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.

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

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

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

The Impact of Christian Marclay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The improvisational collage seemed overwhelmingly new

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The speed of turntable performance cultivated through kung-fu movies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From turntable performances without records to installation pieces

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photography Masashi Ura

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

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

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

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

The reason why Otomo started playing guitar again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the solo album Guitar Solo released in 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The process of establishing Otomo Yoshihide’s guitar style

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How the guitar sounds in relation to the drums

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

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

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

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

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

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

A change in the way I perceive improvisation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photography Masashi Ura

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

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

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

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

Visualizing inspiration derived from experience through typography

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

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

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

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

–Recent works tend to exude a poetic atmosphere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Collaborating with Artists to Foster Further Development by Sharing Creative Spaces

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photography Masashi Ura
Interview Akio Kunisawa
Translation Elie Inoue

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

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

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

Aiming for a Crossroads of Diverse Cultures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photography Masashi Ura
Interview Akio Kunisawa
Translation Elie Inoue

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.

HANABIE.
Girls metal band formed in 2015. Consists of four members Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt. & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). Their intense metal rock sound, lyrics and visuals consisting of Japanese subculture and values, have attracted the attention of fans. Middle and high school classmates Yukina, Matsuri, and Hettsu started as a four-piece band, bringing on Chika as the new drummer in May of 2023. In July of the same year, they made their major label debut with Sony Music Labels Epic Records Japan, releasing their first album, Reborn Superstar! They embarked on their first solo domestic tour, secured slots at music festivals, and even toured internationally. They released their new single “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” on January 19th, 2024. 
https://hanabie.jp
X：@HA_NA_BIE_
Instagram：@ha_na_bie_
Threads：@ha_na_bie_
YouTube：@HANABIE_official

While there are many Japanese bands that have made it to the world stage, the common factor among ones that succeed globally may be that they all exude “Japaneseness”. There is a Japanese girls band that has established a new genre called, “Harajuku core” gaining enthusiastic support from metal fans mostly from the West. The band consists of four members: Yukina (vox), Matsuri (gt & vox), Hettsu (ba & BGVs), and Chika (dr). They call themselves HANABIE. 

We interviewed Yukina and Matsuri from HANABIE., a band that’s been flying sky high. In part one, they shared insights on the formation of the band, the venues they performed in high school, and how they established their performance style. In part two, they shared stories of their international tour and their thoughts behind their new song, “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu”, and their plans for the future.

International Fans Coined “HARAJUKU CORE”

– International tours are now common for HANABIE., but were you always interested in doing shows abroad?

Yukina: No, it never crossed our minds.

Matsuri: More like we didn’t have the capacity to think that far. So even this time around, we’re like, “wow, we can go?!” (laughs). Like, “people abroad actually like our music?”

Yukina: It’s unbelievable also because our lyrics are all in Japanese. Even during this international tour, everyone was singing along to our lyrics.

Matsuri: And everyone’s good at it (laughs).

– It’s only been about a year since you’ve been able to do this.

Yukina: That’s true. During the COVID pandemic when things were still shut down, the comment section for our song “WE LOVE SWEETS” was filled with English comments. Since then, we always thought, “We’d love to go abroad, but we don’t know how”. 

Matsuri: I think the “WE LOVE SWEETS” era was when we first started charting abroad, too. People from countries we couldn’t even pinpoint on a map were listening to our music. 

– I heard your foreign fans were the ones who first called your music “HARAJUKU CORE”.

Matsuri: Our listeners were like, “This is a new genre! It’s HARAJUKU CORE!” in our comments. We thought it was perfect, so we kept using it in different scenarios (laughs).

Yukina: HANABIE. is a hard band to explain to people, so when we saw those comments, we were like, “That’s it!”

Matsuri: We were. Because everything falls under “metal” abroad, we thought “HARAJUKU CORE” was the perfect way to describe our sound.

– Did you feel uncomfortable with the term “metal” being used to describe your music back then?

Matsuri: No, I think in our case, calling our music “metal” is quite misleading (laughs). People are more inclined to be interested if they just understood we were doing something new. I’d be happy if they could see this as a new style of metal. So it’s not like we didn’t like being categorized as “metal”, we just want people to understand that we’re doing something chaotic within that.

– From there, after experiencing ups and downs, you had your major label debut and booked your first solo show and Tokyo/Nagoya/Osaka tour.

Yukina: We kept on missing our chance to do our solo show. We wanted it to have such an impact that we missed our opportunity and couldn’t get to it until last year.

Matsuri: We waited too long to do our solo show. We kept being like, “We need to do our solo show at the perfect time!” and kept extending it. We waited so long that we eventually got signed by a major label. We thought the appropriate time was our eighth anniversary. 

Show-Intensive International Tour 

– You then suddenly had to go on a large-scale international tour, with no time to celebrate your first solo show or your major label debut.

Yukina: In retrospect, it’s crazy.

Matsuri: Truly! Everyone made us feel like they were waiting for us. Everyone was so warm. Looking back, the shows felt very strange. We were performing in countries we had never been to before. It was like, “wow, we’re really doing this”. 

Yukina: Now that I’m back in Japan and can reflect back on it, I’ve started to realize how incredible an experience it was. Before going, I was quite apprehensive. I was even studying English, and found myself struggling to think about how I would be able to express myself to our fans and staff. But once I was there playing the shows, I realized there are things that don’t need to be communicated with words. 

– Yukina, you were even taking English classes.

Yukina: Yes I was, and crying while doing it (laughs).

– Did it help?

Yukina: I really want to say it did (laughs), but I realized passion is more important than words.

– So real-life interactions were more important in the end.

Yukina: Of course, if we were able to speak English fluently, I’m sure our world would expand and it would enable us to play different types of shows.

Matsuri: It was easier to communicate than I thought. Even during rehearsals or in everyday conversations, everyone was willing to try to grasp what I was trying to convey. I found people from every country to be quite warm.

– That being said, I’m sure the rehearsal process is quite intense. Isn’t it important to have a mutual understanding of what’s going on?

Matsuri: That’s true. That’s why we utilized words we knew and tried to communicate through gestures, like “this is where we want to cut the sound”. They understood quite a lot, right?

Yukina: Yeah. In Europe, we got a PA who lives there to travel with us on tour. They were really stoked about it.

Matsuri: They really listened to our songs in great detail. During rehearsals, the PA would ask if we could play a specific part of the song again so they can adjust it. Because they were so passionate, we were able to get a cohesive sound by the fourth show. I’m so glad we met such a great PA in Europe. 

– How was your American tour?

Matsuri: We had more show dates in the U.S. than in Europe.

Yukina: Our daily schedule was sleep, wake up, rehearse, play a show, repeat. 

Matsuri: We had to make sure which city we were in, because it got so confusing. We also did something we had never done as a band: play six shows in a row.

– And you did it abroad.

Matsuri: On top of that, each venue was so hot. Even if the air conditioner was on, it would start feeling like a sauna each time the show started.

Yukina: That made us become more resistant to the heat (laughs).

Matsuri: I’m confident that we can play in the hottest circumstances (laughs).

Yukina: Sometimes there was so little air circulating that I thought I was going to pass out. 

Matsuri: In a sense, I guess we can now say we won’t get flustered if anything goes wrong during a show.

– Has your experience abroad affected your songwriting?

Matsuri: Absolutely. Our major label debut album, Reborn Superstar!, is our idea of a concept album. In it, we added songs with more of our glittery, upbeat sound. That is one of HANABIE.’s core pillars. We’d like to have two or three more pillars, too. We had a bunch of ideas come up in the process of being abroad, too, like “it might be fun to mix this type of genre into our music”, or “we have too many fast tempo songs, so let’s slow it down”, or, “let’s try changing the tuning”, taking notes everytime we thought of something.

Yukina: We talked about a lot of this as a band.

Matsuri: For the tour we did, I communicated what I wanted to do with the band, got the rest of the band to do the same, and summarized what songs we wanted to include in the next album among the four of us. We’ll use that as a template to start production on our next record.

– You gathered some powerful tools during your time abroad. Now you can use those newly acquired tools to create something new.

Matsuri: There are some songs we wrote at our hotels during tour, which may bring a different flavor to our sound. 

Yukina: We were also heavily influenced by the bands that we played with. In the U.S., we played with Dropout Kings and Fox Lake, as well as with Galactic Empire. It was our first time playing with the same bands all tour, so that was really fun.

Matsuri: It was so fun, wasn’t it.

Yukina: The more we were together, the more we vibed. We were so sad by the end. 

Matsuri: We were so sad, but they were so cool because they told us that there’s no way this would be our last time seeing each other, and that we’d meet again soon. 

Yukina: I was sobbing (laughs). We were able to get through the tour because of them.

Matsuri: After we went our separate ways, I saw Yukina sobbing while listening to super hardcore music next to me, and thought, “how surreal” (laughs).

Yukina: We got fired up every time we saw the other bands’ shows.

Matsuri: Every band did what they could to connect the whole show to us, as we were last to play. Their efforts came across. By the end, it really moved me.

Yukina: I’d love to bring them to Japan one day. 

Matsuri: We definitely want to do that. I think they would be a hit among Japanese kids and band-lovers.

HANABIE. Finally Boldly Embraces “Otaku”. 

– Was the new song you’re releasing, “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu”, written while on tour?

Matsuri: It was a song we wrote right before we went abroad. We wanted this to be our last super upbeat song for a while. We did everything we wanted to do with this song, more than ever. We added AI vocals, which was something new for us, to give a more 2.5 dimensional sound.

– Are the English parts AI? I didn’t notice.

Matsuri: Yes, that’s the part. We had AI speak, and then combined that voice with Yukina’s real voice to give it a brand new, 2.5-dimensional sound.

Yukina: Personally, I didn’t know that Japanese culture was so popular. I knew that as a fact, but experiencing it and having people approach me and say, “I love this Japanese anime”, or “I like Pokemon”, made me really happy. That’s why we chose this theme for this song.

– You had some references to otaku culture in your other songs, but this time it’s explicit. 

Matsuri: Yeah, the lyrics are really only about otaku. 

– I hear some Sailor Moon in there, too.

Matsuri: All of us like that kind of anime. We tried incorporating the sparkly vibes of our favorite animes. 

Yukina: I think this is a song that can only be executed by HANABIE., and it’s something different from what we’ve done before.

– It’s quite rare to find a band that openly embraces otaku culture, which is also what differentiates HANABIE. from other bands. Other bands may have members who secretly like anime, but not many can express that love so directly in their music. But HANABIE. is different. You have a punk spirit that enables you to show your whole selves. That’s why “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” is so refreshing.

Yukina: It’s true that it’s refreshing (laughs). We want to be straightforward and as true to ourselves as possible.

Matsuri: That’s right. We’re like, “We can confidently say we like otaku because we also identify as otaku!” (laughs). 

Yukina: We also want to tell people, “Otaku like these exist in the world, we’ve seen them firsthand!” (laughs).

Matsuri: I think that’s what’s fun about it. If an otaku listens, they’ll understand, but a non-otaku can also listen and be like, “otaku are kind of cool”. 

– I didn’t realize that was the message.

Matsuri: I think otaku culture has been embraced by many people now. We live in a world where everyone, including the beautiful woman sitting next to you on the train, is probably an otaku. We want everyone to know that we live in a society where we can proudly admit to being an otaku!

Yukina: The word for “suteki” in English is “lovely”. So, we wanted people to think that “being an otaku is lovely”.

Matsuri: As otaku ourselves, we thought we needed to address that being one is nothing to be ashamed of (laughs).

– So, what kind of year would you like 2024 to be?

Yukina: There was a lot to absorb from all over the world in 2023. I want to take advantage of that and fully utilize it, whether that’s for shows or songs. I also want to do a proper Japan tour, and we have some international festivals coming up. We’re excited for what we have in store.

Matsuri: In terms of music, we made a lot of lively, sparkly songs in 2023. In 2024, we want to show another side of HANABIE. Hopefully, you’ll get to see some of that .

– Let me ask one last question. Until now, it was long believed that Japanese bands should tour domestically before venturing into the global market, or that English songs would need to be released in order to target international audiences. But I believe that HANABIE. has shattered all these “conventional” beliefs. From your perspective, what advice would you give to Japanese bands that are looking to go global, considering new, unique approaches to expanding a band’s reach that are specific to today?

Yukina: There may be restrictions depending on the country, but I realized through YouTube and social media just how much reach our music has. Because of these different platforms, people across the world sang along to songs that are in Japanese, and we saw passionate fans from countries we had never even visited. So I do believe it’s essential not only to focus on music but also to utilize social media in a visually appealing way.

Matsuri: When we went on tour abroad, we had so many happy fans who, regardless of the language barrier in the music, were having a great time. It was then that I thought we could’ve gone abroad even earlier. Looking back, I think we were unnecessarily anxious. Setting up shows abroad is not simple. It requires different costs, like transportation, so I’m not saying this lightly. But if a band has a desire to go abroad, they should.

Even if your band is unknown abroad, people usually casually walk into venues in places like Europe and the U.S. Even in taxis, the drivers often play their own music, not just mainstream stuff. A lot of the time, they play more unknown, cool songs, just like any other everyday music listener, which there are a lot of. Ultimately, I think it’s a good idea to actively reach out and go find your own audience.

Photography Hamanaka Yoshitake
Translation Mimiko Goldstein

■HANABIE.”O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” now streaming

O･TA･KUラブリー伝説 | 花冷え。 | ソニーミュージックオフィシャルサイト

ソニーミュージックによる花冷え。公式サイト。花冷え。の最新ニュースやリリース情報、ビデオ、ライブ・イベント出演情報、メディア情報などを掲載。

www.sonymusic.co.jp

■HANABIE. Major label debut album Reborn Superstar! official website

来世は偉人！ | 花冷え。 (HANABIE.)

Major Debut Album 『来世は偉人！』 2023.7.26 Release! | HANABIE. Major Label Debut Album Reborn Superstar! 2023.7.26 Release

hanabie.jp

The post Interview with HANABIE., the “Harajuku Core” Girls Metal Band in the Global Spotlight, Part 2: “Chaotic” Music Combined with Japanese Culture appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Storytellers thriving between different cultures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–Why did some writers insist on writing in Mandarin?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The post Thriving Between Different Cultures: The World of Tibetan Writers appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

HANABIE.
Girls metal band formed in 2015. Consists of four members Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt. & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). Their intense metal rock sound, lyrics and visuals consisting of Japanese subculture and values, have attracted the attention of fans. Middle and high school classmates Yukina, Matsuri, and Hettsu started as a four-piece band, bringing on Chika as the new drummer in May of 2023. In July of the same year, they made their major label debut with Sony Music Labels Epic Records Japan, releasing their first album, Reborn Superstar! They embarked on their first solo domestic tour, secured slots at music festivals, and even toured internationally. They released their new single “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” on January 19th, 2024. 
https://hanabie.jp
X：@HA_NA_BIE_
Instagram：@ha_na_bie_
Threads：@ha_na_bie_
YouTube：@HANABIE_official

While there are many Japanese bands that have made it to the world stage, the common factor among ones that succeed globally may be that they all exude “Japaneseness”. There is a Japanese girls band that has established a new genre coined “Harajuku core” gaining enthusiastic support from metal fans mostly from the West. The band consists of four members: Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). They call themselves HANABIE. 

Their single “Pardon Me, I Have To Go Now” released in January 2023 triggered their sudden success. The music video released by Epic Records Japan six months prior to their debut has garnered 5.5 million plays on YouTube so far, the video overflowing with English comments from international fans. Wrapped in colorful outfits reminiscent of Harajuku-style Decora fashion, Yukina alternates between a cute anime-like voice and intense death growls, while the instrumentalists deliver sounds with lively melodies and heavy rhythms. It’s this contrast that defines their performance style. 

Not only did they embark on their first solo tour after their major label debut, they also secured slots at music festivals and even toured internationally. We interviewed HANABIE., a rising force in the music scene, to discuss their journey. In part one, Yukina and Matsuri shared insights into the formation of the band and the struggles that led to the establishment of their performance style.

– This past year was quite the year of achievements for you.

Yukina: It was truly beyond our expectations. Of course we had our hearts set on touring abroad, but this was a year we gave our all to each of our performances. 

Matsuri: Emotionally, we felt we needed to tackle what was right in front of us, but I think it was a huge turning point for us as a band because it was a year filled with firsts. 

– Band members changing, your first festival appearance, first solo show, first Tokyo/Nagoya/Osaka tour, your major label debut, and your first international tour all happened this past year. I don’t think there has ever been a band that has experienced their first domestic tour and first international tour in the same year. From an outsider’s perspective, it looks like you had a crazy year. But were you so busy focusing on each task at hand that you couldn’t see your achievements objectively?

Matsuri: There was no time for us to relax. All we could do was focus on our immediate tasks each day.

Yukina: Each event was so intense, yet time passed instantly. Going through this made me want to continue doing it, which made me realize there are so many things I still want to do. So, while I feel grateful, I also feel overwhelmed with excitement for future endeavors. 

– It’s unbelievable that your single “Pardon Me, I Have To Go Now” wasn’t even released this time last year. 

Matsuri: Truly! I had the same thought the other day. I was curious how many plays the YouTube video had gotten, and when I went to check it, I was surprised to see it wasn’t uploaded that long ago. 

– It’s like our internal calendars are fully glitching. 

Matsuri: Glitching (laughs).

Yukina: No, really. 

High School Rock Band Club Era When Rivalries were Rampant

– So, since this is HANABIE.’s first interview with TOKION, I’d like to start with asking how you formed the band. I heard that it was formed in a high school after-school band club.

Yukina: Since we went to a combined junior high and high school, Matsuri and the bassist Hettsu were classmates since middle school. After-school band club was only for high school students, and Hettsu and I had already talked about joining. I had heard rumors that Matsuri, who I hadn’t really talked to until then, was into heavy music, so I approached her and asked if she actually liked that kind of music and what she was currently listening to.

Matsuri: I was already close with the original drummer of HANABIE. She had been in the brass band club, and I was interested in rock bands but not that enthusiastic about joining the club. I was more like, “I guess I’ll join the rock band club”. Yukina approached me at that time, so I joined the club. I thought there would be people who would have the same interests as me, so I joined, treating it like a trial run.

Yukina: Matsuri already played guitar and liked heavy music, so I knew we had to get her in the club. She was also a leader-like figure in the classroom, so I thought her leadership skills would translate well in a band.

– In contrast to Matsuri, you weren’t the bubbly personality, Yukina. You were more of an introvert, weren’t you?

Yukina: That’s right. Hettsu and I were in the art club in middle school, drawing in the corner of the room together. Matsuri, on the other hand, was in a sports club and was the class leader. 

– I’m sure you had to muster up a lot of courage to approach her first.

Matsuri: I feel like it was pretty natural. I think she asked me if I liked heavy bands when we ran into each other in the hallway. As we talked, I got to know Yukina better and we started going to shows together. 

Yukina: We went to music festivals together, too. We got deep in it together.

Matsuri: In our Dickies (laughs).

– Approaching someone in a school hallway is like a scenario you’d see in an anime. 

Matsuri: It is, now that I think about it (laughs). I remember that interaction so well.

Yukina: I don’t remember (laughs). 

Matsuri: We weren’t in the same after-school club in middle school, so I wondered why she approached me. I also wondered why she knew I was into rock bands. 

Yukina: Matsuri would often bring her favorite band’s towels to gym class, and our other classmates confirmed you liked those bands.

– Yukina, were you interested in playing heavy music from the start?

Yukina: I wasn’t sure if we could pull it off, but I knew it would be fun since we had that interest in common.

– And specifically, your common interest in MAXIMUM THE HORMONE.

Yukina: Yes.

– Any other bands you two were excited about back then?

Matsuri: We both listened to a lot of BABYMETAL, which sparked conversation.

Yukina: That’s true.

Matsuri: I also liked punk/melodic hardcore music, like GOOD4NOTHING and SHANK.

Yukina: Or dustbox and ELLEGARDEN.

– And thus, HANABIE. was born, but you started off as a cover band. Which bands did you cover?

Matsuri: I think SCANDAL was first? Or DOES.

– Interesting!

Yukina: We flipped through the hand-me-down scores from our seniors religiously (laughs). 

Matsuri: We picked ones we thought we could play.

– So you honed your skill that way and eventually started playing covers of MAXIMUM THE HORMONE?

Yukina: We actually initially wanted to start with HORMONE, but our seniors stopped us (laughs). They told us to learn the basics first.

Matsuri: We covered their songs after we got the hang of it.

– What was the MAXIMUM THE HORMONE song you covered first?

Yukina & Matsuri: (immediately) “Zekkyou Billy”. 

– I’m surprised you remembered that quickly.

Matsuri: That’s true!

Yukina: I remember it quite clearly (laughs).

– What other songs did you cover?

Matsuri: “Jitterbug” (by ELLEGARDEN). We also did BLUE ENCOUNT.

Yukina: We also covered the song “Katoniago” by a girls band called FLiP, and also WHITE ASH.

Matsuri: Oh yeah we did! I loved WHITE ASH.

Yukina: We also played some ZebraHead tunes.

Matsuri: I brought that score and asked if we wanted to cover it (laughs).

– I can’t believe there are scores for ZebraHead songs.

Matsuri: There are! I still have them back home (laughs).

– The drummer has changed, but have the relationships between the members changed much over the years?

Matsuri: They have changed a bit because we’re all adults now, but I don’t think they’ve changed all that much, fundamentally.

Yukina: Hettsu hasn’t changed, either.

Matsuri: But she’s becoming more and more like an alien.

– Like she’s more liberated?

Matsuri: Yes, she is (laughs).

– As I was listening to you tell this story, I realized the environment of an all-girls school was probably a major part of your development.

Yukina & Matsuri: I think that’s right.

Matsuri: If there were both guys and girls in our school, our band may have been co-ed. But because it was an all-girls band, there was an insane amount of intensity among the girls in the club. We were all like, “I’m going to crush you all!” (laughs).

– Competition with the other bands?

Matsuri: Yes. Of course, we were surrounded by other girl bands with competitive streaks, which created this great synergy among us. We were all only focusing on our bands.

Yukina: It motivated us a lot.

Matsuri: None of us were romantically involved either, because there was no one around! (laughs).

Yukina: We even snapped at our teachers for not letting us do what we wanted.

– For example?

Matsuri: We weren’t allowed to play shows outside our high school. They claimed it was dangerous and that underage kids shouldn’t be playing at venues that serve alcohol. In retrospect, it’s obvious why it wasn’t permitted (laughs). But back then, we wanted so badly to play at an outside venue that we pleaded with our school to let us play if our parents chaperoned.

Yukina: We got signatures from several teachers, too (laughs). 

– You could do that?

Yukina: The paperwork had spaces for our homeroom teacher, head of year, vice principal and principal’s signatures. We rallied the support of some teachers in the process.

– Did you feel like you needed to write original tunes as you were competing with other bands?

Matsuri: Definitely. Other bands in the club started writing originals first. That freaked us out, which prompted us to start writing our own (laughs). We also started participating in high school band contests. Bands that entered those contests usually had original songs, which made us want to start writing our own, too.

– HANABIE. is a band that consciously strays from what other bands are doing. Were you like that since high school?

Yukina: That’s true… (laughs). Even the name HANABIE. was also created because we wanted it to be unique. 

Matsuri: English band names were popular at the time.

– The name HANABIE. is truly quite unique. It’s not a name that high schoolers would come up with.

Yukina: Our then-drummer was quite smart. She found that word for us.

Matsuri: She was also insanely competitive, and wanted us to stand out (laughs).

– HANABIE. then continued to play at many venues, mostly Shinjuku ANTIKNOCK.

Matsuri: We’d often rush to ANTIKNOCK after school, in our uniforms (laughs).

Yukina: We’d bring a suitcase full of merch to school in the morning, leave it in the corner of the classroom so the teachers wouldn’t find out, and take it to the venues after school… (laughs).

Matsuri: I had combined my amp head and pedal board onto a cart, which raised suspicion among the teachers (laughs). Hettsu also had a big pedal board, so the three of us dragged all our luggage around on days we had shows (laughs). 

– And after school, what transpired when you descended the stairs of ANTIKNOCK?

Matsuri: We were so scared when we first booked ANTIKNOCK.

Yukina: It was so scary.

Matsuri: The entrance of that venue is dark, and kind of intense (laughs). We were contemplating who would go down first (laughs). 

– That’s hilarious!

Yukina: I was like, you go first!

Matsuri: We were all pushing each other to go first (laughs).

– I guess you can’t see what’s at the bottom of the stairs from the outside.

Matsuri: No, you can’t. Once we went in, everyone was friendly and super nice, but it was intimidating at first.

– Was there a lot to learn on site?

Matsuri: Most of what we learned was on site. We were blessed with mentors who taught us everything, including how to plan the afterparty. We learned a lot from them.

Yukina: Matsuri asked a bunch of people about how to get the right tone on guitar.

Matsuri: Everyone was so nice, they even let me borrow gear they weren’t using. I was working part-time, but I wasn’t making enough that I could buy new gear. I was really thankful to everyone for helping me.

– There were probably no other high school girls who played ANTIKNOCK, so I’m sure everyone loved you. They wanted to help you grow.

Matsuri: Yes, everyone treated us well.

Yukina: Very much so.

– Like they were your uncles (laughs).

Matsuri: Truly! Whenever I see someone and it’s been a minute, it feels like I’m seeing an uncle because they ask me how I am (laughs).

Yukina: They keep track of us, and tell us their positive opinions on things we’ve worked on.

Matsuri: Everyone reminds us to stay healthy (laughs). ANTIKNOCK feels like a family-run venue.

A Turning Point in Music and Visuals

– What a nice story. I think your colorful outfits, rare for that of a metalcore band, are also what makes HANABIE. stand out. I understand that they’re made mostly by Hettsu, but how were these outfits first developed?

Matsuri: We wore normal clothes at first, right?

Yukina: Yeah, we wanted to fit in with the male bands.

Matsuri: We didn’t want to be underestimated. Back then, the metalcore scene consisted of a lot of skinny black jeans. Skinny black jeans, white T, no smile. We tried replicating that for a bit as best we could.

– You were trying to fit into the scene. 

Yukina: Yes. I even got Hettsu to hold up a white T-shirt at a park so I could splatter red paint all over it to make it look like blood (laughs). We tried fitting in like that, but we soon realized that felt wrong. 

Matsuri: We thought maybe it didn’t align with the type of music we wanted to do. There were a lot of similar bands back then that we wanted to differentiate ourselves from, so we did a 180. 

Yukina: We thought we could take advantage of our collective love for cute anime and Sanrio characters. We knew the contrast between our music and these cutesy elements would be interesting. Hettsu’s hair became increasingly lighter, too (laughs). 

Matsuri: Hettsu really did a lot. She had already dyed her hair on our graduation day. Anything is possible in the dynamics of our band now. 

Yukina: We wanted to do exactly what we wanted. I think that ideology eventually reflected onto our outfits.

– So you eventually realized that that was your natural state and that it connected to the band’s originality. 

Matsuri: Exactly. We thought, “everything works, including the clothes we like, the color we like, and the glitter we like!” It did take a while to get to that point, though.

– At what point did you land on your current style?

Yukina: When we were twenty?

Matsuri: I think we decided to be colorful around after the release of our single “L.C.G.” (released November 2019). Hettsu dyed her hair purple, and mine was blonde. Things gradually started changing from there.

– “L.C.G.” was musically and visually a critical turning point.

Yukina: Yes, it was the biggest turning point.

– I believe one reason for HANABIE.’s steady success is your proficiency in social media. You’ve been using social media as a strong platform for a while now. 

Matsuri: Yes, we have been.

– Were you partly doing it for fun?

Yukina: No, we were told by our seniors that we should do it. They told us that it would be a waste not to upload more photos, and that our fans would be excited to see them. We realized that we could extend our following if we posted more and started to update our social media with more photos everytime we had a show. 

Matsuri: In the beginning, we had an account but didn’t really use it. We would post a photo if we had a show, but that was about it. We realized that wasn’t communicating our individual personalities, and discussed how we could do that more efficiently. We never uploaded selfies until then, but started to post more after we realized that no one knew who played what instrument. 

– HANABIE. utilizes X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram, and even uploaded live videos on YouTube during the COVID-19 pandemic, even before you had a management team. I was amazed at your diligence. 

Matsuri: All of our shows got canceled because of the pandemic. We made videos very diligently back then because we didn’t want to be forgotten. 

– What you did out of necessity during the COVID-19 pandemic has directly connected to your success today.

Matsuri: Exactly. If it wasn’t for the pandemic, we may not have made full use of social media. We learned a lot from our time during COVID-19.

Photography Yoshitake Hamanaka
Translation Mimiko Goldstein

■HANABIE.”O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” now streaming

O･TA･KUラブリー伝説 | 花冷え。 | ソニーミュージックオフィシャルサイト

ソニーミュージックによる花冷え。公式サイト。花冷え。の最新ニュースやリリース情報、ビデオ、ライブ・イベント出演情報、メディア情報などを掲載。

www.sonymusic.co.jp

■HANABIE. Major label debut album Reborn Superstar! official website

来世は偉人！ | 花冷え。 (HANABIE.)

Major Debut Album 『来世は偉人！』 2023.7.26 Release! | HANABIE. Major Label Debut Album Reborn Superstar! 2023.7.26 Release

hanabie.jp

The post Interview with HANABIE., the “Harajuku Core” Girls Metal Band in the Global Spotlight, Part 1: It All Started as a Girls’ High School Afterschool Rock Band appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asking “what if” upon constructing narrative expands imagination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reasons why a renowned Norwegian author worked on picture books

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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