Lisa Pang: I first met <a href="http://yurishimmyo.com">Yuri Shimmyo</a> a few years ago, when a mutual artist friend invited me to an exhibition opening in Sydney’s St Leonards neighbourhood. In that busy, warm, overcrowded gallery, I was captivated by one of Yuri’s etchings – for the skill of the drawing, the rendition of light, and the simplicity of black ink on white paper, but mainly for the mystery it contained. I bought it. Called Monk fish, it shows a woman concentrating on sewing what appears to be a large flat fish on her lap. I find it delightful for its sense of humour and whimsy. I met Yuri in person later to collect the work.
Yuri works as a printmaker and a painter, finding time for her practice around her other roles as a mother, an office worker, and a guitar student. On the day in October I spoke with her in an online chat, she was in her home studio surrounded by her current paintings, many of them in shades of green. When I recall her face, I don’t remember what she was wearing, but I picture her as a calm space in a meadow of finely detailed plants. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/1-YS_Anonymous-のコピー.jpg" alt="Yuri Shimmyo, ‘Anonymous’ 2021, oil on canvas, 2021, 78 x 101 cm" title="All images courtesy the artist" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
LP: What was your journey to becoming an artist? 
YS: I learnt how to draw and paint at Julian Ashton Art School (1), attending classes at night after work. This gradually increased to one day a week and my final year, 2000, I did a full-time year. After that I went back to work and decided to paint on weekends. My son arrived shortly after and I am a single mum.
LP: And what was your journey from Japan to Australia? 
YS: I am originally from Hokkaido, so I grew up and went to primary school there. My parents and sister are in Tokyo now, so that is where I go when I visit Japan.
My father worked for a Japanese paper manufacturing company and the whole family came to Australia when I was a child. We lived in Eden NSW, and I finished high school there. I came to Sydney after that to study at university. When my parents returned to Japan I decided to stay and finish my university education and I’ve been here since.
LP: Could you tell me about your practice and how you work as an artist? 
YS: My practice is observational, and my subject is my life around me. I work at an accounting firm four days a week. Before Covid, I did one day of printmaking at Meadowbank TAFE (2) and one long day of painting at home. Because of Covid, I haven’t had access to a workshop or press, so I have been trying linocut printing at home using a hand baren and water-based inks, but it’s been a bit of a challenge.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/2-Time-management-のコピー-2.jpg" alt="Yuri Shimmyo, 'Time Management’ 2021, oil on board, 30 x 30 cm" width="518" height="516" class="imgcaption" />
LP: I notice that themes of fantasy and humour often recur in your works, as do portraits of yourself and your son. Also, congratulations on being a finalist for this year’s Portia Geach Prize! (3) The selected painting, Time Management, is a self-portrait in which you are surrounded by clocks. It is to me an anxiety-provoking image. Could you talk about this painting?
YS: I’m busy and I work long hours and I like to do so much with my spare time if I do have any. I just feel that there’s never enough time to do anything, so I was feeling a little bit…almost static, frozen, unable to move, and that is what was depicted in that painting. These clocks are just ticking behind me and I’m frozen and I’m not productive enough. As an artist, you really want to be producing, but at the pace I am going, I am so slow and there is so little time to do everything. That just sums up my frustration. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/3-Fire-Stairs-のコピー.jpg" alt="Yuri Shimmyo, ‘Fire Stairs’ 2019, oil on canvas, 25 x 20 cm" width="257" height="386" class="imgcaption floatl" />LP: What are you working on at the moment?
YS: Apart from my figurative work, I like to paint weeds – I have always enjoyed the sight of them growing on the side of the road and among pavements. My life now is basically between work and painting, and because of Covid (4), I’ve been walking a lot in my neighbourhood, and I notice a lot of weeds around. Using my own photos, I work from many different shots to create a composition for my painting. I don’t do a preliminary drawing, I go straight on to the canvas over an acrylic underpainting. I paint using tiny 000 brushes and I prefer oils as they give me a longer working time. The scale of my work is also dictated by the size of my studio – there’s not that much room to step back.
LP: Why weeds?
YS: Weeds just came as something that was familiar – they’re all different, they’re cute and they remind me of carefree childhood days when you can lie on the ground on your back, among the grass and weeds and look at they sky. Weeds are really interesting, and I thought I would get over it, but I can’t believe I am still painting weeds. Green is also a colour that is extremely hard to paint with, and it’s a challenge to control, technically.
LP: How do you see the role of an artist in society? 
YS: I paint what I see and what is in my life. When my child was little, I used to spend a lot of time with him, and I did a lot of paintings of him running around. These days my focus has shifted to images that catch my eye, or that I imagine. For me it’s about my life, and so I just record what I see and that is my role as an artist. If people think that it is quite fun or funny and they like my painting, I think that’s great.
LP: Do you feel there are differences in the ways art and artists operate and are received within the cultures of Japan and Australia?
YS: Definitely, I think there is a Japanese way of looking at things. When I was growing up, I always liked painting and drawing, and I would look at images of Japanese art as well as Western art (in reproduction). Looking at Japanese woodblock prints was familiar to me, and I also liked looking at Impressionist paintings – it’s always been a cultural exchange and I’ve always been like that myself. I don’t feel like an insider of either culture, I feel like I am an observer. It’s interesting to be able to observe and artists naturally express what they observe.
LP: I recently saw the exhibition <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/event/2021/7F86.en">Another Energy</a> (5) at Mori Art Museum featuring 16 women artists, aged between 71 and 105. Do you think you’ve had a different journey, being an artist who is a woman?
YS: Mori Art Museum is a terrific venue and I think it’s great that they always have something interesting, thought-provoking, and sometimes controversial. I’d like to keep painting and creating until the day I die. I really liked the work of the ceramic artist Kimiyo Mishima that I saw on YouTube – the piles of newspapers and trash. I’d love to see that.
LP: Given that travel has been so restricted in recent times, what do you miss the most about Japan – what would you do or taste if you were here now?
YS: Apart from seeing my family, I’d like to visit the museums to see current exhibitions. Definitely I miss Japanese fish; sushi and so many varieties of seafood that I like – and also, Japanese sweets.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/4-Grass-hopper-Zinc-etching-Image-size-10x15cm-のコピー.jpg" alt="Yuri Shimmyo, ‘Grasshopper’ 2018, zinc etching, 10 x 15 cm" width="518" height="382" class="imgcaption" />
As an artist, Yuri has that ability to expand upon small moments of daily life, lending them a poetic, occasionally bizarre quality. While she may say disarmingly, “It is just my life and I paint what I see,” it is those moments of intense observation in her works that open us up to playfulness and wonder. There is a joy in her introspective imagination that has perhaps been magnified by the recent time of social isolation.
Playfulness is also an approach she shares with Kimiyo Mishima, who, in the Mori Museum exhibition catalogue, says on the place of play in art-making:
<blockquote>“I feel like I take a whole life to play. 
It’s not an imposition for me because I always feel as if I am playing.” (6) </blockquote>
More of Yuri’s work can be viewed on her <a href="https://www.instagram.com/yurishimmyo/">Instagram</a> account.
Notes 
(1) Julian Ashton is a Sydney art school with a longstanding reputation for its focus on classical painting and drawing. 
(2) Meadowbank TAFE is an educational institution in Sydney with shared workshop and studio facilities. 
(3) The Portia Geach Memorial Award (est. 1961) is an annual portrait prize open to Australian female artists for portraits painted from life. 
(4) At the time of this interview (October 24, 2021), Sydney is just emerging from a Covid lockdown of 106 days. Most residents worked from home when they could and stayed within five kilometers of their houses. Exercising was one of the few permitted reasons to leave the home, and walking the neighbourhood was a daily pastime for most. 
(5) “Another Energy: Power to Continue Challenging – 16 Women Artists from Around the World” at Mori Art Museum, curated by Mami Kataoka (Tokyo, 2021–2022) 
(6) “Another Energy: Power to Continue Challenging – 16 Women Artists from Around the World” Exhibition Catalogue, Tetsuro Uehara p. 249.

article_22930

Yuri Shimmyo, Playful Observer

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/1-Ryan-Gander.png" alt="Ryan Gander speaks with TAB from his studio in London" width="518" height="290" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: Congratulations on your exhibitions. I just saw them and they are both wonderful. It is a shame that you could not come to Japan because of the pandemic.
Ryan Gander (RG): That’s okay. I am used to it right now. 
TAB: What have been your thoughts through this long pandemic?
RG: Everyone asks me about this a lot. Everyone asks me because everyone tries to understand, because it is confusing. And what I realized is that I think it is exactly the same as normality. Sometimes desperation, sometimes relief, sometimes frustration. Just like a normal life. But it just feels like it’s been concentrated. Like everything…you know all emotions just come amplified. You see what I mean? I think that it made me certainly appreciate that we are actually living and all the amazing things in the world you just completely ignore, because you are distracted by the internet, Instagram, friends, religion, alcohol, music, entertainment – all the stuff designed to distract us. It’s almost like a second Renaissance or Awakening, not religious but it is spiritual. Just like a strange awakening. 
TAB: Have you notice if those thoughts have influenced your working style?
RG: Yeah. I mean in a few ways of thinking…You know the way artists traditionally, they do one thing and they keep doing and doing it until they are really, really good. I thought that would happen and I tried that, but it doesn’t fit me at all. The way I make art is I have thousands and thousands of ideas and then wait for the right moment, well opportunity. And if it’s terrible, usually I do two things in case one is terrible…If it’s bad you just throw it in the trash. If it’s great, it’s great. I mean that’s the way I work. 
I was talking to one of my kids this morning about… she says, “Oh you look stressed” and I said I have a big presentation tonight and I had to prepare. I said I am stressed out because of work and she said, “I don’t get stressed, I just get excited.”
TAB: That must be nice.
RG: Hahaha, that’s so funny…Because I think what happens is when we grow, excitement turns into stress. It is same emotion, just with more worry. 
TAB: Maybe it comes from the same place.
RG: I feel like I am in the counseling session (laughs). 
Shinobu Nomura (Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery curator): I tried to be a silent listener this time, but just wanted to say something, because for me stress is a kind of petrol of myself.
RG: My dad said about worry, usually the bad things that happen are not the things you worry about. So…there is no point of worrying…It is a waste of energy worrying. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/2-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="'Colours of the imagination' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="269" class="imgcaption" />
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/3-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="'All our stories are incomplete...' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: I wanted to ask about your exhibitions at Tokyo Opera City specifically. Was there anything in particular you paid attention to when choosing artworks for the exhibitions?
RG: When Shinobu and I were talking about how to do it, the thing we talked most about was… [how] art you like and good art are not the same thing. That sounds strange. But it’s…I mean, what you like is based on taste…It’s the same as curating. When I curated exhibitions of all other people’s work, I mean I know what it feels like to be an artist used to being curated. And sometimes it feels like curatorial oversight is too oppressive, too demanding. And sometimes it feels like works are misunderstood. And sometimes it feels like it’s like perfect. But saying that, I never minded it. 
TAB: How about the titles of the exhibition? We have “Colours of the imagination” and “All our stories are incomplete…” 
RG: The thing is I am color blind, which is crazy for an artist. So I need a lot of color translating, which is why lots of my work is primary colors or black and white. So both of those titles relate to the notion of absence. When we think about absence we think of missing somebody. But I think absence is very positive, especially in art. Because I mean good art for me is a balance between which information you give. If you give too much information, the artwork is didactic. And if you don’t give enough, it becomes elitist and there is no way into the work. That kind of balance is very important. I think in my work I create that balance by taking things away. And it is not something you do consciously, you do it very, very subconsciously. You don’t even realize you’ve done it until it’s pointed out to you. So this idea about missing colors or about incomplete stories or the imagination, they all suggest that with very high-quality art, the spectator or visitor brings something to the equation. They can complete it themselves. 
TAB: The exhibition kind of has a chose-your-own- adventure quality, I think. 
Nomura: I was thinking one day, those titles “Colors of the imagination” and “All our stories are incomplete…,” they both suit those two exhibitions. I thought “Colors of the imagination,” this title could be “All our stories are incomplete…”
TAB: Right, you could switch them.
Nomura: It is very universal.
RG: Right. Maybe because both exhibitions are actually very similar but they look different. Different devices to do the same thing.
Nomura: Everything connects with imagination.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/4-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="'Colours of the imagination' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="324" class="imgcaption" />
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/5-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="'Colours of the imagination' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
RG: There is a hierarchy in creative world, which is crazy. But from my perspective, I think that designers are architects. Probably more creative than artists. Because most artists do just the same thing. They find something they enjoy repeating….All those restrictions and compromises mean your creative way has to be incredible. [When] you can just do anything, it is quite easy. So it is just strange that artists visit and talk about a hierarchy of creativity, because actually that is one of the easier jobs in all of the creative fields. 
TAB: Do you ever give yourself parameters or restrictions?
RG: Yeah, all the time…During lockdown, I challenged myself to a work every month for three months. 
One of the biggest things that we ignore when we look at art is we just ask about the art, when subconsciously we might be asking, “Why is this person an artist? Why did they make that?” And a lot of time, big famous commercial artists, if you are honest, you end up thinking they made it to make more money (laughs). They made it to become more famous. Other people think they made it because of some life-long quest. Because they want to learn something. When I say to my students, “Why do you wanna be an artist?” They might say, “Because I think I might end up in a prison otherwise.” That is very dramatic. So it is about intent and honesty asking artists why they want to be an artist. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/6-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="'All our stories are incomplete...' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/7-Ryan-Gander.jpg" alt="All our stories are incomplete...' section" title="Photo: Shu Nakagawa" width="518" height="324" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: What was your experience of working with such a large foreign collection? Was there anything you particularly took away from that? Is there anything about Japanese art that you noticed?
RG: It may be I was Japanese in a previous life. Yes, sometimes I feel more comfortable in Japan.
Nomura: After the exhibition opened in April, I counted out the list of works and the works exhibited for the first time. There are more than twenty out of nearly two hundred, which means ten percent [were exhibited for the first time]. 
RG: Really! 
Nomura: You picked up so many new works for us. We have been working on collection exhibitions so many times, but we are not looking so much.
RG: Interesting.
TAB: Any other comments you want to add about your collaboration?
RG: I just wanted to say thank you to Shinobu, but also to the museum. The museum has to meet the expectations of visitors, and an artist wants to defy expectations – that is really a different thing. The job of museums is to not be conformist. I think Tokyo Opera City is showing exactly the way museums should be. They should be bold. So thank you.
*Note: This interview was edited for length and clarity.

article_22354

Ryan Gander Interview

Tokyo Art Beat (TAB) is a Japanese/English bilingual art news site started in 2004. It recently <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/2021/02/tokyo-art-beat-joins-forces-with-startbahn.html">announced</a> it has joined the art and blockchain technology firm <a href="https://startbahn.jp/en/">Startbahn</a> and re-launched as a new company. Looking ahead, how will TAB change? Startbahn CEO Taihei Shii discusses the future with Kosuke Fujitaka and Xin Tahara from TAB.
<a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/2021/02/tab-farewell-whats-next.html">Statement</a> by Paul Baron (TAB co-founder and Gadago NPO Chairman)
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/TAB-Interview-MI.jpeg" alt="TAB 10th Anniversary Party in 2014" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
How Will TAB Change?
First of all, why has TAB joined Startbahn? How will TAB change going forward? 
Taihei Shii: You might be worried that the TAB website will suddenly be flooded with ads and promotions (laughs). What I want to tell you first is that won’t happen. We’ll update TAB’s usability and design, but TAB fans can expect these changes to be things that they’ll appreciate.
I’m first of all a TAB user and a fan myself. When thinking about TAB’s future, I wondered if by joining Startbahn, it might benefit from tech stability and updates to things like its recommendation functions and usability. That’s how things got started.
I once had plans for a website that would introduce exhibitions using AI technology at Startbahn, but since TAB already existed, I decided there was no need for a new launch. Then in May 2018, I contacted Xin Tahara to ask if there was something we might be able to do together.
So by joining Startbahn, TAB is taking steps toward a major renewal of its usability and design. Xin, what was your reaction when Taihei first proposed joining Startbahn? 
Xin Tahara: Taihei reached out to me right at a time when I was worrying about the future of TAB. When I told him about the issues we were facing, he said, “Let’s resolve them together (with Startbahn).” After that, Startbahn’s financing became big news. It was a rare bright spot in the art business world, and I thought that was interesting. It seemed likely that the opinions of the TAB founding members would be divided, though…That was another thought I had.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/2-Paul-Kosuke-Olivier.jpg" alt="TAB’s original co-founders. From left: Paul Baron, Kosuke Fujitaka, Olivier Thereaux" width="518" height="344" class="imgcaption" />
One of those co-founders is Kosuke Fujitaka. Kosuke, how did you feel when you heard TAB and Startbahn were joining forces? 
Kosuke Fujitaka: I thought that if TAB was going to join another company, it had two options. One, it could go with a well-known firm with stability, or two, it could choose somewhere with some unknowns but a sense of momentum, a place that it could evolve with. I think for the sake of its future growth, TAB chose the latter – Startbahn. I personally had an interest in blockchain technology, similar to what I felt with the rise of the internet.
Also, before I spoke with Taihei, I’d heard about the issues the TAB team was facing. It had operated as an NPO since 2004 – more than 15 years – and in many ways it looked like it would be difficult to continue doing so. I’d taken a step back from TAB operations when I moved to New York in 2008, but I understood that TAB was struggling.
Tahara: The art world has a reputation for being glamorous, but it’s really a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Even with work we asked for, much of it ended up being done on a volunteer basis, and I didn’t like that. There were also a lot of misunderstandings with the NPO status and because of that staff felt constrained, so I’d always wanted to make TAB a company somehow. Just when all the operational and management issues were coming to a head, Taihei reached out to me. 
Fujitaka: The incompatibility of the Japanese NPO structure and TAB’s business model ultimately was an issue. Philosophically speaking, TAB was a good fit as an NPO, but from a financial incentive perspective it just didn’t work out. TAB had operated for around 15 years as an NPO without tax advantages. 
To be honest, the TAB co-founders and directors would have preferred TAB remain an NPO since it was created as one, but it just couldn’t raise the funds for its future as an NPO. One of the things that make TAB special is its cross of art and technology, but with technology evolving by the day, the costs for catching up are higher than 15 years ago. It’s difficult for NPOs as organizations to invest significantly in technology. By joining Startbahn, I expect TAB to gain some new energy and resolve its tech issues.
Shii: I’d known about Kosuke though the internet since the early 2000s. I read his blog and respected him from afar. What always struck me about him is that he doesn’t exaggerate, he doesn’t make conjectures, he always says the right thing. During the negotiations between TAB and Startbahn, he was confident that if we hammered out a consensus, we’d find a good way forward, which helped us proceed. 
Fujitaka: As an NPO, the biggest engine of our operations was the passion of everyone, from the staff to the users. Switching to a company status is a big change, so consensus building definitely took a lot of time. In the end, though, we were able to get to a good place, and I’m really looking forward to what comes next.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/3-slack-imgs-1.jpg" alt="Members of TAB and the design firm AQ at TAB’s fifth anniversary party in 2009" width="518" height="389" class="imgcaption" />
Japan’s Only Bilingual Art Media Outlet
Shii: One of the things I think is great about TAB as a user is that it has always been accurate in its judgments. For example, it was quick to introduce social media and it released an app pretty early on. And it’s not just been a fast adapter – its usability is always spot on, too.
Fujitaka: Right. When the app was released around 2010, apps themselves were pretty rare in Japan, and it stayed at number one in the App Store Lifestyle section for a long time.
TAB has also been a leader as an art information website. In a previous <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/2015/03/tokyo-art-beat-founders-interview.html">interview</a> with the co-founders, I remember Kosuke saying: At the time we started TAB in 2004, many people had quite a negative image of the internet, and it was really difficult to convince the PR people of various galleries and art museums about the merits of TAB.
Fujitaka: That really seems like another lifetime looking back on it now. (Laughs). The art world is surprisingly conservative when it comes to things like technology and money. At the time, the internet in its post-bubble era had a sort of a shady image, and we were sometimes told places only communicated by FAX. Even in 2020, in the U.S. for example, finally half of advertising fees are going toward online formats and art fairs are also moving online. Parts of the lifestyle and art industries have been aggressively moving online. And here we have TAB, which creates data that can be used in the real world. Until now it has taken offline exhibition information and put it online, but in the future I think it could take a step further, working not just with offline data but creating services for online operations, as well.
What do you expect from TAB as an art media outlet? 
Tahara: One type of art news story that attracts attention in Japan is “This exhibition drew hundreds of thousands of visitors!” So far TAB has posted more than 100,000 exhibition and event listings* ranging from shows at small cafes, art spaces, and commercial galleries to blockbusters at major museums. The information on TAB has probably led to millions of people in total going to see art. It’s not just the exhibitions, artworks, and artists that underpin Japan’s art scene, but also these art fans visiting shows in hundreds of thousands or millions. Whether they’re famous or unknown, the existence and experiences of these people should be properly evaluated and not just forgotten en masse. TAB is really the only art media outlet that’s uncovering this phenomenon. With the power of Startbahn’s technology and further support, even without the thrill of the rise of the internet, I believe we can make innovations that are close to that experience a reality. 
(*Editor’s note: TAB listings surpassed 100,000 in December, 2020).
Shii: I think that as a bilingual website, TAB plays a very, very important role in the Japanese media from a global perspective. It’s difficult to get a view of what’s going on in the world when you’re in Japan, but art has a global premise, which means the Japanese media needs to challenge itself to broaden its horizons. 
Fujitaka: I agree. The original reason for making TAB bilinguals was to meet the needs of foreign art fans living in Tokyo. But it’s turned out that besides this, TAB also lets people overseas know about exhibitions happening in Japan, and it has built up a data base of exhibition info going back more than ten years. Also, to further increase awareness of Japanese art overseas, TAB will continue to focus on its bilingual aspect. 
That said, TAB’s core function is to support people who go to see exhibitions in Japan. In the future, we hope to not just list information on exhibitions, but also post detailed artist profiles so that we can increase data visibility and also provide information and support for buying and owning art. If we can do that, I think we can connect art and people in ways that go beyond listing information for going to see exhibitions. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/4-DSC6622.jpg" alt="TAB 10th Anniversary Party in 2014" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
The Changing Art Scene
Last year COVID-19 shut down exhibitions and major art fairs, making the art industry take another look at its practices. What are your thoughts on the art world in Japan and abroad now? 
Fujitaka: I felt that with COVID in 2020, the more down-to-earth art scene I liked had maybe finally returned. For the past ten years or so, perhaps due to a global glut of money, New York has been attracting rich people from around the world who buy art, and the art world’s values had steadily shifted toward being more and more money-driven. I had resigned myself to this and lost a bit of interest in art. Then COVID swept the world and for six months or so everyone’s interest seemed to become more personal again. I’m excited about that development for the art world. 
On the art scene overall, we’re seeing movements like MeToo and BLM make headway on lists like the Power 100. There’s also been a dramatic shift toward minority artists rising in the ranks as major players. In New York, there has been a real increase in exhibitions of Black artists. Also, as seen with Ruangrupa being chosen as director for documenta fifteen, artists from Southeast Asia and other countries that until now have been considered “emerging” are getting more attention on a global scale, while Japan, as one of the relatively older “developed” countries, might be considered established and “mature,” to put it nicely. I think the artists coming newly out of Japan need to change their strategy. 
Shii: The art market and art scene have been run by white men and centered around regional areas like New York and London. I’ve never been particularly enamored with that art world, but I hope that with the birth of BLM amid COVID and social anxiety, we’ll see an end to those aspects of the art scene that sang the praises of diversity while keeping things homogenous. Startbahn’s vision for the future is to provide value management and maintenance for not just the global 0.01% of artists but the remaining 99.99% as well, and by doing so involve as many people as possible in dynamism of art. The recent direction of the art world and Startbahn’s vision for the future are both rooted in in the fundamentals of human behavior and economics – they seek to avoid social anxieties caused by inequalities. I feel like society is shifting in this direction. 
Tahara: When we held the TAB 10th anniversary <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.ja/2014/11/tokyo-art-beat-10th-anniversary-party.html">party</a>, there ended up being over 600 people who came, even though we didn’t really put the word out that much. TAB’s services have always run on the passion of our users and advertising. It’s a real shame we haven’t been able to update the website and the app as much as we would have liked, but I hope users will look forward to future improvements as much as I am. We want to continue providing a service that treats unique spaces and events in Tokyo and elsewhere equally, picking up as much information as we can without getting too swept up in larger narratives. That’s what I personally like about TAB and sense for its future potential.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/5-DSC_4086.jpg" alt="Left: Taihei Shii, Right: Xin Tahara" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
Taihei Shii 
CEO of Startbahn. Born in 1977. Spent his childhood in the U.S. Graduated from The University of Tokyo Graduate School of Interdisciplinary Information Studies. Graduated from Tama Art University Oil Painting Department in 2001. Creates “art for the internet age,” participates in shows at galleries and museums. Came up with concept for Startbahn in 2006, received patents in Japan and U.S. Started company while in graduate school. Teaches at Tokyo University of the Arts, gives lectures and talks. Enjoys billiards. 
Kosuke Fujitaka 
Co-founder of Tokyo Art Beat. Born in Osaka in 1978. Graduated from Tokyo University Department of Economics. Moved to New York in 2008, launched NY Art Beat. Writer, coordinator, advisor on art-related matters. 
Xin Tahara 
Brand director of Tokyo Art Beat. Born in 1983. From Hakodate, Hokkaido. Interest in photography led him to gallery hopping while in university. Has worked as a bar tender and for 101 Tokyo Contemporary Art Fair. Tokyo Art Beat staff member from 2009.

article_21728

Tokyo Art Beat, Then and Now: A Conversation

article_2027

Yokohama Triennale 2008: Joan Jonas

Kisho Kurokawa on Building the National Art Center

Kisho Kurokawa on the Nakagin Capsule Building

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Jörgen-Axelvall-1.jpg" alt="Jörgen Axelvall, 'Go To Become' Saitama Museum, untitled / 2:41AM" width="518" height="414" class="imgcaption" /> 
A poet, an artist, a photographer, an often-cantankerous character who never reveals too much and enjoys leaving the meaning and interpretation of his work to the viewer. Encompassing the fragile world of the vulnerable and open male body, <a href="http://jorgenaxelvall.com/">Jörgen Axelvall</a>‘s creative output draws obvious comparison with fellow photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, due to subject matter, and gay American portrait artists such as Larry Stanton. In Joan Didion’s recent collection of essays, “Let Me Tell You What I Mean” the great American writer quotes Mapplethorpe from a BBC interview. “If you say too much you lose some of that mystery. You want to be able to pick up the magic of the moment. That’s the rush of doing photography. You don’t know why it’s happening but it’s happening.”
There’s an immediacy, a vulnerability to Axelvall’s photography which demands that the viewer look deeper and more closely. That is to say, that something is always definitely happening. Some of the photographs are obfuscated and others are not. Some of the images are touching, emotive and heart wrenching and others simply abstract and unknown. There’s also a sense that the Tokyo-based Swedish artist’s time in Tokyo has had a philosophical impact on his art and his life. In his recent collection, “And I reminisce” there’s one photograph of an elongated nude male body with a glimpse of pubic hair with a brooding indigo background. The body resembles an outline, a shadow, a portrait, a Giacomettian vision; however if we take into consideration the Buddhist concept of ma, which can be interpreted as negative space or emptiness, we see that this absence is simultaneously as important as the male form depicted. Why did the artist choose this color, why frame the body with this void and, ultimately, what does this interstice convey? 
Rei Kawakubo, one of the world’s most important and legendary fashion designers and creative visionary behind Japanese brand Comme des Garçons is also often connected with absence in her decades-spanning oeuvre. “The void is important,” she once said. “I like to work with space and emptiness.” Bodies, vacancy and deliberate portrayal of frangibility are central to the Swede’s photography and categorize him as one of the most intriguing contemporary photographers in Japan.
Axelvall arrived in Tokyo on the same day as the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami and, it can be said, experienced his own seismic shift in terms of career progress and ambition. After 15 years assisting some of America’s most acclaimed photographers during his tenure in New York, including Ellen von Unwerth, Mary Ellen Mark and Steven Sebring, he carved out his own diverse and creative path in the Japanese capital. Prolific and driven, he still publishes books of his work, exhibits in shows all over Japan and is currently represented by <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/venue/C1768938.en">Ken Nakahashi Gallery</a>. Axelvall, who channels sexuality through his photography, is deliberately outspoken about his homosexuality and in an <a href="https://metropolisjapan.com/jorgen-axelvall/">interview</a> with Metropolis in 2019 says, “My projects have been many and varied since but I cannot and will not stop taking pictures of friends, lovers and boys I feel affection for. It’s a way of getting to know them better, to get a deeper understanding, to love more. The camera allows me to converse without words, to gaze into somebody’s mind and soul. I watch, study and try to capture the beauty I see.”
In person, the Swedish artist is gleefully dichotomous, veering from combative to amiable, quiet and unassuming to gregarious and singular; he always cuts a curious figure. His photography speaks for itself, however, and a review of his projects from 2014’s “Instant Moments” to 2020’s “And I reminisce” displays his extraordinary approach. Beautiful, delicate, powerful and cerebral, Axelvall celebrates queerness with an aesthetic like no other. Tokyo Art Beat conducted an email interview with Axelvall in June 2021 ahead of his group show at Shinjuku’s Ken Nakahashi Gallery in July, his solo exhibition and book opening reception at Omotesando’s Bookmarc in August and his participation in an exhibition at Saitama Museum of Modern Art in September. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Jörgen-Axelvall-2a.jpg" alt="Jörgen Axelvall, 'And I reminisce' Bookmarc, untitled / Nagahara 61" width="257" height="321" class="imgcaption floatl" /><img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Jörgen-Axelvall-2b.jpg" alt="Jörgen Axelvall, 'And I reminisce' Bookmarc, untitled / Yudai 1" width="257" height="321" class="imgcaption floatl" /> 
Tokyo Art Beat (TAB): You have some exhibitions coming up in addition to a new book. Could you tell me more about these projects?
Jörgen Axelvall (JA): Yes, so I just finished a small collaborative exhibition at the bookstore <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/venue/B0E104E5.en">Morioka Shoten</a>. The main focus of that show was on an art book showcasing the artist Sohey Iwata. I did the (photographic) illustrations for the book. It was a small and short exhibition but very successful. At the moment I’m juggling between getting a new book ready and preparing for a group show at Ken Nakahashi, the gallery which represents me. 
The book, titled “And I reminisce” was initially supposed to come out last year but those plans got derailed by the pandemic. The book release will be held at <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/venue/6E942DFA.en">Bookmarc Tokyo</a> where I will simultaneously exhibit some selected works from the book in its downstairs gallery space. This will be from July 30 to August 11. Having “And I reminisce” finally published will be a significant personal achievement – not just because it was pandemic-delayed but this project is what I call my life-work, i.e. images, ideas and concepts I have carried with me for as long as I can remember. I wrote a short story explaining this in more depth that’s included in the book.
The group show at Ken Nakahashi Gallery is titled “one’s signal” and opens on July 21. It will be done in two parts since the space is too limited for all artists involved. Within each part there will also be changes made to what’s on view so I’d recommend visiting this exhibition several times. “one’s signal” refers to a call or response of the unknown; a source of communication through time and space. Tied in with this will be a collaboration with Mari Uzawa Urabe from the Japan Memento Mori Association, an online talk event will be held looking at death from various angles, talking with people involved in medical care, philosophy, and religion.
Also on my schedule is an exhibition at <a href="https://pref.spec.ed.jp/momas/Museum-with-Year-schedule">Saitama Museum of Modern Art</a> opening in September. It’s a thematic group exhibition exploring the male beauty in Japan through history. Work from my series “Go To Become” will be shown there.
TAB: How is your work progressing, Jörgen? Do you feel that your work and lens on the world has shifted over the past few years?
JA: Well certainly the last few years marked a shift on so many levels – we’ve seen a bunch of madmen ruling the world, which ushered people out of complacency. Activism is back – it’s sorely needed and it’s great. From #MeToo to BLM, serious issues of inequality surfaced and many of us took a hard look at ourselves. I’m one of them. Even if I consider myself a “good” guy, I’m in need of some reckoning. Not that I actively did bad things, but there are plenty of things I didn’t do. By not doing anything one accepts the status quo. As a person you can tackle pretty much all these issues but as an artist I feel like I to some degree need to choose my battles. It’s not a lack of willingness, it’s about realizing and accepting my capacity. 
If each one of us do their part, however small, there can be real change. All my work comes out of personal experiences. That might make me seem somewhat selfish and introverted; a micro-oriented artist. But I also like to think that if I feel a certain way from an experience or about an (unjust) issue there will be millions feeling similarly and so I raise my voice not just for me but on behalf of those millions.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Jörgen-Axelvall-3.jpg" alt="Jörgen Axelvall, 'And I reminisce' Bookmarc, untitled / Shia 2" width="518" height="414" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: How did 2020 and the pandemic affect your work and outlook on life, as an artist?
Here in Japan we kept the virus at bay in 2020 and the government did a decent job supporting people who lost their income. Of course it was a shock watching events unfold worldwide but once I came to terms with this new order I quite enjoyed it. I was just busy enough, feeling less stressed, eating and sleeping well. I started a new project – a kind I’d probably never would have considered otherwise. As 2020 was coming to an end I was ready to sum it up as an interesting experience, a reset and restart.
Then I was diagnosed with cancer and the bottom fell out of everything. Covid all but ceased to be on my mind, cancer took over, completely. My outlook on life was thus pretty grim at the end of last year. Since then, I spent most of 2021 in and out of the hospital undergoing very demanding radiochemotherapy. At present things are looking good. I’m alive and it’s never a given.
TAB: You work with text (your own) and poetry. How does the written word affect your photography?
I read a lot. For me the written word, texts, are the ultimate treasure trove for imagining visuals. Any text creates a unique image in my imagination. If I’m reading a tax return, it will be a pretty boring dull image, but it’s been created nevertheless. I’m not a natural born writer, it’s a lot of work. I really only started a few years ago and I’m far from confident. There’s been so much great text created already. I have to remind myself it’s not a competition (I’d never win) but another outlet for my thoughts. Combining text and images can be uneasy. Both for the viewer and the creator. Each demands attention. My goal is to make the image and text strong enough to work independent of the other. If however the viewer/reader participates in both, the final experience just might be more fulfilling.
TAB: You often focus on the male body. I feel, when viewing your photography, the vulnerability of the human form. What themes do you follow in your work? 
JA: As a gay man I’m naturally attracted to the male figure. As mentioned before I mostly work with personal experiences. Life needed me to seem tough but I’m as vulnerable as my kin. 
Vulnerability is important; a prerequisite to life. A relationship is rarely complete until you’ve experienced some hardships together and where there’s hardship there’s vulnerability. Machismo and aggression get more than enough room in life already, not the least in the LGBT+ community. My illustrated male figure can be biographical as in my project “Go To Become” or, as in my forthcoming book “And I reminisce,” he’s a symbolic incarnation of someone remembered or imagined.
TAB: You’ve lived in Sweden, New York and Tokyo as well as traveling all over the world. Do you think location and atmosphere change how you approach photography?
JA: Yes. Some changes and differences I observe, like and welcome into my creative process and others happen subconsciously. As I have gotten older I have solidified my ‘style’ and it won’t change overnight just because I move geographically but since I tend to stay put in the same city for a decade or more, the local culture seeps into my DNA. At this point I’d say I’m 1/3 Swedish, New Yorker and Tokyoite.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Jörgen-Axelvall-4.jpg" alt="Jörgen Axelvall, 'one’s signal' Ken Nakahashi Gallery, untitled" width="518" height="414" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: Where do you go from here, Jörgen? What are the next steps for you?
JA: Publishing “And I reminisce” will be a defining moment since I’ve been working on this particular project for so many years. I suspect there will be a ‘postpartum’ period. Honestly, come autumn, I don’t have a clear path to walk and it’s alleviating. Cancer has altered me. It’s an often-used cliché but life is truly precious and I’d like to actively seize each day as I move forward. That said I do have a few other projects brewing but I don’t feel a need to rush them.
TAB: You work with Polaroids a lot. What does Polaroid give you that other formats do not? I remember you telling me that you can scan them and alter them in some way. Could you expand on this for me?
JA: Polaroid film gives me immediacy and tactility to preserve the thrill of each new encounter and it also connects with traditions of casual, studio, and illicit photography. Each photograph is meticulously scanned for subsequent treatment. I used to be a complete puritan as to not altering the photographs, not even cropping. Nowadays I crop the images to my liking, take away specks of dust and adjust contrast and brightness; much like you’d do in a normal darkroom setting. I’m not a documentary photographer and I decided to allow myself the freedom to use available tools to tell my story. Each Polaroid (or any Instant Film) is unique and this gives me great satisfaction – a heightened sense of importance – when I handle them. It’s a bit old school, just like books, but I very much appreciate the sensory feeling of touch. 
TAB: And lastly, why do you take photographs?
JA: I remember when I was first given a camera around the age of nine. It was a simple point and shoot, no bigger than a deck of cards and fully automatic. Film was costly and not to be taken frivolously. Looking through the tiny viewfinder on my compact was exhilarating and I’d take pictures all the time, only I’d do it without any film in the camera. I’d compose, frame, press the shutter and listen to the little click followed by a whizzing sound of the camera trying to advance the omitted film. That excitement, to be able to capture a precise moment in life, with or without film, never left me. Of the several thousands of pictures I have taken since I was nine I’m pretty sure I can remember every single situation and subject, even the ones I took without film.

article_22338

Jörgen Axelvall

When first encountering <a href="https://www.kathleenreilly.co.uk">Kathleen Reilly’s</a> work, the viewer glimpses the transubstantiation of everyday objects into other items and experiences altogether. Injected with typical Glaswegian humor, Reilly’s playful and beautiful works, such as a potato chip packet fitted with a zipper, or a series dryly named “Gran’s Plate,” are examples of her deep-seated interest in the quotidian. A graduate of the prestigious Glasgow School of Art and the Royal College of Art, Reilly received the Daiwa Scholarship in 2019 and moved from the UK to the Niigata town of Tsubame, a place renowned for its metalwork. Creating in tandem with the many artisans residing there, the Scottish artist is in the process of taking her current work with cutlery to the next level. In an interview with Tokyo Art Beat, Reilly discusses her background, projects with craftspeople and institutions, her experiences in Tsubame and how text, poetry and Japanese aesthetics have had a profound effect on her artistic output. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Kathleen-Reilly-2.jpeg" alt="Kathleen Reilly, 'Oku 4'" width="518" height="344" class="imgcaption" />
Tokyo Art Beat (TAB): You’re an artist and metalworker. How did you get involved in using metal as a creative medium?
Kathleen Reilly (KR): My whole family are artists and musicians so I have been very lucky growing up surrounded by creativity. Nobody in my family, however, has ever specialised in metalwork. I originally wanted to study painting at art school but I took a short jewelry-making class, maybe once a week for a month during high school, and became totally fascinated by the properties of metal. For me, there was something really magical and inspiring in the ability to melt the material down and use it over and over again. There was something I knew I wanted to explore further and know more about…and here we are ten years later.
TAB: Your work involves collaborating with chefs and kitchens. Could you explain more about this and what you hope to achieve through these collaborations?
KR: I have been involved in collaborating with chefs and kitchens for a few years now. I’m currently in the middle of creating a new collection of dishware (for a dinner) with Korean chef Jeong Kwan. This is my second time collaborating with <a href="https://steinbeisser.org/">Steinbeisser’s</a> Experimental Gastronomy initiative, which is based in Amsterdam and active around the world. The Experimental Gastronomy events bring together renowned chefs and artists for a one-of-a-kind culinary experience. It is a really exciting project that I am so grateful to be a part of! When collaborating with a chef or kitchen, I find it so important to understand their practice, objectives and goals fully. Usually when I am researching, something about their practice will jump out at me and get me excited. I will then take that as a starting point for my collection of work. For example, right now I am really interested in Jeong Kwan’s philosophy of “food is an expression of what you hold in your mind.” Through these collaborations I hope to achieve not only a body of work that is interesting and engaging for the user, allowing them to think out[side] the conventional table setting, but also by collaborating with a chef, I aim to create fresh narratives, opening new doors for our own future practices, whether it be together or individually. I find that a really beautiful part of collaboration.
TAB: What’s your experience in Tsubame been like? Could you tell me more about your work and life there?
KR: I lived in Glasgow, London and Tokyo before coming to Tsubame, in October 2020, as part of the Daiwa Scholarship program. Being a city girl it has been quite an adjustment living in the countryside, especially as I don’t have a driver’s license! Although the funny thing is, the weather here is almost identical to my hometown of Glasgow (it rains a lot in both cities), so I guess you could say I got used to it quite quickly. For someone who has a degree in metalwork and has studied metal for 10 years now, living in Tsubame, an industrial metalworking town in the heart of Niigata Prefecture, really is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. There are factories and studios on every corner of the city, from hand-engraved file makers, to industrial press machines and of course cutlery factories and showrooms. I have been working and training here for eight months now. My goal is to produce cutlery with the artisans in this area, marrying my design concepts with the high-tech skills of these Japanese craftspeople. 
TAB: You were a recipient of the Daiwa Scholarship in 2019. How has this benefitted you and how has this supported your work?
KR: Receiving the <a href="https://dajf.org.uk/scholarships/daiwa-scholarship">Daiwa Scholarship</a> in 2019 was really a life-changing experience. I had always been interested in Japanese design, craftsmanship and the marriage of Scottish and Japanese design aesthetics that I experienced first-hand while studying in the Charles Rennie Mackintosh Building at The Glasgow School of Art. I also studied jewellery design in Japan for a few months back in 2013. However, I had very little knowledge of the Japanese language. I always knew that I wanted to explore Japan more and produce work with Japanese artisans, many of whom don’t speak English, therefore learning Japanese was essential. Oh, I am also very interested in Japanese tanka poetry and wanted to be able to understand the original texts! The Daiwa Scholarship was tough, really a lot tougher than I had ever imagined. I took one year out of my own making practice and focused all of my time on learning Japanese. Which is not an easy language to learn. I am nowhere near fluent but the program has benefited me massively. I can now communicate (enough) to translate my thoughts and ideas to craftsmen in Japanese, and engage in conversations that are benefitting my research and design work, that I would never be able to do in English. Understanding the language has brought me a deeper and richer understanding of Japanese culture that I already know is and will continue to benefit my practice for years to come.
TAB: How has Japan and your experiences here influenced your creative process and work as a whole?
KR: My time in Japan has influenced my creative process and work tremendously. As I already said, learning the Japanese language has brought me a deeper understanding of Japanese culture that is benefitting and influencing my practice in new ways. I am able to have first-hand conversations with craftsmen in factories that often lead to new discoveries or findings. Even casual conversations can lead to something interesting, for example why someone uses a tool in a certain way…I feel when speaking through a translator, often a sense of intimacy can be lost, this intimacy brings closer conversation. My experiences in Japan have also affected my design aesthetic. I definitely have developed more of an appreciation for beauty in simple, authentic and good design with honest materials. I have begun to consider not just the more well-known Japanese aesthetics such as wabi-sabi but also the shibui aesthetic or beauty of the simple, subtle and unobtrusive. There has also been a lot of inspiration found in Japanese table arrangement and place setting that we don’t have in Western culture, for example the dishware used for traditional meals like kaiseki and even chopsticks and chopstick rests.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Kathleen-Reilly1-.jpg" alt="Kathleen Reilly, 'Golden Ratio' (2019)" width="257" height="386" class="imgcaption floatl" /><img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Kathleen-Reilly-3.jpeg" alt="Kathleen Reilly, 'Oku 1'" width="257" height="387" class="imgcaption floatl" /> 
TAB: Could you explain what you’re currently working on?
KR: I am currently working on a small line of cutlery that I have been developing with Tsubame artisans at a factory here since I moved to Tsubame last October. The release is planned for the end of this year so please do keep an eye out for it! 
Utilizing Tsubame City’s generations-old manufacturing techniques and influenced by traditional Japanese place setting and arrangement, the design’s form allows Western cutlery to interact with additional objects at the table in new ways, creating new possibilities for the everyday table setting. (From the press release)
As I touched on earlier, I am also working on a new collection of dishware for Jeong Kwan’s dining event with Steinbeisser that will take place this year.
I have also recently been exploring Toyama Prefecture and Takaoka City’s metal casting techniques for a new project next year.
TAB: On your website you state that: 
“By writing poetry she observes and absorbs fleeting moments and unconscious actions within her every day. Key texts are chosen and abstracted to form tangible outcomes. As she associates her writings with the physical world, memories are awoken and juxtapositions formed. Reilly plays with the semiotic qualities of her objects that seemingly flux between circumstance.” 
Could you explain more about this?
KR: I have a few facets to my practice. I have my work with chefs and kitchens that are very material and collaboration based. I then have a smaller product line that I am in the middle of developing. Then I have my artworks that this text is in reference to. I use writing to see the “unseen.” I use it as a tool to expand my vision, a way to delve into and consider the subconscious. Instead of starting with a concept and instinctively making and developing work around that concept, I like to write about it. By writing and then rereading these writings, associations and memories are brought to the surface that I would have looked over or perhaps not even thought of. I’m constantly writing small texts or short poems. I hope to publish a book one day in Japanese and English.
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/kathleenleen/">https://www.instagram.com/kathleenleen/</a>

article_22303

Kathleen Reilly: The Road from Glasgow to Tsubame

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Sophia-Emmett-3.jpg" alt="I AM gallery in Higashi-Nagasaki, Tokyo" title="Photo: Satoru Tada" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" /> 
It’s unsurprising that artist Sophia Emmett, a resident of Newcastle, New South Wales, works with material like coal, as the city is the world’s largest exporter of the substance. Working with coal, meshed nylon and found graffiti, the Australian, who trained initially in glass, has made a career as a jewelry artist producing fashionable bracelets, earrings and necklaces from material which is both sustainable and durable. Emmett’s first show in Japan is being held, until June 27, at new art space I AM in Higashi-Nagasaki, Toshima-ku. I AM is owned and run by creative duo Rie and Vaughan Allison, who also run the popular Mia Mia coffee shop also to be found in Higashi-Nagasaki. The cozy suburb of Ikebukuro is emerging as one of the capital’s new hot spots of creativity with a spate of new restaurants, cafes and projects opening in the past year. The town has recently seen a huge interest by domestic and global press with Popeye magazine featuring Mia Mia on its May 2021 cover and Monocle tagging it as one of the global neighborhoods to watch. It’s a huge recognition for a town which has lived, for so long, in the shadows of nearby locations such as Nakano, Ekoda and Koenji. 
Emmett’s debut show in Tokyo is also I AM’s freshman exhibition and is proving to be a major hit with locals and visitors alike. Tokyo Art Beat spoke with Emmett in a recent interview, by email, about her work and exhibition at I AM. 
Tokyo Art Beat: You work with salvaged materials. Do you have an interest in art and sustainability?
Sophia Emmett: My aim is to create thoughtful and beautiful pieces that people can cherish. In each piece of jewelry there is a story of something reclaimed and then of something loved.
I have three lines of jewelry. One made from coal, the idea of using coal was to engage people in the conversation about how we use raw materials, the real cost and how and why we value things.
The graffiti I find in Newcastle Skate Park peels off the walls. I like to use materials that would otherwise be discarded to encourage people to find beauty in unexpected things and use resources that would otherwise be rubbish. “Each shard is like a little layered history representing generations of graffiti artists, their self-expression and creativity. I want to celebrate that.”
The third line of jewelry is made from PET Plastics and is 100 percent recyclable. All the silver I use for findings is recycled.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Sophia-Emmett-5.jpg" title="Photo: Satoru Tada" alt="Sophia Emmett" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: You trained as a glass artist and are known for using “black glass”, or coal as we know it. What attracted you to working with coal and will you return to using orthodox glass as an artistic medium?
SE: I moved to Newcastle, which has the largest coal exporting port in the world. We are surrounded by coal mines. Coal is all around me. The burning of coal is the main cause of climate change, we need to stop burning fossil fuels. A lot of people have never seen a piece of coal. It takes millions of years to form, it is a beautiful material. By making jewelry from coal I wanted to start a conversation about the real cost of burning fossil fuels. Not just the short term gains but the ever lasting effects it has on all of us.
Glass is my first love. I will always use glass in some form. With my larger sculptural piece I use glass, I also make glass jewelry.
My past experience working with glass has definitely influenced my mesh pieces with the techniques I use. I live near the ocean and swim almost every day in summer. I am constantly finding amazing sea creatures and seaweed that supply me with a constant stream of inspiration for forms and ideas.
TAB: Your current exhibition, at I AM in Tokyo, is a collection of work using materials such as meshed nylon. Could you explain more about this exhibition and how it came to be? Do you know Vaughan and Rie Allison? Have you met before?
SE: I have not met Vaughan and Rie in person but I feel like I have. They are so warm and inviting. I had planned to come to Tokyo but unfortunately because of the pandemic I could not. Vaughan and Rie lived in Melbourne Australia; they saw my work in galleries there. They contacted me a while ago to ask if I would be interested in showing my work in their space. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Sophia-Emmett-2.jpg" title="Photo: Satoru Tada" alt="Sophia Emmett" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: How would you describe your work? 
SE: The founding principles of my work are: proportion, simplicity and beauty. Using found and unvalued materials to challenge our perception of their significance. Finding beauty in surprising places and creating thoughtful and considered jewelry pieces for people to cherish. I like to think of my pieces as small sculptural forms. Apart from creating a point of interest, the most important thing for accessories is to be comfortable and joyous. Form and function.
TAB: How did you become interested in jewelry as an artistic medium? Can your work be classified as “wearable art”?
SE: I have always loved the sculptural nature of jewelry. It is like carrying around your private art collection. With glass blowing you need a lot of equipment, with making jewelry my work space is a lot more portable. 
TAB: Looking to the future, what are you working on? Will you have any future exhibitions in Tokyo?
SE: I love working with the mesh and I am planning to make a larger, more sculptural form. I am also keen to get back into the hot shop to blow some glass and also combine the two materials. I would love to have another exhibition. Tokyo is such a lively, vibrant city.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Sophia-Emmett-4.jpg" title="Photo: Satoru Tada" alt="Sophia Emmett" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
Sophia Emmett at I AM until June 27
I AM: 4-27-8-101 Nagasaki, Toshima-ku, Tokyo 
Open Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Holidays 12pm–7pm 
<a href="https://workshop85.bigcartel.com">https://workshop85.bigcartel.com</a> 
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/sophia_emmett/">https://www.instagram.com/sophia_emmett/</a> 
<a href="https://www.i-am.tokyo">https://www.i-am.tokyo</a> 
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/iam_tokyo_official/">https://www.instagram.com/iam_tokyo_official/</a>

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Form and Function: An Interview with Sophia Emmett

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Yuri-Iwamoto-1.jpg" alt="Yuri Iwamoto, 'Family / きみと暮らす' Installation View" width="257" height="247" class="imgcaption floatl" />Glass art, it can be said, isn’t really as appreciated as it should be. The technical savvy, training and experience needed to be an accomplished glass artist is pretty incredible. Yuri Iwamoto, a Saitama native, who studied at the prestigious Musashino Art University and spent time as a student at Aalto University in Helsinki, is one Japan’s leading lights of glass art and a creator beginning to garner some much-warranted attention through her charming and quirky artwork all created through the medium of glass. 
Currently based in the glass blowing and glass art center of Japan, Toyama Prefecture, she is a curious artist who is carving her own niche in the fiercely competitive art scene and beginning to catch the attention of some influential curators such as Himawari Serizawa, who invited Iwamoto to show her work at Shibuya Miyashita Park’s Equaland. The exhibition, which runs until April 12, is titled “Family” and studies Iwamoto’s profound relationship with glass, the objects she creates and the observer. 
In some ways Iwamoto’s work inhabits a space which Roland Barthes would classify as studium and punctum. The viewer is drawn to Iwamoto’s cutesy glass creations which on the surface fit nicely into the well-documented kawaii Japanese aesthetic which is the studium. The punctum, however, comes to light in the fact that Iwamoto subverts this assumption by using objects like the human heart and lungs as inspiration, and has a desire to attach a slightly subversive relationship between the living and inanimate objects. 
Inspired by legendary Finnish glass designer Oiva Toikka, Iwamoto spent her time in Helsinki, from 2016-201, nurturing an appreciation for Finnish design and its special relationship with Japan seen by the popularity of brands such as Marimekko and illustrative literature such as Tove Jansson’s “Moomins.” 
“I graduated from Musashino University and my graduation work was related to bodies,” says Iwamoto in a recent interview with Tokyo Art Beat. “I made some sculptures such as the heart, stomach and immune system. The texture of glass is just like the texture of the mucous membrane. For a year, after graduation, I worked at the Suntory Museum of Art and learned more about traditional Japanese art and then entered Toyama City Institute of Glass Art in 2019. And I’m still a student in Toyama. I’ll graduate this September or October.”
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Yuri-Iwamoto-2.jpg" alt="Yuri Iwamoto, 'Kumagoro/papa'" width="518" height="380" class="imgcaption" />
Iwamoto’s current exhibition at Equaland is an impressive display of her idiosyncrasies and method of working with the mutability of glass. The exhibition, titled “Family / きみと暮らす” is a look into the relationship we have with everyday objects. Iwamoto explains, “The concept is that you have a partner with your daily life. But it’s not necessarily a certain person or a pet. It might be your houseplants or running shoes, or your bicycle. Perhaps it might be a mole on your tummy. Your life is watched over by many things before you know them. So I want my glass pieces to be like them. I want people to take these pieces home and for the work to stimulate them. Especially nowadays when many people stay at home more, I want to give energy to their homes.”
Iwamoto, who has two upcoming exhibitions at Household in Himi Toyama and minä perhonen elävä in Tokyo’s Bakurocho district, has developed a profound relationship with glass. She speaks about how, when working with glass, that it naturally wants to reshape into its original form. The artist needs to push against, mould and as Iwamoto describes it, “have a conversation with it.” 
“Family / きみと暮らす” by Yuri Iwamoto at Equaland Shibuya until April 12. 
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/gan_gannmo/">https://www.instagram.com/gan_gannmo/</a> 
<a href="https://yuriiwamoto.tumblr.com">https://yuriiwamoto.tumblr.com</a>
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Yuri-Iwamoto-3.jpg" alt="Yuri Iwamoto, 'Family / きみと暮らす' Installation View" width="518" height="389" class="imgcaption" />
Text and photography by Paul McInnes 
Edited by Jennifer Pastore

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Family / きみと暮らす by Yuri Iwamoto

<a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/event/2020/77DD">Tomoko Konoike: Flip</a> at Artizon Museum through October 25, 2020 was Konoike’s first major show in Tokyo in 11 years. Its displays included: Fusuma-e, which featured a cross-section of the earth, flowing water, tornadoes, stones, and a slide; a new installation made up of giant sliding door paintings; the 12×4-meter work “Leather Black Kite” with several pieces of cowhide forming its base; and the “Shadow picture lantern” installation using the interplay of light and shadow. All of these works shared space with pieces by artists including Camille Corot, Gustave Courbet, and Alfred Sisley.
To produce her art, Konoike draws on the various workings of the world––the words and deeds of people she encounters during travels, the sun, or sometimes typhoons, plants, insects, and bacteria. To see her works on site is to experience the meaning of these words. 
Tomoko Konoike: Flip was the first exhibition in Jam Session, a series based on Artizon Museum’s concept of “experiencing creation.” To be held once a year, these shows involve artists and curators working together to create new art inspired by works selected from the Ishibashi Foundation Collection. These exhibits bringing about new perspective are like “jam sessions” between the collection and works by participating artists. Tokyo Art Beat (TAB) interviewed Konoike about her exhibition for this project that intends to act as a bridge between the past, present, and future.
Resonating with the Collection
TAB: One of the main tenets of Jam Session is that the artist chooses collection works meant to resonate with her own. However, as explained in the exhibition text, you did not select the collection works, curator Kyoko Kagawa did. How did you feel seeing the pieces by Courbet, Corot, and others along with your works?
Konoike: Like it says in the text, I came three times to select works from the collection and after that I spent time poring over the collection list, but I just couldn’t choose. I didn’t understand why at the time, but now I realize that bringing collection works into the exhibition gave me the sense of creating relationships and critiques in an art system with a narrowly defined postmodern perspective. It differentiated between the modern and the contemporary in a way that doesn’t exist any more. And even if I didn’t view it that way, I was afraid that visitors would, and I thought I needed to be careful to create a structure avoiding that. 
When I saw the lineup of works in the space, I didn’t feel such a distinction of “my works are here, the collection works are over there.” The collection is a focus, and while I was aware of being a guest artist, at the same time, I saw the collection as a natural extension of my own works. 
TAB: Do you mean the collection lost its authority and you saw all of the works from the same vantage point?
Konoike: Yes. It sounds strange, doesn’t it, when you’ve got works by someone else mixed in? It’s not that everything is completely level, but I now look at things from the same perspective, whether they’re people, objects, or landscapes. Even with my own works, when they’re installed in a space in the future, they’ll be arranged as a set and captioned with a title and “Tomoko Konoike” listed as the artist. It’s all turned into data, which maybe seems only natural, but to me is very strange. At the very least, to me an art exhibition isn’t about displaying works to be interpreted in linguistic, temporal, or educational ways. Maybe this is putting it roughly, but I think it’s about giving the works in their entirety to the people alive at that time to use as they see fit. Whether the works are classical or contemporary, created by different people, or made of pre-existing objects, it’s important for the people living at the time to get a proper sense of the exhibition as a space. 
Thinking about things this way, it doesn’t matter to me or the viewer whether the works are from the collection or not. With this exhibition, I wanted viewers, regardless of background, to encounter the artworks with no preconceptions. I wanted to create a space they could physically experience in all its interest or lack thereof.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Tomoko-Konoike-Dream-Hunting-Ground-2018.jpg" alt="Tomoko Konoike, 'Dream Hunting Grounds' (2018)" width="518" height="369" class="imgcaption" />
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Tomoko-Konoike-Flip-Installation-View.jpg" alt="Tomoko Konoike: Flip, Installation View" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
Overcoming the Shortcomings of the Art Museum
TAB: You thoroughly research the places where you display your works and the circumstances surrounding them, bringing out these features in your works. What sort of preparations did you make for this show? 
Konoike: Bridgestone Museum of Art reopened as the new Artizon Museum, and it was explained to me that my show would be its first contemporary art exhibition. At the time I was having a solo show in Akita Prefecture, and in the corner of my mind I had an image of Bridgestone tires turning as we talked. What would creativity mean to this museum? To explore that I visited Kurume, Fukuoka Prefecture, where Bridgestone Corporation originated. I learned about the founder Shojiro Ishibashi and the history of tire development. It was interesting to discover that the history and development of Bridgestone neatly overlaps with the historical background of Japan’s modernization. 
TAB: And what did you think of Artizon Museum as a place? The exhibition text includes a 2018 conversation between you and Professor Mayako Murai in which you state that the work of exhibitions is to make the place rather than the artist the main subject. You say, “I go to [the museum] and use all my senses to get a feeling for the place.” What were your perceptions of Artizon Museum?
Konoike: Artizon Museum was still under construction when I visited for the first time, and I scouted it out while there were still lots of people working on it. There are three floors of exhibition space, and the visitor moves through them from top to bottom rather than vice versa. I envisioned visitors drawing energy from below, winding their way down the space. That image has a lot of overlap with my tornado works. 
I believe that originally, the exhibition space was meant to be a place where the artist displays her own works in an assigned space, constructing her worldview around a specific theme while visitors come to encounter it. But I think the visitor is always busy with thoughts about external factors, like what route to take through the exhibition, what can be seen out the window, what kind of smells there are, what the weather outside is like, etc. No one really knows how a visitor’s imagination plays out, but even when I’m making artworks or models, I’m always thinking about the movements of the visitor as a kind of animal. I don’t know how the works themselves will influence him, but I believe they will have a big effect.
For this exhibition, I’d like everyone to focus on the framework and “skeletons” of the show. For example, for the ramp of “Fusuma-e,” I spoke with builders and chose the simplest, least customized approach so that anyone could understand the structure. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Installation-View-with-Leather-Kite-2019.jpg" alt="Installation View with 'Leather Black Kite' (2019)" width="518" height="405" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: It has kind of a rough quality to it, doesn’t it?
Konoike: I want to show things honestly. If I used techniques to make just the surface of works refined, the prettiness of them would dilute their energy from the start. For example, with “Leather Black Kite,” I colored on premade cowhide with crayon, opened holes, and increased the size by sewing thread through with drawstring. The motor on the pendulum installation is also a simple device, and technique-wise the installation “Shadow picture lantern” could be done by anyone. I consulted with all the technical staff and craftspeople and had them stop at the point where anyone could recreate the technology, so that the works would not lose any of their energy. 
TAB: Didn’t you want to add things at some point?
Konoike: The ability to create visual illusions and be fascinated with the process is limited to people with sight. Everyone, including me, perceives the world through a different body. Thinking about that, rather than things being too simple and uninteresting, it seems like conversely, through simple materials, forms, structures, and gravitational relationships, we understand how we exist here together. You don’t have to study difficult subjects to experience the joy of living. I think that’s what I want to express.
TAB: Do you think you enhanced the rough and wild parts of the exhibition in response to Artizon Museum being such a new, refined place?
Konoike: If we’re talking about the difference between exhibiting the works in an art museum or outdoors, I don’t see much of a difference at this point. One thing I can say, however, is that the safety and protection of an art museum is its greatest weakness. The air is kept a certain way, the lighting is just so, microbes are shut out, and artworks are protected as treasures in safe, perfect, closed-off rooms. When designing my exhibition, I thought about how this weakness could be overcome. Art museums are built to expel foreign matter, but I think I’ve brought some in. Through my works, I want to show how these elements can exist within the art museum.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Installation-View-with-Shadow-Lantern.jpg" alt="Installation view with 'Shadow picture lantern' (2020)" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
TAB: Actually, while I was experiencing the enormous energy of the works, I happened to notice a guard wiping down the railing of the ramp in “Fusuma-e,” disinfecting it. That scene––with the wildness and fierce energy of the art in competition with the clean, quiet, sacred space of the art museum––gave me goose bumps. What you just said reminded me of that.
Konoike: Yes. For example, I made my “Leather Black Kite” for the 2019 Setouchi Triennale. For close to a year it was displayed in the beautiful forest of Oshima, where there is a national Hansen’s Disease sanatorium, exposed to nature. Before the current exhibition started it was taken out of the forest, packed up, completely fumigated, and had all the micro-organisms, spider webs, and dust cleared away. I wasn’t really sure about the circumstances or necessity of this, but I had no choice but to agree. The work needed to be exhibited. This strange conflict made me realize that overcoming the weaknesses of the art museum is an action necessary for people today.
Tomorrow we’ll have other things to do, and we have to survive while responding to changing climates and conditions. But, taking the opposite direction of this living and evolving, there are some museums built with a human desire to enclose moments in eternity. I’ve come to think that in order to give museums resources for thinking about things like the energy of the earth and surrounding environments, we need to create “shortcuts” to the outside.
TAB: “Shortcuts.” That phrase strikes a chord with me. When you put it like that, the “Fusuma-e” installation’s ramp seems like kind of a “shortcut.” 
Konoike: With “Fusuma-e,” you climb up the ramp to view the paintings and have an experience like your body is gradually getting bigger. Then, at the end, you whoosh down the slide. Like I mentioned earlier, it’s like you forget your fascination with the exhibition’s illusions, have gravity flipped on you, and go head over heels. The exhibition title “Flip” refers to that sensation.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Fusuma-e-ramp-Installation-View.jpg" alt="'Fusuma-e installation', Installation view" width="518" height="302" class="imgcaption" />
Settling Things Through Art
TAB: This exhibition had its dates changed due to the pandemic, and currently many people are thinking about the coronavirus on a daily basis. I find in this situation I often recall my state of mind after the Great East Japan Earthquake. You’ve said in previous interviews that since that disaster you’ve felt the need to change your style of creating artworks. How do you feel about the current situation?
Konoike: This is not easy to say, but now is a fortunate time to be someone who creates. You can spend time thinking things through, reflecting on survival, and people are getting their own ideas rather than rehashing or overlapping with those of others. We’re in a moment when we’re forced to think independently rather than through other people. These days are hard, but I also feel that little by little they’re coming to be filled with a deep joy. In that sense, I think we’re lucky. 
TAB: In these unprecedented times we have to think of all kinds of matters as affecting us directly. It requires a lot of effort, but at the same time, there is a lot of joy, isn’t there? 
Konoike: I think that this is because even as people suffer, our survival means that within each of us is there is a way of breathing called art. I feel my role is to offer viewers various ways of breathing. That’s about the extent to which I feel I can help. Then, if visitors take what they have felt and seen back home with them and use it for their daily lives and work, I feel satisfied. 
Until now art has only posed questions. To myself too, every day I asked, “Why?” and “How?” Now for once I want to stop simply posing questions to society and being persuaded by its messages. I want to put things in practice rather than in words and try to settle things through the work that I call my art. Even if things don’t go well after they’re resolved, I’ll do them over. I want to engage in this form of “play.” 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Story-Telling-Table-Runners-Suzu-Aniai-Setouchi-Tasmania-Finland-2014–2019-Installation-View.jpg" alt="'The Storytelling Table Runner project' (Suzu, Aniai, Setouchi, Tasmania, Finland) (2014–2019), Installation view" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Room-of-Voices-and-Images-Installaton-View.jpg" alt="'Room of voice and video work' (Installation View)" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
About Tomoko Konoike 
Born in Akita Prefecture in 1960. Held the solo show “Primordial Violence” at Kanagawa Kenmin Hall in 2015. Received the Minister of Education Award for Fine Arts in 2016. Other solo exhibitions include “Fur Story” at Leeds Art University (England) and “Hunter Gatherer” at Akita Museum of Modern Art in 2018. Group exhibitions include “Temporal Turn” at Spencer Museum of Art/KU Biodiversity Institute & Natural History Museum (USA) in 2016 and the Setouchi Triennale in 2019.
This interview has been translated from <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.ja/2020/08/kounoiketomoko_interview.html">Japanese</a>.

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Beyond the Limits of the Art Museum

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Lee-Kit-Wide.png" alt="Lee Kit" width="518" height="353" class="imgcaption" />
Where and how have you spent your time in the months since the pandemic? 
I was in Dublin briefly during March and then I went back to Hong Kong. Due to visa issues during the pandemic, I couldn’t go (back) to Taiwan, where I have spent quite a lot of time in the past eight years. Besides, I haven’t stayed more than a month in Hong Kong for eight years. So, I took this chance to live in different areas in Hong Kong where I never lived before. I spent quite a lot of time walking in some city and rural areas that I am not quite familiar with. Apart from that, I am spending time just trying to put myself together and then forgetting what I’ve just thought about. 
How have things around you changed? 
Hong Kong has changed since last year, and it keeps changing quickly socially and politically in the past few months (i.e. from March to August, 2020). For example, The Hong Kong government had passed The National Anthem Law and The National Security Law in June, shortly after the protest started from the summer of 2019 to early 2020. Thousands of people were arrested and a lot of them were prosecuted…and the arrests are still going on. And then the pandemic. I mean, things changed and people changed, too. And I can see some people still live their lives in a normal way, which is rather abnormal. But most of these people are not the ones to be blamed. It’s hard to describe how all these changes make me feel. It’s surreal, frustrating, damaging, and somehow “muted.” I keep breathing and walking with the muted wall of sound in my head. Perhaps this is one of the most obvious changes I could describe clearly. Besides that, I don’t see the city as crowded as before.
How do you think the art world will or should change in the future? For example, the pandemic brought many exhibitions online. Do you think the pandemic will still have an impact on exhibition formats after it has been contained? 
I think something should have changed in the art world a while ago. The pandemic is a catalyst to force us to confront prolonged hypocrisy. It is also more about what we are doing rather than what art is. I remember a lot of art people were talking about how eager they were to make a change in the art world during March and April, and now it seems that we need to go back to normal, with a bit more of a platform to show art works, and to share and communicate. For example, the online platform. It’s media, or a medium that belongs to our time. So, there is nothing wrong about it. But it’s not a means to an end. We all know that. I assume we – or I – should do things a little differently than before, not solely because of the influences and consequences brought by the pandemic. It’s more about reasoning with myself before doing anything and at the same time, keeping a certain energy and openness. It is not only about changing the format of exhibition production, collaboration, and presentation. [It’s about] respecting people.
I know a lot of good people in the art world who have been working hard for years to change and work things out for the best with critical and very open-minded attitudes. But the system is like boxes in a grid tower. I envision it would be better if this grid tower became more like a river, or a kind of flowing system. I can’t provide a concrete suggestion, so I think I am part of this hypocrisy, too. 
I am not sure about whether the impact will last much longer since things are uncertain now globally and politically. Some people love to visit exhibitions to see the actual works and have the experience, just like people enjoy being in a concert. The impact won’t last forever. 
With the outbreak of the new coronavirus, political and human dignity issues have emerged. Of course, the connection between the two cannot be easily defined, but how do you think about this relationship? 
I see both good and bad sides of it. In a lot of countries, we see people working together and helping each other in this very difficult time. It mobilized people to act for what’s best for their society. At the same time, we see populism and racism, too, which are against humanity. Naivety and supremacy disguised as dignity. Not even to mention some governments are making use of the pandemic situation as a means to suppress and control the existing social political problems.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Lee-Kit-2.jpg" alt="‘You (you).’ – Lee Kit, Hong Kong, 55th International Art Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia, Curated by Lars Nittve with Yung Ma, M+, Photograph by David Levene, Venice, Italy, 28/5/13" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
At the Venice Biennale, you presented a work inspired by the rain umbrella movement. The relationship between Hong Kong and China has become more strained since then, growing rapidly tenser over the past year. On June 30, the Hong Kong National Security Act was passed. Under these circumstances, what is the relationship between your attitude as an individual and your attitude as an artist? 
Before executing this umbrella work in Venice back to 2013, I had this image – an umbrella “protecting” a security booth – in my mind since 2006. It was a coincidence. 
Actually, I started to see no obvious differences between my attitude as an individual and as an artist before the National Security Law passed earlier this year. On one hand, I am making more conventional works like paintings. On the other hand, I also make or arrange something to happen as a work or as an exhibition. Or, “something happened,” a phrase that I like to use. My life is getting more and more banal and similar to my so-called art practice. I cook my meal sometimes and have a walk (the conventions). I also “make something happen” if I need or feel like it. I don’t really see a big difference between my individual and art practices now, at least analogically. I think most people live this way, too.
In a 2017 interview, you said, “I don’t believe in democracy anymore.” Do you still feel the same way? 
I still don’t believe in democracy as the only reliable political system. However, it is a process that we have to go through to get closer to a better and fairer society. We can have endless discussions about how democracy failed and is being manipulated as a system, given that populism also makes doing so possible and prevalent. I hope I am not being silly here. When I look at what happened in Hong Kong, I simply don’t know how to formulate a strategy – just to say – to build a system out of scratch from existing systems. It has to be started somewhere. Then hopefully we can depart and go on from that. 
What hope do you see for the future? 
I would like to keep this question for the future. : )

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Catching Up With Lee Kit

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Kotaro-Iizawa.jpeg" alt="Kotaro Iizawa" width="257" height="386" class="imgcaption floatl" />Kotaro Iizawa is a photography historian and critic who has written more than 50 books. He also runs Ebisu’s <a href="https://megutama.com">Photobook Diner Megutama</a> (写真集食堂めぐたま), where you can enjoy Japanese homestyle cooking while browsing his collection of some 5,000 photobooks. The COVID-19 crisis has hit the diner hard, causing it to close temporarily. During this time Iizawa decided to use the café’s YouTube channel, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpF3CBtjdI7nGJNSvps54Zg">megutama TV</a>, to share highlights from his extensive collection. 
Each Sunday at 9:00 p.m., Iizawa broadcasts live from the diner and reviews a photobook of his choosing (in Japanese). Called “Iizawa Kotaro’s One Thousand and One Nights of Photobooks” (飯沢耕太郎の写真集千夜一夜), these talks offer a look at the book in full while discussing the photographer’s career and touching on the history and major themes of photography. (As an added bonus, Iizawa also plays the ukulele and sings in each episode.) You can check out all the episodes recorded so far on the megutama TV channel <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpF3CBtjdI7nGJNSvps54Zg/videos">archives</a>. Viewers can also ask questions to Mr. Iizawa live through the comment feature. 
The books covered (26 so far) range from early to recent titles by photographers from a variety of countries and eras. They are among the most groundbreaking and influential books in the history of photography. Authors include Daido Moriyama, Walker Evans, Shoji Ueda, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Rinko Kawauchi, Masahisa Fukase, Diane Arbus, and Richard Avedon. Tokyo Art Beat spoke with Iizawa and the artist Tokitama, co-operator of the cafe, about the project.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Megutama-1.jpeg" alt="Inside Photobook Diner Megutama" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" />
Why did you decide to do One Thousand and One Nights of Photobooks? 
Megutama has struggled because of coronavirus and we’ve had to stop doing events. During this time, I wanted to find a way to keep sharing what is great about photobooks and also give people something to enjoy while helping out the diner. The name just came to me.
When did you start the series? How long will it continue? 
We started in late April of this year. I’m not sure how long we’ll continue. I want to keep it going as long as I can.
Can you tell us about your photobook collection? Do you have a method for finding and choosing books? 
I have about 5,000 volumes at the diner and another 5,000 or so in storage. I switch out around 100–150 titles at the resturant regularly. The books have come mainly through my studies and work…I’ve been studying photography for around 40 years, so I’ve amassed a large collection. 
How do you choose from your collection for the show? 
I have a philosophy of drawing from old and new, East and West. I also try to choose books that are diverse, important, and influential. 
Are there any books or photographers you especially recommend? 
It’s interesting to see which episodes have been popular. Shigeo Gocho and Eiko Yamazawa are worth checking out.
You promote the diner’s online shop and accept <a href="https://megutamatokyo.stores.jp">donations</a> through the show. What do the funds go towards? 
They go towards supporting the store’s staff and keeping the collection in good shape.
Do you have any other plans for your YouTube channel or the cafe? 
Actually, Tokitama has been thinking about starting a Japanese homestyle cooking show with Megu-chan, another co-operator of the diner. We also plan to resume monthly portfolio reviews and other live events (with limited participants).
What in the photography world are you excited about now? 
<a href="https://fugensha.jp/about/eng.html">Fugensha</a> has a gallery in Meguro that’s doing a lot of interesting photography exhibitions. They had a group show called “Corona Spring” earlier this month that was excellent. Tokitama will have an exhibition of her photography there this November. 
Do you have any tips for enjoying photobooks? 
There are no rules. The best thing you can do is hold a book in your hands yourself.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Megutama-2-.jpg" alt="" width="518" height="345" class="imgcaption" /> 
Photobook Diner Megutama 
Address: 
150-0011 Tokyo 
Shibuya-ku, Higashi 3-2-7-1F 
Nearest Station: Ebisu
Hours: 
Tuesday–Sunday: 12:00–22:00 (Last order: 21:00) 
Closed: Monday/Public Holidays 
The diner is closed July 28 through August 31, 2020.

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One Thousand and One Nights of Photobooks

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/hiroshima_panels08-1.jpeg" alt="Students examine The Hiroshima Panels" width="518" height="389" class="imgcaption" />
<a href="https://marukigallery.jp/en/">Maruki Gallery for The Hiroshima Panels</a> in Higashi-Matsuyama, Saitama is at a crossroads. The museum is home to “The Hiroshima Panels,” a set of paintings by the Nobel Prize-nominated artists Iri and Toshi Maruki that depict the horrors and human impact of the atomic bombings. Hit hard by the COVID-19 crisis, which dented the visitor numbers it depends on for survival, the 53-year-old facility has put out a call for financial donations to keep its doors open and fund preservation work for the panels. The gallery also has new projects on the horizon. Tokyo Art Beat contacted curator Yukinori Okamura for an update on the fundraising progress and the museum’s goals.
What keeps “The Hiroshima Panels” relevant? Why are they important in this present moment? What other kinds of artwork does the gallery exhibit?
As artworks that depict the horrors of the August 1945 atomic bombings, the panels convey the pain of destruction that humans had never before experienced. Of course this is a pain that cannot be fully imagined by those who have not experienced it, but with self-centered and nationalistic thinking on the rise in today’s world, it is more important than ever to attempt to share the pain of others through creative expression.
In addition to “The Hiroshima Panels,” Iri and Toshi Maruki also created the paintings “The Rape of Nanking,” “Minamata,” and “Auschwitz,” as well as other works depicting human tragedies of the 20th century. The gallery also displays works by Suma Maruki, Iri’s mother, who began painting after the age of 70. Her works exude the joy of living freely.
The gallery put out a call for <a href="https://www.globalgiving.org/projects/virtual-tours-hiroshima-panels/">donations</a> earlier this year, citing a need for funds for its survival. How successful has the fundraising been? What will these funds go towards?
We haven’t yet confirmed the final donation amount, but at this point we estimate we’ve raised more than 50 million yen from over 5,000 people. This is the first time we’ve tried online donations, and we’ve seen a big result with people of various ages from across Japan and around the world donating. The donations will go towards running the museum and preserving and repairing the “The Hiroshima Panels,” among other projects.
I understand you’re working on creating virtual tours for the panels. Can you tell me about this project?
We registered with the U.S. donation site Global Giving and are asking for donations to make videos. We’ve received more than $6,000 from about 60 donors and aim to make the virtual tour videos within the year. We’ve asked Takashi Arai, an internationally acclaimed daguerreotype photographer who has also been working in film in recent years, to produce the videos. We would like for the “The Hiroshima Panels” to be widely known internationally. We hope to lay a foundation for supporting the museum on an international scale as an asset shared by humanity.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/kamagasaki1998-1.jpeg" alt="Katsumi Sunamori, 'Kamagasaki 1998'" width="518" height="384" class="imgcaption" />
How have operations been since the museum reopened? Can you tell me about the current exhibition of photography by <a href="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/event/2020/4372.en">Katsumi Sunamori</a>? How does his work fit with the gallery’s mission?
Thanks to newspaper, TV, and other reports, plus social media, we’re seeing more visitors to the museum than in typical years. However, the pandemic has caused school group visitations to be cancelled, so the outlook is certainly not rosy.
The Katsumi Sunamori exhibition is a limited-time show curated by the photography critic Noi Sawaragi. Sunamori passed away 11 years ago, but his work involved walking the streets and photographing Kamagasaki and the skid rows of Osaka, the slums of Hiroshima where atomic bomb survivors lived, the town of Unzen, which was devastated by volcanic eruption, the U.S. military bases of Okinawa, and other places where people live with painful memories. I believe his perspective is prescient in these times of ongoing disaster and that it has the power to connect the pain depicted in the Maruki’s works with the present day.
What kinds of exhibitions and events does the museum have planned for the future? What kind of future do you envision for “The Hiroshima Panels?”
As the situation with the corona virus is still uncertain, it is difficult to make concrete plans for too far in advance, but we will continue holding exhibitions by contemporary artists who portray social issues and the value of life. 
By displaying works by contemporary artists along with “The Hiroshima Panels,” we hope to bring out connections between their different eras and expressions. This puts a contemporary perspective on history. I think it is also a meaningful experience for artists and a stimulating and fresh experience for visitors. Through these opportunities, the spirit of the Marukis can reach more people. If we can gradually change how society is viewed, I believe it opens up new possibilities for “The Hiroshima Panels” and the Maruki Gallery in the present era.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/maruki_gallery-1.jpeg" alt="Maruki Gallery for the Hiroshima Panels" width="518" height="389" class="imgcaption" />

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Maruki Gallery for the Hiroshima Panels Looks Ahead

<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/God-of-the-Day.jpeg" alt="Kyoko Hamaguchi, 'God of the Day' (2020)" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="257" height="385" class="imgcaption floatl" /> At the Tokyo gallery <a href="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/event/2020/DCCA">Koki Arts</a> this winter, five ice-cast gods sat melting in a vitrine. The water dripping off of Virgin Mary, Buddha, Anubis, Ares, and Ganesha flowed down into a plastic bottle to be collected and refrozen. The next day the gods would be recast in their same forms, and this process would repeat each day of the exhibition.
<a href="http://kyokohamaguchi.com">Kyoko Hamaguchi</a>, the artist who created this installation, calls it God of the Day. Hamaguchi is a Tokyo University of the Arts graduate and an MFA student at Hunter College in New York. Her work deals with themes of transformation, circulation, and time. She also often employs pinhole cameras, as she did at this exhibition, “Do Gods Travel Lightly?” 
In an upper corner of the room Hamaguchi had installed Space Watcher, a pinhole camera with an exposure that lasted for the one-month duration of the show. Meanwhile, the photograph End to End (NYC Subway), taken with another pinhole camera, was arranged in the melting gods’ line of sight. The image captured the two-minute exposure of the end-to-end journey of New York City’s S Train. Together, these three pieces spoke to themes the multimedia artist continues to explore. 
Tokyo Art Beat interviewed Hamaguchi about her work.
 
<blockquote>“My installations take many different forms but conceptually they are also rooted in the nature of photography.”</blockquote>
TAB: Your works are expressions of clear ideas. Do you consider yourself a conceptual artist?
KH: I think every artwork has conceptual and visual components, but the emphasis varies. For me, the concept takes priority and drives my decisions about form, materials, and processes. I am constantly searching for ways to utilize a material’s fundamental properties to reveal new perspectives about the systems and structures of everyday life. Still, I am invested in the visual outcome and the aesthetic properties of the work, so there is always a push and pull while I am working. 
TAB: You started out in oil painting but now work in photography and installations. What has shifting between media been like for you?
KH: In my oil paintings, I was putting down 15 to 20 layers in each painting. As I waited for each layer to dry, time was piling up. This accumulation of time became one of my interests. While exposing a photograph, marks also accumulate as a function of time, so I found photography to be a natural continuation of my interest. My installations take many different forms but conceptually they are also rooted in the nature of photography.
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Virgin-Mary.jpeg" alt="Virgin Mary" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="257" height="436" class="imgcaption floatl" /><img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Ganesha.jpeg" alt="Ganesha" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="257" height="314" class="imgcaption floatl" />
 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Anubis.jpeg" alt="Anubis" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="257" height="385" class="imgcaption floatl" /><img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Buddha.jpeg" alt="Buddha" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="257" height="355" class="imgcaption floatl" />
 
<blockquote>“I was wondering if symbols of belonging or objects of faith, which are so often essential markers of identity, could also be presented as flexible.”</blockquote>
TAB: How did you choose the five particular gods for God of the Day?
KH: God of the Day is a project with multiple iterations. Each version has a unique combination of gods. I try to choose a diverse grouping from a variety of geographic locations around the world, showcasing gods with a range of physical characteristics. 
TAB: To me, God of the Day speaks to a kind of pantheism or interchangeability among religions. Is this the message you were going for?
KH: Today, people, ideas, information, and news travel faster and more flexibly than ever before. With the Internet, it is possible to look up anything at any time instantly and to move from one topic to another fluidly. So, I was wondering if symbols of belonging or objects of faith, which are so often essential markers of identity, could also be presented as flexible. This could be thought of as interchangeability as you say. Perhaps a single spirit can move fast enough to inhabit all of the gods. In God of the Day, the morphing and fluidity of water becomes analogous to this transformative spirit, melting, mixing, and reforming into each god. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Do-Gods-Travel-Lightly.jpeg" alt="'Do Gods Travel Lightly?' (Installation View) at Koki Arts (January 31–February 28, 2020)" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
<blockquote>“Immigrants are always circulating between their original home and their new one, even if they are not doing so physically.”</blockquote>
TAB: You’re interested in migration, fluidity, and the passage of time. How do these ideas fit together for you?
KH: For me, circulation is the key word that connects migration, fluidity, and the passage of time. The unprecedented ability to move through the world enables people and ideas to travel and interact with each other to form new identities and notions of home. Immigrants are always circulating between their original home and their new one, even if they are not doing so physically. The fluid mixing of old and new cultures becomes a unifying force that breaks down antiquated barriers. All of these interactions and processes happen in time and may also be revealed through it. 
<img src="https://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Melted.jpeg" alt="" title="Photo: Susumu Okada" width="518" height="346" class="imgcaption" />
<blockquote>“By following my instincts rather than trying to make something that someone else thinks constitutes ‘Japaneseness,’ I believe I can better understand my culture.”</blockquote>
TAB: How has moving between Japan and New York influenced your practice?
KH: New York is a place where many cultures from around the world mingle together. So, you have to stand strong to keep hold of your identity and ethnicity. However, I also realized that in the art world there are so many biases about who you are and what you are interested in based on your background. Often people expect an artist who came from Japan to make work about their “Japaneseness.” But the “Japaneseness” they think of is far different from what I experienced in my country. These expectations I felt when I moved from Japan to New York had the effect of making me even more determined not to change anything I had previously pursued. By following my instincts rather than trying to make something that someone else thinks constitutes “Japaneseness,” I believe I can better understand my culture.
TAB: How is working and living in New York at the moment?
KH: In New York, we have experienced “stay-at-home orders” for two and a half months, and now, after George Floyd’s brutal murder at the hands of police in Minneapolis, we are out in the streets protesting to fight systemic racism. We have gone from extreme isolation to intense gathering. This fluctuation and the energy and purpose behind it has been astonishing to witness and participate in. Listening as much as I can has helped me understand the injustices deeply rooted not only in America but in countries all over the world that continue to this day. For me, this moment has been a time of witnessing and learning new histories, not only by reading about them but by experiencing history in the making.

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Time and Transformation

Never before has the world been so populated by bookmakers. More new magazines and book titles were produced in 2008 than ever before in human history. And I was under the impression that print was dead, or at the very least dying a slow and painful death. 
This paper growth has been brought on partly by a new ecology of small (even micro) publishers producing art-related books and magazines. Publishers such as Nieves in Zurich, Le Pres du Reel in Paris, TV Books in New York City, and The Spring Press in Sydney are just the tip of the iceberg. Some publishing companies are even run directly by the artists themselves, and publish only their own work, such as Bonehouse Books from the UK, run by Jon Chandler. These publishers are selling online, through art fairs and also more recently through a network of speciality bookshops. Hiroshi Eguchi’s publishing house UTRECHT in Naka-meguro, and his bookstore/gallery Now Idea in Aoyama, are leading lights among this new group of publishers and bookshops.
Hiroshi recently ran a booth at 101Tokyo Art Fair dedicated to this type of publication with Oliver Watson. Oliver is the editor and creative director of PAPERBACK, an independently produced art magazine distributed worldwide. Together they will also be directing an Art Book Fair in Tokyo later this year called ZINE’S MATE. Tokyo Art Beat recently talked with Hiroshi and Oliver in the Now Idea Gallery Space. 
<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/reckless-bookmaking.jpg" alt="Utrecht Books." title="Photo: Cameron McKean" width="518" height="380" class="imgcaption" /> 
Hiroshi, tell us about the space we are in now.
Hiroshi: The space is called Now Idea, it includes a bookstore, gallery and terrace space. On the terrace are tables and chairs for people to relax, have coffee, and read through the books. Right now we have two artists from Buenos Aires, Mercedes Villalba and Julian Gatto, growing plants out there, part of an installation that will last two months. In the bookstore we stock lots of titles bought in because we like them, also some books that we have published.
You make your own books? 
Hiroshi: Yes, we make small books, a kind of zine or artist book, which features one artist in one book with one concept, usually ten to thirty pages. 
<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/reckless-bookmaking2.jpg" alt="Hiroshi Eguchi, founder of Utrecht and Now Idea, holding a copy of PAPERBACK magazine." title="Photo: Cameron McKean" width="257" height="188" class="imgcaption floatl"/>Here is an example. This is a book that UTRECHT published, when the artist was in Japan. The book is not bound, only held together with string, you can actually take the book apart and use each sheet as a poster style image. All spreads in the book are printed twice so if you want you can hang the entire book up on a wall. This is another one, Oliver’s magazine PAPERBACK. This magazine is very interesting, the text is actually hidden in the cover, which folds out to poster size. It’s also bound in a way so that each spread folds out flat. This magazine plays around with the idea of what a book or magazine can be, communicating with the whole object as well as the content.
What is the gallery space meant for? What kind of artists is this space meant to support?
Hiroshi: I want this space to be used by the people who make and appreciate this kind of book. The artists participating are usually related to the books we are stocking, but I don’t necessarily think artists have to be connected to the books in our store. I don’t really want to run an art gallery, that’s not what this is. I want to see what comes out of using this space for expression. 
So let’s talk a little about self-publishing. It seems as though the last five years have seen a massive increase in the number of titles produced despite claims that ‘print is dead’. Why is there such an increase in these kinds of self-published artists’ books? What is the appeal?
Hiroshi: I think we make them simply because it can be fun. Sorry it’s such a childish answer! We just enjoy the act of making. There are many factors which add up to make these kind of books and magazines fun or appealing. Firstly, they are handy; having a tangible, tactile object is nice to show people. It lets us engage with people in a stronger way than showing a website. It’s nicer to see something tangible. 
I personally like the feeling of flipping pages, and seeing the specific procession of images. The layout is also important, thinking about the paper stock, how it feels, is it shiny, that kind of thing. There are so many elements to sympathize with in a book, it’s exciting to see how agreeable all these elements are together; does this image suit this paper? These are the reasons making books has become appealing, I think.
Oliver: I think what this really is, is a resurgence in popularity for making artist’s books. Publishers like Nieves have called them ‘zines’, so do we, but I think what they really are is a reincarnation of the artist’s book tradition which goes back to the Sixties. An artist’s book is simply an artist using the book format to express themselves, often in a cheap and mass produced fashion. This started out with people like Sol Lewitt and Ed Ruscha working in New York in the late Sixties and early Seventies at the same time that Printed Matter was founded. 
Back then people were experimenting a lot with new media as they became accessible: publishing, film, video, computers. So why are we still using the format of the artist’s book today? What do you think about the function of these books and magazines now? 
Oliver: Self publishing is a way for an amateur artist or an artist beginning their career to get their work into the public domain. Especially now that we have shops in major cities specializing in this kind of publication. Artists can get their work out as long as the bookshop is into what they are doing. This means that their work has been able to enter the public domain without the permission of a gallery or a real publisher. Which is very desirable for a lot of young artists today.
Hiroshi: I agree. In the past making a book was a big deal, you had to be someone with academic standing. If you published a book here in Japan people would call you ‘Sensei’ (Teacher). Things are so different today, it is so much easier to publish a book. Also, rather than just seeing something online, you can physically measure where your work has travelled with a book. I think that’s part of its function too. You can feel that the book is being distributed. In the past books were also so expensive, whereas now the monetary value is much flatter. I like the way things are now.
Ten years ago these present kinds of artist’s books, zines, and magazines did not really exist. Today there are small publishers all over the world and also small bookshops like Now Idea specializing in these kinds of publications: Ooga Booga in Los Angeles, Post Poetics in Seoul, Split Fountain in New Zealand. So what do you both think the situation will be like in another five years? What are both of your hopes for the future?
Oliver: I am a supporter of this new ‘art book’ culture, definitely.
Hiroshi: More people should learn to make these kinds of books. I hope many people can come to use this format for expressing themselves. I’m not worried about an over-saturated market.
Oliver: I think that the type of art we are talking about is a kind of return to expressionism. We have been through realism, minimalism, conceptualism, and I feel as though our generation has returned to something more expressive, by just drawing, making a collage making a painting. 
<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/reckless-bookmaking4.jpg" alt="The exhibition space at Utrecht is called Now Idea." title="Photo: Cameron McKean" width="518" height="380" class="imgcaption" /> 
When I think about this new “expressionism” and a desire for more publications I fear a kind of excess unmediated by much criticism. Should there be more consideration of people’s output? 
Oliver: I don’t know how to judge that because, firstly, if you make a zine you need somewhere to sell it, so you either go online and sell it yourself, or to a bookshop and ask them to stock it. As you attempt to enter the public sphere with your zine you are in competition with all the other zines, so I suppose it should encourage artists to make something which stands out.
Hiroshi: I’m not worried about there ever being too many books. That is where the bookshops have a role, to curate, that’s our function. I’m optimistic about the future. The more books there are, the more choices I have about what titles to stock.
Oliver: Are you complaining there are too many art books?
I am just testing the boundaries of this kind of thinking. There has been a real exuberant period of people self-publishing and self-producing over the past few years. I wonder if now there should be a more critical response.
Oliver: But there is already editing; book shop owners, buyers and book fair organizers. Like Hiroshi said if you come down to Now Idea you will see his selection of what is out there. You are right that there is currently a real boom in independently published magazines, zines, and art books, despite the fact that many believe the publishing world is dying. But whose role is it to restrain? You can’t restrain people; people want to express themselves and they are going to do it. It’s just this generation creating its own solutions; we can’t necessarily get our art books published by a publishing giant like Phaidon, and so we create our own solutions, we publish our own books.
Thanks to Hiroshi Eguchi and Oliver Watson for their time, and to Chiharu Ozaki for translations.
You can visit the Zines Mate website at <a href="http://www.zinesmate.org/">http://www.zinesmate.org/</a>
Paperback Magazine – <a href="http://www.paperbackmagazine.com/">http://www.paperbackmagazine.com/</a>
Now Idea – <a href="http://www.utrecht.jp/aoyama/exhibition.html">http://www.utrecht.jp/aoyama/exhibition.html</a>/

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Art in the Age of Reckless Bookmaking

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An Interview with Hans Ulrich Obrist

<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Yoshitaka-Amano-1-Lady-Red-Press-.jpeg" alt="Yoshitaka Amano 'Lady Red' (2019), Automotive paint and acrylic on aluminum panel, 160 x 90 x 10 cm" title="©AMANO Yoshitaka, Courtesy Mizuma Art Gallery" width="257" height="458" class="imgcaption floatl" /> For many nerdy millennials, our dreams were illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano. Who knows if the Final Fantasy franchise would have been so hugely successful without Amano’s otherworldly artwork that so captured the gaming world’s imagination. In contrast to the cartoonish spikiness that characterized video game art at the time, Amano’s Final Fantasy illustrations were known for dreamy, flowing lines and resplendent use of color. His superstar status in the gaming world aside, Amano has had a prolific and varied career, first as an animator from the 1960s, then as a freelance illustrator, before moving his focus towards fine art since the late 1990s. 
In his latest exhibition, “Tales of Spring Dreams” currently at Mizuma Art Gallery, Amano’s subjects are young women on the cusp of adulthood. In place of the wispy lines of his Final Fantasy artwork, you’ll find block colors and shiny surfaces à la Superflat. With car paint as a medium, a nod to consumer culture is also appropriate to Takashi Murakami’s movement. Most suggestive of Superflat is the exhibition’s centerpiece “Spring Awakening,” a massive, technicolor depiction of a girl lying prone in a cluttered room. Automotive paint and acrylic on an aluminum panel, the work commands immediate attention on entering the gallery. Devoid of the usual delicacy that accompanies spring motifs, “Spring Awakening” is so cluttered and colorful it borders on kitsch. The other paintings in the main room, a series of portraits with titles like “Lady Blue,” “Lady Red” and “Lady Mint Green” are far less busy. These works are a clear continuation of Amano’s “Candy Girl” series, which was used in collaborations with brands in 2016 to create high-end merchandise for an event at Mitsukoshi Ginza department store. “Candy Girl” is a big-eyed, hyper-expressive girl of around 16, depicted with bright colors and a futuristic bent. In “Tales of Spring Dreams,” the subjects have aged a few years but maintain some of Candy Girl’s distinguishing features, such as the round antennae on the sides of their heads.
<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Yoshitaka-Amano-2-Spring-Awakening.jpeg" alt="Yoshitaka Amano, 'Spring Awakening' (2019), Automotive paint and acrylic on aluminum panel, 250 x 300 x 10 cm" width="518" height="432" title="©AMANO Yoshitaka, Courtesy Mizuma Art Gallery" class="imgcaption" /> 
“Tales of Spring Dreams” would almost be a comfortable middle road between romantic escapism and undisguised consumerism if it weren’t for the destabilizing effect of Mizuma Art Gallery’s side room and the works within. Adjacent to the main room is a small chamber containing a Japanese-style room with rare black tatami mats. This layout has led to some interesting curatorial choices in many of Mizuma’s exhibitions, and “Tales of Spring Dreams” is no exception. In this space, you’ll find six out of seven of the “Lady Noir” paintings – young women depicted in the sumi-e style of East Asian ink brush painting. Although the subjects are the same as the rest of the exhibition, the dramatic monochrome brush strokes could not be more different from the shiny automotive paint. The overall impact is odd, jagged, and raises more questions than it answers. Lady Noir saves “Tales of Spring Dreams” from prettiness and predictability; her murmurings of Japanese tradition through blurry dark ink are suggestive without prescribing a fixed meaning.
Yes, the default equation of very young women to the “fleeting beauty of spring” seems unoriginal at best, phallogocentric at worst. Then again, Yoshitaka Amano has not built his career on the strength of his message but his undeniable aesthetic mastery. “Tales of Spring Dreams” is gorgeous and playful, with a hint of the ominous and jagged edges to maintain the viewer’s attention. Fans of sci-fi, fantasy, Superflat, and traditional fine art alike, as well as newcomers to Amano’s work, will find much to enjoy at this free exhibition that runs until May 18th. Tokyo Art Beat discussed the artist’s intentions with Yoshitaka Amano himself.
<img src="http://www.tokyoartbeat.com/tablog/entries.en/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Yoshitaka-Amano-3-Lady-Purple-.jpeg" alt="Yoshitaka Amano, 'Lady Purple' (2019), Automotive paint and acrylic on aluminum panel, 90 x 90 x 10 cm" title="©AMANO Yoshitaka, Courtesy Mizuma Art Gallery" width="518" height="518" class="imgcaption" />
Interview with Yoshitaka Amano 
You started your career in animation and many people know you from your work with Final Fantasy. Video games and anime are considered to be “popular culture” whereas exhibitions in a gallery like Mizuma are “fine art.” What is the difference for you?
For the popular culture works, the work I do is delivered to the viewer in the form of a game, anime, or book after it has undergone some editing. On the other hand, for fine art, I have no limitations on what I produce and what is presented is the work as I drew it. So the entrance and exit points of the works may differ, but there is not too much of a difference in the actual drawing process.
The title of the exhibition is “Tales of Spring Dreams” but there aren’t many overt references to spring in most of the works. The focus seems to be on the subjects: young women. What is the reason behind the title? How do these paintings of young women relate to spring? 
Each season possesses its own color-based characteristic; spring’s striking features are its warmth, softness and the idea of change. For Japanese people, “spring dreams” represent a sense of fleetingness, but I feel that this fleetingness is both beautiful and alluring. The subjects of this exhibition, young women in the midst of maturing, are fleetingly beautiful just like a spring dream. This idea overlaps with the change of the imperial era that is occurring over this year’s spring, which brings with it its own sense of expectation and nostalgia.
A lot of the subjects have an uninterested, almost disdainful expression. Why? 
Clear expressions restrict the imagination of the viewer, so I tried to keep any emotion to a minimum.
The exhibition contains two types of art: brightly colored works with automotive paint and sumi-e style monochrome works. The contrast is particularly striking because Mizuma has placed the bright paintings in the main gallery and the dark paintings in the side room. Why are these two different styles in the same exhibition? 
I wanted to paint the same subjects using two different mediums. I haven’t really presented many works which use traditional Japanese paper and ink before, but by adding colors aside from just black, I tried to link the two parts of the exhibition.
The subjects in “Candy Girl” are aged around 15 or 16, whereas in “Tales of Spring Dreams” they are around 19 or 20. Why did you choose to have them grow up? Does this mean you will paint women in their late 20s for the next exhibition? 
The women I painted for this exhibition is closer to what I usually draw, whereas the young girls in “Candy Girl” are more of the exception for me. I have another future series of large works featuring princesses scheduled to be released. Maybe this will bring an opportunity to paint older queens, too.
Interview by Julia Mascetti 
Translated by Arthur Reiji Morris

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