If I told you that there was an entire island in Japan dedicated to art museums, would anyone be surprised? No? Well, good, because there is one -- Naoshima -- and I went there last weekend.
Naoshima is a small island located in the Seto Inland Sea, the body of water that separates three of Japan's four main islands. It's a bit of an involved trip to get there from Tokyo, involving either a plane or bullet train to Okayama, then a bus, another series of trains, and finally a ferry ride to the island. A casual tourist couldn't just stumble upon the island; you really have to WANT to get there. Although the island's main income is industrial, since the 1980s it has developed into a contemporary art mecca, full of museums and small galleries mainly designed by Japanese architect Tadao Ando.
So, of course Troy and I had to go for a long weekend.
The first thing that greets you when you dock at Miyanoura Port on Naoshima is Yayoi Kusama's "Red Pumpkin," which is exactly what you'd expect:
Graphic and bold, it draws you in, especially once you realize you can climb inside.
Just a minute or so from the pumpkin is Sou Fujimoto's geometric "Naoshima Pavilion" (2015), which also allows viewers to climb inside and really interact with the work. At night they light it up, and from a distance it glows like some sort of rare gemstone.
Overall, Naoshima is broken up into three main areas: Miyanoura (the primary port of access), Honmura, and the Benesse area. Although the island isn't large, and you CAN walk from one place to another, buses and shuttles are few so the most efficient and freeing way to travel is via bike. Now I haven't ridden a bike in nearly a decade or so, if not more, but riding a bike is like riding a bike...right?
Bikes are pretty easy to rent in Naoshima, and locals are more than used to hordes of semi-distracted tourists of varying biking abilities pedaling down the roads. I still wish that helmets were more of a cultural norm here in Japan, because then I wouldn't constantly worry about dashing my brains out on a rock or something. Full disclosure: I did fall, once, and right in front of two cute Japanese grandmas. They were very concerned that I would have "weird memories" of Naoshima and wouldn't have a good time; I assured them that any negative memories about bike riding would be due entirely to my own incompetence, rather than any fault of the location.
Our first stop was the Lee Ufan Museum, a museum dedicated to the Korean-born artist and designed (of course) by Tadao Ando. You approach the museum through a gravel courtyard ("Relatum - Point, Line, Plane"; 2010) and then slip into a labyrinth-like corridor between the concrete walls.
The interior of the museum (no photographs allowed, unfortunately) is a combination of his 2D prints from the 1960s-90s and 3D installation rooms, but is small enough that you really only need 30-45 minutes to see everything. Though I was tempted to linger in the Meditation Room for quite a while, contemplating the gently sloping ceilings and calm atmosphere.
From the Lee Ufan Museum we biked to the nearby Chichu Art Museum (literally "In the Earth Art Museum"), which is arguably the main museum on Naoshima. You also have to reserve your tickets in advance, and you can only enter from a specific time (though you can remain in the museum as long as you'd like). The entire geometric complex -- a series of rooms linked via corridors or staircases -- exists below ground and can be considered one giant installation piece. (Not going to lie...I snuck some photos of the architecture, I find the play of shape, form, light, and shadow endlessly fascinating.)
After we wrapped up our time at Chichu, we biked over to Honmura (and our guesthouse) before it got dark. After getting set up in our traditional tatami-floored room, we had a quick chat with one of the other guests (who was from Quebec) and took his recommendation for where to go for dinner. Basically everything other than the museums on Naoshima are family-run, which also means that most places close quite early (between 6-7 p.m.). But we were able to grab a traditional grilled fish dinner with miso soup (And it had barnacles in it? Add barnacles to the list of weirdest things I've ever eaten...), rice, and several small veggie-based sides. And then there was nothing to do except got to sleep and recharge before another day of biking and art! So stay tuned for Naoshima Part 2.
P.S. You can thank Troy for the fact that I've made no "now/nao" puns.
Naoshima is a small island located in the Seto Inland Sea, the body of water that separates three of Japan's four main islands. It's a bit of an involved trip to get there from Tokyo, involving either a plane or bullet train to Okayama, then a bus, another series of trains, and finally a ferry ride to the island. A casual tourist couldn't just stumble upon the island; you really have to WANT to get there. Although the island's main income is industrial, since the 1980s it has developed into a contemporary art mecca, full of museums and small galleries mainly designed by Japanese architect Tadao Ando.
So, of course Troy and I had to go for a long weekend.
The first thing that greets you when you dock at Miyanoura Port on Naoshima is Yayoi Kusama's "Red Pumpkin," which is exactly what you'd expect:
Graphic and bold, it draws you in, especially once you realize you can climb inside.
Just a minute or so from the pumpkin is Sou Fujimoto's geometric "Naoshima Pavilion" (2015), which also allows viewers to climb inside and really interact with the work. At night they light it up, and from a distance it glows like some sort of rare gemstone.
Overall, Naoshima is broken up into three main areas: Miyanoura (the primary port of access), Honmura, and the Benesse area. Although the island isn't large, and you CAN walk from one place to another, buses and shuttles are few so the most efficient and freeing way to travel is via bike. Now I haven't ridden a bike in nearly a decade or so, if not more, but riding a bike is like riding a bike...right?
Bikes are pretty easy to rent in Naoshima, and locals are more than used to hordes of semi-distracted tourists of varying biking abilities pedaling down the roads. I still wish that helmets were more of a cultural norm here in Japan, because then I wouldn't constantly worry about dashing my brains out on a rock or something. Full disclosure: I did fall, once, and right in front of two cute Japanese grandmas. They were very concerned that I would have "weird memories" of Naoshima and wouldn't have a good time; I assured them that any negative memories about bike riding would be due entirely to my own incompetence, rather than any fault of the location.
Our first stop was the Lee Ufan Museum, a museum dedicated to the Korean-born artist and designed (of course) by Tadao Ando. You approach the museum through a gravel courtyard ("Relatum - Point, Line, Plane"; 2010) and then slip into a labyrinth-like corridor between the concrete walls.
The interior of the museum (no photographs allowed, unfortunately) is a combination of his 2D prints from the 1960s-90s and 3D installation rooms, but is small enough that you really only need 30-45 minutes to see everything. Though I was tempted to linger in the Meditation Room for quite a while, contemplating the gently sloping ceilings and calm atmosphere.
From the Lee Ufan Museum we biked to the nearby Chichu Art Museum (literally "In the Earth Art Museum"), which is arguably the main museum on Naoshima. You also have to reserve your tickets in advance, and you can only enter from a specific time (though you can remain in the museum as long as you'd like). The entire geometric complex -- a series of rooms linked via corridors or staircases -- exists below ground and can be considered one giant installation piece. (Not going to lie...I snuck some photos of the architecture, I find the play of shape, form, light, and shadow endlessly fascinating.)
After we wrapped up our time at Chichu, we biked over to Honmura (and our guesthouse) before it got dark. After getting set up in our traditional tatami-floored room, we had a quick chat with one of the other guests (who was from Quebec) and took his recommendation for where to go for dinner. Basically everything other than the museums on Naoshima are family-run, which also means that most places close quite early (between 6-7 p.m.). But we were able to grab a traditional grilled fish dinner with miso soup (And it had barnacles in it? Add barnacles to the list of weirdest things I've ever eaten...), rice, and several small veggie-based sides. And then there was nothing to do except got to sleep and recharge before another day of biking and art! So stay tuned for Naoshima Part 2.
P.S. You can thank Troy for the fact that I've made no "now/nao" puns.
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