Art Platform Tokyoの出品作家に関する情報や、日常でのアートの楽しみ方に至るまで、様々なコンテンツを連載していきます。
Welcome!
Through ARTicle, we would like to cover various topics that we are passionate about - everything from interview with artists featured in our exhibition to information on how to enjoy art in our everyday life.
Now it’s time to start drawing up the sketch on the surface. All the colored lacquers used on the surface is made in Japan, which are seven times more expensive than the Chinese lacquer.
The base coat is creamy white, a primal color of lacquer. When lacquer is hardened by being exposed to oxygen in the air, the color sinks into the surface to create a deeper hue, and this creates the distinctive creamy white. However, lacquer also possesses a property of becoming more transparent with time - as the result, the white will become brighter and more intense in the future.
To make the original sketch on the surface, Toshihiko uses a pencil and an eraser along with a ruler for the straight lines and hand-created wooden boards for the circles. He then applies masking tapes around the lines. Although he already has his lines to guide him, aligning masking tapes is tricky since they can easily be bent or twisted. The white and yellow lines in the photo are the marks made with masking tapes.
Then, he applies red and black lacquer with a thin paint brush, making sure that the color doesn’t veer off the lines. After painting it over several times, he removes the masking tapes and makes some corrections (i.e., redrawing the lines he doesn’t like, correcting the veered off lines).
He originally had lines that are 1mm-wide but decides it doesn’t work after seeing the results. Right now, Toshihiko told me that he is in the process of making the lines thicker to 1.5mm. In order to make the corrections, he will reapply the masking tape and start the process from the start. Finally, before removing the masking tape, he will grind the lines with a whetstone to smooth out the surface. As one can imagine, the work requires a close attention, as it’s quite difficult to recoat the damaged white base.
Nunokise
The next step, nunokise (above) or `a wrapping process’ is a process where untreated linen is wrapped and glued to the wood panel with rice paste and a wooden spatula. The whole process usually takes two hours to complete. This will enhance the durability and strength of the wood panel and keep the wood from curving. The first two images show the `nunokise` process and the third shows the after the phase is completed.
Mesuri
After the surface has dried, a mixture of fine power called ‘Sanbenjinoko’ and rice paste are coated to fill in the grain of the linen using a spatula. This process is called ‘mesuri’ (literally meaning grain scraping). It takes approximately 4 hours to smooth out the surface.
Kiriko-urushi
Then, Kiriko-urushi, a blend of Sanbenji, rice paste, and Sabiurushi (clay, clay powder, water) is applied on the surface before grinding with whetstone. This process which takes 4 hours calls for a skilled and experienced craftsperson who can evenly apply the kiriko-urushi on the surface.
Depending on the time of the season, it takes a day or two for the panel to dry after each phase is completed. In the winter, it takes longer time to dry. Each step may look quite mundane but one needs to be continuously attentive in order to evenly grind the surface especially when one has to keep pressing the whetstone at the same level and avoid creating a deep scratch.
After the design is decided, Toshihiko ordered the plywood.
Choosing the right material for lacquer work is essential. The wood should not have any wormholes or rough particles and the measurement must be accurate for the work to embody the beauty of the original design. Toshihiko who lives in Kamakura City asks Mr. Uno in Uonuma area in Fujisawa City, a competent wood worker/furniture builder, to prime the wood. Most of time, he asks for plywood made of Japanese lime, which has smooth surface and doesn’t warp easily. Because plywood is made from layers of wood that are glued in the direction of wood grain rotating up to 90 degrees, it is rigid.
After lightly sanding down the plywood to prime the surface, Toshihiko sends out the wood to Aizu for the undercoating. Usually with a work this size, Toshihiko often does his own undercoating, but he decided to assign Ms. Komatsu, a craftsperson who mainly creates lacquer accessories, to do the preparatory work from undercoating to polishing. In this era where the demand for lacquer is diminishing, Toshihiko tries to secure craftsperson’s job by outsourcing this phase as much as possible.
To save the costs, the client had agreed to use lacquer imported from China that is cheaper than that produced in Japan for the undercoat - Japanese lacquer will be applied for the final coating. The first step for the undercoating is to brush the raw lacquer which is diluted with solvent on the plywood using a wooden spatula. This process called ‘Kiji-Gatame,’ literally meaning hardening the wood surface, will make the wood absorb ample of lacquer to enhance durability. After repeating this process, the wood will be kept in the humidity-controlled sauna-liked space called ‘Urushi-Buro’ or ‘lacquer bath’ in order to solidify the lacquer. Normally it takes almost two weeks for the lacquer to set but it all depends on the season of the year.
After the client and the gallery (or artist) confirm the contents on the agreed document, the in-depth discussion on the design resumed. The rough drawing of the work from the artist Toshihiko Iwata was sent to the clients.
`I‘m not convinced’, `I want to see more dynamism’, `Is there any way that you can color the shapes’, ‘Can’t you make it like Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie—Woogie?’…there were various opinions and requests from the clients. Toshihiko who carefully creates each draft with his pencils sent them the revised versions.
The clients weren’t again satisfied claiming, ‘I think the black and red are too loud’ and `The line in the center is too conspicuous.’ They agreed that perhaps the initial design might have been better and decided to reverse the direction. Unlike oil painting, once the production process starts, it’s not easy to change the direction of the work for Toshihiko’s lacquer art. Unless there is a consensus on the design, the artist and the client may end up having unsatisfied and unhappy piece of artwork. Almost a month later, the clients received an e-mail from the artist.
‘I decided to add one more color in my new composition on the first piece. On the second piece, I chose to focus more on lines.’ The followings were the new designs.
This time the clients were very happy and decided on the simple black and red design… however, three weeks later, the clients received another e-mail from the artist.
‘As I was staring at the draft that I sent you and you liked, I decided to make an alternation as I felt the design wasn’t strong enough. For the lines on the upper side, I added one more line on the right end. Looking at the design on the side of the work, I thought it looked cheap and decided to change the width of the panel to make it sharper’.
The cool and sophisticated design highlights not only his Toshihiko’s talent as a designer but brilliant eye for detail. After all, it took more than two months from the first to the final draft. We hope you understand why we wrote that commissioned work is ‘collaboration’ between the artist and the client.
‘I love this work, but somebody bought it already’,
‘I want to have a similar work in different color and in smaller size’
Have you ever thought that way?
It’s always terrifying to ask the artist for commission work especially if you haven’t done it before. Actually, many artists are happy to be asked because 1) they are excited to know that there are people who want their work, and 2) they are pleased to have the warranty that their time and labor will be compensated.
Commission work is collaboration between artist who cherishes their creative freedom and client who has a certain idea of what the finished work should look like – that’s why it can be tricky. The key for successful commission artwork lies on preliminary discussion between the artist and the client.
The discussion will involve anything from the image the client is looking for based on the artist’s past artworks (i.e., color, size), to logistics such as payment method, the shipment, and deadline. To avoid unnecessary trouble, it’s always better to have the agreement stated on a document.
In ARTicle, we will follow each step of the commission work by Toshihiko Iwata, the lacquer artist whom we had shown in our past exhibition.
Recently we were asked by our client for a commission work for Toshihiko’s flat panel series with Ichimonji-sansei motif, an old Japanese family crest. The client wanted the base color to be creamy white, distinctive color used in lacquer work. He also gave us the upper limit on the price. As for the design, he requested at least one bright color featured on the panel but had no preference regarding the size.
A few weeks later, the client and the artist discussed and decided on the price. Toshihiko suggested the followings – the shape will be, a 65 cm square side, rotated 45 degrees; both width and height will be 92 cm; the completion will take about a year; less expensive Chinese lacquer will be used extensively especially for the base.
We also agreed on other various matters. For instance, we agreed that the client will pay 50% as the initial payment before discussing the design and creative process in details. After the artwork is completed, the client will pay the remaining 50%. We provided some contingency plans in case the client fails to pay, or the artist fails to finish in time due to unexpected incidents such as illness. We also discussed the ownership of copyright of the work. Finally, we covered the miscellaneous costs such as a box for the work, shipment and handling fees. Upon obtaining mutual agreement, the document was signed, and the payment was made.
In the next blog, we’ll show you how the client and the artist agreed on the drawing.
When did you start creating lacquer art? How did you get involved in this craft in the first place?
I got into Tokyo University of the Arts on my sixth try. As a child, I wasn’t exceptional in anything except for drawing and that’s why I decided to study at art school. I had a feeling that painting, design or sculpture wouldn’t suit me and came up with an idea applying to Kogei, or Crafts Department within the art school.
While I kept failing year after year getting into art school, for five years in total, artists such as Takashi Murakami and Tetsuya Nakamura, both graduates of Tokyo University of the Arts, were drawing attention in the art world. Although I was determined to study Kogei, you can say that I was more interested in contemporary art.
At Tokyo University of the Arts, we had to study basic skillsets needed to become an artist like painting and sculpture in the freshman and sophomore years. I had never handled lacquer until it became my major in my junior year. Up until then, my impression of lacquer art was glitzy, gaudy, and out-of-fashion - I had no interest in majoring in lacquer art. It was at the end of the sophomore year, the time we needed to declare our major, that I started thinking there might be a way to introduce lacquer art that can be accepted in today’s world.
Lacquer art is considered crafts, not necessarily fine arts. As a matter of fact, at Tokyo University of the Arts, it is included in Kogei or Crafts Department. How do you feel about your work being categorized in one particular field, be it traditional craftwork, fine arts, or even design?
I have no interest in drawing boundaries between crafts, fine arts or design. I just want to express my identity as Japanese through the Japanese traditional crafts art. That’s all.
Your motifs used in `Flat Panel` series indeed encompass traditional Japanese elements such as beauties of nature and Japanese family emblems.
As opposed to the radiance that directly reflects the shining lights like the brilliant sunshine or mirror, the appeal of lacquer lies in its lustrous, sensual and enigmatic surface. Junichiro Tanizaki, a writer, once described its appeal as `darkness` in his essay. I feel that lacquerware prioritizes its aesthetics, which is distinctively Japanese. Also, unlike in the West, the outlook on the world in Japan is uniquely two-sided. For instance, the beautifully and sensitively rendered nature embraces life and but also death, which is peculiar to Japanese culture.
I am also influenced by Japanese subculture and graphic design from magazines and advertisement in the past. I think its coolness and sharpness still resonate with the today’s world. They are the core of my work. Even in the subculture and graphic design, I notice its duality unique to Japan, something very different from black-or-white, clear-cut views in the Western society.
Which artist influenced you? How did he or she influenced you?
Among the Japanese artists, I’ve been inspired by the work and life of the Buddhist monk Enku who lived in the Edo period (17th Century). He sculpted many Buddha images while travelling throughout the country.
Creating lacquer art is like monk’s spiritual practice. You work alone from morning to evening every day smoothing the surface, applying multiple coats of lacquer, and polishing it over and over again. The coating of the lacquer is only 0.6 millimeter. It has to be evenly applied to produce that beautiful gloss. It takes almost two months from the initial coating process, the process to seep the lacquer twice or thrice into the wooden board, to applying lacquer at the halfway. Then, the rest of the process such as implementing ornaments and motifs on the work, smoothing the surface, applying lacquer on the surface, and repeatedly polishing it, will easily take more than six months. It actually takes almost one year to finish when it comes to work that’s larger than 150 cm in length.
Smoothing, applying lacquer, and polishing – during the process, I am in a spiritual state of selflessness. I don’t want to compromise. I just want to create art that inspires people, that’s it. Perhaps that might be the reason why I get moved by the way Enku led his life, creating works that strike a chord within me.
In the past, you mentioned you are often subcontracting some parts of the process to lacquer craftspeople. Can you elaborate on that point?
Sales of lacquerware is only 10% of what it was back in the 1970’s, the era when I was born. It may be true that the people are rediscovering the value of lacquerware these days, triggering interests in the craft among young people, making them want to get involved in the industry. However, make no mistake, lacquerware is declining industry. It may sound presumptuous but by designating parts of my work to the craftspeople, I would like to support the industry as much as I can.
For Toshihiko Iwata’s profile and work, go to https://artplatform.tokyo/featured/this-is-now/en/artists/toshihikoiwata/
I always liked to draw as a child and used to draw with acrylic paint, pastel and color pencil. When I was in 7th grade, I thought I might have a try at oil painting and joined the afterschool painting class. I still remember the excitement when I first held the paint brush, the smell of turpentine, and the weight of the paint. Since then, although I occasionally painted as my hobby, I was quite athletic and was more into playing soccer. However, in my senior year in high school, I decided that I wanted to study oil painting in art school and started to paint more seriously.
Many of your contemporaries use acrylic instead of oil paint. Tell me the reason you stick to oil?
Acrylic is cheaper and also dries fast. Having said that, oil paint has the depth, texture and intensity in colors that acrylic can never emulate. That I can leave the brushstroke by layering the colors over and over again, that I can incorporate elements of chance into my creative process – I can never be bored of the medium.
Tell me about your creative process.
I casually take pictures when I come across interesting images, taking a walk in the neighborhood or visiting the botanical garden. I mainly shoot when I find interesting contour or shape. Looking at the photo, I draw the image in my palm size sketchbook. Then, on the next drawing I trim the shape here and there, trim more in the in the following sketch, repeating the process 20 to 30 times until I have the final composition in color, the miniature version of the final oil painting. My paintings tend to be rather big in size, so I draw grids in the final drawing and enlarge it faithfully onto the gridded canvas. Some say it is labor-intensive, but I have been using this method for a long time. It doesn’t bother me.
What is the theme in your work?
I basically love plant, and always been attracted by its organic shape. I came to realize that by trimming the organic lines, the curves become more linear, turning more inorganic, more artificial. For a person who’s always curious to see what’s there on the reverse side, I was fascinated by the gradual emergence of the contrasting image by using this process called trimming. For instance, in Banana Leaf in the exhibition, it all started when I realized how interesting the leaves look while staring at them. The patterns aren’t particularly extraordinary but they are slit asymmetrically in order to respond to high wind, making them look somewhat organic, I think. However, by trimming, the contour became more linear, more artificial, and the shape ended up being somewhat industrial.
As for Shadow in the exhibition, I had been working on the plant series till then. One day I was intrigued by the shadow of the staircase. What attracted me was not exactly the staircase itself but the overlay of shadows of the staircase. By trimming the outlines, I had tried to create something that doesn’t exist in reality.
Having said that, I don’t mean to just create inorganic image out of organic contours, or paint something completely opposite. Rather, by working through 20 or 30 drawings, I am exploring an image that is neither organic nor inorganic and yet has a remnant of both, something in the middle that only exists in my imagination. The final image on canvas is the end of the long process. Through the process, I think I am trying to find out the comfortable distance or space between myself and the motif.
Which artists gave you the influence?
I seem to like and be influenced by artists who can’t be defined.
For instance, Georgia O’Keefe comes to my mind. I especially like her later works. I love her paintings with animal’s scull and bones, mountain beyond the desert with blue sky above. In general, they would be called representational work but they are mysterious, neither representational nor abstract, something I am very much attracted to. I also like David Hockney. His body of work will also be called representational but I love his flat and clever composition. Toma Abts is also my favorite artist. In her abstract work, she depicts geometrical patterns with colors and patterns which suggest many things, and yet you can’t quite figure out what they are. I think her colors and patterns are so contemporary. If you look closely at the painting, you see her brushstrokes where the paint had been layered over and over again. I was quite fascinated by her way of painting when I first saw her work. Although they all have different styles, I think they, too, search for the right distance or space between themselves and the work.
For Mino Watabe’s profile and work, go to https://artplatform.tokyo/artists/minowatabe/
1)How did you start woodcut printmaking? What did appeal to you?
After failing to get into art school on my first try, I got into Musashino Art University with a major in painting where I studied all sorts of disciplines in fine arts, everything from figure drawing to sculpture. In the junior year, we were asked to choose our academic advisor. In the second half of my sophomore year, even though I spent days staying late in the studio working hard outside of my classes, I couldn’t paint. I was hitting a wall. I concluded that I couldn’t work under any advisor in painting, and instead decided to choose an advisor in ‘printmaking.’ I was hoping for a breakthrough in my creative expression.
In those days, Ayomi Yoshida was the adjunct professor teaching the woodcut printmaking classes. She was known for her installation work using woodcut prints, presenting them as contemporary artwork. She came from a family of woodcut printmaking dynasty. Her grandfather, Hiroshi Yoshida, was famous as the artist whose work adorned Princess Di’s office. I was especially encouraged by the fact that she showed her work mainly in the States. Looking back, I believe I chose woodblock printing because of her. She connected the dots between woodcut printmaking, contemporary art, and the world outside of Japan.
2) Which artist influenced you?
My professor Ayumi Yoshida, of course, had a tremendous influence on my career but just from gazing at their work in books, I’ve admired Gerhard Richter, Sigmar Polke, Wolfgang Tillmans, Thomas Ruff, and Thomas Demand ever since I was a student. Yes, they are all Germans.
3) Ukiyo-e prints, one of the most popular Japanese woodcut prints from the past, often depict journey and current affairs. Many of your images, too, portray scenes from your trips. Are you incorporating the idea from the past masters? Are you influenced by the Ukiyo-e artists?
I believe that prints are the original form of information media. 3D printer and laser printer might be the latest printing technical innovation. And, if you regard prints as information media, internet and AI can be said to have descended from prints. In another words, Ukiyo-e was important information source that drew people’s interests in the Edo period Japan. Latest news, portrait of the popular kabuki actors, memories of the trip, souvenir landscape pictures for tourists, everything was printed using woodcut. Since producing sheer volume doesn’t play a critical role in printmaking anymore, figuring out what to communicate or evaluating what’s essential – that is crucial in today’s printmaking.
4) Tell me about the colors you use. I was surprised to hear you only use about four colors in some of your multi-color works; in others, you apply CMYK -cyan, magenta, black, and yellow, basic colors used in copying machine. Are you being conscious of copying machine or computer screen which overlays colors to create color, rather than mixing colors out of a tube like in oil painting ?
I am not good at using colors spontaneously. So, when creating multi-color work, I considered how I can layer the colors in the process. For instance, in ukiyo-e print, basically craftsmen carved woodblocks for each color. Sometimes, they ended up carving over 20 printing blocks for a multi-color woodblock print. However, I was always thinking of a way to create prints using fewer number of woodblocks. If you carve each woodblock for every color, I feel as if I am just ‘replicating’ the image. For me, that is just a printed duplication of the image, not exactly the information media or print media that I have in mind.
That is how I came up with the idea of using CMYK, the four printing colors used in copying machine. Of course, these colors are elements to efficiently replicate image in digital prints. Normally they aren’t used in woodcut prints. After all, woodcut printmaking is analogue. So, I tried to combine the analogue procedure, woodcut printmaking, with the digital image processing and digital color separation. I had flopped many times in the early days but now I am able to control the colors.
5) Regarding your creative process, are all the images in your work based on the photograph you take yourself ?
Basically, I take all the pictures myself. When I take a walk in the woods with my camera, I just shoot everything that catches my eyes without much thought. If I stumble into landscape that I really like, I keep shooting the image until I get bored. By taking multiple photos of the image that captivate me until I had enough, I can later step back and revisit my emotion, going over why I was so attracted to the sight. Within my creative procedure, choosing the right image is the most important process for me but also the most perplexing process for others – why I chose the image, why it has to be the image. Even for me, it is hard to explain but it’s intuitive knowing that this is the one. This intuition is very important to my creative expression.
6) In each of the journey you take, I assume that you look forward to the new discovery through the experience. However, in the days of COVID where you are not allowed to take a trip, do you find yourself changed in anyway?
I rarely take a trip just for the sake of it. In most cases, I go to new places to participate in artist-in-residence program. By participating in artist-in-residence, I can stay in the place longer than a short-term trip, getting the taste of daily life of the local residents. More than being a tourist, less than being a resident – I love that feel of betwixt and between.
I like participating in artist-in-residence, as I look forward to these encounters. I took part in over 15 programs but with this COVID-19 virus hitting the world, I can’t go abroad. I was supposed to go to Ireland this summer, but the program was cancelled. Today, even travelling within Japan is discouraged but I can never go into seclusion, shutting off myself from the world, retreating and just creating. So, I would walk around my neighborhood with my camera or take my car to desolate forests. For my creative process, it is very important to stay consciously connected to the outside world. You won’t be able to create good work by just huddling in the studio.
7) Many art experts tend to differentiate art from craft, and woodcut prints can sometimes be considered to be craft rather than art. Can you tell me your opinion regarding this point?
For a long time, it has been debated if woodcut print is art or craft. If one called the work which is utilitarian in nature a craftwork, and a non-utilitarian work an artwork, rather a crude way of differentiating the two, prints were originally made for utilitarian purpose. Printmaking meant publishing, and it played an important role to give people knowledge through books. In Edo period in Japan (1603~1868), published documents, anything from newspapers, novels, textbooks, toys, cookbooks to medical books, were printed on woodcut prints. Needless to say, ukiyo-e prints were postcards, posters, or celebrity’s photographs of today, something anybody can buy cheaply. As Japan undertook rapid modernization and were pressed to transform itself by adopting western culture, Creative Prints Movement, or Sosaku Hanga Undo, emerged. The new movement tried to elevate printmaking, a medium to produce multiples, to one of the genres in fine art with having a solo artist taking on every step of the process, designing, carving, and printing, instead of having numbers of specialists taking on the traditional division of labor.
When the artist views woodcut printmaking not merely from a perspective of technique, but a medium to express oneself, the work becomes art. If the aim is only to further one’s technical mastery, it can just as well be called craft. In any case, I think it is so ancient to discuss the hierarchy, if one is better than the other. I don’t want to make light of the technical skill but at the same time, I don’t want to be hung up about the technical aspects of printmaking. Technique and expression, both are important. I always ask myself why it has to be woodcut printmaking for me to express and I aspire to create work that ties into current social problems or my message to the future. Considering the fact that woodcut printmaking was the origin of information media, I believe it is one of the most important forms of expression within contemporary art.
For Katsutoshi Yuasa’s profile and work, go to https://artplatform.tokyo/en/artists/katsutoshiyuasa/
