Otomo Yoshihide
Otomo Yoshihide is a musician born in 1959 who has been creating a wide variety of music from improvisation and noise pieces to pop music, always simultaneously and independently, and performs all over the world. As a film music producer, he has composed music for more than 100 films. After the earthquake disaster, he launched Project FUKUSHIMA! in his hometown Fukushima, and has continued various practices up to the present. He is also the director of the renewal of the signature summer festival in Fukushima, “Waraji Matsuri”.
https://otomoyoshihide.com

In the first part of this interview, Otomo Yoshihide expressed his confidence about his performance, stating that he can play the guitar and turntable at his best right now. In Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable (2023), Otomo clearly shows his improvisational skills as an improviser who has reached such a state of freedom. This album was released by Little Stone Records, a newly founded label that released “Stone Stone Stone,” an album of Otomo’s Special Big Band in 2022. The label is planning to release more of Otomo’s solo works such as “Solo Works 2,” a live album and “Solo Works 3,” the one being conceived around the theme of Christian Marclay.

In the second part of the interview, we asked him about his almost-unprecedented musical practices as an experimental turntablist. While his starting point was improvisational collaging, he took a cue from kung-fu movies (!) to play the turntable faster. It also delves into his unique path in which his extreme turntable performance without using records led to his installation works. Besides, perhaps it’s surprising to many listeners, Otomo also says of himself that he “may not be from the context of free improvisation.”

The Impact of Christian Marclay

–In the second part of the interview, I would like to ask you mainly about your work around turntables. Your career as a turntable player began in earnest after you left Masayuki Takayanagi, didn’t it?

Otomo Yoshihide (Otomo): Yes, that’s right. But in fact, I had been performing since I was with Mr. Takayanagi. I was not allowed to perform live, so I only performed in front of the audience just a few times, and most of my performances were recorded at home though. So I started performing in earnest after I left Mr. Takayanagi’s place.

–I heard that you had been making music with a tape recorder since you were a child, although not on turntables.

Otomo: I used to make sound collages with a tape recorder when I was in middle and high school. So I initially wanted to use turntables to create those too, which is why I started it in a completely different context from hip-hop.

–Does collage mean what is called “musique concrète” (concrete music)?

Otomo: Yeah, I wanted to do an improvised version of musique concrete that Pierre Schaeffer would do. But it was only after I met Christian Marclay that I started working solely on turntables. Until then, I had been using cassette tapes or open-reel tapes along with turntables, but Christian made me think it would be cooler to play only on turntables. That realization came even before I heard his music, and I only saw a photo depicting Christian.

–Is that the famous “Phono Guitar” photo in which he plays the turntable slung over his shoulder like a guitar?

Otomo: No, it wasn’t that one. I saw a picture of him playing on four turntables set side by side and thought it was genuinely cool. So something like an imaginary Christian Marclay is one of the starting points of turntable playing for me. I heard his sound for the first time in Teruto Soejima’s documentary film, which was 8mm film footage of the “Moers Jazz Festival 1984.” After that, I also heard Christian’s sound on a John Zorn’s record, maybe around 1984 or 1985, and I was fascinated by how cool it was. I guess I was already playing completely on turntables only by then.

–You also went to see Christian Marclay’s first performance in Japan in 1986, didn’t you?

Otomo: Of course. I saw all of his Tokyo shows. Or rather, I acted as an assistant to Christian when he came to Japan. It was part of Teruto Soejima’s project. The year before the show, Mr. Soejima asked me, “I am thinking of inviting David Moss to Japan, and I have the budget to invite one more person. Who would you like to invite? I said, “Definitely, Christian Marclay, I’ll help you with that!” (Laughs.) So, during the visit, I followed Christian around every day to help out. And when I saw Christian’s performance in person, I realized I could not compete with him. He was just so cool. The speed and the choice of records were so incredible that I could only prostrate in front of him.

The improvisational collage seemed overwhelmingly new

–Did you find different kind of pleasure in playing the turntables than in playing the guitar?

Otomo: To begin with, it requires an entirely different type of technique. Turntable performance seemed overwhelmingly new to me back then in that it allowed me to collage improvisationally, which was different from composing collages. I was able to create collages from recorded materials extemporarily. There were no proper samplers at the time, so the improvised collages seemed so new to me. It seemed to have potential. I felt like I could go beyond the cassette tape collages I had been doing before that.

At the time, Masayuki Takayanagi was working on a cassette tape collage, and I was the one who had made the equipment for him. So I had been doing that kind of collage for quite a while; cassette collages inevitably end up being like compositional works in terms of production speed. Turntable production is more improvisational and cooler than that. In that sense, what struck me the most musically in my life was, after all, the moment I saw Christian Marclay’s live show.

Now I can confess that the one of the biggest reasons why I left Mr. Takayanagi was the encounter with Christian Marclay. He made me want to do shows right away, but Mr. Takayanagi wouldn’t let me do them if I kept studying under him. To be honest, I had been doing shows in secret even before I met Christian, but after that, I was like, all I wanted to do was do shows. Then, my show was introduced in a magazine, which led to a massive argument. That’s how I ran away from Mr. Takayanagi. Therefore, in retrospect, Christian was the catalyst for that.

–In the 1980s, it was very rare to have a live experimental turntable performance at jazz-oriented venues, wasn’t it? Or maybe you were the only one who do that kind of performance. How did the musicians around you recognize that?

Otomo: Yeah, I was lonely. Most of the so-called jazz folks didn’t recognize me. However, there were some people who were interested in me back then, such as Junji Hirose, Kyoko Kuroda, Hideki Kato, Masahiro Uemura, Yuji Katsui, and Naruyoshi Kikuchi. After joining Ms. Kuroda’s band in 1987, I started to get acquainted with jazz musicians. But I didn’t necessarily want to play jazz at that time. It just so happened that I did my first performance in the jazz scene. Then I started playing with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck, leading me to play in the rock scene. I felt that rock was much more open than jazz music at the time. It was like, anything that sounds interesting was affirmed in the rock context. I remember now that when I played rock with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck, I also played the guitar.

So, it was all about Mr. Takayanagi, after all. I think there was an excuse in my mind that “rock music has nothing to do with Mr. Takayanagi.” I played noise guitar in the rock shows but occasionally played rhythm guitar too. I felt at ease with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck’s band because there was no linkage with Mr. Takayanagi. It was when I went to jazz shows, you know, that I couldn’t take my guitar with me. My excuse for playing live on the turntables was like, “It’s OK to play live because it’s not a guitar” (laughs). The presence of Mr. Takayanagi was such a big part of my life. But as you just said, turntables were indeed rare at that time. No one except for hip-hop players brought in turntables. On top of that, in my case, I was using a turntable that I had made myself, not a Technics turntable. There was no one like that in Japan.

The speed of turntable performance cultivated through kung-fu movies

–Turntables were originally a device for listening to music, not a musical instrument designed for performance. I think it is difficult to react as instantly as you do with a guitar during a session.

Otomo: It may sound like I’m boasting, but I was able to react relatively fast even on the turntable, which was probably why I was invited to perform in various opportunities. I was even a guest member of HIKASHU for about a year in 1990.

–Did you sometimes refer to hip-hop music in terms of your turntable technique?

Otomo: No, I was not influenced by hip-hop at all. I’m not even into scratching. Instead, it was more like just making collages really fast. So I’m totally self-taught. Of course, I got influenced by Christian Marclay, but I’ve been doing it since before I met him. My starting point was a wish that I would do a live version of what Pierre Schaeffer would do, and then I discovered Christian, which made me think, “This is it! “

At first, I was mainly using tape recorders, and of course, I was checking out the music of people who used cassette tapes in their live performances, like Mr. Takayanagi and Bob Ostertag. But back then, I felt that tape-based sounds were too much like composed music and tended to unfold slowly, which made me want to create something fast, like a cut-up. The music of John Zorn was a significant influence, and I thought the turntable was the perfect instrument for doing collages and live cut-ups like Heiner Goebbels and Alfred Harth’s “Peking-Oper” myself. I could cut up at a moment’s notice and add changes in response to a fast beat. Since I just wanted to play it fast, I practiced turntable playing to Hong Kong kung fu movies (laughs).

— Do you mean all that you were seeking was speed?

Otomo: Yeah. Speed. I wanted my performance to be faster than anyone else. Well, I may sound like Kaoru Abe (laughs). Perhaps I was influenced by Kaoru Abe, whom I admired in high school. Anyway, I was pursuing speed. I thought Christian’s performance was so outstanding that I couldn’t compete, so I had to establish my own approach. At the time, I used Hong Kong kung fu movies as a reference. I would repeatedly watch VHS videos of movies starring actors like Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao and make sounds from a turntable to match their movements exactly. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? Well, it was indeed stupid. But I had played that way up until the mid-1990s. Thinking back now, I realize that turntable usage led to the technique of playing the guitar with a U-shaped bracket because both were for speed and strong accents.

Sampling Virus Project ~ “Dear Derek,” an unreleased album

–In the 1990s, you were an advocator of the “Sampling Virus Project,” and in 1993 you released an album titled The Night before the Death of the Sampling Virus. Was this project an attempt on the extended line of the turntable collage?

Otomo: For that album, I didn’t use turntables, but mainly cut-and-paste tapes, like Pierre Schaeffer did. I did use turntables, but it was a compositional work. I also used digital audio sources for the mastering of the CD.

I started working on the “Sampling Virus Project” largely because the idea of “sampling” was new at the time. I felt the possibility of reusing sound sources, which was different from collage because the term “sampling” was introduced to describe what, until then, could only be defined as “collage.” On the other hand, that was also the time when so-called “computer viruses” were beginning to appear, and I decided to explore these things, including copyright issues, centered around the keyword “virus,” which had no clear identity. However, at that time, we still had only simple computers, and there was no network that could instantly connect us to the world via the Internet like computers do today, so I was exploring them only in my mind under such circumstances.

— However, your perception of music in relation to others, exemplified by the idea, “the seeds of sampling viruses spreading out of your own hands while proliferating/changing,” had been succeeded by into how you organized orchestras, how you interacted at the Asian Meeting Festival, and how devices reacted to each other in your art installations. You have been working on a different project, from the “Sampling Virus Project” to “Ensembles” and so forth, but would you say that your philosophy has remained consistent?

Otomo: Indeed, it may have been consistent. The idea behind all these things is that the creation of an individual is not the only thing that constitutes something. It is a way of thinking that assumes various external factors are intertwined with the individual’s intentions. However, in the 1990s, the network environment was not as well developed as it is now, so it was still a network imagined only in my brain.

–In the 1990s, you must have seen the emergence of CDJs, but why did you not switch to CDJs and why do you still play on turntables?

Otomo: I was really into it at first. For a while, I even made a piece dedicated to Derek Bailey called “Dear Derek,” using only CDJs, which I didn’t end up releasing. It was a CDJ collage of sound sources sampled from Bailey’s performances, and I had permission from Bailey himself, but right before releasing it, I felt it was boring, so I stopped releasing it.

But I got tired of CDJs pretty quickly. The same goes for samplers. Maybe I got tired of sampling itself. Computers and samplers were getting increasingly advanced, and I began to feel that CDJs were nothing more than very inconvenient samplers. Digital data sampling was developing more and more, which made me think we would soon be able to do this more efficiently at a higher capacity. Then, I almost spontaneously lost my interest in it. I felt that turntables were more imperfect and enabled me to play more freely. I hated it when I couldn’t just pick it up, drop the needle, and go “poof.” I thought digital was too slow and only produced the same sound. I also tried a little on a laptop, but it was too slow, and I couldn’t stand it. Of course, after that, I saw many people doing extraordinary things with that kind of equipment, which made me realize that I was entirely of the old generation and an analog person (laughs).

From turntable performances without records to installation pieces

— Considering the similarities with guitars, you have also taken the approach of generating feedback noise on turntables, haven’t you? Had you already been experimenting with such a technique since the 1990s?

Otomo: Yes. I was already using feedback in the mid-1990s. Turntable feedback is less controllable than guitar feedback, which was interesting to me. Of course, if you keep doing it, you get some control over it, so I could say that’s why my work got closer and closer to noise music like INCAPACITANTS.

–I think there are two aspects to your turntable performance: one is the sampling/collage aspect of existing music, and the other is the aspect of generating the immediate noise of the turntable itself, without necessarily using a record. Especially in terms of the latter, why did you start a kind of extreme turntable performance without using records?

Otomo：I guess seeing Martin Tétreault’s performance was a significant factor. In 1997, I was working on “Consume Red” with the band, Ground-Zero, thinking it was time to stop the cutting-up method. I had known Martin before that through Christian Marclay, and I had listened to his albums, but he was a turntable player who did collages, originally from the visual art field. But when I saw him at the Angelica Festival in Bologna, Italy, in 1997, he was a part of a duo with a sampler player, Diane Labrosse, and they hardly used records. They played mainly with turntable noise. While on stage, they weren’t playing instruments much but just making squealy noises (laughs). But it was fantastic, and I was shocked at how they thoroughly focused on simple things. I was watching the show with the members of Ground-Zero, but only Sachiko M and I were amused.

–The following year, 1998, you released your first album with Sachiko M on Filament.

Otomo: Yes, that’s right. So, it was during that period that I decided to break up everything that was going on and go in that direction. I thought, “It’s not a collage anymore.” Again, Martin had a significant influence on me. Soon after that, Martin and I started to play as a duo, so we began to play more and more turntables on stage without using records or collages, and we learned more and more moves and techniques from each other. I think there was a tremendous mutual influence.

–Turntables can be used as an automatic sound system, right? Your first installation work, “without records” (2005), also used a portable record player. Was it on the extension of the same line of this kind of turntable performance?

Otomo: Yes, that was clearly the case with the first “without records.” The way I handled turntables without using records was directly connected to the installation works. What was important, however, was that later, at the time of the “ENSEMBLES” exhibition (2008), we began to work with turntables that various people had created, and this led to the inclusion of more and more works that were not the creations of myself. That was the big difference from my own turntable performances.

“Whether you deal with a motor that moves on its own, or you deal with fixed, vibrating strings”

–In the late 1990s, you shifted to a non-collage direction, but later returned to a collage approach, and your latest release, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable, includes some of your turntable performance of this kind. What made you decide to work with sampling/collage again?

Otomo: Frankly speaking, I thought I didn’t necessarily have to be so ascetic, and it was okay to do it occasionally. Also, I used to make collage my main focus, but now it doesn’t constitute as big a part of my practice as before; it’s more that I just use the sounds on the record. In the 1990s, the essential theme for me was what the collage sounds meant and how they were cut up, but now I treat it as a texture-creating element of the sound on the record. If there were a slight implication, it would be that I was using Kaoru Abe’s records. That might be similar to the fact that I play “Lonely Woman” on guitar.

–Now, you use both guitars and turntables, which is easier to handle?

Otomo: Well, they are both my main instruments. And I can’t say which one is easier. But I do think to myself, “This kind of music would go better with the guitar,” or “For this kind of partner, the turntable would be more suitable. For example, I might think a guitar would be better when I play with Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano. It didn’t happen, but there was a time, in his later years, when I thought it would be nice if Sakamoto-san played the guitar and I played the piano.

–I remember that you also released a live piano performance disc, Piano Solo (2013).

Otomo: Personally, the piano is on the extended line of the guitar. I think of it as a guitar with many strings. So it doesn’t feel like piano playing. It is closer to the idea that I am dealing with an extreme multi-stringed guitar.

–What do you find interesting about playing on a turntable?

Otomo: Turntables are attractive because they are separate from the player’s will and are imperfect devices with many deficits. Digital devices don’t have such deficits. For example, there are almost no other ways to use CDs than to play sound on them. Of course, like Yasunao Tone, it is possible to put adhesive tape on a CD and cause it to malfunction, but a turntable can be used in many different ways. Essentially, it is just a motor and a microphone (cartridge).

A guitar is strings and microphones, but a turntable is a motor and a microphone. They both have the same amplified sound coming out of the amplifier, which means they can also induce feedback. You could say the only difference is whether you deal with a motor that moves on its own, or you deal with fixed, vibrating strings. But again, the important thing is that they both have microphones, and the sound comes from an amplifier. That’s what they have in common, so the sound can be similar whether you’re playing guitar or turntables.

“My music is probably closer to the context of noise music than that of free improvisation.”

— One of the features of Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable is that it is not a live recording, but a studio recording, and it contains many short tracks. Each track is numbered; is this the number of takes?

Otomo: Yes, it is. Actually, I followed the way Derek Bailey numbered respective tracks in “Solo Guitar” (1971). I think “Solo Guitar” is the only other person’s work I was conscious of at this time. I guess I had the idea of making it like the A-side of “Solo Guitar.” It’s not that long and contains various improvisations, but each song doesn’t have a different concept.

— “Solo Guitar” is an album that leaves a strong impression on people who hear it for the first time, but for you, is there anything that feels fresh when you listen to it again now?

Otomo: Honestly, I don’t think I can listen to it with the same freshness decades later, but I just think it’s always amazing. I’m like, “Derek, how did you get to this place?” It’s still outstanding. Of course, Derek Bailey has released many great albums after “Solo Guitar,” but it’s incredible that he suddenly released that one as his first solo album.

— There is a big difference in terms of meaning and reception between a recorded work of free improvisation released in, say, the 1960s or 1970s and the same kind of work released in the 2020s.

Otomo: Well, it would be totally different. Because doing free improvisation now is not an adventure or a challenge by itself. It is just a common approach that can be found anywhere. That’s why I made Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable as one of those things that can be found anywhere.

–But that doesn’t mean that you just wanted to record a style of free improvisation, does it?

Otomo: No. There are many styles of improvisation besides free improvisation, and I made this album based on the basic premise that there are many styles. I sometimes think that my music is closer to the context of noise music than to that of free improvisation. When I play with European free improvisers, I often feel that I am playing in a different context from theirs. They hugely influenced me, and I enjoy playing with them, but I think we probably speak different languages.

–What exactly do you mean by the difference in context between free improvisation and noise music?

Otomo: It seems to stem from the significant difference in how they perceive music history before and after their emergence. It’s hard to say, but in the case of the early days of free improvisation, it was based on the idea that “it has to be improvisation,” which led to how it is today. But I don’t think noise is based on the idea that “it has to be noise.” Once you do noise, you are at a dead end, and you are allowed to do whatever you want to do. And I improvise based on that realization, which may sound a bit abstract, though. As a teenager, I was struck by Kaoru Abe’s live performance and Derek Bailey’s free improvisation. After meeting Mr. Takayanagi, I was blown away by Christian Marclay and John Zorn and I met many people of the same generation who played noise and improvised music. Then, I worked with the Otoasobi no Kai and other groups. So this is a very personal piece of music made by a person who has passed through half a century of practice, going through all these encounters.

■”Otomo Yoshihide “Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable”
Release date: August 16, 2023
Price: (CD) 2,000 yen
Track List
1.turntable with a record 8
2.guitar 2
3.guitar 6
4.turntable with a record 1
5.turntable without a record 1
6.guitar 4
7.turntable with a record 10
8.guitar 5
9.guitar 1
10.turntable without a record 4
11.turntable without a record 6
12.turntable with a record 2
13.guitar 7
14.turntable without a record 3
15.turntable with a record 5
16.turntable with a record 9
17.turntable without a record 5
18.guitar 8
19.turntable with a record 3
20.guitar 3
https://otomoyoshihide.bandcamp.com/album/otomo-yoshihide-solo-works-1-guitar-and-turntable-3

Photography Masashi Ura

The post Interview with Otomo Yoshihide, The Mastery of Guitar & Turntable Achieved in His Mid-60s -Part 2- appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Otomo Yoshihide
Otomo Yoshihide is a musician born in 1959 who has been creating a wide variety of music from improvisation and noise pieces to pop music, always simultaneously and independently, and performs all over the world. As a film music producer, he has composed music for more than 100 films. After the earthquake disaster, he launched Project FUKUSHIMA! in his hometown Fukushima, and has continued various practices up to the present. He is also the director of the renewal of the signature summer festival in Fukushima, “Waraji Matsuri”.
https://otomoyoshihide.com

Musician Otomo Yoshihide started his live music performances in earnest in the late 1980s and has since built a one-of-a-kind career spanning more than 35 years. He has been active in the independent noise/improvisation scene, has composed music for numerous films and TV dramas, and has been involved in public participatory project, as well as creating installations and serving as director of art festivals. In August 2023, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable, a fully improvised studio album he recorded as a guitarist and turntablist, was released.

Few musicians can perform as original as Otomo Yoshihide, both as a guitarist and turntablist. Solo Works 1, an album consisting of 20 small tracks, is a clear record of where he is today. In the first part of this interview, we focus on Otomo’s musical practices as a guitarist. We asked him why he started playing guitar again and how he came to establish his own distinctive style.

The reason why Otomo started playing guitar again

–You first picked up a guitar when you were in middle school, but since then, your relationship with the guitar has undergone various changes, such as learning under legendary jazz guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi when you were in your 20s, and building your own guitar that only produces noise. How do you view your career as a guitarist?

Otomo Yoshihide (Otomo): When I studied under Mr. Takayanagi from 1980 to 1986, I had yet to make a name for myself and was just a guitarist in the making. After I left Mr. Takayanagi, I thought I had failed and was determined not to make it as a guitarist anymore. So, from the end of the 1980s to the 1990s, I decided to use turntables instead. However, I wanted to keep the guitar element, so I dared to use a guitar I made by myself. I also wanted to make an ostensible excuse for not being a “guitarist” by using the guitar as a noise generator that could not be tuned.

It was around 2000 that this situation changed. It is true that Naruyoshi Kikuchi and Yasuhiro Yoshigaki always encouraged me to play the guitar, but more than that, I honestly wanted to play the guitar, which I had been holding back for so long. So I started playing guitar again around 2000, thinking that it would be okay to play guitar as long as I didn’t try to play like everyone else. So after that, I officially started my career as a guitarist.

–You could have stuck to using the guitar as a tabletop instrument and a noise generator like Keith Rowe, but why did you decide to play guitar in a normal manner?

Otomo: It was because you did not necessarily need a guitar to make a noise generator. I could do it with a turntable and all kinds of self-made gadgets I made back then. I still wanted to play a standard tuning guitar. In the first place, I joined Mr. Takayanagi’s class because I wanted to work as a so-called guitarist. After leaving him, I gradually became more liberated from a mentoring relationship with Mr. Takayanagi, so I decided again to play guitar, not as a noise generator.

–What guitarists were you listening to at that time? Were there any albums that struck you?

Otomo: It was when I was with Mr. Takayanagi that I listened to and studied a variety of guitarists’ albums. I just listened to many different music. When I restarted playing the guitar, I had to start practicing it all over again, so I was re-listening to many classics like Jim Hall. Of course, that does not mean I wanted to play guitar orthodoxly, so I just referred to how he makes harmonies instead of adopting his playing style. My aim was to become able to play guitar in my own unique way.

On the solo album Guitar Solo released in 2005

–One of your most significant milestones as a guitarist must have been your solo album Guitar Solo released in 2005. It was also the first release for a label doubtmusic. What motivated you to make that album featuring guitar sounds?

Otomo: One of the motivations was to present a sound source to my old friend Jun Numata to congratulate him on founding his own label after retiring from the record store Disk Union. I couldn’t spend too much money on it, so I recorded it live at Shinjuku Pit Inn instead of in a studio (The sound was recorded on October 12, 2004). Since it was meant to be a gift, I thought other musicians’ participation would complicate things, so I decided to make it a solo project. I had started doing solo shows just a while before that and playing guitar for film scores – in fact, I played guitar a little bit for film music in the 90s as well – so I decided it was time to make a solo guitar album. But I didn’t have the skills that other guitarists would typically have, so that album was a challenge of playing solo guitar to the extent that I could.

–In 2002, Derek Bailey released a solo album called Ballads on John Zorn’s Tzadik label. The content is totally different, but I see an overlap between that and Otomo’s Guitar Solo. In other words, both albums are not entirely improvisational but feature composed pieces that are played in a different way than they were originally meant to be. Both of them are peculiar in that they were created as a result of performances of composed pieces by musicians who have always worked on improvisation and noise music.

Otomo：It is true that when Ballads came out, I was stunned by it and thought, “Oh, this way of playing music is possible?” I remember that I listened to it so many times. Of course, Derek Bailey had always been my favorite since I decided to do music, but the fact that Bailey released Ballads may have been significant for me. For example, “Ballads” opens with a song called “Laura.” And if you follow the standard theory of jazz, you keep the chord progression and bars of “Laura” as the song develops. But if you listen to Derek Bailey’s music, it’s not like that. The song starts with the theme, but then it develops freely and comes back to the theme again. But that works totally fine. I thought that was very free and nice.

However, I had already tried that approach with the New Jazz Quintet. I had a theme at the beginning of the piece but would develop an improvisation utterly different from the theme, or the piece would take an unexpected direction and then return to the theme at the end. I had been experimenting with approaches that did not fit into the traditional jazz format, and I think “Ballad” made me realize that it was okay to do that with solo guitar. Of course, I can’t play like Derek Bailey, so I tried to do it my own way.

–Did you also consider making a solo guitar album completely based on noise/improvisation, rather than composed pieces?

Otomo: It was not an option at that time. I even thought that recording only with noise and improvisation was something I didn’t need to do anymore. I did it a lot at shows, though. But actually, I had released a guitar improvisation piece on CD-R called Guitar Solo Live 1 (1999). But I didn’t find it very interesting, and I thought improvisation should disappear right after it’s done. If I was going to release it as an album, I wanted to keep the composed music in some form. It seemed more fresh at the time.

Actually, solo improvisation is complex, and it’s not really improvisation in the true sense of the word. In terms of duos and trios, players tend to think about what to play during the performance, but with solos, that’s not really the case. The performances are strongly tied to my previous experiences, and it is very hard to break out of them. And there had been many great solo improvisation albums like the one by Derek Bailey before mine. I was not the type of person who had pioneered improvisation in that way. So at that point, I didn’t feel like making a solo guitar album only consisting improvisation and noise.

“Lonely Woman” is “homework” left by Masayuki Takayanagi

–If we were to place improvisation and composed pieces at the two ends of the spectrum, I feel that “Lonely Woman” is positioned in the middle of them in the case of Otomo’s guitar performance. Ornette Coleman originally wrote it, but when you perform improvisation completely live, melodies of “Lonely Woman” sometimes pop up naturally, doesn’t it?

Otomo: Yeah, sometimes. Well, when I worked on improvisations on the guitar, it was not like I didn’t have any references. But among all, Mr. Takayanagi’s solo guitar album Lonely Woman (1982) was the most influential. I tried not to listen to it when I picked up the guitar again because I would be influenced too much by it. I tried to store it in a distant part of my memory, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. It was in the 2000s that I decided that it would be okay to play “Lonely Woman” every time. I didn’t care how I played it. It could come out of nowhere in an improvised performance, or I could play “Lonely Woman” from the beginning and break it up to create a rhythm or whatever. That means Takayanagi-san, rather than Ornette Coleman, was the most influential figure for me when playing the guitar.

Of course, Ornette Coleman was influential as well. In my opinion, “Lonely Woman” was his first harmolodics-oriented piece. It may also mean that I somehow want to be connected to the history of jazz. However, I haven’t played almost any of Ornette’s songs except for “Lonely Woman,” so I’m aware that I still see the history of jazz through the lens of Mr. Takayanagi.

–Did the song “Lonely Woman” mean a lot to Mr. Takayanagi as well?

Otomo: That is a mystery. As far as I know, Mr. Takayanagi only performed “Lonely Woman” in his solo performance. I saw almost all of his live performances, but he never played “Lonely Woman” in a group like Angry Waves. Moreover, at that time, Mr. Takayanagi didn’t say anything about Ornette Coleman in particular, and I always heard him talking about Albert Ayler. So I honestly don’t know why it was “Lonely Woman.”

However, the last time Mr. Takayanagi played “Lonely Woman” was probably in 1984. He toured Hokkaido with Teruto Soejima and played “Lonely Woman” at the first concert, and everything else was noise. After that, he didn’t play “Lonely Woman” anymore, even after returning to Tokyo. He shifted to “Action Direct,” which was about generating a lot of noise. As I watched, I kept thinking, “It would be good to play ‘Lonely Woman’ in Action Direct,” and I told Mr. Takayanagi about it, but every time I told him, he would say, “Otomo, you don’t understand that. They are different things.”

That convinced me, but I was also driven by the desire to play them together. That is why I have been playing “Lonely Woman” as something that suddenly appears out of the noise or starts with that theme but develops into something completely different. For me, “Lonely Woman” is like an “assignment” left behind by Mr. Takayanagi. Takayanagi himself had moved on to the next phase, like action direct, and just left me with the song.

The process of establishing Otomo Yoshihide’s guitar style

–It has already been almost 20 years since the release of Guitar Solo, and your career as a guitarist has been longer. If I were to put it this way, you have your own unique guitar style. When did you begin to establish such a style for yourself?

Otomo: Maybe I did it through the 2000s. Partially, I had already been doing it since my early 20s, but one of the things I was particularly focused on in the 2000s was how to handle audio feedback. Mr. Takayanagi also dealt with feedback, but it rarely appeared in Lonely Woman. So, I wanted to include feedback in it, or rather, I was wondering if I could make it the framework of the song. Mr. Takayanagi also has a recording of a song called “Feed Back”, a song included on the 1969 album We Now Create, which he recorded with Masahiko Togashi and others. I wondered if I could create something like a mixture of that and “Lonely Woman”.

So I tamed the feedback and developed a guitar approach in which I could switch from it to melody and harmony while dealing with the parts I could control and the parts I couldn’t. I spent about ten years in the 2000s working on that. Until then, feedback was just noise. It was not something that could be controlled. I was developing this uncontrollable noise guitar style into something in which I could play with some control, still retaining some of my uncontrollability.

–In terms of guitar feedback, you often mention the influence of Jimi Hendrix.

Otomo: In most of Jimi Hendrix’s performance, he was using feedback in the context of blues, but as for the live performance of the American National Anthem at Woodstock in 1969, the song turned into sounds composed solely of feedback in the middle. That sounds still so cool and amazing now. So, from the first time I entered Mr. Takayanagi’s class, I knew I wanted to play free jazz in the way Jimi had played the Anthem, though it was totally different. But anyway, I was influenced by Jimi Hendrix in that respect.

—-There are free jazz guitarists like Attila Zoller, Larry Coryell, or Sonny Sharrock, but you　 wanted to play free jazz like Jimi Hendrix, right?

Otomo：Of course, Sonny Sharrock and Larry Coryell both use feedback, and I like them very much, but I overwhelmingly prefer Jimi Hendrix’s way of controlling the melody line and feedback. I’ve been thinking about that since I was in my early twenties. But it was in the late 2000s that I was able to do that at a level that satisfied me. I tamed the guitar at live shows and formulated my own approach.

How the guitar sounds in relation to the drums

–In the 2000s, when you were establishing your guitar style, were there any session partners who particularly influenced you?

Otomo: I would have to say Yasuhiro Yoshigaki. When I played with Yoshigaki on drums, both in a session and a band, my biggest interest was how my guitar sounded. How can I make my guitar sound satisfactory with those drums? Especially in the 2000s, I felt like I was making my style with Yoshigaki. Just as Yosuke Yamashita created that style with Takeo Moriyama. I created my own guitar style, including rhythm and accentuation, to respond to Yoshigaki’s drumming.

I played not only with Yoshigaki but also with various drummers, and each combination has a way of matching. But in any case, I was creating my own performance while matching various drummers. That was the first step. On top of that, I became able to deal with sessions with saxophone and piano a little later. When I think of free improvisation, jazz, or pop music, I tend to focus on the drums first, and then how guitar and drums should sound against the bass. Next comes the saxophone. It was fascinating to think about how to make the audio feedback sound in combination with the saxophone sounds.

I can focus only on tone and rhythm when I play with drums without thinking about harmony or chords. Even if a bass player joins in, as long as the single notes are in harmony with each other, the harmony can be varied in any way. So when I played with a pianist, I was initially too concerned about the harmony and thought I couldn’t do it. But things have changed in the last ten years or so, and it has become rather exciting. The fact that I started working with Ryuichi Sakamoto was also a significant factor. I can take a different approach from the one I take when playing with the drums. I can use the tones and pitches of the guitar strings and see how the harmony blends with the piano sounds. I started to be able to do this around the beginning of the 2010s. Now I enjoy playing with the piano, and it has been exciting to have sessions not only with Mr. Sakamoto, but also with Ms. Satoko Fujii and Mr. Masahiko Sato.

–You had your first duo session together with Mr. Sakamoto on the radio broadcast on January 1, 2011, and you also played “Lonely Woman” at that time.

Otomo: Yeah. Actually, it was Mr. Sakamoto who suggested that we use “Lonely Woman” as a motif. “Lonely Woman” is in the key of D minor, and at that time, I was playing it while trying to figure out what notes he was playing for D minor. The session with Mr. Sakamoto made me realize that I could make something interesting with such an approach because, until then, I didn’t think I could take a harmonic approach very well. So, as I mentioned, I was exploring only tone, pace, and groove in relation to the drums, but after the duo with Mr. Sakamoto, I began to think that it would be interesting to explore harmonies as well.

A change in the way I perceive improvisation

–In a conversation with Mr. Sakamoto in that radio program, you mentioned the Otoasobi no Kai and said that it made you rethink about “freedom.” Did your perception of improvisation change around that time?

Otomo: Yeah, it did pretty drastically. This may sound strange, but until then I thought that improvisation had to be done properly as improvisation. In other words, improvisation must not have included conventional melodies, harmonies, and rhythms. But since I started working with the Otoasobi no Kai, I have become less concerned with such things. Before, when I worked on “improvisation,” I used to think about how to incorporate various histories that were in different contexts from improvisation, but then I realized that my approach of focusing on improvisation itself was very biased. When I faced the children in that group, nothing would get started if I brought my history as the main focus. So, I changed my mindset and started thinking about the people I was playing with.

Also, it was a time when Mr. Sakamoto began to re-evaluate the improvisational music he used to play, so I feel that we were both influenced by each other. Of course, it is interesting to play improvised music as it is, but it was no longer a time when that was all that mattered. And this also coincided with the time when I started playing the guitar again. Perhaps because of this, I came to honestly believe that I don’t necessarily have to play the guitar with an obsession with noise. It didn’t matter if I tuned it or not anymore. I think that was a massive shift for me.

–In other words, rather than aiming for something new aesthetically through improvisation, you have come to emphasize communication between people as a methodology?

Otomo: I think so. Improvisation is like a conversation, and new things may come out of it, but that is not the only purpose. Besides, I have come to think that we should not place too much value on improvisation.

Well, when I say “conversation,” I don’t mean that you have to respond to the sound that another person makes with specific types of sounds that would correspond to it. It is a state of free exchange with the person you are performing with, with or without progressions. I thought I could do that more freely on the guitar than on the turntable. With a turntable, I am limited in how I respond, and above all, setting it up takes some doing, but with a guitar, I felt a bit more lighthearted.

Of course, it was my guitar, no matter how far I went, so I felt that frustration. However, in the past, I had to think a lot when I played free jazz, and I couldn’t play without having what I did with Mr. Takayanagi in mind. Since the 2010s, I haven’t thought about that too much, and I’ve moved toward doing what I can do. In the process, I became able to do various things frexibly.

“The situation I’m in now may not last 10 years.”

–What do you feel is the joy of playing the guitar for you now?

Otomo: I don’t know if this is good or bad, and I don’t know if this is the right way to put it, but my performance is getting better and better, which is fun. I become able to do more and more things that I couldn’t do before in terms of speed and accuracy of the performance, and techniques related to audio feedback. I have no idea whether this is good or bad musically, but I can’t resist the desire for such fun.

As long as I am physically able to do so, I will focus thoroughly on improving my techniques, such as increasing the speed and the ways I approach the sounds. Of course, there are physical limitations, but I feel like I can go further and further now. That’s why I decided to record this album, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable. The fact that my opportunities to perform in front of people were drastically reduced due to the pandemic also motivated me to record. However, I also had a great sense of urgency that this situation I am in now may not last ten years, or even worse, it may only be ephemeral. Because people of my generation and a little older than myself have died one after another, especially in the past few years.

People like Ryuichi Sakamoto, Yukihiro Takahashi, and Michiro Endo, with whom I launched Project FUKUSHIMA!, passed away around the age of 70. Considering the fact that I am 64 years old now, I may not be alive 10 years from now. Due to this realization, I became even more motivated to release a solo improvisation album, which I have not released often. This is not only the case with my guitar but also with turntables. Technically, guitar and turntables are totaly different, but I’ve been able to play turntables far more freely than before, so I wanted to record both of them in their current state.

■Otomo Yoshihide “Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable”
Release date: August 16, 2023
Price: (CD) 2,000 yen
Track List
1.turntable with a record 8
2.guitar 2
3.guitar 6
4.turntable with a record 1
5.turntable without a record 1
6.guitar 4
7.turntable with a record 10
8.guitar 5
9.guitar 1
10.turntable without a record 4
11.turntable without a record 6
12.turntable with a record 2
13.guitar 7
14.turntable without a record 3
15.turntable with a record 5
16.turntable with a record 9
17.turntable without a record 5
18.guitar 8
19.turntable with a record 3
20.guitar 3
https://otomoyoshihide.bandcamp.com/album/otomo-yoshihide-solo-works-1-guitar-and-turntable-3

■ONJQ : Otomo Yoshihide’s New Jazz Quintet EUROPE TOUR 2024
Periods: January 26 – February 11, 2024
February 1 Jazz Club Loco, København [DK]
Feb. 2 Nasjonal Jazzscene, Oslo [NO]
Feb. 4 Pardon, To Tu, Warszawa [PL]
Feb. 5 Pardon, To Tu, Warszawa [PL]
Feb 6th NOSPR, Katowice [PL]
Feb. 7th Divadlo29, Pardubice [CZ]
Feb. 8th In Situ Art Society, Bonn [DE]
Feb. 9th Handelsbeurs, Gent [BE]
Feb. 10 Centro D’Arte, Padova [IT]
February 11 Area Sismica, Forlì [IT]

Photography Masashi Ura

The post Interview with Otomo Yoshihide, The Mastery of Guitar & Turntable Achieved in His Mid-60s Part.1 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Stefan Marx
Born in 1979 in Germany, Stefan Marx is an artist and illustrator based in Berlin, having relocated from Hamburg. Drawing inspiration from his passions such as drawing, skateboarding, books, and sketchbooks, he showcases his talents across various fields, including publishing art collections, art exhibitions, public art, and designing record jackets. Through his drawings and illustrations, Marx expresses his worldview, philosophy, and indie spirit as a skateboarder, offering a unique perspective on the world. At the age of 15, he founded the independent T-shirt label “Lousy Livin’ Company,” producing high-quality and creative T-shirts in limited quantities. He has also collaborated with numerous brands and companies, ranging from skateboard brands like “MAGENTA SKATEBOARDS” and “5BORO” to larger entities like “IKEA.” Several art books featuring his works have been published by publishers such as Nieves and Dashwood Books.
Instagram: @stefanmarx

Stefan Marx, an artist based in Berlin, Germany, has been influenced by cultural elements like skateboarding and music since his youth. His love of skateboarding and music from his youth led him to creative activities such as T-shirt and record jacket design, and later to the field of fine art. His typography, characterized by a floating sensation and condensed inspiration, serves as a device that expands the imagination of the viewer, evoking a sense of openness. Marx’s drawings, born from everyday observations and constant practice, exude a gentle, adorable, and comical charm, resonating with a wide audience through their sincere sensibility. Furthermore, when his works are applied to constructive spaces or architectural products, they create impactful suggestions beyond literal meanings, infusing new significance into places and objects. Despite evolving his creativity, Marx maintains his independent stance consistently. In recent years, he has explored collaborations with fashion brands like “Supreme” and “Comme des Garçons,” expanding the possibilities of merging art with commerce.

An interview was conducted with Stefan, who visited Japan this time. In the first part, we discussed the origin and progress of his creative activities, as well as the sentiments involved. In the second part, we inquired about his stance on typography and public art, which are themes of his representative works, as well as introducing and outlining the purpose of his new book, and collaborations with other artists. We asked about his approach to art as an open space, fostering the exchange of people’s free sensibilities and synergistic effects.

Visualizing inspiration derived from experience through typography

–Recently, an exhibition centered around typography artworks was held at the “Ruttkowski;68” gallery in New York. In the statement accompanying the exhibition, it was mentioned that “the text is inspired by lyrics.”

Stefan Marx(Stefan): Certainly, in the early days, I used to create artworks inspired by lyrics, but it’s different now. For example, Sunrise Sunset was conceptualized with ideas from both words and composition, visualized in my mind and then manifested into the artwork. Recent works often focus on compositions with words positioned at the top and bottom of the screen, with space in between.

Additionally, Listen to the Rain was inspired by experiences in Japan. In Japan, when it rains, many people use vinyl umbrellas, and when raindrops fall on them, it creates a distinct sound. This unique phenomenon of listening to the rain in Japan became the inspiration for the artwork.

In this way, typography artworks often stem from visiting various places and drawing inspiration from situations and experiences, resulting in their visual representation.

–Recent works tend to exude a poetic atmosphere.

Stefan: I perceive both words and drawings as visual images. I’m constantly thinking about words and drawings, accumulating various ideas in my mind, and they blend together to become artworks. Whether I’m walking, riding the train, listening to music, reading a book, or even browsing comments on social media, I sometimes get ideas from everywhere.

In typography artworks, I consider not only the literal meaning of words but also how to effectively express the imagery derived from them. For example, the artwork Heaven is a simple word, but through the combination of visual effects, it can convey complex meanings and transcend the boundaries of creation. Similarly, Moonlightss is a simple word, but the fluorescent colors shine in the darkness.

In Love Letter, I added information on the back of the artwork, such as “From ○○ to △△,” making it customizable as a unique piece. It’s interesting how this changes the weight and nuances of the words.

–This time, I also challenged myself with Japanese language artworks.

Stefan: When I visited Japan last time, I heard the phrase “omataseshimashita” (おまたせしました) multiple times from airport and restaurant staff, and I was curious about its meaning. I asked my friends to explain it to me and made a note of it.

This time, I decided to turn “omataseshimashita” into a typography artwork and display it. I wanted to convey a double meaning: asking people to wait in line for the Tokyo Art Book Fair’s signing event and expressing my hope that they would continue to participate in the exhibition.

I’m planning to continue working on Japanese language artworks in the future and studying hiragana, katakana, numbers, and more.

Reflecting the region and providing democratic locations accessible to everyone: Public Art

–Among the typography artworks, there are some that are installed on a large scale in urban spaces, resembling billboards in a way. Could you tell us about this project?

Stefan: There is a project to install public art in 30 locations across German cities, and I received offers for three of them: Bochum, Dortmund, and Essen. Subsequently, I also received offers from other cities, such as Basel in Switzerland. In Düsseldorf, a piece I created on the interior walls of the Kunsthalle museum can be viewed by anyone from the outside.

I love the democratic aspect of public art, where everyone can enjoy it for free. The production process is quite challenging, as it involves finding suitable large walls for the artwork, obtaining permission from the owners, ensuring the feasibility of working at heights, and securing the cost of lifts. However, I really enjoy the process and it has provided an opportunity for many people to become familiar with my work.

–When creating large-scale artwork in public spaces, do you have any particular considerations?

Stefan: When creating large-scale pieces in urban areas, I typically opt for monochrome colors. Although I have recently started creating colored pieces as well, I believe that black and white tends to be simpler and blends better with the surroundings. I like to enhance the expression with the contrasting contrast of white and black.

In the case of public art, since the artwork is installed in spaces where many people can see it, I proceed with the production while investigating the origin and history of that location. For the first three cities where I implemented the project, they were once thriving mining areas, so I chose words inspired by lyrics that were popular among laborers in the 19th century. Additionally, considering the size and shape of the walls, I repeatedly verified how the artwork would appear architecturally and spatially while creating it.

Continuing to create works in various forms by observing the everyday world, I want everyone to enjoy them

–This time, you participated in the Tokyo Art Book Fair for the first time. Please introduce your new books.

Stefan: While I’ve been attending the NY Art Book Fair annually since its inception, this marks my first participation in the Tokyo Art Book Fair. My friends, including HIMAA, Utrecht, and twelvebooks, have been asking me every year, “When are you coming?” so I’m glad I could finally make it.

I have four new releases this time. Firstly, there are two accordion-fold books. They document a series where I stand at a single point in a park, rotating 360 degrees while drawing panoramic views from the same position. One book captures the scene when I visited Tokyo in April 2023, guided by Yasukazu Yamamoto, who is a stylist known for his personal items. The other book features drawings made in Yoyogi Park. Since 2006, I’ve been drawing in Yoyogi Park every time I visit Japan, and some of these drawings have even appeared on record jackets.

Additionally, there’s a book co-produced with Dashwood Books in NY and a coloring book published by the traditional Berlin publisher, Hatje Cantz. The latter contains 31 illustrations that were serialized daily in The NY Times in August 2019, now presented as coloring pages. It’s designed with large-sized pages so that children can boldly color them, and it uses very lightweight paper for easy flipping. While this book is for children, it’s also designed to be enjoyed by adults as an artist’s book.

–Why did you decide to create books for children? Did you take any special considerations for children’s books?

Stefan: When I create books, I never specifically target them for anyone in particular.I aim to create something that anyone can enjoy. Even when I previously collaborated with Rollo Press in Switzerland to create children’s books, while many people bought them as gifts for children, adults also enjoyed them.

Fundamentally, I don’t like to categorize my expressions too much, and I always aim to create something that everyone can enjoy. Unlike language, art is something that people worldwide can understand at a glance. I believe that simple expressions based on the effect of art can generate empathy among many people.

My fine art pieces are very expensive and not something everyone can afford, but records and zines are accessible to anyone, so they can be picked up by various people. By providing diverse outlets, I want to create a democratic space accessible to everyone. I continue both fine art and commercial activities. T-shirts are a prime example of this.

This approach also extends to observing my daily life and the things around me and continuing to draw what I feel.

Collaborating with Artists to Foster Further Development by Sharing Creative Spaces

–You’ve collaborated with various brands in the past, but your collaboration with “Comme des Garçons” featured your artwork boldly displayed on the entire surface of structurally shaped dresses. Both of you have strong artistic inclinations, so how did the collaboration progress?

Stefan: It started quite abruptly. One Sunday evening while I was packing to go to the NY Art Book Fair, I received an unexpected email from one of Kawakubo’s assistants. The email expressed their desire to use my artwork for the “Comme des Garçons” collection. They had already decided which pieces they wanted to use, but the design aspect was left entirely to “Comme des Garçons”. Until the collection was unveiled at the show, nobody knew how the pieces would be designed. I had to decide whether to accept or decline the offer after understanding all the conditions.

The method of collaboration with “Comme des Garçons” was very straightforward, which resonated with me as I also use a similar approach when designing record jackets. So, I immediately replied, “Let’s do it,” to facilitate an environment where they could easily unleash their creativity.

In reality, the content of the collaboration was completely unknown until the day of the show. Even the PR team of “Comme des Garçons” saw it for the first time at the show. The dresses worn by models with avant-garde hairstyles were fantastic, and I am very satisfied with the result.

The collaboration approach of “Comme des Garçons” was very enlightening. I believe it is highly suitable when collaborating with artists. Because of the mutual respect, sharing creative space and allowing each other to work freely can further develop creativity.

–You have visited Japan many times, but have you been inspired by anything in Japan, such as “Listen to the Rain” mentioned earlier, or found anything interesting?

Stefan: Japan is a place I love because I have friends here, and there are foods I enjoy. I’m grateful to have had several memorable projects here. I’ve had the opportunity to exhibit at bookstores like Utrecht and galleries like SALT AND PEPPER, collaborated with GASBOOK, worked with brands like UNIQLO and BEAMS.

I find inspiration in the meticulous attention to detail in everyday things in Japan. I also enjoy observing how cities, streets, and architecture are structured across various layers. Tokyo, in particular, feels very different from other cities. The subway system, the dynamics of society and community, may seem complex at first glance, but it functions mysteriously well. In that regard, Tokyo feels different from other Asian cities as well.

–Please tell us about what you want to achieve and challenge in your future creative endeavors.

Stefan: In 2023, I was traveling around the world for art shows and exhibitions, so in 2024, I want to spend time in my studio, quietly focusing on creating and challenging myself with new endeavors. Specifically, I have a plan to collaborate with friends in Italy, using stones and jewelry to create artworks. Rather than sculptural 3D pieces, I’m considering an approach that involves using stones flat, like plates, akin to drawing.

Photography Masashi Ura
Interview Akio Kunisawa
Translation Elie Inoue

The post Art as an Open Space for Everyone – Interview with Artist Stefan Marx Pert.2 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Stefan Marx
Born in 1979 in Germany, Stefan Marx is an artist and illustrator based in Berlin, having relocated from Hamburg. Drawing inspiration from his passions such as drawing, skateboarding, books, and sketchbooks, he showcases his talents across various fields, including publishing art collections, art exhibitions, public art, and designing record jackets. Through his drawings and illustrations, Marx expresses his worldview, philosophy, and indie spirit as a skateboarder, offering a unique perspective on the world. At the age of 15, he founded the independent T-shirt label “Lousy Livin’ Company,” producing high-quality and creative T-shirts in limited quantities. He has also collaborated with numerous brands and companies, ranging from skateboard brands like “MAGENTA SKATEBOARDS” and “5BORO” to larger entities like “IKEA.” Several art books featuring his works have been published by publishers such as Nieves and Dashwood Books.
@stefanmarx

Stefan Marx, an artist based in Berlin, Germany, has been influenced by cultural elements like skateboarding and music since his youth. His love of skateboarding and music from his youth led him to creative activities such as T-shirt and record jacket design, and later to the field of fine art. His typography, characterized by a floating sensation and condensed inspiration, serves as a device that expands the imagination of the viewer, evoking a sense of openness. Marx’s drawings, born from everyday observations and constant practice, exude a gentle, adorable, and comical charm, resonating with a wide audience through their sincere sensibility. Furthermore, when his works are applied to constructive spaces or architectural products, they create impactful suggestions beyond literal meanings, infusing new significance into places and objects. Despite evolving his creativity, Marx maintains his independent stance consistently. In recent years, he has explored collaborations with fashion brands like “Supreme” and “Comme des Garçons,” expanding the possibilities of merging art with commerce. We interviewed Stefan during his visit to Japan. In this first part, we delve into his background, his fascination with street culture, and how he transitioned his overflowing ideas from his youth into label activities, discussing his attitude from the early stages of his career.

Aiming for a Crossroads of Diverse Cultures

–Can you tell us about the background and journey that led you to pursue art?

Stefan Marx（Stefan）: I was born in Schwalmstadt, Germany, and grew up in Totzenhausen, a very small town. From a young age, I was interested in art, typography, and graphic design, and later developed an interest in skateboarding culture. Back then, the internet wasn’t widespread, so magazines were the main source of information, but it was quite challenging to find sophisticated magazines in the countryside. In that environment, at the age of 15, I wanted to create clothes for my friends who skateboarded, so I started a T-shirt label called “Lousy Livin’ Company.”

 Afterwards, I attended university in Hamburg, where I continued to design T-shirts for my label alongside my studies. I also worked providing graphics for a skateboard company called “CLEPTOMANICX.”

Following my university graduation, I had a pivotal encounter with Karin Guenther, a curator based in Hamburg, which led to the opportunity to exhibit my work in galleries. Alongside my fine art endeavors, I continued my commercial work. It was after creating a catalog for my own label that I started compiling Zines featuring my drawings.

Benjamin from the Swiss publisher Nieves took a liking to one of these Zines, and the following year, we collaborated on a book together. Since then, I’ve been publishing books annually with Nieves.

–How did your interest in art and typography develop in an environment where information was limited during your childhood?

Stefan: There wasn’t any special catalyst, but I’ve always been interested in visual expression since childhood, finding joy and immersion in the act of drawing. I was always drawing something. While I think everyone enjoys drawing as a child, I’ve continued to do so into adulthood; it’s something I’ve never stopped. I simply love to draw.

Drawing allowed me to observe the things around me, absorbing their visual essence, and sharing those images with others. That has been a significant motivation for me, and I believe it’s why I continue to draw to this day.

–Please tell us about the specific activities and goals you had when you established your label “Lousy Livin’ Company” at the age of 15.

Stefan: At that time, American skate brands were popular among my skater friends, but they were too expensive to buy in Germany. So, I decided to start my own label to create alternative options. When I became interested in skateboarding, I also developed an interest in the surrounding culture, including fashion, graphics, and music, which naturally led to an interest in making clothes. I had many ideas about how existing decks and T-shirt designs could be more interesting.

When I started the label, I had no knowledge about how to make items or how to run a business, so I gathered information by asking adults around me. I found a company that could screen print T-shirts, borrowed money from my sister for production costs, and made the first T-shirt.

Since I was running the label alone, I did everything myself, not just designing. I went to wholesale companies for skate shops to sell my T-shirts and even sold them to friends in the schoolyard. I was doing it because I wanted people to see what I had made and was enjoying it. It was all about wanting to see my friends happy.

My friends knew I was working hard to make clothes, so they supported me by wearing my clothes.

As I continued the label’s activities, I realized I wanted not only my skater friends to wear the items but also non-skater friends to understand and appreciate them.

I wanted a broader range of people to be interested. Although I initially started as a skateboarding brand, it eventually grew into a brand worn by many people. I wanted to create a space where various people could intersect through the brand.

 Adding Visual Elements to Music, Expanding the Listener’s Imagination

–You’ve been familiar with music since childhood and have designed numerous record jackets. What led you to start working with music?

Stefan: Designing record jackets was a childhood dream of mine. However, when I started my design career, records were transitioning to CDs, and CDs were transitioning to MP3s, so I thought there wouldn’t be opportunities to design record jackets anymore.

Nevertheless, there were still artists in the independent scene releasing analog works, and I happened to get the chance to design the record jacket for Isolée’s “We Are Monster,” which turned out to be a big hit. This led me to handle all the record jacket designs for “Smallville Records,” an underground techno/house label in Hamburg.

Initially, when I started designing for “Smallville Records,” I didn’t think the label would last long, so I approached it with the mindset that designing about five records would be sufficient. However, contrary to my expectations, the records sold well, and the label has been going strong for almost 20 years.

During the pandemic when business was slow, my partner and I decided to establish a company and took over all the rights to “Smallville Records.” Currently, I own 50% of the label’s shares and am involved in its operations.

The design approach at “Smallville Records” is simple: each record jacket consists solely of my artwork on the front, with the musician’s name and credits printed on the back. I believe this innovative approach to jacket design contributed to its success.

–Could you please tell me what you value in the design of record jackets? Are you expanding the image from the content of the music?

Stefan: In designing record jackets, I draw inspiration from Sonic Youth’s approach. They often selected existing artwork by artists like Raymond Pettibon, Mike Kelley, and Gerhard Richter for their album covers, creating a visual connection to their music. I aim to achieve a similar effect, allowing the artwork to expand the listener’s imagination and create various interpretations. While some designs may provoke discomfort, I believe it’s essential to design jackets that enhance the listener’s experience.

When designing, I avoid listening to the music beforehand and instead rely on the title and track names to inspire my designs. I visualize typography and design elements based on these cues. Regarding artist input, I typically present 2-3 design ideas and let the artist choose, preferring not to accommodate specific requests. Sometimes, unrelated artwork I’ve created ends up becoming a record jacket, as I approach jacket design as an extension of my artistic portfolio rather than solely for the record’s sake.

Photography Masashi Ura
Interview Akio Kunisawa
Translation Elie Inoue

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In October 2023, Hibiya was hot like summer, and the city teemed with foreign tourists. Tokyo International Film Festival opened with Perfect Days, which was on everyone’s lips due to Koji Yakusho winning Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival. Once I sat in my seat and the movie theater became dark, I watched Hirayama, played by Koji Yakusho, waking up in a small, old apartment room. I was drawn into it the second he awoke in his wooden six-tatami mat room. The film is set in Japan and is in Japanese, but there’s no doubt it’s Wenders’ film. I knew it would be an essential work even before the end credits played, especially for creators that go back and forth between Japan and abroad. No other film had succeeded in translating the image of Tokyo in the 2020s into a visual language. This visualization of the city will become a common language for those who live in Japan and those from abroad to communicate with. We’ll be able to say, “That Tokyo.” The new year has rolled in, and several months have passed, yet the reverberations of Perfect Days remain. 

The Tokyo portrayed in Perfect Days is unmistakably the reflection of Tokyo today. Hirayama, played by Koji Yakusho, is a bathroom cleaner who lives in a small residence on the east side of Tokyo with a view of Sky Tree. The area he works in is on the west side of Tokyo, and the public bathrooms he works at are part of The Tokyo Toilet project in Shibuya. On weekdays, Hirayama always wakes up early in the morning without an alarm because someone sweeping outside wakes him up. He brushes his teeth, waters his plants, changes into his cleaner uniform, and leaves the house after fetching his belongings like a watch and some cash. He’s a cash-only person; he doesn’t use QR code payment. He rides a Daihatsu Hijet Cargo, commonly used as a delivery van. It’s a car for laborers. Hirayama goes from the east to the west of Tokyo with a canned coffee for breakfast and music playing from a cassette tape. Here, Wenders illustrates a realistic rhythm of people living on the outskirts of Tokyo, heading from downtown to uptown. This scene, which realistically shows the stark economic differences between the east and west, is handled with perfect balance precisely because Wenders is the master of road movies. The view of the road, lit by the morning sun, will feel familiar to those who know his work. It also appears in Notebook on Cities and Clothes, Wenders’ 1989 film on Yohji Yamamoto. 

In pursuit of the image of Tokyo

The days when foreign tourists couldn’t be seen in the city have disappeared. In 2003, there were 5.21 million foreign visitors and 25 million by 2023. The number multiplied by 5 in two decades. After overcoming a period marked by a slump due to the pandemic, the number of monthly visitors entering the country at the end of 2023 surpassed the number in pre-covid 2019. Sightseeing destinations like Kyoto and Niseko are full of tourists from abroad, but Tokyo is the same. There are moments when it feels like over half of the people in Ginza and Omotesando are visiting from abroad. With the help of Japan’s weak yen, the number of people drawn to Tokyo has increased. What sort of idea of Tokyo are the foreign visitors chasing after? 

A famous example of a film that successfully visualized Tokyo in the past is Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation (2003). The film, which continues to enchant audiences abroad, offers a glimpse of Tokyo culture from an outside perspective. Conflicting cultures, such as technology, karaoke, cosplay, clubs, fetish culture, fashion, music, TV programs, and traditional culture, are mixed and woven within the city. She creates an unidentifiable image of Tokyo that “economic animals” reside in. Figures such as Hiroshi Fujiwara, the late chief editor of DUNE, Fumihiro Hayashi, Kunichi Nomura, who was involved in the location scouting process, and HIROMIX make cameos. The 2003 film captured the hearts of audiences, especially in Europe and America, who were searching for a city where novelty and exoticism coexisted. If you ask the hotel staff, you can actually listen to the tracks that Nigo selected at the Park Hyatt Tokyo, the backdrop for Lost in Translation. Even today, two decades after the film’s release, people visit the city and the Park Hyatt Tokyo to chase after the elusive idea of Tokyo in the film, and they haven’t ceased. I should point out that the film illustrates life in the west side of Tokyo, such as Shibuya and Shinjuku. 

On the contrary, in the sense that anyone can access it, the Tokyo depicted in Perfect Days is approachable. It’s not the kind of Tokyo you can’t tap into if you don’t know anyone; it’s not a best-kept secret. It comprises parks, izakaya bars, old bookstores, laundromats, apartments made from wood, bathrooms in west Tokyo, the landscape of a city where its urban development never seems to end, and streets that connect the east to the west. For many Tokyoites, such everyday views aren’t rare, as they’ve encountered them at least once. 

A film that was born because it didn’t start out as one

According to the producer and co-screenwriter of Perfect Days, Takuma Takasaki, and co-producer and financer, Koji Yanai, this film was born from various coincidences. The film’s setting, The Tokyo Toilet, is a set of public bathrooms in the Shibuya ward. In terms of toilets, in In Praise of Shadows by Junichiro Tanizaki, he asserts that the mystique and distinct beauty of toilets lie in their gloominess, but what do you, dear reader, think? The Tokyo Toilet is a project in which legendary architects and designers shed light on the shadows of bathrooms. The 17 bathrooms, made by world-renowned architects and designers like Shigeru Ban, Tadao Ando, Nigo, and Mark Newson, were born from Fast Retailing’s Koji Yanai’s curation. Perfect Days 
emerged from Koji Yanai and Takuma Takasaki casually brainstorming how to get people to use The Tokyo Toilet bathrooms cleanly. A conversation between Takasaki and Yanai detailing the film’s genesis is in the December 2023 issue, the Perfect Days issue, of SWITCH in Japanese, so I’d recommend you read it*1.

A film made from the opposite end of Hollywood

Wenders is undeniably the master of road movies. The trilogy of Alice in the Cities (1974), Wrong Move (1975), Kings of the Road (1976), and Paris, Texas (1984), a film set in Texas, USA, that cemented his icon status, are all road movies. Perfect Days, going back and forth between the east and the west side of Tokyo is also a road movie. Wenders is also known as a director with a rebellious spirit against Hollywood films*2. One of his inspirations is the films of Yasujiro Ozu, stemming from the opposite end of Hollywood. About the director, Wenders passionately says, “I still think his cinema is truly world cinema…by not being part of the empire of the American census… but by being its own empire.” 

When I think about Ozu’s body of work, I’m reminded of a debate between Ryunosuke Akutagawa and Junichiro Tanizaki in Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s Bungeiteki Na Amari Ni Bungeiteki Na (1927). Tanizaki posits that the most crucial factors for a novel are an exciting plot and narrative structure, while Akutagawa argues that there’s also a lot of value in a book that doesn’t have much of a story. Ozu’s films are made from elements that Akutagawa approved of. His works are quiet and have an atmosphere developed from movie sets with meticulous details and beautiful camerawork. There are no bizarre scenes or synopses, but what does exist is this richness born from the continuous changes in the subtle textures. That itself is a work of art. Wenders has been making films with the influence of Ozu, and Perfect Days is a perfect projection of the director’s experience of Japanese cinema. 

Ozu’s Hirayama, Wenders and Takasaki’s Hirayama

Takuma Takasaki gave the protagonist of Perfect Days the name Hirayama, which often appears in Ozu’s films, but according to Takasaki, it was a total coincidence*3. In Ozu’s films, the best-known Hirayamas are Shukichi Hirayama (Chishu Ryu), the protagonist in Tokyo Story (1953), and Shuhei Hirayama (Chishu Ryu) in An Autumn Afternoon (1962). The everyday lives of the Hirayamas in Ozu’s films seem like they were the norm for Japanese people at the time, but that wasn’t the case. Japan was still poor in the 60s. Akira Kurosawa’s Dodes’ka-den (1970) was made after An Autumn Afternoon, but it’s set in a poor and rough city. Nagisa Oshima’s Night and Fog in Japan (1959) was created in the 50s, like Tokyo Story, but again, the setting is a rough Tokyo, and the protagonist is a poor child. Even though these films existed in the same Showa era, the worlds Ozu built were rich. 

In Tokyo Story, among Hirayama’s children are a private physician and a teacher, respectively, and in An Autumn Afternoon, the protagonist Hirayama holds an important role at a corporation in the Marunouchi area, and many of the characters are white-collar workers*4.

*1 An interview with the people involved in the making of Perfect Days is on the official account of Bitters End, the distribution company for the film. It’s interesting to watch it paired with the film. 

*2 Hollywood films are known for gun fights, war, heroic tales, love stories, the bottom pit of capitalism, and the American Dream. Many of them have scenes that could actually happen in American society. It can be said that the reality of American culture has given Hollywood films a sense of reality, but it can’t be said the same films seem realistic in other countries. 

*3 This anecdote is mentioned in a short interview with the co-screenwriter and producer of Perfect Days, Takuma Takasaki, in POSTGENDAI, an online magazine. 
https://postgendai.com/blogs/postgendai_dictionary/takuma_takasaki

*4 In An Autumn Afternoon, the marriage arrangement of Hirayama’s daughter, Michiko Hirayama (Shima Iwashita), comes up, and one can tell that Hirayama leads an affluent life from the fashion in the film. Hanae Mori designed the costumes for Shima Iwashita. Hirayama’s furniture and the Japanese restaurant in the film all look like they could be in Katei Gaho. 

In Perfect Days, in a scene where Hirayama’s sister appears in a Lexus with a personal driver, we discover that Hirayama comes from a wealthy family but left them of his own volition and lives quietly on the east side of Tokyo. It made me wonder if Hirayama from Perfect Days could be a relative of the Hirayamas from Ozu’s films. 

In Anna Karenina, Tolstoy opens with, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Many films made in the same period as Ozu’s are set in a world rife with social issues. Perhaps Ozu, who was drafted into the military in World War II and led a turbulent life, chose happy worlds of their own kind as the settings of his films because he felt his aesthetic could stand out precisely because the settings are alike. 

Hirayama from Perfect Days was given the role of cleaning bathrooms. Unlike the one in Ozu’s and Kurosawa’s era, the Tokyo he lives in is one after Japan’s rapid economic growth. Tokyo, which overcame the “lost 20 years” after the economic bubble burst, isn’t a place where Hollywood-esque stories could shine. Through Hirayama’s life, we’re reminded of the richness of everyday life in Tokyo, which we’re prone to forget. Watching him spritz water on his plants, taking photos of komorebi (sunlight through the trees)*5, falling asleep while reading, and dreaming, I can see that he understands the fulfillment of such a life. It makes me want to agree with him quietly*6.

Opposing the gaze of Orientalism

In 2023, Japan ranked first worldwide on the Nation Brands Index (NBI) for the first time*7. I believe rankings have little meaning, but I didn’t expect Japan to be number one worldwide in the same year a prominent film from Japan was released. 

Perfect Days is captivating audiences across the globe, not just in Japan. At the Cannes Film Festival last year, Koji Yakusho, who plays Hirayama, won Best Actor, and the film was nominated for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film this year. In January, it was number one at the box office in Italy, and the other day, an event held at the Chinese Theater the night before the American release was a success. 

Other countries will inevitably view Japanese films made with an international audience in mind through an Orientalist gaze. What they seek is the essence of the East. Many films have managed to meet such expectations. Akira Kurosawa, mentioned above, and Takeshi Kitano, who makes films about human relationships in the underbelly of society, could be examples. The same could be said about films that extracted social issues that became topical in Japan and illustrated them in a way foreign audiences can understand. The same gaze is probably on Perfect Days, but the Tokyo that Wenders, a foreign director, captured manages to neutralize such extreme expectations. 

The notion that imported things are supreme is ingrained in Japanese people. This is to be expected because people have been borderline overdosing on music, literature, and fashion from the West, and especially American culture. As a result, aside from the reverse import of Japanese content, a strange phenomenon in which Japanese people, living on the opposite end of Western society, don’t appreciate Japanese content tends to occur*8. It becomes clear that Hirayama is also strongly influenced by Western culture, as he prefers American music and novels. The production team, like Takuma Takasaki and Koji Yanai, is probably the same. They met Wenders, someone who has been following Japanese films for around five decades, and portrayed the contemporary image of Tokyo; that’s one significant story in itself. 

Perfect Days’ idea of Tokyo has given new meaning to Tokyo. The landscape of Tokyo that we know was spread to the world; one of the film’s successes lies in how we can talk about it regardless of where we’re from. The last scene where Nina Simone‘s ‘Feeling Good’ plays is inside Hirayama’s van as he drives it. The inside of a car is a small space that can exist anywhere in the world, not just in Tokyo. The scene stirs something within us; our own memories of life flicker in our minds. Much like Hirayama feeling the sound of the car engine in the driver’s seat as he goes from east to west of Tokyo, we, too, feel the hum of contemporary Tokyo in our seats in the movie theater. 

*5 Donata Wenders took some of the images of the komorebi in the film, which were exhibited at 104 Gallery from December 22nd, 2023, to January 20th, 2024, under the title KOMOREBI DREAMS: supported by THE TOKYO TOILET Art Project/MASTERMIND. 

*6 In an essay in Murakami Asahido, Haruki Murakami uses the term “simple pleasure” to mean small but certain happiness. This can also be applied to Hirayama’s daily life. It signifies the fulfilling feeling of mundane yet certain pleasures in everyday life, such as drinking a cold beer after working out. 

*7 Anholt-GfK Nation Brands Index uses six criteria to evaluate certain countries: culture, people, tourism, exports, governance, and immigration and investment. Japan was ranked first for the first time in 2023. 
You can look at the past rankings on Wikipedia. Until Trump got elected in 2016, the US was almost always at the top. 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nation_branding 

*8 The dancing of Min Tanaka, who appears as a houseless person in the film, can be seen in Somebody Comes into the Light (music by Jun Miyake), a short film. Speaking on dancing, he touches on Ame-no-Uzume’s dancing, which appears in the Kojiki. Today, dance in the West is predominantly founded on ballet. Initially, different dances existed everywhere among indigenous groups, but they became extinct because of colonialism and the changing times. He mentioned that thinking within a Western framework can be limiting if we were to return to the idea of dance. It speaks to Wenders’ ideas regarding Hollywood films.

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post Notebook on Fashion and Society Part 3: A New Vision of Tokyo in “Perfect Days”—A Quiet Beauty Born from an Imperfect City and Its People appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Izumi Hoshi
Born in Chiba prefecture in 1967, Izumi holds a doctorate in literature and is a professor specializing in Tibetan language and linguistics. Since 1997, she has been working at the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. While continuing her research in the Tibetan language, she introduces Tibetan literature and films. She wrote and edited the Dictionary of Tibetan Pastoralism. She translated works such as Tales of the Golden Corpse, and Sunlight on the Path, Waiting for Snow by Lhacham Gyal. She co-translated Fantasy Short Stories from Tibet, Here Too Is a Strongly Beating Heart by Döndrub Gyal, The Search by Pema Tseden, A Story about Raising a Pet Dog by Tagbum Gyal, The Valley of Black Foxes by Tsering Döndrub. She is the editor-in-chief of Sernya: Tibetan Literature and Filmmaking.

Izumi Hoshi, a Tibetan researcher and translator, says that Tibetan literary works are very effective in capturing the feelings of people living in the contemporary era. It is often difficult to understand the daily lives of Tibetans because news reports are never sufficient to understand what people are feeling and what they are doing in their daily lives. On the other hand, Tibetan literary works skillfully depict the sentiments of people and many Japanese readers say, “Tibetan stories transcend religious and racial boundaries. We can relate to these stories as they give us clues on how we can deepen compassion, humor, and understanding of others. It’s something Japanese people living in today’s busy world tend to forget.”

Izumi translated several works of Tibetan literature into Japanese, including White Crane lend me your wings: A Tibetan Tale of Love and War, a full-length historical novel by writer and exiled Tibetan doctor Tsewang Yeshe Pemba, and, Sunlight on the Path, Waiting for Snow, a collection of works, published only in Japan, by Lhacham Gyal (aka Lhashamgyal), a leading figure in contemporary Tibetan literature. The short story “Faraway Sakurajima,” set in Japan, and included in Sunlight on the Path, depicts the anguish and struggles of a second-generation Tibetan woman living in exile in Japan who has never set foot on Tibetan soil. In the afterword to the book, Izumi writes, “This work has a powerful message that calls out to lonely young people living in cities for higher education, employment, or migrant work, which is a growing trend in Tibet in recent years.

Lhacham Gyal’s works are introduced as a kind of foreign literature that Japanese people are eager to read these days. However, many Tibetan writers remain unknown, including quite a few female writers and poets. When exposed to different cultures, Tibetan literature demonstrates an intellectual approach that is based on ideas cultivated by the history of persecution and oppression, which are essential for people today living in an era of diversity. We asked Izumi about how Tibetan literature gained the world’s attention and its uniqueness. We also discussed emerging female writers and how Tibetan writers intentionally use Mandarin and Tibetan in their creative process.

On the frontline of creative work, writers carry on the rich oral tradition

–Since the 2010s, Tibetan literature has been translated and published simultaneously in many parts of the world, including Japan. How did this happen?

Izumi Hoshi: Firstly, I’d like to highlight two significant figures in the discussion of contemporary Tibetan literature: Pema Tseden and Tsering Döndrup. This is my assumption, but I believe their engagement with scholars and translators in Japan, France, and the U.S. led to Tibetan literature being translated into different languages around the same time.

Pema was a writer as well as a world-renowned filmmaker. In the late 2000s, he started to work in the film industry, and his work was instantly highly regarded, which led him to work internationally. When I met him at a film festival in 2011, he gave me a copy of his novel. Since it was such an interesting piece, I felt that I wanted to translate it and share it with more people. Initially, I wasn’t planning to translate the book, but Pema contacted me and said, “Someone has started to work on the English translation, and it will be published next year. What about a Japanese translation?” It was my first experience where a writer anticipated a translation from me. I became close enough to him that we would contact each other casually, which led to the translation of his book being published in Japan. I assume the translators, who had received his book at film festivals in France and the U.S., were also drawn to his work and personality. He was the kind of person who brought joy to people around him. When he passed away last May, it was very sad.

The novels of Tsering Döndrup have been translated in New York and Paris. Whenever he releases his latest book, he contacts me. Additionally, he facilitates opportunities for me to meet with Tibetan researchers and translators, whom he knows, in other countries. This has led to expanding my network around him. Whenever I consult with him, he is very cooperative and responds instantly. He shares valuable information about Tibet. Thanks to these two individuals, who have worked behind the scenes with translators all over the world, we saw books of Tibetan literature being published simultaneously.

In addition to that, alongside the accumulated knowledge and translated books from past Tibetan research, it became much easier to communicate in the Tibetan language in the 2010s. This enabled writers to easily share their work with the world.

–In recent years, it seems that Tibetan literature has been garnering more attention in Japan. What are the characteristics of Tibetan literature?

Izumi: In Tibet, there is a culture that emphasizes storytelling. Tibetan literature was mainly passed down orally, and for the general public, stories were not meant to be read but to be listened to and enjoyed. Because of this background, people highly appreciate storytelling done by individuals using a voice with persuasive words.

I made an online Tibetan-Japanese dictionary with my colleagues called the Dictionary of Tibetan Pastoralism. In this dictionary, there is a term that refers to the nine abilities that men must possess. It lists that men need to be strong, good at swimming, agile, knowledgeable about the history of the land, skilled at telling funny stories and engaging in discussions, knowledgeable and intelligent, patient and brave, and articulate speakers. Five of these abilities are related to speaking. It demonstrates that if a man acquires a deep knowledge of the history of the land and can speak about it, he is considered a fully grown adult.

The Tibetan script is ancient, having been created 1,300 years ago. Due to a long tradition of classical literature being supported by Buddhism, there was no culture of ordinary people reading and writing literature. Instead, they preserved their experiences in their memories by passing them down orally.

Educated in turbulent times, the rare female writers who crafted stories

—One of the fascinating aspects of Tibetan literature, which was introduced in Japan, is the skillful use of proverbs. I hear that proverbs are an integral part of the Tibetan people’s lives, and being able to use them appropriately is a sign of maturity.

Izumi: In Tibet, proverbs are often used in fighting or resolving problems when they arise. In novels, proverbs frequently appear during scenes of conflict. For example, there’s a proverb, “An arrogant dog barks a lot, and an arrogant person speaks a lot.” This is used when you want to assert dominance and defeat your opponent. Essentially, proverbs, which encapsulate truths and outcomes accumulated over time, are used as a basis to justify that what you’re saying is correct. It’s used as a cover to support your point.

Another use of proverbs is as a tool to organize and simplify complex issues that are difficult to understand. When encountering unreasonable events and struggling to comprehend them, it can be overwhelming. In such situations, quoting an old proverb can provide a clue to understanding these events. Proverbs could evoke thoughts such as, “These words have been passed down for many years, so they must hold truth,” or “Similar things happened in the past, so I suppose it’s a common human experience.” This could help people understand the reality that they are facing.

–In Tibetan Women’s Poetry Anthology, which was published in Japan last year, I learned that it has been 40 years since women began publishing contemporary poetry. The book includes poems by seven leading Tibetan female poets born between the 1960s and 1980s. I understand that you consider the works of poets born in the 1960s to be very important.

Izumi: People who were born in the 1960s experienced drastic societal changes during their school days in the late 1970s. Women, who endured the Cultural Revolution in China spanning a decade from 1966, were prohibited from attending school in the 1960s. It wasn’t until 1976 that they were allowed to enroll. However, even then, only a handful of women had the opportunity to attend school, often with the support of their parents. Therefore, anything written by women from this generation is considered extremely precious. For instance, during that time in Tibet, where most Tibetans were engaged in cattle farming and agriculture, parents needed to pass down household skills to their children for survival. Mothers had to train their daughters in household chores so that their families thrived as cattle farmers and survived in the village. To ensure they didn’t miss out on this training, girls were not permitted to attend school.

Moreover, people believed that nothing good would come of it if a girl attended school. Dekyi Dolma, a poet born in 1967, caused a stir in her village when she expressed her desire to attend school. Rumors began to circulate that she might be possessed by a goblin for wanting an education, greatly saddening her. Her father took pity on her as she was determined not to abandon her aspirations. He escorted her to a boarding school on horseback and she could eventually go to school. The girls from this generation had to endure tremendous hardship and make extraordinary efforts to pursue an education.

In terms of creative writing, writers born in the 1960s, both men and women, faced numerous challenges due to the lack of predecessors who composed poems and stories in Tibetan. This was primarily because Tibetan was fundamentally a language for religious purposes and not for expressing the emotions of lay people.

–What was it like to write in Mandarin under circumstances that made it difficult to write in Tibetan?

Izumi: Although they are few in numbers, there are Tibetan women, who received education in Mandarin in the 1960s and 70s, attended secondary schools to universities, and were exposed to Chinese and foreign literature just like men.

In those days, one thing to note is that children of high-ranking officials were given priority to receive school education with the expectation that they would become bureaucrats. Both girls and boys could go to school, which led to Tibetan students enrolling in Beijing University. Among them was a female student who loved storytelling. After graduation, she wrote a novel in Mandarin. At universities in China, they teach the basics of classical Chinese, which probably helped her write a novel. With many predecessors having written novels in Mandarin, it must have inspired her that she could also do the same.

Storytellers thriving between different cultures

–I have heard that there are many full-length novels in Tibetan literature written in Mandarin. What are the reasons Tibetan writers use both Tibetan and Mandarin?

Izumi: Firstly, most Tibetans are bilingual in Tibetan and Mandarin. They cannot survive without using Mandarin, and there are no schools that solely teach Tibetan. Nowadays, thanks to television and the internet, it’s much easier to learn a language. However, Tibetan people were already bilingual before these advancements. Regarding reading and writing, it depends on the type of education you received.

When we look at the writers, some write only in Mandarin or only in Tibetan, and some write in both languages. Those who write in Mandarin typically attended Mandarin secondary schools in China, even though they might have grown up with their parents speaking Tibetan when they were young. In such cases, it was likely that they didn’t have opportunities to learn Tibetan, unless their parents made a concerted effort to teach them. Consequently, they might proceed to university without knowing how to read and write Tibetan. However, their identity remains Tibetan, and they write stories and poems about Tibet in Mandarin.

While this is not a common instance, most writers, who write in Tibetan, went to local schools for Tibetan, located in each prefecture, which teaches Tibetan. They received higher education in Tibetan, enrolled in the Tibetan course at the local university for ethnic minorities, and became writers. The writers who write in Mandarin and Tibetan are Pema Tseden and Tsering Döndrup, whom I have already mentioned. They also do translation between these two languages.

–Even if they are born in the same place, it seems that not only the language but also the knowledge varies greatly depending on the educational paths they chose.

Izumi: The input would be different depending on whether you are educated in Mandarin or Tibetan at a Tibetan school. Especially the exposure to classical works is totally different. The study of the classics creates the groundwork for a person’s education. Even if you grow up in the same location, learning reading and writing through the language education provided by your parents would lead to learning completely different types of expressions.

Pema, whom I have mentioned, attended a Tibetan school but wrote his first novel in Mandarin. This work was published in a literature magazine in Mandarin in the Tibetan Autonomous Region in Lhasa. After receiving high praise, he began to write in Tibetan. However, once he started shooting films in Tibetan, he returned to writing his novels in Mandarin to reach a wider readership among Mandarin speakers.

–Why did some writers insist on writing in Mandarin?

Izumi: Writing in Mandarin would lead to an increase in readership. Due to the educational environment, many Tibetans can only read and write in Mandarin. By writing in Mandarin, writers can reach these readers. Additionally, Tibetans tend to perceive stories as something to be listened to rather than read with their own eyes. I’ve heard that there are radio programs that read novels. During the extended lockdown period of the COVID-19 pandemic, many readings were uploaded on the internet, and a lot of people listened to a wide range of Tibetan classics and contemporary literature. Writers contemplate how to use Tibetan and Mandarin when writing a novel, while readers can choose whether to read or listen to the story. This is the current situation in Tibet.

As a culture that cherishes storytelling in literature, Japan also has similar traditions when it comes to reading classics, such as rakugo. I believe Tibetans enjoy literature in a manner similar to how the Japanese enjoy rakugo. I am considering whether I should adopt the Tibetan way and begin reciting Tibetan literature translated into Japanese.

—In the novel White Crane lend me your wings: A Tibetan Tale of Love and War, which was originally written in English, the term “green-brained” is used in the story. While in English it means environmentally conscious, in Tibetan, it is used to denote ideological corruption or backwardness based on what those two words mean in Tibetan. I understand that you translate a mixed language and words created by writers while also taking into account the conversion between Tibetan and English.

Izumi: Not limited to White Crane, Tibetan writers use parentheses for emphasis and also incorporate Tibetan words that were derived from English or English words influenced by Tibetan. They also treat Tibetans similarly to the English language, freely adopting various linguistic methods. We refer to this as the deterritorialization of languages. It’s not about the Tibetan language being overtaken by the dominant English language, but rather a way of expressing that Tibetan exists within the dominant language.

For example, similar language adaptations are observed in Singaporean English and Indian English when spoken. It demonstrates how a minor language can influence a dominant language. Therefore, even though the book is clearly authored by a Tibetan writer, it contains many expressions that would never be found in the writing of someone who only speaks English.

ーーI learned that there is a plan to publish a full-length novel by a Tibetan woman writer for the first time in Japan soon.

Izumi: In April, a long-form novel titled Flowers and Dreams by Tsering Yangkyi, a female writer, will be published. It tells the story of a sisterhood among four prostitutes working in a nightclub, living together in a small apartment. Despite their traumatic pasts and the sorrowful destiny that awaits them, the novel is written with a warm, protective gaze. Their dialogue is lively, making it feel as if they are right beside you. The novel will be published by Shunjusha Publishing Company as part of the new series Asian Literature Library. I hope readers look forward to it.

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（Left to Right)
Yuriko Mori
Yuriko is a journalist and essayist specializing in Nordic countries. She has written guidebooks, travel essays, and articles about interior design and lifestyle covering five Scandinavian countries. She is the author of『3日でまわる北欧』,『北欧のおもてなし』,『日本で楽しむ わたしの北欧365日』and many other books. She also runs Sticka, a store that sells vintage Scandinavian tableware and textiles.

Junko Aoki
Junko teaches the Norwegian language and also works as a translator, interpreter, and lecturer. She studied at the Volda National College and the University of Oslo in Norway. Since 2000, she has been running the community website Norway Yumenet to provide information about Norway. Junko authored many books including,『テーマで学ぶノルウェー語』,『ノルウェー語のしくみ＜新版＞』,『ニューエクスプレスプラスノルウェー語』,『「その他の外国文学」の翻訳者』. She is a translator of Me and My Moulton and Threads among many other works.
https://www.norway-yumenet.com/

Goedele and Simon
They founded the design studio SAK design and publishing company trykkSAK. As graphic designers, they are involved in the production of books related to art and design. Their goal is to provide opportunities for people to think about current social and political issues through books. Their office is located in the suburbs of Stavanger, Norway, which is also known for its ceramics.
https://trykksakforlag.no/

Turi Gramstad Oliver is a prominent Norwegian artist who has been active since the mid-20th century. Last summer in Norway, a design book Turi was released, chronicling Turi’s lifetime of creative work. The book includes over 500 illustrations and photographs, along with archival images, anecdotes, and insights into her personal life shared with fellow creative collaborators. It was written by Torunn Larsen, a writer and art historian.

In November, Goedele and Simon, the head of the Norwegian design studio and publishing house trykkSAK, which handled the design of the book, visited Japan. Yuriko Mori, a journalist who specializes in Nordic countries, hosted an event titled “Welcome to Cute Norway: The World of Turi and the Enchanting Nordic Design” at her store Sticka, known for carrying Nordic merchandise. Junko Aoki, a translator specializing in Norwegian, joined the event as the interpreter and moderator.

Hugely successful work and the untold agony behind the scenes

The book turi is the result of five years of work by Goedele and Simon, who curated the content from a massive collection of Turi’s works and photographs. They compiled the book while listening to stories from that time, including untold struggles that Turi experienced. With a wealth of life experiences, she still has so many stories to share that there are plans to publish several more books.

At the event, the speakers discussed the history of Turi from the time she was an in-house designer for a traditional ceramics manufacturer Figgjo, which is located in a town with the same name in southwestern Norway. Turi designed the Lotte collection, which became a long-standing bestseller all over the world after it was launched in 1962. They say the popularity lies in the designs featuring charming girls and plants, which evoke scenes from a novel. However, Turi didn’t intend to create a story out of her design work. After the product line was launched, an enthusiastic fan wrote a letter asking, “What kind of story exists in Lotte?” Turi replied, “I am not trying to tell a story. I just want people to imagine dreamy places filled with birds and flowers and relax.”

After the full-scale overseas export of the Lotte collection began, the Figgjo brand quickly gained recognition in Japan, Canada, and other countries. While the brand became known worldwide, Turi left Figgjo in 1975 due to conflicts with branding strategy that prioritized sales. She created the prototype of the Elvira collection, which gained popularity over the objections of the sales department, and although sales were strong, it was not well received within the company.

Although crafts were not highly regarded as fine art in Norway at the time, Turi continued to produce handicrafts. After leaving Figgjo, she worked with local artists and produced a number of works in an effort to improve the value of handicrafts. As a result, the textiles she produced in her atelier were recognized as crafts.

Turi also worked energetically as a feminist, along with potters and teachers. According to the book, Sandnes, located in southwestern Norway, is known as where many feminists in this movement emerged. The Sandnes chapter of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF), the oldest women’s peace organization in the world, founded in 1915, displays a sign by Turi, “Release a Peace.”

Discovering Mingei in Japan

On her first visit to Japan in 1978, Turi, along with 23 other Norwegian artists, participated in the World Crafts Council General Assembly and International Conference in Kyoto. The conference featured 25,400 crafts exhibits, seminars, and workshops with 2,400 experts from around the world. In her diary, Turi wrote about a garden party attended by 2,000 people and her visit to the Shigaraki Pottery Village in Shiga Prefecture, where she was welcomed with two tons of clay.

The most exciting part of her trip to Japan was a visit to the Mashiko kiln of Shoji Hamada, one of the most important figures in the Mingei movement. Although permission to visit the kiln had not been granted, Hamada’s son allowed Turi to see the kiln because he saw that Turi and her group had the hands of a potter. Turi was not only inspired by pottery, but also traditional Japanese craftsmanship and artisanal techniques, showcasing their respect for nature yet maintaining practicality.

Inspiration from this trip led to the tapestry work My Japanese Garden (Minejapans Bager), and she also designed textiles with a Japanese theme. Furthermore, when she visited the home of artist Kanjiro Kawai, she was inspired by his poetic view of life in the English-language book We Do Not Work Alone and wrote a short poem: “What is beauty But joy found In all of life.” This is included in the turi book.

Reminiscing about the turi book production and Turi’s reputation in Japan

Goedele and Simon from trykkSAK said, “Through the creation of turi, we felt a high level of professionalism. Despite the many trials Turi went through as a woman and as a designer, the designs she created did not show the difficult part and depicted a joyful world.” Turi’s creative spirit has not waned to this day, and she has never stopped painting. They mentioned that she was planning to go to Oslo for the major exhibition of Louise Bourgeois’ work at the Norwegian National Museum. There is a telling episode about her life. While producing work, Turi always had a constant flow of visitors at her house to the point that the chimes never stopped ringing. Perhaps her love of meeting people and her gregarious nature, which entertained and brightened up people no matter how hard things were, is reflected in her designs.

A Norwegian student whom the pair from trykkSAK met in Tokyo a few days before the event had never heard of Turi. However, when the student saw the design of the tableware, he remembered seeing them at her grandmother’s house. Junko noted that tableware designed by Turi is often used as wedding gifts in Norway, but many people do not even know the designer’s name. Junko was also surprised that this was the first time that a design book about Turi’s work was published. She expressed her admiration that Turi continued her activities in the suburb of Sandnes away from the capital Oslo, and still her achievements were recognized globally even before the Internet. Junko, who has translated many Norwegian picture books, mentioned the difficulty in conveying the appeal of picture books to Japanese readers due to the aesthetic difference between what is considered cute in Norway and Japan and praised the high quality of Turi’s designs, which are loved in Japan.

Yuriko, who contributed to the book turi, is a big fan of Turi’s works. She also has customers, who often visit her store Sticka, and tell her that they have been using tableware from the Lotte series since the time of their grandmother or mother, confirming that Turi’s works have long been loved in Japan. According to Yuriko, who has been visiting Nordic countries for many years as a journalist and buyer of vintage items, Turi is a special presence. While Norwegian design is still not well known in Japan, many customers are interested in Turi’s work. Some people have become interested in Nordic design and vintage products because of her. She concluded that while many people generally associate Nordic design with modern furniture and simple interiors, the free, lovely world surrounded by nature created by Turi may also overlap with the image of Nordic countries that Japanese people have in their minds.

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In Aquarium, the book portrays the daily life of a young girl whose mother is a goldfish in a realistic way. The girl cares for her mother in a fish tank, always staying in proximity. Her friends don’t believe that her mother is a goldfish. One day, when the school hands out an invitation for her parents to come to school, the girl tries to take her mother with her in a bag with water. However, the water spills from the bag and the mother almost dies. Alarmed by the experience, the girl stays by the tank, can no longer eat and stops going to school. One day, the teacher, out of concern, visits the girl and brings food for her. While they are eating together, the teacher says, “Your mother is lovely,” and the story ends.

When the book was published in 2014, young carers were not widely recognized, and it portrayed a parent, who could not raise her child, as a goldfish. Revisiting the book, the characterization clearly conveys that the artist wanted to portray the existence of young carers.

While dealing with a serious subject matter, the illustrations provide a sense of hope and salvation at the end. The ability to convey warmth is the unique aspect of picture books.

The world is starting to pay attention to picture books in Norway, which deal with social issues and diversity from the forefront—topics that are rarely addressed in Japan. We interviewed Gro Dahle, the author of Aquarium and Junko Aoki, who translated the picture book Me and My Moulton and Threads by Torill Kove. Torill is an internationally acclaimed animation film director and won the Academy Award for Animated Short Film in 2007. We asked them about the appeal of Norwegian picture books and their thoughts on working on them.

Junko Aoki
Junko teaches the Norwegian language and also works as a translator, interpreter, and lecturer. She studied at the Volda National College and the University of Oslo in Norway. Since 2000, she has been running the community website “Norway Dream Net” to provide information about Norway. Junko authored many books including『ノルウェー語のしくみ＜新版＞』『ニューエクスプレスプラスノルウェー語』『「その他の外国文学」の翻訳者』. She is a translator of Me and My Moulton and Threads among many other works.

Gro Dahle
Gro Dahle is a poet and author, born in Oslo, Norway in 1962. She graduated from the University of Oslo and has studied creative writing at the Telemark University College. In 1987, she debuted with Audiens (Audience)—a poetry collection that was very well received. She has since become a very well-known lyricist and novelist. She lives in Tjøme in Vestfold with her husband, Svein Nyhus.

Asking “what if” upon constructing narrative expands imagination

–How did you end up translating the picture books by Torill Kove?

Junko Aoki: It all started when I saw Torill’s animated short film My Grandma Ironed the King’s Shirt on a TV program in Japan. The film is a fictionalized depiction of when Norway became independent in 1905 and chose monarchy in a referendum. As a result, Prince Karl of Denmark was welcomed as King Hakon VII of Norway along with Queen Maud. In those days, servants did not yet exist in Norway, and the royal family’s problem was that no one ironed their shirts. Then an elderly woman became a dedicated staff to iron the King’s shirts, but Norway was occupied by the Germans during World War II.

The King and his family fled to England, but called on the Norwegian people to resist the German troops on the radio. The elderly woman, who loved the king, and her friends demonstrated their resistance by making holes with their irons or adding stains on the German soldiers’ uniforms. In the end, the people defied the occupation and the German soldiers withdrew. The King and his family returned safely to Norway.

Historically speaking, the resistance movement was not the single cause, which prompted the Nazis to retreat. And it was mostly men who were involved in leading the resistance movement. However, in the book, the author wanted to illustrate women such as the elderly woman and other fellow cleaning women who resisted the Nazis in their own way to take revenge on the Germans. Even if they are not recognized in Norwegian history, it’s a fact that these nameless women also joined the resistance. Since then, I read all the books by Torill whenever they were published in Norway.

–There is another book by Torill, Threads, which is popular among Japanese readers. It depicts the relationship between an adult and a child who meet each other by a red thread. A young girl catches the thread hanging from the sky and flies through the sky. She meets an infant and they grow up together as mother and child. In the end, the main character’s daughter follows the thread and becomes independent and all of this is expressed almost exclusively in illustrations.

Junko: The story is an adventure that starts when the main character stretches her hand and grabs a thread. The animation received high praise, including an award of excellence at the Hiroshima International Animation Festival. I think Torill was compelled to produce this work after adopting a child from Asia, and the theme is the connection between people that is not related by blood. There are people of all skin colors in the scenes where the child plays, and the book does not make any reference to nationality or race, making it easy for anyone in the world to read and feel an emotional connection. Torill said, “In this book, the setting is a mother and daughter, but I want the reader to imagine freely without being bound by that setting.” The story gives us a sense that it is possible to connect with people regardless of gender and race.

–In Japan, picture books often have a target age range.  However, I gathered that picture books in Norway are intended for all ages and that there is also a tradition of giving picture books as gifts among grownups.

Junko: In bookstores in Norway, picture books are not categorized by age, giving the impression that both children and grownups can enjoy reading picture books. There is also an environment where children are asked for their feedback after reading a picture book in order to foster their independence.

—The Angry Man by Gro Dahle portrays domestic violence by parents from a child’s point of view. Domestic violence is also becoming increasingly serious in Japan, and the book encourages children to seek help. I heard that this book was written based on an episode about children who grew up with domestic violence in Norway having a meeting with King Harald V. As is the case with My Grandma Ironed the King’s Shirt, there seems to be a closeness between the public figures and the people.

Junko: I agree. Some years ago, the King gave a memorable speech. He said, “In Norway, there are boys who like boys and there are girls who like girls.” Not only the King, but the Minister of Foreign Affairs visited the school of a student who sent a letter saying that he was heartbroken about Ukraine. It’s true that the population is small but there are many activities that allow the people to feel closer to their public figures.

In Japan, sexual violence is a huge problem much like in Norway. Many years ago, a politician addressed the matter explicitly on a state-run broadcasting channel, “Has anyone touched your penis?” This was an attempt to reach children, who are victims and needed support. There are many young ministers in their 30s, and when there are role models like them, it generates more interest in politics among children and makes them feel closer to the idea of becoming a politician one day.

When the picture book artists has the mastery to reveal the invisible in their work

—Recently, the term “young carer” has become prevalent in Japan, and I understand that a picture book featuring a child in similar circumstances was published in Norway.

Junko: While making school visits, Gro, the author of Aquarium, has written many books which portrayed social issues that children face. It has touched on situations where girls are forced to be well-behaved and are often burdened with the notion of “being a girl” based on the division of gender roles at home and in society. Her work includes jarring content, such as scenes of violence and sexual content. Gro believes that children have the potential to be receptive to stories.

On the other hand, some parents are wary and try to keep their children away from reading books that are too stimulating. Since it is the grownups who buy picture books for children, it is necessary to change their mindset so that her stories can be brought to the children.

–I have heard that it is common in Norway for well-known mystery writers to write novels for children. Can you tell us what kind of books are available?

Junko: Jo Nesbo, a world-renowned mystery writer whose novels have been translated into Japanese and published in many other languages, has also written many novels for children. Not only him, but other Norwegian writers actively engage in reading sessions at elementary and junior high schools and libraries, so perhaps they are naturally conscious of the need to expose children to authentic art and encourage them to read books. One children’s literature author talked about the amazing inspiration he receives from children, and said that as a result of the interaction, he created stories that anyone could easily understand, which naturally lead to novels for children. Thanks in part to the country’s strong cultural support, there are many opportunities for children to be exposed to the world of high quality narratives.

How rich the reading experience becomes for children often depends on the actions of adults, but I would like Japanese readers to be exposed to Norwegian stories in the form of translations, so that they can learn about the diversity of societies and ways of thinking.

Reasons why a renowned Norwegian author worked on picture books

–Gro, what prompted you to start creating these picture books?

Gro Dahle: I have been a well-established poet and writer of short stories and poetic prose. My work was published at Norway’s largest publishing house, Cappelen Damm, and they invited me to write stories about child neglect. The story centers around a selfish mother who just wants to have fun and her serious daughter who has to do the house chores to keep up the household. Although I received assistance from the publisher, it was a challenging project to get it right. After publishing four children’s books, it became clear to me that I wanted to write for children between the ages of five to 19. I also want to utilize my language skills and creativity to publish books that illuminate dark corners and shadows within children’s minds —harboring secrets and risky experiences they can share with no one.

I want to be there and support children in need and are in situations similar to those of the characters in my books. I hope they can become friends with the characters in my books and learn that they are not alone. I want my books to serve as lights, unlocking the doors in their minds, and dispelling shadows.

–In Aquarium, how did you come up with the idea of turning the mother into a fish?

Gro: My storytelling method revolves around the use of allegory and metaphor. Children up to the age of eleven or twelve typically interpret the story literally. As they get older, they begin to consider the characters’ emotions and relationships, examining psychological thoughts, ethics, values and codes of conduct. Adults compare the narrative to societal structure, authority, power dynamics, and aspects of identity and self-worth, and try to interpret various information by expanding their imagination through language.

In my work, like Aquarium, the allegorical method opens doors to various levels of experience, offering a spectrum of ages and different insights. For instance, the tale of Moa and her fish mom in a glass bowl appears curious and amusing on the surface. Yet, for children between the ages of 13 to 19, it represents the challenges of growing up with a mother incapable of providing essential care. Teenagers can further explore societal, and ethical aspects, drawing parallels between the wet life of a fish to, maybe, living with an alcoholic.

Children who were neglected may have flashbacks of their painful experiences and memories, recognizing signs of neglect depicted in the story. On the other hand, I can indirectly convey to readers who have not yet faced any harsh realities about the existence of these children, who are forced to live in difficult situations. The use of allegory and metaphor can foster various interpretations and discoveries within a single story.

—What are the challenges of writing children’s books?

Gro: The challenge involves maintaining a delicate balance between the adult and child perspectives. Striking a balance in language, aiming for a simplicity that is simultaneously poetic without veering into overly adult territory. This means navigating the fine line between art and psychology/pedagogy, steering clear of becoming too easy or difficult, or too banal and complex.

To achieve this, I draw inspiration from Piaget’s developmental traits of the preoperational mind, characterizing a child’s perception before the age of seven or eight. Children of this age believe in magic and recognize objects and creatures as the outside world, and understand them through a mixture of experience and fantasy. Therefore, I try to incorporate metaphors that attract children’s interest, while making it accessible for younger children and poetic for teenagers.

To craft a story that resonates with readers, I conduct extensive research, including interviews with psychologists and researchers. I also work with therapists, who share insights into the experiences of children growing up in homes with domestic violence or facing abuse.

Children freely express what they feel in words, such as portraying a sexual abuser as an octopus.

When I incorporate actual quotes from children into my story, it lends veracity and authenticity to the dialogue in the books. As a result, it makes the book more insightful and leads to a direct connection with the readers. The reason I take this approach is that I have not experienced anything that casts a dark shadow over my mind. Frequently, children express surprise, asking, “How did you know about me?” when reading characters in books such as The Angry Man, Dragon, or The Octopus. They saw themselves in the characters of the books.

The post Norwegian Picture Books: A Thought-Provoking Read on Diversity and Social Issues for Grownups appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Korean author Kim Byeol-ah compares the food culture from different countries in her essay Eating in the K-Book reading guide 『ちぇっくCHECK　Vol.9』. She wrote, “There is an old saying that the Chinese taste with their tongues, the Japanese taste with their eyes, and the Koreans taste with their stomachs.” She concluded that Korean food is a gastronomic delicacy that must be savored with the heart, and not the tongue. As a cuisine meant to be savored with both the stomach and the heart, one of the tastiest ingredients with umami in Korean food is the traditional fermented seasoning, jang. This includes gochujang (red chili paste), doenjang (soybean paste), and ganjang (soy sauce), all of which are well-known fermented foods in Japan.

To learn about Korean food and fermentation techniques, we met Kim Suehyang, a third-generation Zainichi who has lived in Korea for 26 years and runs Qyun, a café in Seoul, which specializes in fermented foods.

Kim Suehyang
Born in Tokyo, Japan, Kim Suehyang has been living in South Korea for 26 years. While studying in South Korea, she began working as a media coordinator and writer to promote Korean culture in Japan. After launching the Korean culture magazine 『スッカラ』 as a project editor, she is now specializing in Korean food culture. She started the farmers’ market, Marche@, in Seoul, which opened doors to learn about Korean food through Korean farmers in a new way. This led her to expand her interest in grasses, fermentation, bean culture, and native seeds in South Korea. While running a cafe Qyun that focuses on fermentation, she writes about Korean food culture to her audience in Japan and South Korea. She worked as a coordinator for books such as 『食べる旅　韓国むかしの味』、『コウケンテツ　僕の大好きな、ソウルのおいしい店』.
Instagram：@sukkara_seoul, @grocery_cafe_qyun

Korean food culture reveals the ambience of people’s lives

—Doenjang and ganjang both have a strong salty flavor and a bean-like aroma. Could you explain to us about the jang, the fermented seasoning?

Kim Suehyang: One scholar stated that the food in the Korean Peninsula is 120 percent fermented to emphasize that the distinctive feature of all sauces is primarily due to the fermentation of soybeans. Soybean koji called meju, which is a brick of boiled soybeans inoculated with various wild bacteria such as Bacillus subtilis, is placed in a hangari (earthenware jar) along with salt and water. The jar is positioned in the sunniest spot of the house, exposing it to sunlight, rainwater, air, and wind. The liquid strained after fermenting, incorporating various wild bacteria during the fermentation process, becomes ganjang, while the remaining solid is transformed into doenjang. The complex flavors generated through the amalgamation of diverse strains during the fermentation process characterize these condiments. Jang is an indispensable condiment and it is a lump of enzymes rich in soybean proteins.

Cooked and seasoned vegetables are called suche (ripe greens). To get the nutrients from the vegetables efficiently, namul is dressed with garlic, green onions, and jang. Finally, a few drops of sesame or perilla oil and roasted sesame powder are added on top. When all of these ingredients are mixed, it brings out the umami flavor.

In Japan, most people seem to think that namul is seasoned vegetables, however, it is a general term to describe edible plants on the Korean peninsula. Traditionally, vegetables, grasses, and fermented foods are combined in a well-balanced manner to efficiently obtain the necessary nutrients. For example, all plants beneficial to humans, with mugwort and ginseng at the top of the list, have been used as food and medically as traditional Korean medicine.

—In South Korea, I saw rows of large hangari (earthenware jars) in the gardens of temples and ancient palaces. In Japan, fermented foods are kept in a cool, dark place and minimize exposure to air as much as possible, but in South Korea, jars are placed outside, some with glass lids. What are the differences in ingredients and production methods?

Suehyang: The hangari is designed in such a way that airflow can enter through the lid of the jar or the lids can be changed to glass ones to allow light to mix with all the bacteria in the air. On the Korean peninsula, each household made fermented foods using these jars in their own way. Each household had its own koji culture that made full use of the bacteria unique to each family, and homemade fermented foods were indispensable in ceremonies to honor ancestors. Literature shows that from the Goguryeo period, the taste of jang on the Korean peninsula was well known and highly regarded for its high fermentation techniques. That means the peninsula was blessed with the techniques to handle bacteria and the climatic environment to make exquisite jang with the wild bacteria from ancient times.

Japanese miso is made from beans, salt, and rice or barley koji, while jang on the Korean peninsula is made from beans, salt, and water. The Japanese use koji mold, however, on the Korean Peninsula, soybeans are steamed, pounded into clumps to prevent air from entering, and then laid on straw to ripen using a wide variety of natural bacteria to make meju (soybean koji). In Japan, wild bacteria was used originally. However it’s more humid in Japan than on the Korean Peninsula, so it was difficult to control the bacteria in the warmer climate. Therefore, there was a business called Moyashiya that managed the koji. They produce the seed koji, in which koji mold is cultured and dried. If the changes caused by the action of microorganisms are beneficial to humans, they are classified as fermentation and if they are harmful, they are considered putrefaction. Misuse of this can pose risks to human life. So each country has developed its way by choosing fermentation suitable for the climate of the country.

Basically, both ganjang and doenjang are made only with soybeans, and the taste is created by a variety of wild bacteria and the natural environment such as climate and temperature. In Japan, miso is added at the end of making miso soup, but on the Korean peninsula, when making soup with doenjang, it is added from the beginning and simmered to bring out the various tastes and flavors contained in it. The same is true for soups made with ganjang, where the diversity of flavors within the ganjang itself serves as a broth. Sprinkling a few drops of ganjang to boiled vegetables is like adding soup stock, which adds depth to the flavor of the vegetables.

—Many people in Japan buy miso and soy sauce from supermarkets and breweries. Do most people still make them at home in South Korea?

Suehyang: Until our grandmother’s generation, which is just a few decades ago, it was common to make jang at home, but this culture is disappearing due to changes in the housing environment and lifestyles. Jang made by masterful elderly women, who made it all their lives, were turned into branded products and are now available for purchase. Factory-made ganjang and doenjang, which have similar production methods to their Japanese counterparts, became common. The ones made with traditional methods and fermented with wild bacteria are differentiated and called Korean ganjang and Korean doenjang . In today’s Korean diet, traditional jang fermented with wild bacteria and factory-made jang coexist.

Some families insist on homemade jang, but it is a declining trend, and the same is true of many restaurants. On the other hand, some wealthy people have their jang made by their housekeepers. While Japanese miso and soy sauce are distributed and recognized overseas, jang from the Korean peninsula is distributed only by a few major manufacturers. The reason for this is the use of wild bacteria. Because it is wild, it is difficult to control, making factory production difficult, time-consuming, and inefficient.

With a few exceptions, such as barley miso from Kyushu and Hatcho miso from Aichi, there is a uniformity in the flavor of Japanese miso. However, Korean jang is difficult to control the flavor, so even if the ingredients are the same, each house has a completely different taste. That is what makes it interesting, but because of the wide range, it is difficult to focus on one and convey a typical flavor. I tell the name of the manufacturer to the people who try jang for the first time at my workshops. Strangely enough, good jang has a common taste of animal protein. With it, it is possible to supplement the umami flavor without chemical seasonings.

—From a fermentation standpoint, are there any other ingredients that you are looking at besides jang?

Suehyang: I have a great interest in beans native to the Korean peninsula, especially those of the genus Glycine. There are so many varieties that I think they may be the starting point of Korean Peninsula’s fermented foods. Since the Japanese archipelago was part of the Asian continent far back, there are many beans that originated in Japan, but the varieties originating from the Korean peninsula are far beyond that.The place of origin refers to where the plant was first cultivated and supplied. The history of beans in the Korean peninsula is very old, and the unique bean sprout culture, which is a home-grown vegetable, has sustained the lives of the people of the Korean peninsula during the long winter months, with Kongnamul being the most famous bean namul.

A distinctive aspect of the culture of the Korean peninsula is people’s strong fixation on plants. In the northern regions and around the border with China, vegetables could not be grown for about six months, and even in Seoul, nothing could be cultivated for at least four to six months a year. Jang, which has a long shelf life and is rich in protein, became a vital nutrient to survive the harsh natural environment and a source of vitamins. From this point of view, jang is a soy culture that people dedicated their lives to build.

−−Jang is made with wild bacteria and beans grown in nature with plenty of sunlight. I learned that the rich food culture of the Korean peninsula was developed and passed down in the family.

Suehyang: When complimenting a restaurant, there is an expression that “you taste the hands (that crafted the food).” Namul is meant to be mixed directly by hand, and they say that the traditional flavor has been nurtured by the hands of the ancestors. The best tool for making tasty food is the hands, and elderly women still use their hands to carefully prepare their dishes. If wild bacteria is also mixed in with the food, then the “taste of hands” could be the taste of the bacteria of the family. Sadly, many restaurants are now forced to cook with gloves, which marks a departure from the hands-on approach of the past.

Eating Korean food is about sensing the hands and the warmth behind the dishes 

−−Fermentation is also connected to alcohol. Could you tell us about the history?

Suehyang: The Korean Peninsula had a culture of home brewing, where sake was made at home before the Japanese occupation. Back then, the Japanese government made it illegal to brew sake at home or in local communities, and the sake production was regulated by the Japanese government. Shortly after WWII, the Korean War broke out, leaving the country in destitution. The Korean government banned the use of rice to make sake, which led to the decline of traditional sake brewing.

However, over the past couple of decades, through the efforts of many people, home-brewed alcohol has come to attract attention as a cultural heritage of the Korean peninsula. This is thanks to the valuable brewing techniques and wisdom that have been passed down in secret within the family through the turbulent times.

−−Do people still make fermented foods at home despite their busy schedule?

Suehyang: Fermented foods are once again attracting attention, and since home brewing is legal in South Korea, making makgeolli was all the rage during the pandemic. If you break it down into generations, those in their 60s and 70s have inherited the traditional art of fermentation, and they value the culture of fermenting foods at home. Those in their 40s and 50s have inherited some cooking methods including how to prepare, but are less familiar with making kimchi and the fermentation culture. The parent-child relationship on the Korean peninsula is unique, and it is not uncommon to see parents in their 60s and 70s cooking for their children in their 30s and 50s, so this environment is influencing the way each generation interacts with the fermented food culture.

I am a Zainichi living in South Korea. As a third-generation, who grew up in Japan, I can step back and have an overview of the fermented food culture of the Korean peninsula, as well as delving deeper into it. I was fascinated by the diversity and depth of the fermented foods of the Korean peninsula that I encountered when I started living in South Korea.

In the midst of all this, I am worried that the diverse wisdom and techniques to make fermented foods held by the women of the Korean peninsula will disappear. Experts know the importance of fermented culture, but to make as many people aware of it as possible, I run a cafe that specializes in fermented foods, and I continue to research and revive local dishes, and hold study sessions. I will continue my activities so that the flavors created by hand, which is based on fermentation unique to the Korean peninsula, will not be lost.

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Leiko Ikemura
Painter, sculptor. Served as a professor at UDK (the Berlin University of the Arts) from 1991 to 2015. Awarded the August Macke Prize in 2009. Since 2014, she has been a visiting professor at the Joshibi University of Art and Design Graduate School. She also received an Art Encouragement Prize in 2020. Some recent notable solo exhibitions include “Toward New Seas” at the Basel Art Museum, Switzerland, in 2019, and “Our Planet – Earth & Stars” at the National Art Center, Tokyo, in the same year.

Based in Berlin and Cologne, Japanese artist Leiko Ikemura hosted a solo exhibition “When Animals Become Art” at the Feuerle Collection gallery in Berlin. What is the message behind the exhibition that uses animals as a medium for artistic expression, featuring elements such as glass sculptures of rabbits and vintage Steiff plush toys?

Review the exhibition “When Animals Become Art: Leiko IKEMURA” in Berlin.

Upon entering, one is enveloped in a sacred ambiance, experiencing an enigmatic feeling akin to a soulful cleanse. Situated in Berlin’s Kreuzberg district, the Feuerle Collection gallery holds a distinctive allure for me, resembling a unique and almost sacred space.

With an expansive land area comparable to that of a museum, this gallery has been skillfully converted by the British architect John Pawson from the remains of an air-raid shelter utilized for information and communication during World War II. Darkness shrouded the bare concrete and the perfect use of minimal light skillfully highlights the Art pieces.

Within a setting radiating a minimal yet reverent ambiance, the displays feature Khmer sculptures spanning the 7th to the 13th centuries, furniture utilized by Chinese emperors from 200 BC to the 17th century, photographs by Araki Nobuyoshi, and artworks by Cristina Iglesias. This creates a compelling contrast between classical and contemporary art.

At The Feuerle Collection, alongside the permanent exhibition, there is an irregularly presented special exhibition known as “SILK ROOM.” The current guest artist for this exhibition is Ikemura, a globally recognized and influential contemporary Japanese artist. The ongoing exhibition titled “When Animals Become Art” is curated by the founder, Désiré Feuerle. In the 1970s, Ikemura, a leading Japanese contemporary artist, boldly ventured to Spain when the presence of female artists on the international stage was still limited. Subsequently, she relocated to Switzerland and organized her inaugural group exhibition in Bonn and Nuremberg in Germany in 1983. Serving as a professor at UDK (Berlin University of the Arts) from 1990 to 2016, she has continued to impart knowledge since 2014 at Joshibi University of Art and Design in Tokyo. Over the years, Ikemura has conducted over 700 solo and group exhibitions in more than 29 countries worldwide. Her artworks grace the collections of esteemed institutions such as the State Museums of Berlin and the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo.

The second edition of the “SILK ROOM” series, titled “When Animals Become Art,” presents a carefully chosen collection of artworks from Ikemura’s archive spanning from 1990 to 2022. Spread across a 400-square-meter exhibition space, the showcase adopts a distinctive presentation approach, highlighting a unique arrangement of rare and precious vintage Steiff plush toys (crafted by the renowned German teddy bear manufacturer) personally collected by Ikemura.

What is the message behind the title “When Animals Become Art”?. Ikemura stated as follows:

“While recognizing the presence of animalistic qualities in humans, I contemplate the idea that animals also exhibit human behaviors and strive to convey this notion. Fundamentally, humans and animals coexist. I hold the belief that animals, far from being mere entities, are inherently more interconnected with us despite the disparities. Take the ‘fox’ as an example. While the conventional notion of a fox may seem straightforward, in narratives, a fox can undergo transformations, at times assuming the guise of a woman. The enigmatic tales of foxes and their appearances trace back to mythology. The ‘rabbit’ serves as another instance of an animal carrying profound significance. I have a fondness for the Japanese pronunciation of rabbit (Usagi,) and its elegance is mirrored in sculptural form. The rabbit’s prominent ears function akin to antennas, and its zigzagging movements signify unpredictable skills, embodying a refined form of self-defense.”

Displayed in parallel with her original creations are the rare vintage animals from Steiff. Ikemura has received these as gifts, found them at antique markets or in store windows over the years, and has been collecting them. She is fascinated by the trademark button, the “Button in Ear,” attached to their left ears. However, some of these plush toys have a sad story – once cherished and loved as someone’s precious possession, they were eventually abandoned. As time passed, these vintage toys exude a sense of luxury yet carry a somewhat melancholic appearance, perhaps due to the poignant narratives behind them.

Désiré Feuerle, a long-time friend of Ikemura, revealed the background that led to the exhibition: “While sharing a dinner at Leiko’s home, I noticed that the Steiff animals she had been collecting over the years possessed a childlike playfulness and soul, mirroring her own artworks. The distinction lies in their visually twisted, somewhat erotic, and sensual nature. Capturing this essence, I conceived the idea of curating this exhibition at the Feuerle Collection. Through a deliberate exploration of the sensuality inherent in both animals and women, the significance of unfiltered joy in animals became apparent. By observing animals, sensing their souls, and concurrently emphasizing eros, we can uncover the connection with our own primal, animalistic aspects as humans.”

The long-running exhibition “When Animals Become Art,” which began in July, concluded on January 7, 2024. With every visit to The Feuerle Collection, one can expect to encounter new discoveries and evoke emotions previously unfelt. We also ensure distinctive experiences for both special exhibitions and permanent collections. Moreover, the special exhibition “SILK ROOM” not only showcases curated exhibits by guest artists but also hosts diverse programs, including performances, artist talks, screenings, and concerts, serving as a platform for the endeavors of Japanese artists and creators.           

Translation Takahiro Kanazawa

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