Setouchi & The Outstanding Installation

 

The Seto Inland Sea is the setting for the Setouchi Triennale, a series of 12 islands and 2 ports, transformed by artists from around the world to become one big artfest on view for 3 seasons every three years. We just barely missed the last one starting in June 2010 (which was also the first one they ever did), having arrived in the area in May. At that time we had visited Naoshima which blew us away so we were very much looking forward to going this time and feeling lucky that we are fairly nearby here on Shikoku.

Takamatsu, one of the 2 ports, is a quick 90 minute drive from Kamiyama. It's quite a big city, the biggest on Shikoku, so it was a little kick to our pace. The first thing I noticed was the air smelled like city. Exhaust fumes, grime, food, and the noisiness on the street was in equal turns exhilarating and confronting. I've become so used to the fresh mountain air and the silence interspersed with creature songs. But there's nothing like some city energy to enliven your curiosity and desire to wander.

We knew that 2 days would be a short trip for the islands, traveling distances by ferry can limit schedules so we chose to spend one day on Teshima and the next day on Megijima and Ogijima. It would have been great to have more time but of course Nik was on a schedule for the upcoming exhibition so we embraced our 2 days with gusto.

Teshima is one of the bigger islands so we didn't get to see everything, but the other 2 islands were considerably smaller and allowed for a bus free roam. But due to ferry schedules we had to do some speed viewing and kicked up quite a sweat pushing Hopper around steep alleys. 

It's quite difficult to put into words the whole experience. I mean, the audacity of people to take these weather beaten islands and turn them into something so special, so spectacular. It's just mind-blowingly beautiful regardless and then to be sent on a massive art themed treasure hunt just taps into so many enjoyment neurons that it would be next to impossible not to feel enlivened and grateful.

So you get on a boat and watch green covered islets pass before arriving onto rugged islands with a map and the hope to have enough time to see everything as the art is in the inhabited clusters around and on mountains. Most islands have bicycle rentals but we needed Hopper's stroller for his naps so were confined to bus schedules and walking. It was hot and actually quite unhandy to lug around a toddler but all absolutely worth it.

Most of the venues are old buildings or houses that aren't in use, some of them quite dilapidated and excitingly refreshed by installations built just for the space. The rest of them are outdoors in courtyards, fields, or mountain sides. A lot of the people who live on the islands are old farmers and some of them volunteer during the season to man the entrances and enforce the rules.

We saw about 40 installations so obviously I won't go into detail about them all but there were 2 of note that literally made me gasp: the Teshima Art Museum and an installation called The Presence of Absence on Megijima, neither of which allowed cameras inside so no photos unfortunately.

*Spoiler Alert for anyone who will go to these places... not knowing what you will see is the edge that makes it beyond exciting viewing. So if you have plans to go, stop reading. (I believe both are permanent exhibits.)

The Teshima Art Museum looks like a UFO landed on the grass, it's smooth white disc shape so at odds with the surroundings of rice fields, forest and commanding views of the sea. At first glance when you walk in to the totally white, open ovalesque space, what is striking is the silence. You're not allowed to talk because the whole space is an echo machine so despite people inside, all you hear is the faint echoing sound of shifting feet and clothing, wind and possibly a bird outside. There are 2 "windows", wholes cut out of the ceiling to see the sky so the sun shifts around on the floor. Then you notice what looks like water drops and small pools. Then, as you look, the water moves! Drops join rivulets and form bigger pools and then you realize the whole space is randomly filled with tiny spouts that drip water onto the floor and due to the frictionless repelling nature of the floor, they move with small winds and gravity and glide around like mercury without leaving trails. As you sit and ponder, you catch peripheral movement and have to move out of the way of cascading snaking streams. It's so phenomenal I fear that I'm not doing it justice. It's just genius, I suggest looking it up online. 

The other, Presence of Absence, was in a house converted into a quaint restaurant, library and art installation, all surrounding a rock garden. Firstly, the rock garden had a trick bottom, at intervals rocks would sink in footprint shapes, as if someone were walking in the rocks (which is never done in rock gardens), with a recording of crunching rock steps. It totally caught me off guard and had a wow factor as the footprints would appear in different spots. The second part of the installation is a room that only one person enters at a time. When you step into it, it appears to be a normal room with low tables and cushions to sit on. So I walked around, took a seat, and wondered what was going to happen. After a few moments, I realized that the full-length mirror I was sitting in front of did NOT show my reflection. I believe I actually said alound "whoa that's freaky". So I waved my arms, squinted my eyes and decided to go over and see if the other mirror was also a trick. Nope, there I am. So I go back and sit. And I start analyzing the reflection and can see that the lamp behind me is sitting slightly differently on the rug in the reflection. So again I get up, walk to the mirror, and put my hand out to touch it. Is it there? NO! It's an opening into a space that's been built at an angle to perfectly match what you would otherwise see if it were a reflection. The whole space was askew and you could walk around it. So well done. So genius and subtle.

PS. Hopper was an amazing toddler in the museum. He was super quiet even though his excitement was obvious. For a whole 20 minutes, he kept himself to a low whisper and managed to not stick his curious  little fingers in the water until, sploosh, he did some excited jumps and landed flat into a small puddle sending the most spectacular water orbs to scatter and recollect into smaller pools. His sock wasn't even wet. (I'm dying to know what the floor is made of.) So we decide it's time to get out before being asked to go and the moment we step through the opening, he sees a cricket and gleefully screams "CRICKET!" sending shockwaves through the space. I only wish I could've seen people's faces inside.

new friends at Kapital

famous udon noodles in Takamatsu

this house was set up to mimic a storm with pouring rain on the windows, thunder and lightening and wind machine. Hopper wanted out.

lunch spot

such a happy little trooper

Teshima Art Museum

fun in Teshima Art Museum cafe

Hopper loved this one, cried hysterically when we left

pirate ship piano

stopped at Busshozan Onsen on way home. famous design bath house, fantastic

The Air & Autumn

Today is the first day that it really feels like Fall. Not that we haven't had some cooler  temps the last week or so, but today has that hazy faded warmth feel with a slight hint of decay and burning leaves. The wind barely moving with the crows calling out to each other. It always fills me with a bit of melancholy, possibly left over from the days of the start of school and the realization that nearly a whole year would have to go by before the freedom of swimming and fishing would fill my days.

I guess it also signifies that our time here is ending soon, and that brings a new layer of thought, that a lot of things are perhaps "the last". We've started to make an exit strategy, going to do some packing tonight, and Keiko has made a list of the things we want to do or need to get done before we leave. It's just all a bit depressing really. Not that I'm not looking forward to my home and dear friends and family in Amsterdam, but I've gotten quite used to this slower life, where my biggest worry is how I'm going to get the laundry dry without the sun.

It also doesn't help that I've caught some stomach bug and am generally not feeling in top form. But it's no worries, went to the dr today and got some good strength intestinal flora stabilizers. So I have high hopes that I will not spend the last of my days in Japan eating only broth.

I will say though, that I was quite looking forward to watching these mountains change color but they are still mostly green. So I've asked a few questions and as it turns out, most of the trees here are cedar which are coniferous. Kamiyama was a logging town, and the local government recommended the farmers to grow cedar as it was popular to build houses and furniture. When the market crashed in the 50's, the tree farms were ignored and took over, squeezing out other species. It's also believed that they're substantial need for water has drained the river from it's former size which is quite obvious as you look around at the banks.

We're now really making a point of taking lazy afternoon walks along the narrow windy roads through the little concentrations of farms dotting the mountain sides. The rice has all been cut, the persimmons hanging plump from the trees, fields and fields of radish and potato, perfect rows of sudachi lime trees clipped of their fruit and abandoned structures left to slowly decompose with the will of the winds. Kamiyama means God's Mountains in Japanese, yes it really does feel like god's country.

The Hidden Library & Art Walk

Many of KAIR's past resident artists have made sculptures in the forest along some paths on top of a mountain, referred to as the Art Walk. They are numerous and vary in materials. It makes for a beautiful hike as even though there are paths, it's still quite wild. Sayaka and Manus even got lost for a spell. We've had to do it segments since Hopper is heavy and not keen to stay in the pack for too long.

One project is called the Hidden Library. It's just gorgeous and was reportedly quite difficult to construct as it clashed with the "normal" way of doing things. There is no electricity but you can build a fire in the stove and just be, looking out over the forest. Hopper made us "shrimp cookies and mango ijshun" on the stove.

The door is kept locked but locals can ask for a key to visit when they're experiencing a major change in their life, i.e. graduating to a new school, having a child, changing jobs, etc., and the space is meant to contemplate the change. The only payment is to leave behind a book that somehow signifies where one has been or heading. All the books are dressed in handmade paper covers by the person leaving them. The silence and vibrations of the books make for a special atmosphere.

Cottonfields Campground, cutest ever, can be a starting point for the Art Walk

inside Hidden Library