Chiho Aoshima

Rising Sun, Melting Moon: Contemporary Art from Japan

Israel Museum, Jerusalem
2006

reviewed by
James Rosenthal

In the past decade the art of Japan has joined the world scene in a big way and I am not sure if the art market is responsible, or simply that the tide has turned enough where both art and contemporary popular culture in Japan have entered the global mainstream along with sushi bars and dubbed cartoons like Yu-Gi-Oh and Inuyasha. One reason for the new surge of enthusiasm may be that there is a world wide faux naif phenomenon that can be attributed to a younger generation raised with CDs and video games. The overarching cute quality (Kawaii) that is specific to Japan fits right in there. As artists borrow from the popular media, these two areas become more linked, visible, and viable commercially. It is not surprising that the resulting fine art is as digestible and as widely distributed as the Japanese manga and anime that it is derived from.

Although the geeky young guys from this “Otaku” subculture of Japan have long been immersed in cartoons and graphic novels, no one seems willing to inquire about the motives of parallel art practice referred to as neo-pop. For the novice, it remains confusing where the apocalyptic vision in films like Akira overlap with the pervading cuteness mania and the slightly disturbing “Lolitacom,” which refers to the plethora of schoolgirl content for male consumption. Like the primary source, much of it is slick and seems derived from a careful study of Jeff Koons and Warhol as well as the obvious cartoon metier. Though Otaku is dominantly male territory, there is also a mix of ninja sword play and science fiction offered specifically for young women. These “maidens,” known as Otame, offer some refreshing riot grrrl gender balance and luckily this is picked up on by female artists who in turn imbue their work with the naive honesty of teen diaries.

Rising Sun, Melting Moon: Contemporary Art of Japan was a solid overview of present day work and differed from the over-the-top show, Little Boy (The Art of Japan’s Exploding Subculture), in New York last year. Taking the name of the Hiroshima bomb, Little Boy investigated this wider Otaku subculture from monster movies, film props, and model box illustration, while Rising Sun simply focused on the art itself. One piece that stuck with me from Rising Sun was the animation where a man sheds his own skin over and over. This installation took place in a spare zen-like room. No ninjas there, just metaphor.

Little Boy suffered somewhat from the insistence of its chief organizer, artist Takashi Murakami, that commercial modes and fine art were nearly one and the same. He may aspire to be the Japanese new century Warhol, but to post-modern/Western eyes his argument is never completely convincing and the more I see of the new Japanese work the more curious I become about where that line lies and what those influences mean to both sides of the street. It is not because the art isn’t compelling or isn’t fine art, it is simply altogether too accessible and, in some cases, distractingly similar to original source material. In that sense Murakami’s argument works; the line is blurred, but I believe the impetus remains different for commercial animators versus fine artists, even though young artists can now hope to participate in a booming world market.

The model to follow is Japanese art star Yoshitomo Nara. Included in both shows, his work exemplifies this dichotomy between merchandising and making art. Seemingly contradictory, his well-known associations with a punk rock attitude help place him well in the Otaku subculture, yet he now moves in international art circles. His ability to effortlessly produce handsome art collectibles like cute ceramic piggy banks defies an elitist stance (or does it?) and continues the two sided mystique. In Jerusalem, his overworking of classic Hokusai prints was apropos. Here, Nara deftly appropriates from the great-grandfather of manga and adds his own signature characters and hand drawn text. These pieces illustrate literally how new Japanese culture and art rests firmly on the old. This updating even seems to give historical relevance to Murakami’s overblown theory of “superflat” which I bluntly translate as a graphic style akin to cartoons. How this metaphorical flatness relates to post modern life is a mystery, and the graphic quality of Japanese art history over centuries is a long story. For us, the issues relate mostly to post war Japan and the new Japanese identity. Hiroshima is a more familiar trope, if an equally complex story, and the literal flatness a little too disturbing. From then on the big SF themes of planetary destruction are repeated over and over in both film and television. There also continues a hanging on to childhood in a general sense. Seen as dumbing down or simply refusing to grow up are all reactions to the perceived future or past. Two exemplary highlights of this are the Last Exile series which features good old-fashioned battle scenes with retro spaceships and the films of Miyasaki (Howl’s Moving Castle and Spirited Away) whose sophisticated work is particularly Japanese (non-Western) and evokes subtle cultural idiosyncrasies. His films are extensions of childlike awe, which is something artists have always aspired to and been inspired by.

In any case, any explication of the connection between art and the pervading subcultures is fascinating. At this point is time, it is amazing to watch the art of Japan reflect the cultural preoccupations of both past and future and vigorously add to it in the mainstream present. In Jerusalem, Rising Sun was accompanied by an exhibition, Far and Away, that featured Israeli artists influenced by Japanese myth, attitude, and the flat aesthetic. This work served to doubly underscore the global influence of the New Japan. The legacy of both Godzilla and Hokusai is assured.

© 2006 James Rosenthal and InLiquid.com; image copyright © Chiho Aoshima & Israel Museum