Your Light Shadow

While the steep entry fees have a tendency to make me choke and stumble around clutching my throat, I do enjoy going to art exhibitions. I checked out three shows whilst I was Tokyo-side and this is where I write about them. I might even muse a little about the deeper issues. What makes a good art exhibition? What mystic collection of factors cohere into something that’s enjoyable to wander through? What leaves a lasting impression? Probably I’ll just end up talking about booze though. Join me!

The Tokyo – Berlin / Berlin – Tokyo event at the Mori Art Museum on the 53rd floor of the Roppongi Hills complex in the centre of Tokyo was immaculately laid out, meticulously curated and one of the most boring exhibitions I’ve ever seen. The main problem seemed to be maintaining the, at times tenuous, connection between Tokyo and Berlin that was the exhibition’s focus. Choosing mediocre pieces of art solely because they match or were influenced by something being done on the other side of the world does not make for good viewing; it’s an art history lesson, nothing more.

Check this except from the opening paragraph of Tokyo-Berlin / Berlin-Tokyo: a continuing dialogue of modern cities which is included in the catalogue for the exhibition:

In a cultural sense, this form of modernity has usually been associated with the political, philosophical and scientific advances of the eighteenth century European Enlightenment. Yet at the time of the Enlightenment, Edo, as Tokyo was then known, had already sustained a culture that, in its size, lively use of images and media and levels of consumption of goods, could already be regarded in some ways as “modern”. This kind of modernity, however, was framed within a feudal social and economic structure that had been unaffected by the revolutionary republican ideals and industrial innovations that had impacted so strongly on the countries of the Atlantic Rim.

Yick. With the depth of resources the curators had to play with and, judging by the venue, the endless wads of cold, hard cash thrown at them, you’d expect something with a little more soul.

For me, the most compelling pieces were those that focused on the cities themselves; an eight-hour romp through the centre of Berlin caught on camera, hand-drawn maps of pre-war Tokyo, some black and white photos of houses. Oh, and the walls the art was hung on, they were mostly great. Some were red. Some green. One even had some graffiti on it. Marvellous.

To add insult to injury, the companion exhibition called Design Deutschland: 80 Years of ‘Made in Germany’ was nothing more than a product fair for German cars and kitchens. You cannot choose a marketing brochure for BMW as the best example of German design for the year 2005 and expect people to take you seriously. Nor can you display a kitchen and then leave fliers for local suppliers next to it. Dedicating an entire gallery to the latest models of Mercedes, complete with marketing drones and renderers? Please. We may be capitalist whores, but we are not that stupid. Why not showcase some of brilliant graphic, multimedia and especially product design coming out of Germany guys. Please? Please?!!

Enough with four door silver saloons already.

Olafur Eliasson is a Danish artist who’s done some stunning work over the years, including one the most popular installations ever shown at the TATE Modern in London, The Weather Project. There was a small show of his work on at the Hara Museum of Contemporary Art, just near Shinagawa. On Monday we trucked up to check it out. The exhibition included 10 pieces of his work from 1993 through to 2005. Easily the best was the famous Beauty piece a shimmering curtain of water, set in a darkened room, with a semi-visible rainbow flowing across it.

This was a good exhibition. Sure it was a little overpriced and, unsurprisingly, the girl at front desk got snooty at me for trying to pretend I was a student, but the art was great. Beauty is beautiful, mesmerising even, and the rooms filled with carefully arranged spotlights and mirrors breaking up light and reassembling it are fascinating and otherworldly. Besides, there’s a nice courtyard and a Nara Yoshitomo room done up like a studio upstairs. His stuff always makes me happy in the way only cartoon children with large knives can. They’ve extended this one until sometime in March, so check it out if you get the chance.

The third exhibition was called “YAMAGUCHI KATSUHIRO, From Experimental Workshop to Teatrine” and it was showing at the Kamakura Museum of Modern Art. The city of Kamakura seems purposed designed to cater for the thronging hordes of domestic tourists searching for beauty away from the towering glass monstrosities of Shinjuku. Surprisingly, the museum was basically deserted. Did they know something we didn’t? I’d wager yes.

The exhibition was dull. The pieces were poorly maintained. Showed their age. Failed to excite. The less I write about it, the better I’ll feel. The poster was nice though. Oh, and I liked the trees.

It gets so much better though. The companion exhibition of Francisco Goya etchings at the nearby Kamakura Modern Art Annex (catchy name guys) left me feeling empty and, strangely enough, wishing that Goya had just stuck to wearing tight pants and stabbing bulls in the neck with sharp spears, rather than taking up a career in art. Maybe that’s just me though. I’m sure if you were a Goya fan and could stand temperatures in excess of a billion degrees you would have loved the show.

Me, I was happy to escape onto a Shinkansen and head back towards Kansai. All this culture left me with a savage desire to see how many flavours of chu-hai I could sample before I passed out. Stay tuned to see how that works out.

Posted in Artrage on Wednesday February 22, 2006.