But I Must Maintain!

I have a soft spot for art that lets the viewer interact with it, or museums that let visitors take photographs of the galleries. An exhibit that checks both of these boxes--and is full of mind-boggling optical illusions to boot!--is an experience I just couldn't pass up. So with my buddy Troy (he took all of the good photos in this post and if you want to see more of what he's up to check him out at A Troy in Tokyo!)  we hit up the Mori Art Museum in Roppongi to check out an exhibit called "Seeing and Believing" by Argentinian artist Leandro Erlich.

Believe it (haha) or not, I've seen some of Erlich's work in person before: he's responsible for the optical illusion "swimming pool" installation at the 21 Century Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanazawa. The 40-odd installations at this exhibit certainly didn't disappoint.

Notice something a little odd about the reflections?

One darkened room had five boats "floating" in what at first glance seemed to be water. Take a closer look at the reflections: are they real? What does it say about our perceptions of the world that we automatically assume they are floating in water--because boats must float in water? 

The next room had a series of "clouds" that were supposed to look like the countries France, Germany, Japan, and the UK. This installation, too, was supposed to challenge our obsession with finding logical, identifiable shapes in random things like clouds and stains that we encounter in daily life. 

Japan? A bird? 

While they certainly looked like they had depth from the front, they were actually individual layers, like a shadow box, on glass.

There was a room designed to look like an abandoned, decaying classroom. When you sat on the props in front of it, your ghostly apparition was superimposed on the desks and chairs in front of you. While it almost felt like you could pick up one of the discarded books, your immaterial hands just passed right through it, even though you looked like you really were "sitting" in some warped remnant of your childhood school experiences. 

The poster installation for the entire exhibit was this to-scale replica of the exterior of a building. Looks like Troy and I are in a bit of a pinch!

I could go on and on about each installation, but couldn't do justice to how fun, interactive, and inspiring of self-reflection they were. Many of Leandro's works focused on the disconnect between observer and observed and about the public-private disconnect of society. There were videos where we watched people on trains, watched people in the privacy of their own homes as we, acting like voyeurs, peeped through blinds, and even a video where security cameras looked at a room where nothing changed and no one ever entered but the space remained under 24/7 surveillance. 

Finally, there was a series of "dressing rooms" that you could wander through, always doubting what was a door and what was a mirror. More than once I almost walked straight into my own reflection! You started to doubt your own eyes and senses and the entire experience was quite disorienting.

Also, have I mentioned that the Mori Art Museum is on the 52nd floor? Once you exit the exhibit you're greeted with this absolutely gorgeous view of Tokyo Tower, the Skytree and, if the day is clear, Mount Fuji in the distance. 

Then, as if one museum wasn't enough, Troy and I popped into the photo exhibit of 89-year-old Kimiko Nishimoto. As the story goes, she took a photo class taught by her own son and has been taking playful self-portraits ever since: 

At the end of a long day of art, chilling, and catching up, Troy and I were left with this gem of advice from a coffee stand:

Clearly it must become my new mantra for 2018.