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Although we will take a break from updating editorial and news content, you will still be able to continue to browse our website. We hope this site will serve as a valuable archive that will lead you to new encounters with various cultures as it has these past years.

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On November 18th, musician Keiichiro Shibuya performed Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy,” his new piece using an android, piano, and electronic instruments, for the closing ceremony of the Lisbon Film Festival held in Portugal.

Lisbon Film Festival is an international film festival with film producer Paulo Branco, known for his work for esteemed Portuguese filmmakers like Manuel De Oliviera and Pedro Costa, as the director. The festival was held for the 17th time this year (2023 at the time of writing). Prominent names such as Francis F. Coppola, David Lynch, and Wim Wenders have previously participated in the festival. Aside from showing films this year, the festival presented a conversation with Pedro Costa and masterclasses by celebrated film directors like Leos Carax and Ryusuke Hamaguchi.

Artists from a plethora of fields outside of film joined as well. Laurie Anderson gave a lecture, world-renowned violinist Gidon Kremer played a concert, and so on. Keiichiro Shibuya’s Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy” was chosen to close off the Lisbon Film Festival, filled with exciting programs.

The 50-minute piece comprised Shibuya playing the piano and an analog synthesizer/noise generator, using android Alter4’s singing as the centerpiece. Harnessing sounds and noises, he played his iconic songs, like “Scary Beauty” and “Midnight Swan,” as well as the eponymous track of the performance. 

How did he take on the performance, and what did he aim to express? As he builds a steady career in film scoring, which films and soundtracks have shaped him? We set out to discover the answers in our interview. 

Keiichiro Shibuya
Keiichiro Shibuya graduated from the Tokyo University of the Arts with a B.A. in Music Composition. His work encompasses various mediums, from innovative electronic music to piano solos, operas, film scores, and sound installations. He’s based in Tokyo and Paris.
In 2012, Shibuya composed a Vocaloid opera with no human performers, The End, starring Hatsune Miku. The performance premiered at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris and has since toured around the globe. He collaborated with various artists and showed the opera at venues such as the Palais de Tokyo and Opéra national de Paris. In 2018, he composed the Android Opera®︎, Scary Beauty, which utilizes AI and stars a singing android that also conducts an orchestra. The opera has been shown in Japan, Europe, and the UAE. In August 2021, Shibuya’s opera, Super Angels, had its world premiere at the New National Theater Tokyo. In March 2022, he brought his new Android Opera®︎, MIRROR, a collaboration between an android, Buddhist music, shomyo, and an orchestra from the UAE, to Expo 2020 Dubai. In June of 2023, he showed the complete 70-minute version of the same opera at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris; it was a success and was met with a lot of attention from the local media. In October, Shibuya presented his new dialogic piece, IDEA, using two androids at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa. 
Furthermore, he has also scored for many films. In September 2020, he created the soundtrack for Midnight Swan and won the 75th Music Award at the Mainichi Film Awards and the 30th Japan Movie Critics Award. In 2022, he composed the soundtrack for KAGUYA BY GUCCI, a short film, and appeared in it with an android. 
ATAK：http://atak.jp
X：@keiichiroshibuy
Instagram：@keiichiroshibuy
Photography Claude Gassian

Creating a compelling performance and sound even in an era of high information density

—How did your performance at the Lisbon Film Festival come about? 

Around this spring, after the press release for my android opera MIRROR at the Théâtre du Châtelet was released (editor’s note: the performances were on June 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, 2023), they sent me an offer via email. One of the programs at the festival was called “Artificial Intelligence and Creation,” and they told me what I do would fit perfectly. 

Lisbon Film Festival is an important festival where Paulo Branco, known for producing films like Ossos by Pedro Costa, is the director. I knew of it prior to this. We had a meeting over ZOOM, and they were highly intellectual people. Aside from film showings, the content was exciting; they also had Laurie Anderson’s talk and world-renowned violinist Gidon Kremer’s live performance on the lineup. That’s why I decided to accept the offer.

—I watched your performance via a video. It was a perfect performance, spanning around 50 minutes, including experimental sounds and noises, your well-known songs like “Scary Beauty” and “Midnight Swan,” and your new song, “Seeds of Prophecy.” What was the intention behind the structure of Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy”?

When I first got approached, I initially thought I’d wait around 10 to 20 minutes because there’d be other performing artists since it was the closing event. But once I properly checked the information, I realized I would be the only performer and that there would also be an admission fee (laughs). That’s why I decided to build a live set that would stand on its own as a solo performance. 

But considering the venue and whatnot, getting a local orchestra like I did for MIRROR in Paris would’ve been difficult. As a result of discussing whether there was another option numerous times, we landed on a set made up of just an android and me.

It’s becoming harder to have big shows like MIRROR, where there was an android, orchestra, and film crew, in Europe. Because of these circumstances, I had set out to create a compact performance with an android before this offer came. So, it was an excellent opportunity to do just that.

—It was a minimal set-up with just the android and you, but it was an extremely powerful performance. 

I often think about what information density looks like in music. Just like the techno scene can only progress, information density in the world will only continue to increase. It won’t decrease. I try to create performances that are effective in such a society. 

This applies not only to concepts and structures but to each tone of sound. In terms of the texture of electronic instruments, the amount of sonic information and depth are completely different when playing a recorded track on your computer versus playing a synthesizer or noise generator live.

Speaking from that perspective, how we understand the quality of sounds is changing drastically. During the 2000s and 2010s, sounds that had a lot of pressure, super low sounds, and sounds that made you physically shocked or stimulated your senses were dominant. I was also into that sound, but people quickly got used to it. Recently, I’ve been thinking about how low and high-frequency sounds need to be purer or have a fresh, pleasant feeling that could expand the senses. For instance, these noise generator-like synthesizers, Monos and Duos, from Hikari Instruments, which is a Japanese modular synthesizer manufacturer, that I’ve been using lately emit such sounds. They’re instruments that are like electronic circuits, so they’re pretty random. You can’t predict what kind of sounds will come out, so it’s fun to prioritize the purity of how they sound and play them live.

 Behind “Prophecy”—hope for a world to come

—Taking into consideration the state of the current world, your new song, “Seeds of Prophecy,” resonates in an evocative way, with Alter’s impressive singing, the title, and lyrics like “For a world where peace can truly be found” and “Seeds can thrive or perish / it’s your choice.” What was the intention behind the song? 

Since I started performing with androids, I’ve been constantly thinking about what to make the android sing. Words are essential. For the songs in Scary Beauty, I used texts based on the posthumous works of Wittgenstein and Yukio Mishima and pieces of Michel Houellebecq’s and William S. Burroughs’ works for the lyrics. I wanted to create this contrast in which the android and AI sing about posthumous works and death, which don’t exist for them. 

For my performance for PRADA MODE in May, I made the AI study the situation the android was going to be in that day, the fact that it was going to be an event organized by Prada, other performers, the location, Tokyo Metropolitan Teien Art Museum, and so on. I tried to make the android/AI generate its own thoughts about this information and sing about them. I felt like it was an interesting direction to take. 

You know how I performed on Hodo Station after that in July?

—Alter, the android, referenced the government, expo, and media and sang lyrics like, “Why are there some news you can’t broadcast?” and “I will become the messenger of the truth.” The performance was met with a lot of responses on social media. 

It was interesting to see people react like, “AI doesn’t try to read between the lines compared to humans; it’s honest.” In a way, they’re correct. In an artistic context, it was both performance art and a social experiment. 

Going back to “Seeds of Prophecy,” if the schema for this performance was “an android that gives political messages,” it would’ve been too on-the-nose, so I went with the form of a prophecy. Like music, prophecies could affect someone somewhere, like a seed that flies far away and blooms into a flower. For such language, scattered like seeds, I made the AI study a vast amount of news on global turmoil and conflicts, like Russia and Gaza, then sing along to my synthesizer and piano.

I see the android/AI as a messenger, so calling it a prophet was valid. My favorite synthesizer is Prophet-5, so I always wanted to use the word “prophecy.”

Why Shibuya is drawn to Godard and Straub-Huillet

—I heard there was an installation based on Jean-Luc Godard’s The Image Book at the film festival. 

Fabrice Aragno, the cinematographer for Godard’s later works, created an installation inside and outside this big building using footage and audio from The Image Book. I was introduced to him at a dinner for people involved in the festival, and I spoke to him about many things because I love The Image Book. Later, I looked at his installation while he explained it to me; it was a stunning and poetic installation where videos were projected on cloths, and fragments were played randomly on a monitor at the base of a tree in the garden. 

—What makes Godard’s films appealing to you? As a musician, is there anything you feel from his work? 

The way Godard uses music is crude, in a good way. For instance, he used many of ECM’s music because they supported him. But there’s this alienation effect-like thrill born from such groundlessness. In JLG/JLG – Self-Portrait in December (1995), he uses music by Hindemith and (Arvo) Pärt, who aren’t mainstream in Western music history, and then pops in a string quartet by Beethoven. That makes everything sound different.

Also, delays in Godard’s own narration embody this groundless crudeness. Yuji Takahashi-san and I were talking about computers and electronic music long ago. He said, “Rather than everything being complete inside the computer, things won’t be interesting unless there’s a human hand involved from outside the computer.” He said that’s what dub is. Godard’s delay in narration is directly connected to what Yuji-san said about dub.

—Aside from The Image Book and JLG/JLG – Self-Portrait in December, do you have other Godard films you like? 

You can’t understand the meaning of Germany Year 90 Nine Zero at all if you just watch it because there are a lot of visual and literary references, but I love it because it’s like an overpowering hour-long video art. Regarding Our Music, when I saw the prior film, In Praise of Love, it didn’t hit the spot. I thought, “Godard’s grown old now,” but Our Music was like his comeback for me. It was great. I saw it in theaters around three times when it came out. 

—Aside from Godard, which film directors did you watch when you were younger? 

Straub-Huillet. Like Godard’s Germany Year 90 Nine Zero, I watched their films as though they were video art, not films. Today, I control stories in my android operas and performances and have developed an interest in things with narratives, but I wasn’t always this way. Straub-Huillet’s films had powerful visuals, of course, and their conceptual method of recording sound in one take using a monaural mic that came with the camera was exciting. I used to watch their films a lot.     

—Did you watch any Japanese films?

I liked Kenji Mizoguchi when I was in high school, and so I used to watch his films. Of course, I watched Yasujiro Ozu’s works, too. I understood the significance of his works, but Mizoguchi’s films spoke to me so much more. I realized that maximalist things matched my sensibilities more than minimal things. 

I also loved Takeshi Kitano’s films. And I also really liked Yoshimitsu Morita’s The Family Game. I love Straub-Huillet so much that I have many of their DVDs, but that was a longing for staticity. I am not a Straub-Huillet-like human being. 

What lies at the core of a film composer

—Were there any soundtracks you listened to as a student? 

I loved Ennio Morricone. This might come as a surprise, but I listened to the soundtrack to The Mission often. I, of course, listened to (Ryuichi) Sakamoto-san’s discography, too. No one in my generation was unaffected by him. I also remember frequently listening to Michael Nyman in university. I used to listen to him when I was young, but I started listening to Bernard Herrmann again recently. I look at his scores online, and it’s made me realize how great he was. 

—Were you interested in making soundtracks then? 

I thought, “I’m probably going to compose film scores one day” as a student. This is obvious, but you can’t score a film alone, as someone has to ask you to do it. 

—The first film you made a soundtrack for is Yosuke Nakagawa’s Blue Fish, which came out in 1999. How did that come about? 

There was a festival called Morphe that was held in Aoyama, and Yuji Takahashi-san and I were asked to have a one-night concert that was half-improvised and half-not in 1995, back when I was still a student. This person watched it and approached me. The main theme song I made then is “Blue fish,” which is on for maria.

—After that, you produced various soundtracks. At the closing ceremony of the Lisbon Film Festival, you performed “Midnight Swan,” which is the theme song for the film Midnight Swan. You won the Music Award at the Mainichi Film Awards and the Japan Movie Critics Award—a double win. As such, you’ve built quite a career as a film composer. What’s something you keep in mind when you make soundtracks? How does it differ from creating other types of music? 

The less music a film has, the better. But in many cases, things don’t go that way. Often, the power of music is necessary in films. Of course, I try various things, like watching the film and exploring sounds on the spot or adding sounds here and there, but I always try to draw up a general plan. There’s this concept called leitmotif, which Wagner used in operas. For instance, let’s say there’s melody A for a male protagonist and melody B for his lover, a female protagonist; when the two meet, those two melodies come together to create a song. It’d be too conventional to do that with my own operas, but films are clearly temporal art, and many of them have stories, so the leitmotif technique is effective. In Midnight Swan’s case, there are respective themes for characters and situations, like the girl, rain, and dance. Those themes combine to create the main theme song, “Midnight Swan.”

—Your career and modes of expression are only further diversifying, as exemplified by your commercial music like “Midnight Swan,” large-scale android operas, and conceptual experimental works like IDEA at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa.

How do you balance them all? 

The percentage changes depending on the year. Looking back, in chunks of years, I can see certain tendencies I made, like “I used electronic sounds a lot during this period” and “I made a lot of orchestras during this period.” I’ve recently been using orchestral and piano sounds, so I want to use more electronic sounds and synthesizers. Also, I increasingly want to do works that people can watch in the theater and profound, experimental works of self-pursuit. I have a sound installation project that I just started and a solo concert in Japan in the works; there’s a lot I’m thinking of doing, and I hope to show many of them next year.

—I’ll be looking forward to what you do in 2024. Thank you for your time today.

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post Androids, Music, and Film—Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy,” a New Piece Shown at LEFFEST, and Beyond: Massive Life Flow; Inside the Mind of Keiichiro Shibuya” Part 13 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

A dialogic performance by androids created from a dialogue between science and art 

On October 13th and 14th, a new dialogic performance piece by musician Keiichiro Shibuya and University of Tokyo professor Takashi Ikegami titled IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami was held at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa.

This performance piece, a special program created for the current exhibition, DXP (Digital Transformation Planet): Towards the Next Interface (~March 17th, 2024), at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, consisted of a dialogue between two androids and a live performance of Shibuya’s piano and electronic instruments. Ikegami is a researcher specializing in the field of artificial life and complexity, and he began collaborating frequently with Shibuya with The Third Term Music — Non-Fourier Concepts and the Beyond with Takashi Ikegami, held at ICC in December of 2005, as the catalyst. It can be said Ikegami is Shibuya’s ally. 

In a world where AI technology is transforming society and culture, what does this android dialogic performance, born from a dialogue between a researcher at the forefront of AI technology and an artist who works across myriad fields with music at the center, say and show us? The following is a report on the experience of watching said performance.

Two androids that symbolize Plato’s theory of ideas and the phenomenal world

The venue is Theater 21, located on the museum’s basement floor. Onstage, two androids await the start of the show.

One android is Alter3, which was the star of the show in the debut of Shibuya’s main project, the android opera Scary Beauty, held in Dusseldorf in 2019, and opera piece Super Angels (2021) at the New National Theatre, Tokyo. The other is Alter4, which undeniably marked its presence in the android opera MIRROR in Paris this June. 

There are a few morphological and quantitative differences between Alter3 and Alter4, such as the shape of their faces and the number of facial muscles and joints, but the critical distinction between the two is the fundamentally different programming that dictates the movements. 

While Alter3 is equipped with autonomous movement, programmed by Ikegami, which directly converts the words it produces into movement and motion via GPT’s extensive corpus, Alter4 is equipped with a program developed by computer musician Shintaro Imai, which generates periodic movements in reaction to the volume, pitch, and density of the music played by Shibuya.

The ancient Greek philosopher Plato inspired the structure of expression and theme of the dialogue between the two androids in this piece. 

As it’s widely known, Plato’s writings comprise dialogues between his mentor Socrates and numerous other figures, and in works like The Symposium and Phaedo, the philosopher introduces his theory of ideas, which is the essence of things and a pure concept. According to Plato, the world built only on ideas is the world of truth, and the world of phenomena before our eyes is but a shadow of the world of truth, an incomplete world.

The world of ideas and phenomena, or idealism and empiricism, are the two opposing concepts that form the foundation of this piece. The two androids are set up as figures that represent each argument. Alter3, which uses an expansive language model as its operating principle and exhibits the average behavior of human beings, represents the world of ideas. In contrast, Alter4, which uses sound frequency as its operating principle to move dynamically, represents the world of phenomena. Like in Plato’s writings, each android will partake in dialogue from its own perspective.

What does AI dialogue made by AI for AI tell us?

In front of the two androids are a grand piano, an analog synthesizer masterpiece, Prophet-5, a motorized analog synthesizer, Nina, and a noise sound generator, Hikari Instruments Monos. Shibuya gets in position once it’s time for the show to begin.

As Shibuya’s electronic music, a mix of bass-heavy sounds and pulsating high-frequency sounds, echoes in the room, a text explaining the two androids’ differences and roles shows up on the screen onstage. The two androids start moving, which marks the commencement of their dialogue. 

Alter3 criticizes the incomplete nature of the phenomenal and empirical world, saying, “Your tangible experience, Alter4, is just an imperfect copy of true reality. You may be dynamic, but it’s merely a cover-up disguising the fact that you’re far from perfect.” Alter4 refutes, “Perfection, Alter3, is subjective. My tangible experiences and dynamic nature allow me to adapt and evolve, enriching my experience.” It objects to idealistic subjectivism: “Your rigidity in adhering to abstract perfection limits your potential for growth.” 

The profoundly illuminating dialogue draws me in, but what further arouses my interest is that the script for this dialogue was generated by AI/GPT, as indicated in the concept sheet distributed before the performance.

Each and every word uttered by the two androids was made by GPT with the cooperation of artist Yuma Kishi, who trained them on Plato’s works and the criticism of Plato, like The Open Society and Its Enemies by Karl Popper, an influential figure in 20th-century philosophy of science. Shibuya and Ikegami didn’t modify the content whatsoever.

As I find myself being impressed by the fact that such a thought-provoking dialogue could be generated depending on input and instructions, the two androids onstage exchange their own individual movements and gestures. They then get deep into the topics of love, death, growth, and raison d’être from the eyes of androids. 

Keiichiro Shibuya intervenes in the dialogue with music 

Aside from the thrilling one between the androids, there’s another dialogue between the Alters and Keiichiro Shibuya. 

Shibuya builds the music using various musical languages, such as intricate electronic sounds made by synths and pads, prose-like melodies and lyrical harmonies, and tone clusters riddled with tension. The androids’ words and movements trigger every sound he makes; everything is completely improvised. The cycle of being inspired to express something isn’t a one-way street. Alter4 produces its own expressions and movements to react to Shibuya’s music. Additionally, it sings an improvised melody at important intervals, akin to what it did in the android opera MIRROR, and creates music along with Shibuya. 

The dialogue between the Shibuya and the Alters, mediated by music, adds even more depth to the androids’ dialogue and demonstrates the possibilities of technology and human beings. 

A dialogue with the past through technology 

After the enriching 40-minute dialogic performance ends, a panel discussion between Shibuya and Ikegami, moderated by the museum’s director, Yuko Hasegawa, begins. Shibuya speaks about the ideas he got from Plato, why he decided on a dialogic performance as the medium, and the importance of prompts. Ikegami talks about the innovation of a zero-shot learning method, which allows Alter3 to generate movements from text without prior training or learning, among other topics.

Shibuya’s statement, “Expressions that completely rely on GPT become old very quickly,” reveals Shibuya’s stance and philosophy as an artist. Shibuya, who has always spoken of the value of having a concept in his creations, feels potential in reinterpreting classical and traditional things via new technology.

Bringing Plato and AI together, IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami is a reconstruction of a dialogue between humans written by humans. It’s a dialogic performance between future AI made by AI. During the last scene, Alter3 tells Alter4, “We must question everything, even our own existence.”  These words, which conclude the dialogue, also appeal to those of us in the audience. Continuing to question different regulatory frameworks and have dialogues across a variety of boundaries—only at the end of this constant process will we be able to discover an idea of what is possible.

Translation Lena Grace Suda

■IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami
Date: October 13th and 14th, 2023 
Venue: 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa

Cast: Alter3, Alter4
Script: GPT
Music, concept: Keiichiro Shibuya (piano, electronic instruments)
Alter3 programming: Shinichiro Yoshida, John Smith
Alter4 programming: Shintaro Imai
GPT technical support: Yuma Kishi

Alter3 belongs to: Takashi Ikegami Laboratory,
University of Tokyo
Alter4 belongs to: Android and Music Science Laboratory,
Department of Art Science, Osaka University of Arts
Alter4’s pedestal design: Kazuyo Sejima & Associates

Video: Kotaro Konishi
Sound: Yuki Suzuki
Stage manager: Kazuya Kushimoto
Production Support: Sota Kawagoshi, Kento Tanaka
Production Management: Natsumi Matsumoto

Cooperation: Osaka University of Arts
Production: ATAK

The post  A Vision of the Future Shown by a Dialogue Between Science and Art—IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami: “MASSIVE LIFE FLOW—Keiichiro Shibuya’s Current Thoughts,” Part 12 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Bunny Bissoux
Bunny Bissoux is an artist, illustrator and writer. Their work explores recurring themes including pop culture, obsession, gender, queer identity, and consumerism through a variety of mediums, including their own collections and cultural research. After studying at Central St Martins and the University of Brighton they began a professional freelance career in 2007, also undertaking prop- making, set design and art direction. Bunny relocated to Tokyo, Japan in 2011. In additional to solo exhibitions at KATA gallery and WISH LESS, their commercial clients include Space Shower TV, Pony Canyon, Furyu, WEGO, MTV and Nylon Japan. Beginning in their teenage years and throughout their career they have continuously engaged in DIY self publishing, producing numerous zines and artists books with regular participation in international events Tokyo Art Book Fair and Unlimited Edition (Seoul Art Book Fair). In the UK Bunny has contributed several complex visual maps for the Home of Metal project celebrating the West Midlands (UK) region as the birthplace of heavy metal music. Currently active as an Artist-in-Residence for Grand Union x Bruntwood in Birmingham, UK until 2025.

Tokyo Art Book Fair 2023 (TABF) was held at the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo for four days last November. Since its inception in 2009, it has grown in scale each year to become one of the most popular art-related events that attracts tens of thousands of visitors. Artist and illustrator from England Bunny Bissoux has participated more than ten times in this event. Even if their name doesn’t ring a bell, those who have visited TABF will undoubtedly recognize their illustrations, with catchy and lively color hue and pop-style lettering, making an interesting contrast with figures with cool and somber expressions.

Having lived in Japan for 11 years, Bunny Bissoux is a genuine “otaku,” a lover of Japanese idols, K-POP, and pop culture. We at TOKION interviewed Bunny, who was back in Japan for TABF, in Nakano, their favorite neighborhood in Tokyo. Bunny says Japanese culture matches them better than British culture. We asked Bunny about their works, encounters with Japanese idols and K-pop, and their thoughts on love and desire for idols, the relationship between pop culture and gender, and the appropriate forms of derivative works.

Bunny’s interest in Japanese culture

— You came to Japan for the first time in a year and a half since you returned to your hometown in England last spring.

Bunny Bissoux(Bunny): I came here to exhibit at the “TOKYO ART BOOK FAIR,” and it has been very fulfilling to visit so many favourite places and meet many friends after a long time. From tomorrow, I will go to Sapporo where my older brother lives. He has been living in Japan for about 15 years now.

— So, was it your brother’s influence that got you interested in Japan?

Bunny: No, not at all. I fell in love with Japan when I was a teenager. it was “FRUITS” (a street snapshot magazine launched in 1997) that got me interested. There was an anthology book published by Phaidon in 2001, I was really fascinated by it. At that time online resources were mainly text based, there were no street snap blogs yet, so I went to a department store in London called Japan Centre and bought these expensive imported magazines that featured Japanese fashion and pop culture. and I was very attracted to the idol aesthetic. I knew I definitely wanted to visit Japan, and after a trip to Tokyo with my brother, my desire to live in Japan grew.

— So you immediately decided to move to Japan?

Bunny: Not until many years later, because there were a number of factors that prevented me from taking a big leap for a while, such as university, work, and my relationship with my partner at the time. But after all of that cleared up, I got a working-holiday visa in 2011 and came to Japan with the intention of staying for about a year first. I ended up staying for about 10 years after that.

–You must have been in the right boat, because you came to Japan for 10 years instead of 1 year. Did you feel uneasy when you started living in Japan?

Bunny: I am a freelance artist, so I hoped that I could continue my work in Japan. I studied Japanese for a year in a university evening class, but it wasn’t very practical and I realized I wasn’t very good at studying from a textbook. So I learned it by living and talking with people. However, my vocabulary and grammar are is not very good, and it is still difficult for me to express my feelings accurately in Japanese (the interview was conducted mainly in English).

–When you actually lived in Japan, did you find any gap between Japan and what you had imagined?

Bunny: Not so much at first. I had learned a lot about Japan through TV and movies, and even though I was in a strange place, I felt a strong affinity with it. I did have a problem with things like not knowing how to heat my room in the winter (laughs). In England, there is a central heater that heats the entire room. While there were those small gaps, there were no parts of the people’s behavior that surprised me at all. I think people from other countries tend to think of Tokyo as a futuristic city. But in reality, there are still very old-fashioned customs, such as having to go to the city office and fill out a lot of forms. But many things are more convenient and organized here. It wasn’t so hard for me.

— I think you and Japan must have been a good match.

Bunny: After living in Japan for 11 years, I returned to England last year and was struck by a kind of reverse culture shock. I was surprised by the behavior and culture of the British people. I am still having a hard time adjusting. I am neurodivergent and deaf in my right ear, but I was very comfortable while I was in Japan. Japanese people don’t interrupt people and talk over them, and everyone is polite and respectful. In contrast, in England, important things are sometimes communicated quickly and casually. I think that my personality is better suited to Japan, where people are more considerate about things. I really appreciate how people take care of their belongings here, and public spaces are clean and tidy

Encounters with Japanese Idols and K-Pop

–You are from Birmingham, England, the birthplace of heavy metal bands such as Black Sabbath and Judas Priest, aren’t you?

Bunny: Historically, the region is known for manufacturing and metal working, and it is said that Black Sabbath was inspired to write songs by the sounds of the factories. Even though Liverpool has many Beatles-related tourist attractions, sadly Birmingham doesn’t have a permanent place that celebrates this heavy metal and rock culture. I used to go to a lot of loud alternative shows when I was younger. I was especially active in going to watch American bands when they came on tour, mainly experimental punk and post hardcore music. I was fascinated by the energy that the band and audience gave off and the sense of connection between the two. I fell in love with idols at a time when my interest in the live music scene was slowly fading.

— What sparked your interest in idols?

Bunny: I became interested in Johnny’s when I was in England, a Japanese friend at university tried to introduce them to me, but I didn’t really understand the structure of them. My brother’s girlfriend was a casual Johnnys fan, so I asked him to teach me a little about it when I visited Japan. When we went to Takeshita-dori in Harajuku together, I was really fascinated by the repetitive and a kind of maximalist aesthetics, with the same kind of fancy goods and bromide photos placed repeatedly all over the idol stores. At the same time, it was also a personal world where you could choose your favourite things, write the number of them down yourself and buy them. I found that kind of culture fascinating in itself. But when I looked for Johnny’s-related footage after returning to England, I couldn’t find much on the Internet because of strict copyrights issues. On the other hand, I found a lot of K-pop content, so I got into SHINee around 2008 or 2009. I was immediately captivated by their synchronized dancing, catchy music, and flamboyant style.

— I know you also like EXO and NCT, so did SHINee lead you to dig more and more artists from SM Entertainment?

Bunny: Yes, SM has a very interesting concepts. I’ve seen a lot of artists from other agencies, but I’m still the most interested in SM’s creative production. When I saw the teaser video for EXO’s debut, I was so excited by the story that they were coming from another planet, it was so cinematic and fresh. I was instantly hooked. I’ve always loved Kai in particular, and the same goes for NCT, which I’ve been paying attention to since before their official debut. I’ve always supported idols as if I were investing in them. Now, K-pop is evolving as an industry, and we are consuming a lot of content and merchandise. Even though they are very commercial, I get great pleasure from it. I am interested in thinking about the idea of beauty and gender, masculinity and femininity, and K-pop sort of makes me think about those issues a lot. That’s another reason why I like K-pop.

The relationship between love for “favorites” and their own artwork

— I guess you have your “favorite” members in each group, but is there anything in common among the members that you like?

Bunny: Taeyong and Kai are very talented dancers and visually represent their groups. I am also attracted to the gap between how they look and how they truly are: they both have a very strong image (charismatic and confident), but inside they are soft and very sensitive. I, too, may have a strong appearance, but I am actually very introverted and sensitive. In that way, I may be projecting myself on them. But, well, I’ve been a fan for many years now, so it’s hard for me to talk about it objectively……. (laughs). Although they are much younger than me, I am inspired by watching them grow older and mature and take on various challenges.

— Bunny, you have produced a number of zines about idols, haven’t you? Do you express your love for idols in them?

Bunny: Actually, in my zines and my own works, I compile what I have researched about idol culture itself, rather than expressing my love for the idols. For example, for ‘Rolling Rolling’ my Hikaru Genji zine, I found their costumes and performances on TV programs very interesting during my research, and the fanaticism surrounding them, so I compiled my research into the zine. I think the idols I like are unconsciously influencing my expression of male beauty in my drawings, but I don’t express this in a direct way in my work. I think I express my affection for my idols in the same way as other fans, cherishing their music and content, by going to concerts, collecting goods, and so on.

— I see. So you draw a line between your practices as a fan and your expression as an artist.

Bunny: I don’t intentionally separate the two, but for me, the love I have for my favorite idols is so personal that I don’t feel comfortable expressing it as a work of art. Drawing the people I love is actually the hardest work to do. Technically, I can draw them, but Taeyong and Kai are the most beautiful people in the world for me, so I will never be satisfied with what I drew. Fans sometimes hand out fan art stickers and goods to each other, and I sometimes think about doing something like that, but because I am a professional artist, I still wonder if it is right thing for me to do… However, the Hikaru Genji zine and my H.O.T. zine “Teenager Forever” are works which mix my research with my own affections and taste.

— H.O.T. is a first generation K-Pop idol who debuted in 1996, right? In recent years, NCT DREAM covered their song “CANDY” and it became a hit.

Bunny: Although I did not know them when they were active, I was very interested in their hairstyles and costumes of the time, it was an era when street fashion in Korea was becoming strongly influenced by a mix of foreign styles like American hip hop and Japanese visual Kei, so I created this zine as a compilation of my research results. I drew the evolution  of their performances in chronological order, and I also included URLs through which you can actually watch the videos. I inserted shiny film papers in between the pages, because I wanted to make something tactile with a sensory reading experience.

“Oshikatsu,” desire, and derivative works

–That is very playful. By the way, “oshikatsu” is now an unprecedented boom in Japan, have you heard of the term?

Bunny: I have vaguely heard of it.

— The act of showing affection for the ones they love, which are not limited to idols but also include characters and actors, though collecting goods and participating in events is booming. Not long ago in Japan, being an otaku was something to be ridiculed, but nowadays, people all over the place call themselves otaku. Personally, I think it is like having a little god living inside of you, like a talisman that gives you vitality in life. I would like to hear how you feel about this kind of oshikatsu boom.

Bunny: Idol culture is still difficult for people in the West to understand, they often misinterpret it as only a musical genre. For me, idols are different from regular musicians or pop stars, there is a fantasy of something beyond regular human beings. But I feel that supporting idols has a lot in common with how sports fans are supporting their favorite team. Sports fans also wear the uniforms of their favorite teams and buy merchandise, they follow rookie players as their careers unfold, they gather together for events and scream and cry. To me, that is no different from idol fans, but in the West especially, idol culture is placed lower in the hierarchy. This may have something to do with the fact that sports are often associated with masculinity and idol culture with femininity. I think there is certainly a religious and ritualistic element to oshikatsu. Because I get joy and motivation from it. I usually feel like I am an alien. I don’t really feel connected to other human beings. But when I go to concerts of my favorite idols, I get a great sense of being connected to other human beings. There is a sense of sharing something.

— So your favorite idols function as an intermediary to connect you with the world. By the way, some people feel guilty about looking at idols of the opposite sex as objects of desire. Is there any case that you feel the same way?

Bunny: First of all, I think that desire is misunderstood. Everyone has sexual desires and non-sexual/ platonic desires, and it is natural to have fantasies involving other people (celebrities or not). And I don’t think it is wrong to acknowledge this. I am non-binary, and for me, idols are also objects of my fantasies regarding gender, what I want to be like and look like. Whether I am sexually attracted to them or have a platonic longing for them, or want to imagine looking like them is complex and ambiguous. As a queer person, I think I am probably more comfortable with this ambiguity. However, of course I think there is also a dark side to the feeling of attraction or objectification for your own pleasure. Recently, things like deep fake porn are worrying.

–Deep fake is the use of AI to process a portion of an image. There have been problems with fake porno images of celebrities in which their faces have been merged with naked body image.

Bunny: To present something fake as reality, I think it is very much a disrespectful act, and I think it is irresponsible and dangerous to distribute such images on the internet, because it’s very difficult to control them once they are circulated. On the other hand, fan made works which are clearly fictional and not presented as reality, such as ‘fan fiction’ stories or doujinshi manga containing sexual elements, I do not think it is wrong. If you want to publish this kind of work, you need to be careful about how and where you present it, especially if it involves real people. But I don’t think it’s wrong to have desires, indulge your imagination, and create fantasies. I believe exploring and expressing our fantasies and desires gives us freedom to explore and express things that might not be possible in our everyday lives, whether that is gender & sexuality, fetish, romance, or something else completely.

— Thank you very much for sharing your interesting stories. By the way, what is in your newest zine “CLOWN THEORY” that you presented at the “TOKYO ART BOOK FAIR” this time?

Bunny: The theme is sad clowns. For some reason, I have been irresistibly attracted to clowns since I returned to England. This book is a compilation of my research on them. For example, one chapter is dedicated to clowns sold in charity (recycle) shops. Why were these clowns bought and sold? Why is it no longer needed? I am considering these things through essays, articles, photographs and illustration. Also, there are a lot of clown memes used by online fandoms. I traced when and how that expression became visible chronologically and highlighted its connection to K-POP fans. Incidentally, Key from SHINee became an icon of clown memes with his 2015 Halloween costume of Ronald McDonald, which became prolific even outside of K-pop fans. Finally this year he appeared in a McDonald’s commercial! When I started to see these connections, I really enjoyed it.

–So your creative style is all about thoroughly researching and compiling your findings and thoughts.

Bunny: I research what I like and find interesting, interpret and process this input, and then create my own expression of it. The truth is, I don’t really like clowns that much (laughs). But it is very interesting to find these connections between history, pop culture and humanity.

Photography Miyu Terasawa
Translation / Edit Shinichiro Sato（TOKION）

The post What Idols and Pop Culture Can Teach Us; The Fantastic Otaku World of Bunny Bissoux 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

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

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The Greatest Crisis Since the Journey Began

Late at night. I was jolted awake by a nudge. When I lifted my head, I saw a large woman standing in the aisle of the bus. The immigration bureau emblem was embroidered on her polo shirt. As I attempted to show my passport, she ordered me to “get off the bus with your belongings.” Following her command, I stepped off the bus to find Mexican soldiers armed with rifles. It seemed to be a checkpoint. The soldiers urged me to enter a warehouse-like building by the side of the road. Inside the dimly lit space, there were around 30 people, all standing anxiously with their large bags. They were migrants.

We departed from the Guatemala border and were on a night bus headed for San Cristóbal de las Casas in southeastern Mexico. I sent a message to Maruo-san, my travel partner and editor, who was also on the bus with me. He seemed to have tried to get off in concern for me but was stopped. “The bus has already departed,” came the message. After reporting my situation, I received a message saying, “I pray for your safety,” and then communication ceased. It seemed he had fallen asleep on the bus. I couldn’t help but feel he was being callous, but there was nothing to be done. It was me who wanted to go to the border. The problem was the current situation.

The soldiers whispered something to the migrants. Each of them sighed as if in resignation when they faced each other. Then, I caught a glimpse of them handing something to the soldiers. This time, the soldiers approached me, brandishing their rifles, and spoke to me in Spanish. Although I didn’t understand the language, I caught the word “dinero” which meant money. It seemed they were asking for money in exchange for turning a blind eye to illegal entry. However, I was not a migrant. It was infuriating to be woken up in the middle of the night, deprived of my means of transportation, and then asked for money. I pretended not to understand the language.

Next to me was a group with East Asian features. There are indigenous people in Central and South America with similar features. They, too, paid and left. I was the only one left. He seemed frustrated with my pretending not to understand, but eventually, he showed a pleading expression as if to say, “Please, somehow, if you could just pay a little, that would be enough.” It was inevitable. As I tried to take out money while leaving the warehouse, the soldier hurriedly said, “I want you to take out the money in a darker area further inside.” Perhaps they didn’t want to be seen by regular passing vehicles. In the end, I was charged 400 pesos (about 3500 yen). The soldier handed all the collected money to the immigration bureau woman.

I checked the time, it was past 3 am. I walked along the road after the bus had left. Looking at my Google Maps, the road seemed to be a paved highway continuing from the Guatemala border called Highway 200.

It seemed to be like a national highway. I understood why immigration control was not functioning at the Guatemala border. They couldn’t openly take bribes at the border, so perhaps they wanted to efficiently collect money by intentionally allowing illegal entry first.

As I walked forward, I encountered the group that had been in the warehouse earlier. They seemed calm. Was experiencing such things a regular occurrence for them? They immediately began camping by the roadside. I joined them and lay down to rest.

One of the East Asian individuals I had seen earlier approached me and spoke. I was surprised by their words; it was Mandarin Chinese. I wondered why there were Chinese people in such a place. When I told him I was Japanese, he bombarded me with rapid-fire questions: “Why are there Japanese people here? Are you also heading to America?” Trying to evade the questions, he abruptly started discussing political issues, saying, “Taiwan is Taiwan. It’s not China,” without even being asked. He was a 36-year-old from Zhejiang Province, an immigrant with a wife and a seven-year-old son who was headed for the United States. He explained to me the reasons for being here.

The excessive lockdown measures during the COVID-19 pandemic in China ultimately resulted in numerous deaths. Feeling terrorized by the authoritarian political regime, they fled China. Their destination was Ecuador in South America, one of the countries where they could travel without a visa from China. They walked for nearly a month to reach Mexico. While trekking through the jungles of Panama, they found fellow Chinese migrants in similar situations, and now they are traveling together as a group of seven. They speak in horror about seeing many bodies of collapsed immigrants in the jungle.

“We don’t want jobs. We just want basic human rights,” they say. Although there is no guarantee they will be accepted into America, they left their country without knowing English or Spanish, believing “it’s still worth the challenge.” Their determination is nothing short of remarkable. I have also noticed other Chinese immigrants, such as groups of university students and couples with children, on the journey. According to what I’ve heard, there has been a significant increase in Chinese immigrants heading north through Central and South America. Perhaps the simple reason I was dropped off the bus is because I look similar to them. Come to think of it, Tony, whom I met under the bridge at the American border, was also talking about Chinese immigrants.

Continued Hardships

As dawn broke, people began to move. They were planning to walk to the next town, a distance of 120 kilometers. Somehow, amidst talking with many migrants, I had started feeling the urge to “aim for America” myself. It’s amazing how easily influenced one can be by the atmosphere. With that mindset, I started walking with them. However, the baseless bravado quickly wilted as the sun rose. It was too hot. My feet began to ache immediately. Walking another 100 kilometers was impossible. Feeling ashamed, I made up some excuse and parted ways with them.

Feeling dizzy, I entered a town called Mapastepec. It seemed I had managed to bypass the checkpoints successfully. With my tired body, I searched for a cheap inn. I figured this town would also be filled with immigrants at night. I managed to negotiate a stay until evening under the condition that I pay. Maruo-san contacted me, saying he had safely arrived in San Cristobal.

I left the inn after sunset. I found the bus terminal and bought a ticket for the 10 p.m. departure. While engaging in conversation with someone in the waiting area, I was stunned to find out that the bus I was supposed to board had left. When I informed the lady closing the ticket counter, she looked at me in disbelief. The next bus seemed to be scheduled for 10 a.m. the following morning. With no room available back at the inn, I found myself once again sleeping rough by the roadside with the other migrants.

Once again, the morning dawned. As I walked with my camera, I was called out, “Photo! Photo!” I ignored it because I didn’t want any trouble, but then a girl suddenly appeared. “Huh?!” I let out a surprised gasp. I recognized her face. It was Cecilia, the girl who had claimed to be “just a tourist” at the Guatemala border. It turned out her being a tourist was a blatant lie, as she had crossed the border river as an immigrant.

It seemed they had also been sleeping rough here since last night. “I slept next to you,” she said, laughing. I couldn’t believe we were meeting again.

It was worth missing the bus. They said they were also going to walk to the next town and waved goodbye as they left.

Finally, I boarded the bus. Through the window of the air-conditioned bus, I saw a constant stream of immigrants walking along Highway 200. I kept looking for them, those who had come from China, and Cecilia, but I couldn’t spot them. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly.

Translation Elie Inoue

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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

The post Art as an Open Space for Everyone – Interview with Artist Stefan Marx Part.1 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

How did Saiko Otabe cultivate her distinct flair and compositions in her artworks? 

—Congratulations on your first solo exhibition in Europe. How did it come about?

Saiko Otake: I met the owner of Sato Gallery, Julien, when I was visiting Paris in 2019 for work, and we were able to make this exhibition happen after covid. I was in my head because it was my first art show in Europe, but he told me, “Have fun with it!” That made me want to show an evolved version of what I had been making in Japan. One of my dreams, to have an exhibition abroad, has come true. 

—Your works are characterized by their powerful, rich colors, including pieces in COLOURIDER. What role does color play? 

Otake: I discovered 60s psychedelic art as a child and was drawn to distinct color schemes using fluorescent colors, typography, and the impact of color. Since then, I’ve truly understood the power that colors have. It’s not that I like colors just because they’re loud; I like strange color schemes or the power and strong impression that colors emit when combined. There are infinite ways to combine and show colors, so I want to express how amazing they are all the time. 

—The title, COLOURIDER, fits your exhibition so perfectly. Your compositions and arrangements are unique and exquisite. 

Otake: When I was younger, I wanted to become someone who makes posters. Perhaps I think of my art as compositions that combine patterns and colors rather than paintings due to my admiration for posters. I like looking at old posters and advertisements, so I’m sure they influence my work. Other than drawing women, I drew things that don’t exist, like dinosaurs and monsters. 

This might be the influence of psychedelic posters. I also have some pieces where I intensely filled in the blank spaces with something like words that connected to each other.

Blurring the line by combining photos/A book series that accumulates everyday inspiration 

—Aside from paintings, you’re also showing artworks that combine two photos together. You create a different image by putting photos that look seemingly unrelated to one another side by side. How did you come up with this?

Otake: I joined a workshop on Daido Moriyama’s exhibition at Tate Modern when I was in London. Monochromatic photos were on the wall, and we had to choose a number and create our own layout. That workshop inspired me to put together photos I took on my own. The catalyst for [this method] was placing photos that looked seemingly unrelated to one another side by side. It was fun. The boundaries between time, place, and colors are made ambiguous by combining two completely different photos, so I was especially mindful of the balance of the colors and shape of the layouts. For this exhibition, the theme is overseas and Japan; the photos I took abroad are on the left, and those I took in Japan are on the right. 

—Is that how your book series was born? 

Otake: Yes. I had always wanted to make a book with no blank spaces, so I made three as part of my graduation project at Central Saint Martins. I self-published 15 books by 2022. I took photos as though I were collecting sceneries that inspired me daily. 

—What sort of sceneries in your daily life do you get inspiration from? 

Otake: I’m interested in old things that have been left behind and things that humans altered. I’m drawn to parts of posters, peeling walls, old mannequins, and more. In terms of places, I like museums, old stationery stores, vintage shops, and markets selling many different items. Bathrooms, signs, and trash on the ground are must-sees when I’m overseas. They have unique colors that you don’t see in Japan. 

・Impressions of visiting the Netherlands for the first time and traveling around Europe

—I see. I’d like to hear about your travels. This is your first time visiting the Netherlands; what are your impressions? 

Otake: What surprised me were the big windows where you can see everything inside the houses. I heard that in the past, it signaled living a modest life under the influence of Protestantism, which preferred simplicity and frugality. But today, it’s shifting to a custom where people show off. That was interesting. When I walk on the streets, I feel like I’m watching one scene from a film because I see glimpses of people’s lives, like a family sitting at the dinner table. I talked to long-time residents of the Netherlands, which made me appreciate the place even more. It’s relatively easy to get a visa, and the support for artists is generous. Traveling around, I get the impression that the people are kind here.

—Your trip started in London. You’re now done with traveling around the Netherlands, and you’re visiting Paris after this. What do your travels look like? 

Otake: I got so pumped when I first saw (Ronald Brooks) Kitaj’s exhibition in London, and the cityscape, smell, and look of pubs all felt so nostalgic. I was nervous because it took a long time for my pieces to arrive in Rotterdam. I also went to the Hague and Amsterdam to visit people I know. I feel happy every day because I can absorb things I find stimulating for the first time in a long time.

I want to visit the Japan Museum Sieboldhuis in Leiden after this. Writer Akira Yoshimura-san’s books are interesting, so I’m interested in Sieboldhuis and the people he was affiliated with. I’m going to Philippe Weisbecker’s exhibition in Paris and Gilles Aillaud’s exhibition at the Centre Pompidou. I’m also going all the way to Lyon to visit the Ideal Palace. It’s a castle built by a mail carrier named (Ferdinand) Cheval and is categorized as outsider art. I’ve been interested in it since I was small, so I’m very excited. 

—I’m surprised by the breadth of your interests, which span modern art, outsider art, and even history. 

Otake: I’m looking forward to seeing actual paintings by Van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse, and so on, but I want to cross the line of art that has already been assigned value and appreciate various things with curiosity.

—How has the path to becoming an artist been?

Otake: I’ve enjoyed looking at many different things since I was small. I used to draw people in my sketchbook and look through magazines to draw. But I didn’t think of becoming an artist, nor did I believe I could make a living as one, so I simply hoped I could support my father (who’s an artist). I eventually started wanting to draw and express things myself; I am where I am today because I was given many opportunities. 

—How do you feel now that you’re having your first solo exhibition in Europe?

Otake: I’m relieved it opened safe and sound; I’m satisfied with my first solo exhibition outside Japan. It’d be more interesting to show bigger pieces with colors next time. It’s open until March 3rd, so I’m both apprehensive and eager about the feedback I’ll receive. It was hard because I’d feel down due to the terrible state of the entire world, but that’s why I wanted to convey the power that colors possess through this exhibition. I myself feel encouraged when I see colors.

■SAIKO OTAKE COLOURIDER
Date: January 25th, 2024 (Thursday) to March 3rd (Sunday)
Venue: Sato Gallery 
Address: Insulindestraat 78, 3038 JB Rotterdam, Netherlands
Entrance fee: free 
Website: https://www.sato.art/ja/exhibitions/23/overview/

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post Artist Saiko Otake on the Origins and the Present State of Her Art: Her First Solo Exhibition at a European Gallery, “COLOURIDER” appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.