CONTEMPORARY
ART IN A RURAL SETTING by Robert J. Fouser
The Echigo-Tsumari Triennial
is unique among the many biennials and triennials that have become routine
in the art world. Held in Echigo-Tsumari, the prosperous rice- and buckwheat-growing
regions of Niigata Prefecture, northeast of Tokyo, the triennial takes art
out of its traditional urban habitat and sets it in the forgotten spaces
of contemporary life: country towns and rural villages. The Second Echigo-Tsumari
Triennial, held from July 20 to September 7, 2003, offered a rare look at
the fringes of contemporary Japanese art. Of the 157 artists, art groups,
architects, and art-student groups, known as "seminars," from 23 countries,
most were from Japan.
Most works were placed in Tokamachi and Matsudai, the two small commercial
centers in the region, but some works were placed in remote rural sites
scattered across the 294-square-mile
The construction of buildings for the Second Triennial shows the event is taking hold in the region. The First Triennial, in 2000, was not closely connected with the local community. Many of the artists were from overseas, and most of the art in the towns was conventional public-art sculpture that was part of the Echigo-Tsumari Art Necklace Project, the forerunner of the First Triennial. The dissonance between cutting-edge international art and the local community gave the event a disjointed feeling. Rooting the event in the local community and giving it meaning as a venue for the latest contemporary art were the biggest challenges for the Second Triennial. Three years later, the most recent triennial made dramatic progress in linking itself to the local community: In 2000, only two community groups participated in the event, whereas fifty participated in 2003. The use of stores, houses, and public buildings in Tokamachi and Matsudai would not have been possible without cooperation from the community. In addition to offering space to artists, local residents participated in producing many of the works, either as subjects or assistants. The connection with the local community is critical because the triennial was developed by local governments in the region to provide economic stimulus to an area that, like nearly all rural areas in Japan, is suffering from depopulation and diminished tax revenues as young people head to big cities for work. The budget pinch may explain the lack of big-name foreign artists compared with the First Triennial. For visitors interested in contemporary Japanese art, however, this brings a refreshing surprise: more new Japanese art. Except for Yayoi Kusama, most of the Japanese artists in the exhibition are little known outside Japan (or inside, for that matter). The relative obscurity of the artists helped turn the triennial into a place for discovery, a function that few biennales or triennales carry out effectively amid the dominance of big-name international artists. The most interesting works were those in streets of Tokamachi and Matsudai.
Like most small towns in rural Japan, Tokamachi is a collection of drab
commercial buildings intermingled among densely residential areas. The
townscape is one of square concrete boxes popping up from a sea of tile
roofs. In Tokamachi, the main shopping street leads to the train station,
which links the town to the rest of the world. Beyond the concrete boxes
and roofs lie the mountains and rice fields that give the region its livelihood.
During the day, a walk from the train station along the main commercial streets of town turned up interesting surprises, such as Utility Poles' Clothing Project by Takaaki Fujiki and Fujiki
Kimonos were once a thriving industry in Tokamachi, but the industry has all but disappeared. Nearby, an old kimono-cloth mill was reborn as gallery space, displaying the works of four artists. One of the most haunting was Wang Gong Xing's Rice Snow. Placed in a dark tatami room, the work was centered on a mound of rice lit up by a ceiling-mounted video of a moving
The neighborhood was also the site of one of the most restrained works in the exhibition: Crest Home by Masaki Imamura and students from Nihon University. The work used the walls and windows of houses as a backdrop for clear plastic screens on which images of flowers stylized as family crests were stenciled. The screens were composed of long bands of plastic lined up in a row, a design derived from the temporary wooden screens that keep snow out of windows and doors. Like the wrapped utility poles, the plastic screens brought color and playfulness to an aging neighborhood. Takamachi's Echigo-Tsumari Exchange Center, the administrative headquarters of the triennial, housed several important works. One of the most interesting was Hiroshi Fuji's Kaekko Shop, an installation that was a parody of a toy store and, in fact, doubled as a playroom for children.
The highlight of works in the center was Relation-Blackboard Classroom/Relation Farmer's Work by Tatsuo Kawaguchi. The artist turned the center's classroom into an old-fashioned classroom of the sort that would be found in a rural elementary school, but with a twist: all of
fourth-year students, many of whom go on to become artists or art teachers (or both). The Fukushima University Hiroshi Arai Seminar's Going into the World of Picture Diary, Dear Summer Vacation to Everyone was one example of a store turned into a temporary gallery space. In a similar vein, students from the Osaka University of Education Kenji Hiroshi Seminar created Chatterbox: A Shop Full of Words in an old hardware store that had gone
The Second Echigo-Tsumari
Triennial challenged viewers to think about the relationship between contemporary
art and the human and natural environment. Spread across a wide area in
the heat of summer, it also challenged viewers physically, as they walked
through towns and fields to view the works. The exhibition went beyond
the limitations of "ruralesque" beauty and hard-nosed social realism by
showing art that grew naturally out of the environment through collaboration
with local residents. The result was a series of works that brought home
the issues of depopulation, economic decline, and environmental destruction
while offering hope of renewal and reconstruction of endangered rural
communities. In the end, it was an exhibition about hope for a better
future amid the lingering sadness of the present. Perhaps the next triennial,
in 2006, will provide an update on progress in turning that hope into
reality. Robert J. Fouser is an associate professor at Kyoto University. He writes frequently on Japanese and Korean art and culture. |
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© 2003 by Contemporary Asian Culture, Inc. All rights reserved.
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