The Howl & Moon: 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.