The first thing I notice when I walk into Japan Society is a wall of pachinko machines brightly flashing and emblazoned with characters from Evangelion, "a complex amalgam of science fiction and human drama in the form of robot anime," that is also, "an unsurpassed milestone in the history of otaku culture." Writ large, otaku - which translates loosely into something like "pop culture junkies" - obsessions are the focus of Little Boy: The Arts of Japan’s Exploding Subculture, curated by Takashi Murakami and primarily on display at Japan Society through July 24. (Note: docent-led, walk-in tours take place every Tuesday and Thursday at 12:30pm.)
Upstairs I find myself transfixed by a series of chromogenic prints by artist Chiho Aoshima, the most beguiling of which is called "City Glow," and features a drawing of a city that consists of loosely undulating vertical organic forms culminating in female heads. I recently saw similar works by Aoshima in the Union Square subway station, which makes sense as the show is "a three-part project that features the Japan Society exhibition, public art in New York City's public spaces and mass transit system, and a major book edited by Takashi Murakami."
In the introductory exhibition text, Murakami contextualizes the otaku subculture and describes Japan as, "a Utopian society as fully regulated as the science fiction world George Orwell envisioned in 1984: comfortable, happy, fashionable -- a world nearly devoid of discriminatory impulses...These monotonous ruins of a nation-state, which arrived on the heels of the American occupation, have been perfectly realized in the name of capitalism."
The first gallery opens with an unusually vibrant cacophony of various seminal animation clips on flat screens, an entire wall of Hello Kitty merchandise and accompanying celebratory video, as well as numerous paintings and drawings. Aya Takano's acryclic paintings are captivating, especially the two displayed side-by-side; the one on the left depicts a morose young woman, whose grey-green lank hair is the same color as much of the painting, wearing only a rabbit-eared black cap with a white flower clipped over one ear, black briefs, and flats, lazily holding a cigarette in the arm that rests on one knee. She looms large, while the background features a woman on a tightrope, a partial city skyline, fireworks, a volcano, lush vegetation, and a sharp crescent moon. It's called In Those Woods, She... (2005) and it mirrors the opposite work, called In That Town, She... (2005), where the "she" on the left re-appears on the tightrope in the painting on the right, expressionlessly balancing with an open white umbrella, in a perfect illustration of the palpable contrast between tension and weightlessness.
In the next gallery, alongside a display dedicated to Godzilla, several drawings by Shigeru Komatsuzaki dazzle the viewer with visions of a future just beyond view, e.g. Flying Train, Underground City. However, the usual optimism of such predictions is notably absent, and the artist's black, grey and white palette imbues the work with an ominous sterility.
More amusing are the childish adventures of Doraemon, a "cat-shaped babysitting robot made in 2112," and Nobita Nobi, "an underachieving grade-schooler." Nearby, Bishojo, or "beautiful girl", drawings and figurines are instantly recognizable as the currency of Lolicom ("Lolita complex") and their hyper-stylized fixations.
Hideki Kawashima's paintings of large, dewy-eyed creatures are boldly realized in that sense but intruiguingly shapeless in other respects, such as Soak, a sort of upright thumb-shape with a sexy mouth and translucent fring of bangs to highlight her red-rimmed, up-turned eyes. Amoeba and Wisdom also stand out in this section. A couple of pieces by the genuinely-huge-in-Japan superstar Yoshitomo Nara honestly aren't my favorites that I've seen of his work, but the text does helpfully relate his experiences arriving to study and live in Germany with little understanding of the language and culture to his honest depictions of childhood as a time of almost painful awareness (and occasional lack thereof).
Chinatsu Ban's paintings, Elephant Underpants vs. Apple Half 04 -- deliriously charming and exactly what it sounds like -- and Digital Elephant Underpants 05 -- a pixelated fairyland -- are, like the show as a whole, quite fantastic. The initial cuteness overload belies a much deeper meaning and beauty.
Related from the LL Archives: So Kawaii.
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