooted, almost immutable… and one modern, hyper-connected, globalized. And the Japanese seem to balance the two with uncanny ease.”

Let’s close with a look ahead. What can we expect from W.E.I.R.D. in the coming months?

NR: “W.E.I.R.D. will be exhibited in Palazzo Ducale of Genoa from November 11 to 23. Moving into an exhibition space is a big step. It forces you to refine your selection, to align the photographs with the message and the space. It’s stimulating—and a bit challenging. In parallel, I’m thinking about the next phase of the project, where I’d like to explore the relationship with non-physical/artificial nature: 3D environments, augmented reality, immersive installations… I’m becoming more and more interested in contaminating photography with other contemporary art forms—sculpture, sound, performance. Photography will remain the heart of the project, but I want to see how far it can go when it enters into dialogue with other languages.”

The project is supported by Strategia Fotografia 2024, promoted by the Directorate-General for Contemporary Creativity of the Italian Ministry of Culture.