Around the same time that Motoyuki Shitamichi’s participation in the 58th Venice Biennale was announced, I approached the artist about organizing an exhibition at Yurinso, scheduled for the autumn of 2019. This was in the spring of 2018, about a year and a half before the exhibition period.
Even before this, Shitamichi and I had been leisurely discussing the possibility of doing something at the Ohara Museum of Art. Consequently, by the time I made the request, he already had a clear direction for his project at the museum. Above all, Shitamichi has always maintained a clear vision of which projects he wishes to pursue. He has the ability to adapt and produce appropriate outcomes based on the exhibition venue and the progress of the project. As such, I felt that I could confidently entrust Yurinso to him, even as he prepared for the grand stage of Venice.
Since 2014, Shitamichi had been conducting research in the Ryukyu (Nansei) Islands, primarily in Okinawa. The primary focus was on Tsunami Boulder, which became the centerpiece of his exhibition in Venice. Meanwhile, at Yurinso, it was anticipated that his attention would be on Okinawan Glass, which he had also been observing during his visits to the region.
The artist’s project about glass in Okinawa has two distinct characteristics. One is to visualize geopolitical relationships by tracing the movement of glass bottles from Korea, Taiwan, and mainland China that wash up on beaches in Kyushu and the Ryukyu Islands. The other is to reference Okinawa’s modern history through the lens of recycled glass. Although the production of everyday items using recycled glass began in Okinawa during the Meiji Period, it expanded significantly after World War II. Coca-Cola bottles discarded by US military personnel stationed in Okinawa became a key source of recycled glass, resulting in the mass production of items tailored to their lifestyle needs.
Shitamichi had already started making Okinawan Glass, working with local glass artisans in Okinawa to recycle glass bottles collected from the seaside into glasses and carafes. When the exhibition at Yurinso was determined, the search for how to display his works together started in earnest. Both Tsunami Boulder and Okinawan Glass had originated in the same islands, so it was essential to consider an effective way to integrate them into the setting of Yurinso and further refine the focus on glass. In the end, the new, combined expression was successfully achieved as the artist himself described: [Floating Monuments] = [Tsunami Boulder] + [Okinawan Glass] + [Nagi-Sancai]. Among these, Nagi-Sancai (Three-color glaze on the beach) was a new effort by the artist at Yurinso. But first, I would like to record the process.
From the first time we toured the Ohara Museum of Art together, Shitamichi had his interest set on the “windows.” The notable windows of the Ohara Museum of Art include the round windows offering panoramic views of the Kurashiki Bikan Historical Quarter from the second floor of the main building constructed in 1930, and the windows of the Craft Art and Asian Art Gallery, originally an Edo-era granary renovated under the supervision of Serizawa Keisuke in the 1960s. Although we discussed various ideas in front of these windows, we struggled to devise a suitable plan, due to their large size and distinctive designs.
The next time Shitamichi visited Kurashiki, we conducted a walk-through of Yurinso. By this time, Shitamichi had revealed his plan to collect glass bottles washed up on the coasts of the Ryukyu Islands, recycle them, and create window glass. While he had already been working with local glass artisans in Okinawa to produce tableware, the artist’s focus had now shifted to windows. At Yurinso, the large windows of both the Western and Japanese-style rooms presented a challenge to match their size, even using pure, transparent glass. As we pondered on this problem, Shitamichi, eyeing a small, south-facing window on the second floor, murmured, “Can we do something with this?” Together we removed the window frame and checked if we could remove the glass panel as well. The existing glass easily detached from the wooden frame, and at that moment, a tangible plan to create glass panels from the washed-up glass bottles began to take shape.
From that moment, the distinctive colors of Yurinso’s rooftiles seemed to have inspired the artist. According to Shitamichi, most of the bottles that have washed ashore are the clear baiju bottles from China, the green soju bottles from Korea, and the brown beer bottles from Taiwan and Japan. When these three colors are mixed together, the brown hue naturally becomes the strongest, resulting in the greenish-brown tint in the glass vessels already produced for Okinawan Glass. As he observed the varying shades of green and orange found in Yurinso’s rooftiles, which were dependent on the glaze and firing temperatures, Shitamichi began to contemplate how to make use of the three original colors of the discarded bottles.
Sancai ceramics are characterized by a transparent glaze base, made brown from the addition of iron, and green from the mixture of copper. The Sancai technique originated in China and spread along the Silk Road and maritime routes to Central Asia, Europe, and even Japan. This cultural exchange was traced by Torajiro Kojima, who collected the artworks that became the foundation of the Ohara Museum of Art’s collection. He also influenced the incorporation of glazed tiles into Yurinso’s design. Kojima not only collected outstanding contemporary Western artworks, but also ancient artifacts from Egypt, Western Asia, and China to ascertain aspects of cultural exchange throughout history. Notably, the hue of Yurinso’s rooftiles were inspired by glazed tiles that Kojima observed in China. Shitamichi found inspiration by considering Kojima’s sentiments in the setting of Yurinso, finding meaning in creating glass windows that would preserve the original colors of the different glass bottles.
Inspired by Shitamichi’s idea, I thought it might be possible to seek assistance from Akihiro Isogai. Isogai is a professor at Kurashiki University of Science and the Arts who has brilliantly solved difficult tasks related to glass processing during exhibitions with Yukio Nakagawa and Chie Matsui in the past. Given the size of the window glass, I assumed there would be no problems. However, when Shitamichi and I visited Isogai to ask for his help, we were informed that this task was far more daunting than previous endeavors, both technically and in terms of time and effort. Our request was received positively despite these challenges, and we were promptly connected with graduates to help with our task—but there were still difficulties. Ultimately, it was decided that the production would move forward through Isogai’s collaboration with Kyungnam Jang, a professor at the university and an expert in the glass fusing technique called “pâte de verre,” which solidifies glass into solid forms. From my perspective, having these two experts directly involved was beyond my expectations, but I was cautioned with the phrase “we won’t know until we try,” indicating the magnitude of the challenge even for these professionals. Isogai and Jang carefully deliberated on the matter with Shitamichi, eventually succeeding in producing several glass panels as requested. After they were completed, I was informed that due to the different types of glass being forcibly combined, there was a chance that they would break during the exhibition. Throughout the exhibition period, I found myself nervously checking the condition of these glass panels every morning.
In this way, the envisioned pieces were completed in Kurashiki as planned, and when it came to the exhibition at Yurinso, both the arrangement and the artworks on display went smoothly thanks to Shitamichi. Details and information about Tsunami Boulder, Okinawan Glass, and Nagi-Sancai can be referenced individually on the illustrative pages. However, upon completion of the exhibition it became apparent how masterfully the works were integrated together as a whole within the space and flow of the residential setting.
First, at the back of the foyer, glass bottles collected from where they had washed up on the coast were arranged on a round table made for the mansion when Yurinso was founded (pp. 12-13). Using this as an introduction, the first Western-style room was dedicated to Okinawan Glass (pp. 14-35). Here, cups and carafes shaped by glass artisans in Okinawa were lined up on Yurinso’s original flower stands and tables. To show the glass’ origins, additional collected bottles were arranged elegantly in a display cabinet, accompanied by a photograph of the bottles washed up on the coastline. On the wall hung a photographic work by Shitamichi, which depicted the recycled bottles arranged neatly on the sand (pp. 18-19, p. 35).
The centerpiece of Shitamichi’s scrupulous work in this room was placed at the center of the table—a diagram based on a sea chart that explained his project (pp. 22-31). Describing it as a mere “explanation” does not capture the beauty of the paper, which was laid out elegantly like a tablecloth and adorned with his words and illustrations. Through this single sheet of paper, the geopolitical connections between Korea, Taiwan, China, and the Ryukyu Islands were illustrated, and the significance of glass as both a material and product became clear.
According to Shitamichi, the title of this project, Okinawan Glass, indicates respect towards the well-known practice of “Ryukyu Glass,” reflecting the artist’s consideration of the region’s present situation, which was designated as “Okinawa Prefecture” in modern Japan. Shitamichi perceives their cycle of reusing glass bottles discarded by US military personnel and sending the recycled products back to them as a form of contemporary art practice. Rather than creating impractical objects, Shitamichi’s project skillfully inherits this form of circulation that emerged in the immediate postwar, slightly altering the process to account for its contemporary context. More specifically, Shitamichi considered the way that present-day “Ryukyu Glass” has become a souvenir for tourists from East Asia. His project engages with the possibility of having these bottles that drift ashore from East Asia in turn becoming souvenirs to be brought back to those regions.
This kind of conceptualization strongly emphasizes that while Shitamichi is a researcher with historical, cultural, and anthropological insights—above all, he is an artist. The knowledge he obtained from his independent research is dense enough to fill a book, but rather than using text, Shitamichi expresses it through the creation of objects arranged in space. The balance between Shitamichi’s perception, the exhibition, and he excellence of his implementation indicates his skill as an artist.
His proficiency in spatial design was further highlighted in the subsequent presentation of his video work, Tsunami Boulder, in the Japanese-style rooms on the first floor. By removing the sliding doors that separated the two rooms, he created a unified space, projecting Tsunami Boulder into the tokonoma (traditional Japanese alcove) of the larger room (pp. 40-41). The artist also opened the rice-paper screen doors to the garden, thoughtfully ensuring the stones outside in the garden would appear in the same line of sight as the tsunami boulders projected in the tokonoma (pp. 42-43). Despite only sharing the commonality of being large stones, the presence of the tsunami boulder in Shitamichi’s video began to transform when viewed with the actual stones in the garden.
The only works that Shitamichi displayed in the first-floor Japanese-style room were the video of the tsunami stones and three small pieces of glass quietly placed on the shelf opposite to it (p. 36-39). These small pieces, each created from mixing the glass of the washed-up bottles, referenced the preceding Okinawan Glass project in the Western-style room, serving as a prelude to Shitamichi’s Nagi-Sancai project that unfolded on the second floor. By making full use of the Yurinso’s existing architecture and gardens while minimizing his own interventions in the space, Shitamichi effectively harnessed his own artworks in a remarkably concise and well composed exhibition.
Thus, under the exhibition title Floating Monuments, Shitamichi brought his projects Okinawan Glass and Tsunami Boulder together on the first floor before further connecting them to Nagi-Sancai, which,despite being installed minimally, was vividly displayed in the second-floor Japanese-style room.
Only five glass panels created in Kurashiki were displayed upstairs—each containing a mixture of the clear, green, and dark brown bottles. While many artists have held exhibitions at Yurinso, Shitamichi is the first to leave the tokonoma conspicuously empty. Artists in the past have typically been prompted to utilize or creatively work the architectural restraints of the tokonoma and shelving, but Shitamichi left them bare, with no alterations whatsoever (pp. 50-51). He left the focal point of the room completely empty, but instead skillfully arranged several panels of the three-colored Sancai glass panels on the other shelves. Those familiar with the challenges of glass production may admire these pieces solely for their size, but to audiences unaware of the complex process, the room may have seemed to simply display a few glass panels with mixed colors.
Through careful observation, the artist’s arrangement became apparent as each piece subtly responded to the conditions of light, showcasing the varying appearances of each glass panel. One demonstrated the transparency of the glass (p. 45); another was placed horizontally so the surface could be seen with light from above (pp. 48-49); and another was propped up vertically so viewers could observe the thickness of the glass in the dim light next to the tokonoma (p. 47). Significantly, there was a Sancai glass panel inserted into the small window on the southern side of the room (pp. 52-53). This single glass panel became the core of the exhibition, serving as the inspiration for the entire layout of Shitamichi’s plan at Yurinso. Shitamichi left the tokonoma empty in order to subtly but firmly establish this window as the main subject of the space, while placing small pieces on the shelves where the existing architecture called for the display of items.
And needless to say, windows are boundaries. They divide the inside from the outside, serving as both a border and a gateway to different worlds. Looking at Shitamichi’s previous works, such as torii, it is evident that he has a strong interest in borders—their ambiguity and instability, as well as the cultural amalgamation that occurs at these boundaries. Furthermore, he is also aware of the way that function itself transforms and fluctuates over time, manifesting as traces of these interconnections.
Tsunami Boulder focuses on the violent alteration of boundaries caused by tsunamis, where the ambiguous border between land and sea is forcibly reshaped, and massive rocks that belong to the sea cross over to the land, eventually becoming nests and objects of worship as time passes. Similarly, Okinawan Glass explores Shitamichi’s concept of reusing and transforming glass bottles washed ashore from beyond national and regional boundaries. It reflects the historical reality that the bottles discarded by Americans in Okinawa were also materials that were repurposed. In both, the original shapes are altered, resulting in the creation of new vessels. The Nagi-Sancai project progressed in close connection to these concepts. Glass bottles that have crossed the sea were fused together, despite differing rates of contraction due to differences in their material composition. The resulting glass panels were then fitted into a “window,” symbolizing boundaries.
Standing in front of this window, one could simultaneously see the three-colored glass patterns and the townscape of Kurashiki beyond the window. As one’s gaze shifted between the opaque Sancai glass and view of scenery seen through the clear glass window, what kinds of thoughts and images might the viewer have experienced? Varying from person to person, one might have imagined bottles washing ashore on a beach in a distant land. Or perhaps, someone who gazed at the boundaries of each color contained within a single glass panel might have imagined the various places where each bottle was initially cast into the sea—Taiwan, Korea, or China, and beyond. Shitamichi’s photographs of beaches scattered with bottles dispersed throughout Yurinso might have assisted in conjuring up such imagery. The juxtaposition of the video of the tsunami boulder and the stones in garden may have foreshadowed the experience of seeing the Sancai glass with the actual scenery through the window upstairs. In a sense, the entire exhibition leading up to that point could be seen as a way to enhance the meaning of the experience of standing in front of the small window on the second floor.
Using archaeological and anthropological approaches, Shitamichi has explored the history of modern Japan, particularly the period leading up to World War II, when Japan, inspired by Western ideas, became deeply engaged in various regions of East Asia. Within Japan, the boundaries of the Ryukyu (Nansei) Islands have been redrawn many times over the course of their long history, even before being incorporated into “modern Japan.” The process of boundary changes has often inflicted unspeakable suffering on local residents but also led to the development of unique cultures through voluntary or forced exchanges. The sea is an important factor of this long history of exchange, serving as both a connector and a divider. The existence of tsunami boulders, upon being washed ashore by the ocean, continue to be impacted by the forces of nature—exposed to the elements of wind, rain, and sunlight.
Another important aspect was the focus on glass. Mixing glass from different regions creates very fragile objects prone to breakage due to their differing rates of expansion. As a result, the tableware produced in Okinawan Glass often fractures over time. However, Shitamichi sees this as crucial and intriguing part of the work. This is because the act of mixing glasses from various regions not only relates to the Okinawan phrase chanpurū, meaning “something mixed,” but also resonates with the hakkō ichiu-style of Pan-Asianism of that was strongly promoted during the war period. The fragility of the forcibly merged glass is not only a metaphor for Okinawa’s situation, but also a significant opportunity to consider how to accept this reality and contemplate a direction for the future. The traces of this cycle are presented as Shitamichi’s unique artistic expression—but also intended as an open-source form of knowledge that he hopes may be used from various perspectives.
The physical world is shaped by form and color, but Shitamichi is able to carefully uncover the significance of concepts that quietly exist within history. Through forms, colors, and language, he translates and presents the meaning for us to contemplate and appreciate. His exhibition at Yurinso was a testament to his abilities, particularly the view through the Sancai glass window, which not only presented a distinctive visual landscape but also served as a crucial key in reflecting deeply on the history of the Ryukyu Islands and the boundaries that abstractly surround them—including the interaction between humans and nature. Those who can recognize these concepts in Shitamichi’s artwork may embark on a path that allows them to observe boundaries that are often obscured from view and understand the resilient nature of the spirit that is capable of bridging the divided realms of our world.
Hideyuki Yanagisawa, Curatorial Manager/Ohara Museum of Art
Translation by Eimi Tagore
[漂泊之碑／Floating Monuments]
有隣荘／大原美術館
Yurinsou, Ohara museum of art
2019