Quick Links: The Met, Namdaemun, Hirschhorn, and Social Engagement as Art

Just a few things that have come up this week.

*Korea’s National Treasure Number One, Seoul’s Namdaemun (“South Great Gate”), severely damaged by an arsonist in 2008, has been reopened to the public after a US$24 million restoration project.

*Speaking of heritage issues, the New York Times reports that the Metropolitan Museum has agreed to return a pair of statues to Cambodia after Cambodian officials presented clear evidence that the statues had been taken out of the country illegally in the 1970s.

I find it heartening that the Cambodian Secretary of State is quoted as saying “This shows the high ethical standards and professional practices of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which they are known for.” It is wonderful to see the Metropolitan characterized in such a positive manner, as a potential partner and not as an adversary or obstacle.

*Meanwhile, on the subject of museums, there are apparently plans for a giant bubble to be installed at the Smithsonian’s Hirshhorn sculpture museum, seasonally, serving as a decidedly (post-?)modernist additional gallery space.

The Smithsonian Magazine article I found discussing this (thanks for the heads up, dad!) expresses concerns that the plan may not fly, as DC, the very model of a bureaucratic city, loves its drab grey concrete too much, and similarly creative contemporary-looking sort of projects have failed in the past. I guess only time will tell if it does manage to go through.

*On a separate subject, a recent blog post posted by the Queens Museum of Art invites us to consider social activist artistic practice, and the questions of what makes it “art”? and Why call it art?

Simply protest? Or Art?

There may be a standard term out there in the scholarly or art critic discourse for this precise type of art, but if there is, I do not know it. What this Queens Museum blog post, and I, are referring to is engaging in flat-out social activist activities — whether it be a protest poster, a march or sit-in, a stand where you sell or give away something in order to raise awareness for a cause, organizing communal/public vegetable gardens, or volunteering at, e.g. a soup kitchen or hospital — and then calling it “art” or “artistic practice.”

This is only extremely tentative, but my initial reaction was to, first, say that one key element is simply whether or not it is called “art” by its creators/organizers, and whether it is called “art” by critics or scholars. I think the difference is largely in how it is conceptualized. One person might engage in a given action or activity out of (more or less) purely political motives; she might make all organizational, logistical, and aesthetic decisions about the project based chiefly on how effective they will be towards successfully achieving the political goal. And others might see this activity, and might analyze it, describe it, through a political or social sciences lens. And then someone else might engage in precisely the same activity, but might choose to see the performative and discursive aspects of the act itself as being of chief importance over (or equal with) the success of the political aims. This person might call themselves an artist, and call what they are doing “artistic practice.” And others might examine the act, conceptualize it, describe it, in terms of art, aesthetics, or performance. Somewhere in there, I think, may be the answer. Not solely, simply, a matter of calling it art or not calling it art, but, truly, conceiving of it and conceptualizing its meaning differently, on a very fundamental basis.

Or, to touch upon a slightly different perspective of a closely related interpretation, perhaps what separates it is simply its cleverness and intertextuality. A protest that is powerfully clear in its targets, its aims, and its methods, may be art in the sense of the argument that everything is art, because everything contains aesthetic and performative aspects, and deeper meanings. But, when a social act is not clear in its targets, its aims, or its methods, when its purpose or meaning is not readily apparent, but requires some interpretation, discursive or intertextual references, or the like in order to understand – in short, when it’s clever – does that make it more strongly, more definitively, “art”?

As for the other question — why call it art? What does the person classifying it as such have to gain (or to lose)? — I leave it open.

What do you think? What makes an act of social engagement or protest “art”? What distinguishes it from purer, “non-art,” forms of social or political engagement?

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Timbuktu Update: Rebels Attack Library

A medieval Sufi tomb, destroyed by the terrorists.

I’ve posted about the Timbuktu situation before. Can’t say I’ve been following it super closely, but, best as I understand, beginning last April, Islamist fundamentalist rebels & Tuareg separatists took over most of the territory of the country of Mali, and, until they were routed by French & Malian government forces last week, set themselves (in part) to destroying World Heritage Sites they felt were idolatrous or otherwise sacrilegious.

They have already destroyed a number of medieval tombs of Sufi saints, showing an astounding lack of respect for their own history, their own culture, their own religion, and an incredible failure to care how this makes them, Africa, and Islam appear to the rest of the world, encouraging rather than combatting negative stereotypes of Africa and Islam both as anti-intellectual, as primitive, violent, and all-around uncultured and uncivilized.

Last week, the terrorists went one step further. Timbuktu is not only the home of great sub-Saharan architecture, and sites of great religious importance, but it is also the home of one of the greatest collections of Islamic manuscripts – medieval manuscripts that represent some of the greatest examples of the flourishing high culture, science, philosophy, of the Islamic world prior to the era of European imperialism. Last week, the rebels torched one of the central libraries, and for a terrifying, dramatically saddening moment, it was thought all was lost. Now, some sources, including the Tombouctou Manuscripts Project itself are reporting, to the contrary, that librarians and curators in fact evacuated the vast majority of these treasures in anticipation of the rebel attack. Of course, we are not being told how or where the documents are now being hidden away, but museum directors and private collectors assure us that “the manuscripts are hidden in different places where nothing can happen to them.”

(Video courtesy of blog 333 Saints: a Life of Scholarship Under Threat.)

The actions and attitudes of these militants are unbelievable to me. To destroy your own culture, your own history, one of the greatest shining examples that Africa was not backwards, was not primitive, but was full of vibrant intellectual and cultural activity of the highest order, long before European involvement, seems counter-productive and self-destructive to say the least. And that, of course, is putting it mildly. In an opinion/editorial piece on CNN.com, Irina Bokova, Director-General of UNESCO, discusses these issues and their import in far more eloquent and to-the-point terms, writing, “The attack on Timbuktu’s cultural heritage is an attack against this history and the values it carries — values of tolerance, exchange and living together, which lie at the heart of Islam.”

I do not know much about the specifics of the circumstances on the ground there in Mali today; the timeline on Wikipedia seems to indicate that the French and Malian government forces are in the process of retaking territory even as I write this. Hopefully they will have little difficulty completing this task and restoring government control, and order. However, in my amateur opinion, I would not be surprised if rooting out and eliminating these fundamentalist, and dreadfully destructive and violent elements from the region may prove impossible. This is most likely not something that can be changed with warfare, or by outside foreign intervention. All the UN condemnations in the world won’t stop these people. The only thing that can stop them, I wager, is for Muslims around the world – and most especially within these Northern African communities – to gather together and denounce these attitudes, to work within their communities to change minds, to change attitudes, and to eliminate this disgusting, repulsive virus that threatens to destroy Islam’s greatest historical and cultural treasures.

Some reports quote Malian locals as saying they need the French forces to stay, in order to continue to protect them from the rebels, but other reports are indicating that the French are looking to get out of Mali as soon as possible, in order to avoid the sort of quagmire the US continues to find itself in in Afghanistan. Hopefully, all involved will do what is right, and the horrors of the last eight months or so will not be repeated.

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Loss of a Legend: Ichikawa Danjûrô passes away

Sad news again from the kabuki world. Frankly, I’m still a little bit in shock, and finding it hard to believe.

A friend just posted on my Facebook wall a few hours ago a link to the New York Times obituary for Nakamura Kanzaburô, who passed away this past December. Looking at her post, I got to thinking about when, at some point in the future, Danjûrô would pass away as well. I never suspected it would be so soon. Not even five minutes later, I scrolled down to see a post from Kabuki scholar Matsuba Ryoko, linking to a Mainichi Shinbun article stating that Kabuki actor Ichikawa Danjûrô had succumbed to pneumonia, and died earlier today, Feb 3rd. Here is the article from the English-language version of the Mainichi.

Danjûrô was, pretty much by definition, the most prominent actor in the kabuki world. His passing, especially combined with that of Kanzaburô, marks the end of an era. I feel terribly privileged to have gotten to see them both perform, to have met Danjûrô, and to have gotten his autograph, and to think that, some years down the road, when it is a new Kabuki-za that everyone has grown familiar with, and a new Danjûrô and a new Kanzaburô who grace its stage, I’ll be able to think of myself as someone who has been a fan since the previous generation – someone who remembers the previous Kabuki-za, the previous Kanzaburô, and the previous Danjûrô.

Of course, none of this is about me, or really about the art, the theatre; though the kabuki world and its fans have of course lost a legend today, my heart goes out too to his family – his son, prominent actor Ichikawa Ebizô who has just lost his father, and all of Danjûrô’s other close and extended family and friends.

You will be dearly missed, sir.

I expect we will be seeing more from the Japanese media in coming days. This truly marks the beginning of a new era of Kabuki.

My good friend Brigid and myself, with Danjûrô, outside the Kabuki-za in January 2008.

EDIT: Additional articles and links:
*Obituary/Article at Kabuki-bito.jp, the Shôchiku official website

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Nakamura Kanzaburô dies at 57

The world of kabuki lost one of its greatest stars yesterday. Nakamura Kanzaburô, who had been fighting esophageal cancer, died in a Tokyo hospital yesterday at the age of 57.

I am not sure what I can say that wouldn’t just be a repetition or rehashing of what I have just read in the Japan Times, and in the Mainichi Shimbun. I am tempted to want to write a much longer blog post, in honor of this great man, but I suppose I will leave it to the newspapers to do what they do.

I had the pleasure, the privilege, of seeing Kanzaburô perform on a number of occasions, both in Tokyo, and once in Washington DC. The last time I saw him perform, it was back in 2008, at the old Kabuki-za. The play Ukare Shinjû, a relatively new play not in the traditional repertoire, which Kanzaburô wrote and starred in, ends with his character flying out over the audience, passing into the afterlife atop a giant mouse, shouting (something to the effect of), “This is the real chûnori!”¹ I suppose I shall always remember him in that moment.

Kanzaburô was a dedicated and masterful actor, but a creative one too, often creating new projects such as the Heisei Nakamura-za touring company, and Cocoon Kabuki, aimed at making kabuki more appealing to a younger / more modern audience; he played a role as well in creating new plays, such as Ukare Shinjû, and the zombie kabuki Ô-Edo no Living Dead. He leaves behind two sons, Nakamura Kankurô and Shichinosuke, both extremely accomplished actors in their own rights. I imagine that one of them will soon take on the Kanzaburô name.

In the meantime, today is truly a sad day for kabuki, for its fans, and of course, especially, for Kanzaburô’s family. My heart goes out to them.

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(1) Chûnori 宙乗, lit. “riding the sky,” is the name of a special effects technique (keren) in kabuki, in which an actor flies up over the audience on wires, usually making his exit in this manner up over the audience, and out the back of the theater. The joke in Ukare Shinjû is that he is riding a mouse, which, in Japanese, rather than “squeak-squeak,” says “chû-chû” – thus, the pun of “the real chûnori/riding-the-sky” as “this is the true riding-a-mouse!”

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Archaeology QuickLinks

*Archaeologists believe they have discovered the ruins of The Curtain, a London theatre that saw the world premieres of Romeo & Juliet and Henry V. The Curtain is believed to have been the first purpose-built theatre in London, along with the creatively named The Theatre, founded the following year, in 1576, and uncovered in 2008. It’s very exciting that discoveries like these are still being made – that there are still things yet to find, and that we are finding them.

Today, of course, you can visit the rebuilt Globe Theatre, and see a show in a recreation of the way it might have been done in Shakespeare’s time. And it can be quite inexpensive, too. The one time I went to the Globe, it was a very new play about Abelard & Heloise, not a Shakespeare production, but nevertheless, the atmosphere/aesthetic was amazing, and it was only five quid. Probably the cheapest entertainment I had my entire time in London. Cheaper even than a sandwich, almost.

*Meanwhile, a survey has revealed that the Great Wall of China is about twice as long as previously believed. Previous understandings were based primarily on historical records, apparently, and now that actual measurements and investigations have been done of the actual sites, it has been determined that the wall’s many branches total over 20,000 km of length, more than double the 8,000 or so kilometers of the core section of wall (re)built during the Ming Dynasty. The wall is referred to in Chinese and in Japanese as 万里長城 – lit. “The Long Fortress of 10,000 li,” a li (or ‘ri’ in Japanese) being a traditional unit of distance; the length of a li has varied over time, but is today standardized as roughly half a kilometer. This would make the whole wall only 5,000 km long, if it were literally 10,000 li. But, of course, “ten thousand” is sort of a stand-in or euphemism for a really really great number, just as in the chant “banzai!” (万歳！), meaning that the Emperor, or the Empire, should live “ten thousand years!” In short, it’s ultimately irrelevant, what the actual length of a li is, and how many li long the wall is.

Today, only a small portion of the 20,000 km of wall is intact, and the intact sections still face various threats from erosion, development, and the like.

*Speaking of China, the Palace Museum has apparently finished cataloguing its entire collection. I’m not sure too many museums can say the same.

*Finally for today, the author of Chasing Aphrodite, a book about museums & looted artifacts, is proposing beginning a crowdsourced website called WikiLoot.

The BBC reports that WikiLoot would serve as a database for looted artifacts, helping professionals and others keep an eye out for such objects, whether at auction, otherwise on the market, in private collections, or in museums. Anyone could contribute, allowing the database to grow, and stay up to date, very quickly and easily (in theory), allowing it to be very extensive, and thus very effective. It does look like Mr. Jason Flech, the brains behind Chasing Aphrodite and WikiLoot, has already anticipated the problems of allowing fully free public access to the site – he says that only “experts and researchers .. will have back-end access” to edit the material on the site, while the general public (read: anyone) will have access to look at and read the site.

On the surface, this sounds like it could be a great thing. Art police types, as well as museum professionals working to ensure the above-board provenance of their acquisitions and collections, have long used published volumes listing known stolen objects. In one anecdote I remember reading about, investigators raiding a dealer’s warehouse in Geneva found just such a book, open to a picture of a stolen table, the book sitting on that very table. Books such as these help museums make sure that objects they’re considering acquiring are above-board, and that objects they already own are legally possessed; and they help investigators reclaim objects from Sotheby’s and Christie’s auctions, where looted objects quite often do appear. I wouldn’t be surprised if officials use these books as well when stopping antiquities smugglers at customs at airports as well. Making such lists into an extensive, constantly-updating, online database seems the obvious next step, to bring this into the 21st century, expanding accessibility. Mr. Felch has even investigated the possibility of incorporating such a database into Google Googles, or some other sort of “computer vision” HUD, and has discussed the possibility with people at Google. Imagine walking around with Terminator-vision set to whether or not an object in front of you has good, legal provenance. What a tool!

But, as Arthur Houghton, former curator at the Getty Museum, warned during an event at Asia Society discussing the matter, having such a website publically accessible and widely known about could “flood … museums with people wanting to find out, Is this object looted or not? If it is unprovenanced, how do you know where it came from? And what should we all do about it?” In other words, it would only enhance people’s distrust of museums, and distaste for museums, inviting people to question the provenance of absolutely everything, undermining museum’s efforts to do things legally, and undermining their fragile image or reputation of doing things legally. I have, admittedly, myself, not yet watched the full discussion that took place at that Asia Society event, nor read too much other commentary on it, of which there is a fair bit out there, but I can certainly appreciate the concerns these museum people, collectors, and dealers raise. It’s not about doing illicit things and trying to ensure that it remains easy to do illicit things – quite to the contrary, I want to believe the best in people and to believe that for Mr. Houghton and others, it’s about doing licit (legal, above-board) things, and cultivating that the public is aware that museums, dealers, etc. are in fact committed to doing things ethically, legally. It’s about having a reputation for a dedication to upright ethical practices, and not threatening that reputation by inviting anyone and everyone to question the provenance of anything and everything in every museum.

If WikiLoot really took off, and if there did develop, in fact, this “flood” of public inquiry that Houghton worries about, that could put pressure on short-staffed, under-funded museums to have to do a ton of very intensive provenance research very quickly, and to replace gallery labels with more extensive descriptions of the proper provenance of each and every object. Or maybe that’s just an extreme case.

Because of the romantic, dramatic aspects of the world of black markets, looting, and illicit dealings, and because of the nationalistic feelings on the part of “source” cultures who have been looted from, it is inevitably a very dramatic, exciting, interesting topic. But it’s also a very serious one, for everyone involved, with very serious ramifications for museums, and for the art world as a whole. WikiLoot is not yet online, and the form it will take remains very much still in development (or so I gather); we shall see how this ends up developing.

All images in this post courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

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Miwako Tezuka to become Director of Japan Society Gallery

Though I strangely cannot find the press release on Japan Society’s website, the Society officially announced a few days ago that Miwako Tezuka will be taking over as Director of Japan Society Gallery as the current Director, Joe Earle, retires at the end of the summer.

Japan Society main lobby. Photo my own.

The Gallery, and the Society as a whole, benefited greatly from the expert guidance of Joe Earle, who came to Japan Society in 2007 after a short stint as Chair of the Dept of the Art of Asia, Africa, and Oceania at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and many years prior working at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. His particular interest and expertise in lacquerwares and Japanese crafts brought exhibits such as Zeshin, “New Bamboo”, and Serizawa. As I have commented before numerous times on this blog, most recently in my review of the Art Deco show which closes today, Japan Society Gallery under Earle (as well as under his predecessors, and I am sure his successor) has regularly made a point of showing exhibitions highlighting aspects of Japanese art normally ignored by the major museums. The Buriki exhibition of tin toy cars, beautiful in their own way, and symbolic of key aspects of certain points in Japan’s cultural history, is perhaps the best example of this. Krazy!, an exhibition of manga, anime, and video games as “art”, and Bye Bye Kitty, which introduced New York (and the United States) to a handful of amazing Japanese contemporary artists normally totally overshadowed in the media in the West by Murakami Takashi, brought Japan Society greatly expanded visibility and popularity especially among younger demographics. I do not know the extent to which Japan Society in fact in the past focused more exclusively on exhibitions of pottery and ink painting, but to whatever extent this represents a major change, it is a change for the better. There is absolutely nothing wrong with exhibitions of ceramics arts and ink painting, and I hope that the young people brought in by the anime and contemporary art exhibits have their interests piqued enough that they’ll come back to learn about ceramics & ink painting. But you have to get them in the door first; you have to get them knowing about Japan Society, and being interested in Japan Society, to begin with.

Joe Earle will be missed. But I am excited for the arrival of Miwako Tezuka, who will become the first Japanese director of the Society’s gallery. I have not had the privilege of meeting Dr. Tezuka, or hearing her speak, but am familiar with her through her work as guest curator of Asia Society’s astonishing exhibit “Yoshitomo Nara: Nobody’s Fool.” If she can transform the Japan Society Gallery the way she transformed Asia Society’s space, then we are all in for a real treat. My best wishes to Dr. Tezuka, and Mr. Earle, to continued successes and to new and exciting projects.

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The full press release follows:

For Immediate Release
Japan Society Announces New Gallery Director

New York, NY — June 7, 2012 — Japan Society has announced Dr. Miwako Tezuka will take over directorship of Japan Society’s Gallery from Joe Earle, who retires effective September 30. A Columbia University alumnus and NYC-based curator specializing in contemporary Japanese art, Tezuka will be the first Japanese director of Japan Society Gallery. Her tenure begins July 2, 2012.

“I am honored to join Japan Society and to work with its dedicated staff to create exciting exhibitions and related programming that stir the imaginations of the New York audience and people the world over,” said Tezuka, upon the announcement. “The uniqueness of Japan Society as a multidisciplinary organization allows us to develop projects that fully present the dynamic energy, diversity, and complexity embodied within Japanese arts and culture.”

One of Tezuka’s most recent curatorial contributions to New York City was Asia Society’s Yoshitomo Nara: Nobody’s Fool in fall 2010. The major solo exhibition of Japanese Neo Pop artist Yoshitomo Nara achieved great popular and critical success, and received numerous rave reviews including one from The New York Times, which called the exhibition “a game-changer.”

“Miwako is a well-regarded curator, who has an intimate knowledge of the New York art scene and a broad perspective of Japanese art in the global sphere,” said Motoatsu Sakurai, President, Japan Society. “We look forward to the vision she will bring to the gallery. Her track record of expanding the dialogue between traditional and contemporary art will amplify Japan Society’s status as one of America’s premier institutions for exhibitions of Japanese art.”

In recent years Japan Society Gallery has seen record attendance and international recognition. KRAZY! The Delirious World of Anime + Manga + Video Games (spring 2009) was the second-best attended show ever at Japan Society Gallery, and Graphic Heroes, Magic Monsters (spring 2010) was the best-attended pre-contemporary show of all time. In 2011 Bye Bye Kitty!!! Between Heaven and Hell in Contemporary Japanese Art was voted 2011 “Best Show in a Non-Profit Gallery or Space” by the United States Section of the International Association of Art Critics.

Japan Society’s current exhibition is the critically acclaimed Deco Japan: Shaping Art and Culture, 1920-1945 (closing June 10), America’s first survey of Japanese art deco, organized and circulated by Art Services International, Alexandria, Virginia, and touring the U.S. 2012-13. Joe Earle’s final exhibition as director will be Silver Wind: The Arts of Sakai Hōitsu (1761–1828), opening on September 29, 2012.

Dr. Miwako Tezuka is an internationally recognized curator and expert in modern and contemporary Japanese art who has contributed greatly to the field through her scholarly and curatorial work. Prior to her appointment at Japan Society, Tezuka was Associate Curator at Asia Society in New York, where she was responsible for creating cutting-edge exhibitions of contemporary Asian and Asia American artists. In 2006, she cocurated Projected Realities: Video Art from East Asia, the first exhibition at Asia Society that thoroughly focused on video art. In the following year, Asia Society launched its video art collection, for which Tezuka played a key role in selection and management. From 2007 she oversaw “In Focus,” a series of solo exhibitions, through which she realized the first solo exhibitions at the New York museum of such significant contemporary artists as Yuken Teruya from Okinawa, Suda Yoshihiro from Tokyo, and U-Ram Choe from Seoul. In addition to Yoshitomo Nara: Nobody’s Fool, her significant curatorial contributions at Asia Society included Yang Fudong: Seven Intellectuals in a Bamboo Forest (2009) and Mariko Mori: Kumano (2010).

Tezuka’s curatorial, scholarly, and advisory work, has received significant attention from luminaries in the field and major media, and she has been invited to advise and lecture at some of the most prestigious institutions in the world such as the Museum of Modern Art in New York. She received her PhD from the Department of Art History and Archaeology at Columbia University in 2005 with the dissertation titled Jikken Kōbō (Experimental Workshop): Avant-Garde Experiments in Japanese Art of the 1950s. In 2003, to connect scholars and art professionals who share the interest in contemporary Japanese art, Tezuka cofounded the global online network PoNJA-GenKon (Post-1945 Japanese Art Discussion Group/Gendai Bijutsu Kondankai).

Tezuka has published numerous articles and essays in various languages. Her recent publications include: “Experiment and Tradition: An Avant-Garde Play Pierrot Lunaire by Jikken Kōbō and Takechi Tetsuji” in Art Journal (Spring 2012); “Between Ethos and Logos: Sarah Sze’s Shifting Perspectives” in Sarah Sze: Infinite Line (New York: Asia Society, 2011); “Music on My Mind: The Art and Phenomenon of Yoshitomo Nara” in Yoshitomo Nara: Nobody’s Fool (New York: Abrams, 2010); “Kori Yumi, Antenna, Kengo Kito: essay and interviews” in Tokyo Visualist (Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha, 2009); “Imagine Again and Again: Copies of a Portrait of Minamoto no Yoritomo by Yamaguchi Akira” in Impressions (March 2009); “Yuken Teruya: What Comes Around Goes Around” in Making a Home: Japanese Contemporary Artists in New York (New York: Japan Society, 2007); and “Synergy: Shuzo Takiguchi and Experimental Workshop—A Continuing Lineage of Creation” in Drifting Objects of Dreams: The Collection of Shuzo Takiguchi (Tokyo: Setagaya Art Museum, 2005).
~
Extending in scope from prehistory to the present, Japan Society Gallery exhibitions since 1971 have covered topics as diverse as classical Buddhist sculpture and calligraphy, contemporary photography and ceramics, samurai swords, export porcelain, and masterpieces of painting from the thirteenth to the twentieth century. Each exhibition, with its related catalogue and public programs, is a unique cultural event that illuminates familiar and unfamiliar fields of art.

Japan Society is an American nonprofit committed to deepening mutual understanding between the United States and Japan in a global context. Now in its second century, the Society serves audiences across the United States and abroad through innovative programs in arts and culture, public policy, business, language, and education. For more information, visit http://www.japansociety.org or call 212-832-1155.

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Quick Links: Mainichi Shimbun

Just a couple of articles today from the Mainichi Shimbun.

*Kyoto temple hires 25-year-old painter to restore ancient art practice – I have posted before about contemporary Nihonga (neo-traditional) painters being hired to restore, or to create new works to replace, paintings at Buddhist temples. It certainly makes sense. Someone has to do it – the tradition has to continue, we can’t just stick with what we have and watch as it slowly gradually decays, not for all cases. And basically everyone who is a painter in traditional styles and/or traditional media is termed a “Nihonga” painter, so, that’s who it is.

There is something really interesting, and wonderful, about contemporary artists stepping in to a long-standing tradition; essentially, stepping across a historical threshold, from the present into the past. Or, to put it a better way – and more accurately – to think of these temples and their traditions being long threads that exist in the present, and engage with the present, but which extend back centuries into the past. I am sure that someone more well-versed than I in theoretical jargon language could articulate some really fascinating argument about the discursive implications of this connection between contemporary artists and a centuries-old tradition of the town painter commissioned by a temple, or of the painter who lives within the temple and practices Zen practice. Kennin-ji in Kyoto, and Kenchô-ji in Kamakura, roughly ten years ago, had gorgeous new ceiling paintings of dragons produced by artist Koizumi Junsaku. But Junsaku was born in 1924, making him a later generation of Nihonga artist as compared to those active in the 1880s-1920s, for sure, but still much more closely connected to the traditional past.

By contrast, 25-year-old Murabayashi Yuki, a recent graduate from a graduate program at Kyoto University of Arts &
Design, is about as young and contemporary as one can imagine. This article doesn’t say much about her work, or about her personality or character – for all we know she’s really involved in traditional culture, and not very involved at all in modern, contemporary, pop culture – but, still, the combination is very interesting. Murabayashi will be doing, essentially, something not too extremely different from what artists like Sesshû did in the 15th century, or what various town artists (machi-eshi) did in the 17th-19th centuries, living at the temple, engaging in Zen practice, and just generally immersing herself in the world of the temple, while she paints new screen paintings for them over the course of three years.

As the article says, she was at first nervous, intimidated by the weight of expectations of this long line of centuries of great temple painters before her (not to mention how her paintings will continue to be viewed, and to be present and associated with the temple for many many years into the future, becoming an integral part of the history of the institution). However, encouraged by the abbot that she does not need to adhere to the styles and expectations of the past, the article says she has regained confidence. I am curious to see what sort of works she ends up creating.

….

Meanwhile, Ôshiro Tatsuhiro, the author of “The Cocktail Party,” which I posted about some time ago, now compares the disaster-struck areas in northern Japan to Okinawa, framing the two places within a conceptualization of sacrifice for the sake of the center. What defines the success or prosperity of “Japan”? Is Tokyo the barometer? People in Tôhoku, Fukushima, and Okinawa are sacrificing, every day, continuing to sacrifice, to gaman (endure) and to ganbaru (keep trying), for the sake of the country. Yet, are they not themselves part of the country? Who is benefiting by their sacrifice? How is the health or prosperity of Japan measured? By the health and prosperity of the metaphorical Center? Or by the health and prosperity of its worst-off areas? Or by some more holistic approach, taking into account everything?

Especially after seeing his play, “The Cocktail Party,” and hearing him speak about it, I cannot help but see Ôshiro as a bitter curmudgeonly old man, kvetching and complaining, and most likely quite literally shaking his cane in the air. I would love to see him standing outside a US military base in Okinawa shouting “you damn kids, get off my lawn!” That would pretty much encapsulate his attitudes entirely. Which is not to say that he’s entirely wrong in what he says.

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Quick Links: Neuroscience of the Canon, Book Conservation, and the death of Yanagi Sori

*Yanagi Sôri, pioneer and giant in Japanese design, has passed away at age 96. I’ve read about his father, Yanagi Sôetsu　柳宗悦 (aka Muneyoshi), the founder of the mingei (folk art) movement. Sôetsu is a rather interesting character, his philosophies described by one prominent scholar as “Oriental Orientalism,” as he combatted the growing urbanization, industrialization, mechanization, of his world in the 1890s-1920s or so by turning to rural folk crafts, and to places like Okinawa, Taiwan, Korea, and Ainu lands, where he saw the waves of modernization had not yet reached, or had not yet soaked in as much, where the beauty of “traditional” handicrafts by anonymous craftspeople (i.e. absent the advent of the “modern” concept of the artist) could still be found.

I know less about his son, Yanagi Sôri 柳宗理, and would not mean to presume Sôri’s leanings, Orientalist or otherwise, but it seems beautifully fitting that the son should become such a pioneer in Japanese design, combining what is beautiful and romantic about rural handicrafts with a modern design sensibility. I am sure that his influence extends much farther, and deeper, than I know.

And, yet, there is still no Wikipedia article on him. I wonder if the added/renewed attention from his death will lead to that changing.

*Meanwhile, in other news, io9 and WIRED report on a series of studies (or the same study?) which reveal the power of the canon on our appreciation of art. The mythology of art appreciation in the West tells us that the best art, the true masterpieces, speak to us on some subconscious level, that it’s that stroke of genius that makes them so beautiful, so compelling, so much deeper and more meaningful and more powerful than a nearly identical work by a lesser painter. That there is something hidden in the master’s brushstrokes, or his technique or composition otherwise, that makes the work cross some threshold into masterpiece status.¹

Yet, as we might expect, it is not (solely) the beauty or genius of the artwork that speaks to us; the canon, that is, the idea that we know that we are looking at something famous (or by someone famous) and that we ought to recognize it as a cut above, has a powerful impact on our reception of an object as well. Scientists using an fMRI machine to watch people’s brain activity as they were shown images of paintings have now added to the evidence for that phenomenon. Shown pictures by Rembrandt and told they were not by the master and were merely done by his students – or shown works by his students and imitators and told they were by Rembrandt himself – people’s brains lit up less in response to anything intrinsic to the skill or genius of the visuals themselves, responding more to the idea of it being a Rembrandt, or not being a Rembrandt.

Now, the questions and issues surrounding “authenticity” and the concepts of “copies” and “forgeries” are quite popular subjects in the field of art history right now, and I think both of these articles carelessly slip in their word choice here. But, it is my assumption that when they talk about “forgeries” or “copies,” they’re not talking about things produced to deceive, or mechanical or digital reproductions of Rembrandt’s work; they’re talking about genuine, oil-on-canvas, original artworks produced in the Renaissance period by Rembrandt’s students. Not what I would call a “copy” or a “forgery.” … I think it important, and interesting, to note this. But, even so, these findings, if not unexpected, are pretty cool, eh?

It really just helps us call in question all the more so our assumptions about art, about the “genius” of the artist, and about the selection of the canon. We appreciate Rembrandt because we believe we are supposed to, because we have been trained by society, by museums, by art history class, by textbooks, to think that if we don’t see the genius in these works then there is something wrong with us, and not with the artwork. It ties in as well to discourses & social phenomena of cultural capital, and trying to be part of the cultural elite. It may be passé to just stand around and talk about how much you like the Old Masters as if nothing new has come along, and/or as if you don’t have an original thought in your head… it may be “cool” or “hip” to pretend like Michelangelo wasn’t really such a genius after all. But if you tried to argue for that seriously, at a fancy black-tie event in the Metropolitan, with a glass of wine in your hand, well, I don’t know what would happen.

The great masters, and the great masterpieces of history are considered as such because of some superior quality intrinsic to them, absolutely. At the core of every myth, there is a kernel of truth. But, we build up and build up the legends of painters, and of their artworks, appreciating them more for their fame than for their actual content, and being aware of that is a most important step towards revising our individual personal engagement with artworks, if not the entire system.

*Finally, for today, a brief article describing one of the leading book/paper conservation labs in Europe. The Institute of the Pathology of the Book in Rome has handled countless super-famous objects, including pieces of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and objects involved in dramatic historical events – such as a book riddled with bulletholes from a World War II battle, and does very interesting, exciting, and extremely important work.

I’ve commented before on art conservation; I’m just fascinated by it. I think it’s really amazing what these people do.

The article refers vaguely to “a special paper used to ‘reconstruct’ damaged pages” made by a special firm in Japan, making it sound as if this is some super special material developed by this expert firm, when in fact, I suspect, the “special paper” they refer to has less to do with modern technology, and a lot more to do with Japanese craft tradition. Kôzo paper, made not from typical trees as typical paper is, but from a plant known as the “paper mulberry,” or kôzo, has been used in Japan since at least the 17th century, and was quite standard for Edo period prints and books. While I think it might be more absorbent in terms of not repelling the natural oils and sweat from your fingertips, it’s more flexible than today’s white printer paper, less crisp, meaning it doesn’t get creased or crinkled as badly, and it doesn’t tear as easily. Based on my admittedly limited experience visiting two paper conservation labs on opposite sides of the United States, I gather that even outside of conservation labs specializing in Asian materials (e.g. Japanese woodblock prints), the use of kôzo, or other types of traditional Japanese paper (washi 和紙, lit. “Japanese paper”), is really quite standard. So I find it amusing the rather vague way it’s referred to in this article.

What’s not so standard, on the other hand, is the use of “a special ultra-thin plastic film developed in Rome” to affix the Japanese paper. I guess it makes sense, as the right kind of plastic film would be acid-free, totally non-reactive (i.e. so it won’t chemically damage the paper as it ages), and, depending on what they’re actually doing here (the article isn’t clear), if they’re not using any liquid adhesive at all, then even more easily reversible than most techniques. The art & science of museum conservation today stands strongly on the use of reversible techniques, so that conservators in the future, with more advanced insights into material sciences and better conservation technology can undo what we do today, and re-conserve things in a better way. So much damage has been done over the years to artworks by conservators or restorers who, in doing what was cutting-edge at the time, were doing something today seen as destructive or otherwise outdated and not a good idea. Anyway, it’s just interesting that they use some kind of plastic film when the conservators I have spoken to use wheat paste, traditional Japanese methods, or other types of adhesives – generally leaning towards the organic/natural and traditional – to conserve objects. I’m not going to say that one method makes more sense than the other – what do I know, I’m not a materials scientist nor a conservator – but, it’s interesting to learn about a rather different approach.

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(1) Totally incidentally, I recently learned that the word “masterpiece” actually originates from the late medieval guild system, in which the piece one produced in order to graduate from journeyman to “master” was called one’s “masterpiece.” I guess the term is still used sometimes today, when we talk about an artist’s personal growth and development, and how after many years, he produced such-and-such work, his “masterpiece.” But, most of the time, we use this term not to refer to a work in terms of where it fits in an artist’s development, and certainly not in terms of any practical, mundane aspect of guild certification, though I guess we do still have the “Master’s” of Fine Arts, and one’s Master’s Thesis piece, which linguistically doesn’t sound all that far removed from “masterpiece.” Hmm… But still, we do generally use the term “masterpiece” to refer to anything and everything of a certain caliber, regardless of where it fits in a narrative of the artist’s development, right? Interesting, no?, the evolution of terms.

-”Butterfly Stool” designed by Yanagi Sôri, photo by Flickr user Tomislav Medak. Thanks for licensing your photo Creative Commons.
-Self-Portrait age 23, by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1629. Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (Boston MA). Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons.
-A Smithsonian paper conservator working on pages from the Jefferson Bible, 17 November 2011. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. The collection of Bible excerpts compiled by Thomas Jefferson himself, painstakingly restored/conserved, is on display now at the National Museum of American History in Washington DC, until May 28 2012.

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Asahi: Discovery of Heian era aristocratic mansion

I guess I’ve been sitting on this for a few days, but on Dec 8th, the Asahi Shimbun reported the discovery of a late 9th century nobleman’s mansion in Kyoto, specifically, the mansion of Fujiwara Yoshimi (813-867), who served as Udaijin (Minister of the Right), and who was a suspect in the Ôtemmon Incident of 866, in which Ban Dainagon, Tomo no Yoshio, burned down the Ôtemmon (Great Heaven Gate) of the Imperial Palace and tried to blame it on another courtier, Minamoto no Makoto.

Objects excavated include paintings or drawings from that time, as well as earthenware inscribed in ink, which were used to determine the identification of the site with Fujiwara no Yoshimi. This is apparently the first time that archaeological evidence has been able to be used to determine the specific identity of the courtier associated with a given excavated mansion site. Excavations covered a 2500 square meter area that had been (is) planned to become part of Bukkyo University’s campus; there, archaeologists found the remains of early Heian buildings, as well as the remains of a garden and pond. The pond was roughly rectangular or oblong, measuring 24 meters from north to south, and 18 meters from east to west. An island six meters in diameter sat in the middle of the pond, accessible via an earthen “bridge” one-and-a-half meters wide and eight meters long, which struck out from the island to the south.

The foundation stones and remains of the pillars of a veranda were found to the west side of the pond, along with stone paving in a S-shape, places where we can easily imagine courtiers gathering to admire the garden, hold banquets, and compose poetry. A great amount of high class Chinese pottery was found as well, along with inscriptions identifying some pieces as belonging to the “serving table of the tsuridono of the Sanjô-in,” tsuridono meaning the buildings flanking the pond to the east and west. I’m tempted to think that this “Sanjô-in” might be the same Sanjô Palace that was raided and burned in the 1159 Heiji Rebellion, but then, that palace is usually referred to as 三条殿 (Sanjô-dono), not 三条院 (Sanjô-in), and the only references I see for 三条院 (Sanjô-in) on a cursory Google search are references to Emperor Sanjô himself, who would have been called Sanjô-in in his retirement.

In any case, a very exciting find. Check out the actual Asahi Shimbun report while you still can (before they take it down) for some unnarrated video of the site, and an image of one of the inscribed pottery fragments they found.

The abbreviated text of the Asahi report (full access requires a paid account):
平安貴族の邸宅跡を初特定　藤原良相邸、優雅な庭園も

　平安京があった京都市中京区で、平安時代前期（９世紀後半）の貴族の邸宅跡が見つかったと、市埋蔵文化財研究所が８日発表した。出土した墨書土器や当時の絵図などから、右大臣・藤原良相（ふじわらの・よしみ）＝８１３～８６７＝の邸宅と断定した。特定の平安貴族の居住地を発掘調査で確認できたのは初めて。

　佛教大キャンパス予定地の約２５００平方メートルを調査したところ、平安前期の建物跡と庭池の遺構が確認された。池は南北２４メートル、東西１８メートルの長方形。中央に直径６メートルの島があり、南岸とを結ぶ土橋（長さ８メートル、幅１．５メートル）も築かれていた。

　池の周囲からは、貴族らが小川のそばで詩歌を詠む「曲水の宴」を開いたとみられるＳ字形の石敷きが出土。池の西端には礎石と柱を据えた縁側の跡があり、そばから「三条院釣殿高坏（さんじょういんつりどのたかつき）」と墨書された土器や、中国・唐で作られた多数の高級陶磁器が見つかった。

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Joe Earle Announces Retirement

Joe Earle, director of Japan Society Gallery in New York, has announced his retirement. He’s not leaving until roughly a year from now – September 2012 – by which time I just might actually be back in New York to say goodbye in person. But, it’s sad to see him go. Mr. Earle has done a lot of great work for the Society, both in terms of organizing some really groundbreaking, and extremely well put together exhibitions (including KRAZY!, Bye Bye Kitty, and Hakuin), and also in terms of behind-the-scenes administration and leadership. It’s been great for me, especially, having such a contact within the NYC Japanese art world.

I had heard this news a good few days ago, but much thanks to Susan of JapanCulture・NYC for publishing the news first, making it public, so that I could feel okay about putting it out there myself.

Having met him back when he was Chair of the Art of Asia, Africa, and Oceania department at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Mr. Earle has always been to my mind a major player in the Boston/NYC Japanese art scene, a mainstay in a way. But now I learn, or realize, that he’s really only been here in the States for about nine years, after a lengthy career in the UK, spent mostly, I gather, at the Victoria & Albert. So, I guess, it’s more the case of saying a great big thank you to Joe for bringing his expertise and brilliant talent to us here in the US, so far from home. I assume he’ll be going home to the UK after he retires, but I look forward to hopefully continuing to see him at art events and such, whether in NY, or elsewhere, or if & when I ever make my own way to the UK…

There are quite a few great exhibits still going on under Earle’s watch – “Fiber Futures,” an exhibition of contemporary textile art, has just opened, and meanwhile, downstairs in the so-called “A level,” there’s an exhibit of postcard-sized artworks created by Tôhoku artists in response to the earthquake/tsunami disaster. Next year, we’ll see exhibits on Japanese Art Deco, and one on the painter Sakai Hoitsu. Looking forward to it!

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