Phantom Limbs in Tokyo
Rather inexplicably, my tastebuds have suddenly been overwhelmed with a taste-memory of those red bean cakes you can buy on the street in Japan.
Well, I guess I am about to tell you about an exhibition I went to on Monday at the Mori Art Museum in Tokyo.
Hai. Tokyo. Because that’s how cool I am.
I was in Tokyo recently, did I mention that already? Anyway, I was. I really wanted to go to a specialist media installation gallery while I was there, but unfortunately a lot of things are closed on Mondays, and unfortunately that was the day I had kind of set aside. Some parks are closed on Mondays, too. Unsure why this is. What do they do? Do they clean the park? I just don’t know.
Luckily, however, the Mori Art Museum in Roppongi Hills is open on Mondays. And luckily, there was an extremely cool exhibition occurring.
I’m talking about Odani Motohiko, a Kyoto-born Japanese sculptor (going on video/ video installation artist - ‘video sculptor’?) who operates out of Tokyo. Motohiko is so difficult to pin a tag on because he is known for undermining the conventional conceptions that underpin sculpture, and, in his exploration of physical pain and psychological states, he blurs the boundary between sculpture and installation.
Like so…
Hollow Duplex
These eerie creations are suspended above head-height. At the Mori exhibition, they were placed in a room full of others like them, including two similar pieces which were hung so that they were horizontally suspended, facing each other.
The other pieces in this room included a giant white flower emerging from an expansive white wall, and a wraith-like white unicorn.
Cool, no?
Speaking of which, below is an image of Motohiko’s Human Lesson, Dress 01, which is made from the skins of two wolves. This is just one of a number of ‘sculptures’ by Motohiki which are made using taxidermic animals, and one of two pieces in the exhibition that use unconventional materials to create dresses (the other is a dress made entirely of dark brown, plaited human hair). One of the most interesting things about these two pieces was that when you saw them from further away it was clear that they were dresses, and it wasn’t until you approached them that your mind overcame this first assumption to realise what they were made from.
The wolves’ faces are what draws the viewer in, in this piece; you can’t help but take a look into their juicy red mouths, and the contrast between this and the concept of the work being a piece of clothing is marked, and difficult to overcome.
Human Lesson (Dress 01)
I have to admit I was a bit puzzled by many of Motohiko’s works. This was not only because they were fairly inconsistent from one to the next and ranged across a wide variety mediums and, ostensibly, messages, but also because there was, quite frankly, a fair bit of weird shit.
The concepts explored by Motohiko required from me, at least, a fair bit of brain power to fully understand. Whilst I generally very much err on the side of ‘art can be understood by everyone’, it is perhaps true that some art requires more thinking than other art. Odani Motohiko, I think, falls into this latter category.
So… what’s the deal with the taxidermy?
Drawing from the Mori museum’s sources: “The complex images in the works defy single interpretations and possess an ominous charm that exists somewhere between beauty and ugliness, life and death, and the spiritual and the secular. Odani, who possesses a keenly critical understanding of sculpture, has resisted (or taken advantage of) the medium’s conventional image of weightiness or substance. Instead, he has given physical representation to “phantoms” - entirely ephemeral sensations or amorphous phenomena.”
See, I can’t tell if it’s just that my brain’s gone a bit mushy, or if that is a little bit difficult to comprehend.
Dying Slave: Stella This piece is an enormous wax skull, rotating on a metal spit. On the wall alongside this piece there were companion pieces: much smaller, bronze skulls mounted on plinths on the wall. The textural contrast between the pieces highlighted the waxen nature of the large skull, and, in particular, the way in which the wax seemed to be dripping outward from the metal spit at all points throughout the skull. It was bizarre, and puzzling trying to comprehend how the piece could have been made. My favourite thing about Dying Slave: Stella, however, was the way in which the spit would creak intermittently, making the spectator flinch, or in my case grip my head in panic, as though the skull was just going to split in two and fall to the ground. All this time I’ve actually been warming you up to my favourite piece in the Phantom Limb exhibition, which is this media installation entitled 9th Room. 9th Room was, in fact, a room (!) comprised of a mirrored floor and ceiling, and walls upon which moving imagery of a waterfall were projected. The photograph immediately below is actually not an accurate one; 9th Room is a ten sided room, rather than the cube that is depicted below. But you get the idea. When you get inside the room (shoes off please; this is Japan, after all) you really need to sit down immediately, otherwise things get a little bit crazy. But once you’re seated, 9th Room is, quite seriously, a simply wondrous visual and auditory experience.
9th Room
Above is the view of the work whilst seated on the mirrored floor, looking directly down. The small room takes on an infinite depth, and you can almost feel yourself diving into the waterfall, your eyes trying to keep track of the water that seems to be moving on every side of you.
Looking up is a similar experience, except you have the sensation of actually moving up through the waterfall; the mirrored floor seems to be elevating you up through endless shards of water. This is all done with the assistance of an immense whooshing, rushing water noise that builds and builds and builds until it suddenly stops and the room turns black, shattering the illusion.
Before entering the room, my friend and I scoffed at the motion sickness warning attached to the piece, but after I had left the room it took me at least five minutes to get my land legs back, and even longer to get rid of a slightly nauseous feeling that could only be ascribed to motion sickness.
One of the better media installation pieces I’ve experienced, thank you Tokyo.
