Visiting Naoshima: The Painting Under the Stone

“A special aspect of art involves recognizing all we’ve made and managed to share continues to astonish even the most jaded of travelers.” – Old Sean

Artistic Island

After spending an accidental extra day in Takamatsu, I found a ferry to take me to Naoshima Island, a famed naturalist-art-museum island in the cerulean seas near the Japanese core island.

I spent three quarters of a day on Naoshima island.  I had been recommended to visit by a friend, who’s endorsements are quite solid. But due to this, I might have been… lax about keeping up my research.

I arrived to Naoshima expecting it to be fairly walkable, but walking everywhere on the hilly roads is a huge time sink.  A bit of nosing around allowed me to discover a bike shop.  I opted for the cheapest option, which didn’t include any gears.

Additionally, I forgot to gaze out the ferry windows at the oncoming land.  If I had, I would have realized that Naoshima is very… mountainous.  And a no-gear bike struggles to traverse that kind of terrain.

But I had made my ill-prepared bed and it was time to lay in it.  Gritting my teeth, I peddled away, first stopping at the famed Chichu Mesueum, which opened at 10 AM.

Museum Chichu

Immediately, my new favorite quote was show to me at the museum’s bicycle stand.  It said, and I quote “Please keep your baggage with you because crows may take them away.” 

This wasn’t a metaphor or insult for thieves.  Crouched nearby there were indeed three crows, winging around, giving the scarf in my bike’s basket beady, covetous glares.

I like crows, but they’ve got a lousy reputation as petty thieves.

Regardless, I secured my supplies and milled around the front of the museum until it opened.

Chichu is designed unlike any museum I’ve ever seen.  With grey slat walls and long, narrow corridors at odd angles, it felt more like a military bunker designed to prevent angles of entry than anything else.  There were relatively few exhibits, but the ones available were impressive.

First were the creations of Monet, left inside a nearly void room. 

I strongly believe that Monet is one of those painters a person can only fully appreciate in person. It’s important to see his work in a vacuum, looking that the entire visage with no distractions. His artworks have a pacifying effect that’s not quite serenity that I’m hard-pressed to accurately describe.

Additional, there was a nearby optical illusion red room, which required a staircase to enter. Inside, various shade of red light made the room seem longer, shorter, or with more angles than my brain actually knew existed. 

It was truly bizarre, especially since I thought it was a glass wall for long minutes before being told I could step inside.

Next included the space-defying room filled with a single massive black marble by Walter De Maria.  The building itself had numerous contributions by Tadao Ando, who created the narrow passages and perplexing angles of the entire structure.  Certain rooms, oddly built were empty except for geometric shapes being entirely open to the sky.

Finally, there was a café available that granted an unobstructed overlook of the sea.  I left the compound feeling… bewildered, I guess.  Chichu Art Museum is a bit unlike any other museum I’ve frequented.  Not in a bad or good way, just in a jarringly altering expectation.

Sadly, as with all museums on this island, I was forbidden from taking photos in the interior.

Lee Ufan Museum

Regardless, I continued on my way, eventually forced to leave my bike and hoof it while visiting the Lee Ufan Museum which I…

Didn’t understand or resonate with.  Like at all.

I’m reasonably intelligent but I confess, I don’t know much about the mechanics of art. However, Lee Ufan was doing a large amount of something with negative space and natural objects and it just went straight over my head.  I wandered through for a over half-an-hour before, with a self-preserving shrug, decided it was beyond me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pompous asshat who takes a considerable amount of pleasure in pretending to be cultural and moderately sophisticated. 

But I’m not so much of one that I’ll pretend to see meaning where my brain just doesn’t latch on.    In short, Lee Ufan is probably brilliant and compelling and completely beyond me.

Next I checked out a series of small ponds dotted by tiny Buddhist statues that were interesting features of the ancient island.  They were fun to look at before continuing on my way, checking out wide, walkable arches peering into the sea.

I should mention that the cliffs and foliage and long golden grass of Naoshima make it a beautiful walk. In fact, many of Naoshima’s museums and structures are built underground, into the island. This is a purposeful design to avoid detracting from the island’s natural beauty.

The Benesse House

I continued until reaching my favorite museum location, the Benesse House.  This was a bit more my speed and I eagerly went inside, passing a portrait of crushed, colorful kettles and a neon sign that mixed the verbs “live” and “die” with other random actions.  “Smell to live.  Talk to die.” Et cetera.

I loved Benesse House. 

I loved the rock and driftwood circles, the splash of circular wheel paint on the walls, the army mirror of red action figures worshiping in the center of a circle and the odd structures found outside on precipitous ledges. 

My favorite two pieces included a kinetic sculpture of standing, featureless men with their jaws on a rotor, making it appear that they were jabbering endlessly.  Indeed, there was an audio recording that spoke “Yada, yada” in a garbled, endless monotone.  Occasionally it would break and be replaced with male choir music, which I adored just a much.

My second favorite piece was sand art in small glass cases featuring flags from nations across the world.  The real gem to this was the odd, seemingly random distortions.  On closer inspection, the distortions were tunnels and the flags were connected with tubes.  I was looking at a 26 by 7 panel massive ant colony.

I greatly enjoyed it.

Outdoor Naoshima

I next planned to visit the Ando House when I pulled up short with a small problem:  Naoshima is expensive.  Every museum costs coinage to enter and I had already nearly blown through my daily budget.  Somewhat reluctantly, I pulled away, deciding to stick with the free exhibits from then on.

Which wasn’t bad.  I hiked across the island, ducking down to seaweed-slick rocks and admiring deathly dropped cliffs cased in golden grass. 

I snapped photos of low Tori gates and bright abstract creatures across the grounds.  Of course, I took my photo of the most famous notable outdoor pieces, including “”Cultural Melting Bath” by Cai Guo-Qiang.  “Seen/ Unknown Known/ Unknown” by Walter De Maria.  My personal favorite “Drink a Cup of Tea” by Kazuo Katase (A blue bowl atop a square well).  And finally and most famously, “Pumpkin” the yellow spotted gourd overlooking the sea by Yayoi Kusama.

On that happy note I turned around and headed back home.  I was tired from walking and biking and I had made numerous wrong turns that took me on enormous tangents. 

Furthermore, I knew I wouldn’t be done for the night upon leaving the island. When I got back to my hostel, I would need to continue my journey to my new hostel in Matsuyama.

So until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written February 4th, 2020

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