Ryosuke Handa : A Japan–US Love Doll Dialogue with American Artist Laurie Simmons

Shooting “Alisma Tonica”: When a Love Doll Became My Leading Lady
In summer 2010, I began filming Alisma Tonica – starring “Shizuka,” a love doll borrowed from Orient Industry. I fell for her instantly, impulsively thinking: “I must make a film with her… no, I must bring her to life!” After consulting stop-motion expert Keita Funamoto, we embarked on creating the world’s first live-action film featuring a love doll protagonist.
Set in 2442, the story follows a sentient automaton who travels to modern-day Tokyo to approach a young girl. She carries a message but cannot speak. Will it be understood? Shinobu Ishihara’s haunting, vibration-filled score electrifies the air. This 15-minute work’s magic must be seen (released on DVD in 2016).
Below is my dialogue with American artist Laurie Simmons, originally published in Geijutsu Shincho as “U.S.-Japan Love Doll Conversation.”
Can Dolls Harbor Life? A Dialogue with Laurie Simmons
(First published in Geijutsu Shincho, June 2013)
In 2009, Laurie Simmons discovered a life-sized love doll poster in Akihabara. Visiting its showroom, she purchased one. The bride – delivered in a wooden crate with a wedding ring – was “purity incarnate,” Simmons wrote (THE LOVE DOLL: DAYS 1-36). She dressed her, then began photographing.
These dolls epitomize controlled perfection: silicone bodies molded to ideal breasts/waists, poseable limbs down to fingertips, customizable hair and genitals. Though “brides for singles” have varied histories, Simmons’ Japanese fu-buru (love doll) represented an apex.
I’d always been drawn to display mannequins like Jean-Pierre Darnet’s 1950s designs. But encountering Orient Industry’s silicone dolls shocked me. Around the time Simmons began photographing hers, I started filming Alisma Tonica – starring a love doll from 2442 who visits a Tokyo girl.
On set, I’d often startle, convinced the doll had shifted overnight. What is life, truly?
I recalled Raymond Roussel’s novel Locus Solus (1914): a diamond tank holding Aqua Micans liquid where a woman-doll hybrid surfaces at intervals. Repeating gestures, dolls seem closer to “eternity” than death-bound humans – yet also resemble “broken humans.” This duality haunted me at Philadelphia Museum of Art, peering through Marcel Duchamp’s peephole into Étant donnés (1946-66). Compared to the lamp’s artificial permanence in the nude figure’s hand, the flesh-like doll body seemed already lifeless. Dolls and humans merge through death – a continuous spectrum. Which is truly alive?
In Simmons’ early series (Early Color Interiors!, Tourism), toys and ventriloquist dummies – human-like yet distinctly not – inhabit uncanny landscapes resembling but transcending reality. These scenes hold endless fascination.
Her THE LOVE DOLL series begins the day her Japanese doll arrives in Connecticut. Through 36 photo sessions, it gradually integrates into her home. With each new outfit/location, the doll seems to gain vitality. Watching this, I realized: before asking “What is a doll?” or its mirror, “What is a human?” lies “What is time?” – the nebulous force blurring or dividing us, still shrouded in scientific and psychological mystery.
Dialogue: Ryosuke Banda × Laurie Simmons
Banda (B): Thank you for watching Alisma Tonica’s trailer. I saw your The Music of Regret at Shibuya’s 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa exhibition.
Simmons (S): I’d love to see your full work! Is it complete?
B: Yes – a 15-minute short. The doll’s movements use stop-motion.
S: Those dolls are heavy – moving them must’ve been grueling.
B: Exactly, as you described in your book.
S: I needed two assistants just for dressing and positioning!
B: THE LOVE DOLL: DAYS 1-36 documents your evolving relationship from delivery day. The captions are brilliant.
S: Diary entries during shoots. They felt appropriate. These dolls are… particular. How recognized are they in Japan? Most Americans find them mysterious – but reactions were positive. People understood it was a sex doll, yet were fascinated by how this Japanese object “became American” within my life.
B: Japan’s awareness is recent too. Did you shoot daily?
S: No, sometimes weeks between sessions. I’d take multiple shots per setup, refining light/composition to choose the best.
B: This close-up is stunning – her joyful expression amid scattered candy.
S: My favorite! As I wrote: “She’d never known sweetness before.” Everything was her first experience. I kept introducing new activities. This jewelry-surrounded shot? Look at her face – I deliberately made her look like a child playing with makeup.
B: Adorable! (laughs) Did you play with dolls as a girl?
S: Not really – I was a tomboy. I even photographed mine jumping fences! Placing her in daily situations sparked endless ideas. Slowly, my whole home became a stage set – an oversized dollhouse.
B: She’s nearly life-sized in your works.
S: Yes, I deliberately used large prints.
B: This endpaper illustration – you drew it at 10? Is it the origin of your book’s “Geisha Series”?
S: Coincidence, actually. I’d forgotten this drawing until my sister gifted it for my birthday – she’d saved it. Since I’d just gotten my first doll, I included it.
B: It shows a kimono-clad girl. Did you visit Japan young?
S: No – only through photos. But kimonos and cherry blossoms reached America, and my father used Japanese cameras, so I imagined Japan often.
B: The “Geisha Series” is intricate. Did it take long?
S: Yes! Five staffers helped. We tried different kimonos, experimented endlessly. This mountain-backed shot looks straight from Japan, no? Moonlit, no artificial light – just long exposure.
B: During creation, did the doll feel like family?
S: Not at all. She remained a prop – raw material for art.
B: I agree! To me, she’s an actress. Next, I plan Bunraku or Noh-inspired theater with life-sized dolls. What’s your next project?
S: I’ve nearly exhausted ideas with my first doll. I’ll continue shooting my second. I’m also researching male dolls – medical ones too. Plus, a new video work: documenting a female artist’s creative process to explore art itself… and aging.
Our talk occurred at Tomio Koyama Gallery before Simmons’ exhibition opening. I brought Alisma Tonica’s star doll dressed in Eri Matsui’s gown. Immediately, Simmons said: “Come closer,” and photographed us together.
Though some label Simmons a socio-psychological artist probing technology-human relations through photography, I see her as kin to Joseph Cornell and the Quay Brothers – creators of delicate, imaginative, yet profoundly naive “fairy tales.”
With dolls, she sings not from the mind – but the heart. That’s a song I too wish to sing.