For a New World to Come: Experiments in Japanese Art and Photography, 1968–1979 offers an ambitious social and art history of a decade ignited by protest, shaped by global power dynamics, and visualized through new art forms.
SAN FRANCISCO — Claude Monet owned more than 200 Japanese prints and once told a critic, “If you insist on forcing me into an affiliation with anyone else … then compare me with the old Japanese masters; their exquisite taste has always delighted me.”
In a letter dated July 23, 1938, sent by the Japanese modernist poet Yone Noguchi to the Nobel Prize winning author Rabindrath Tagore — the first non-European to receive the award — Noguchi wrote the following justification for his country’s invasion of China, effectively ending their friendship:
There are certain exhibitions in which some or many of the works on display are so interesting, provocative or well-made that they somehow manage to surmount whatever restrictive or overwrought critical-theoretical trappings their organizers have erected around them, defying the analytical filters through which they are meant to be considered and understood.
Japan’s Meiji period (1868–1912) is commonly described as a time of quick economic and political modernization and self-conscious competition with Western military might and colonial aspirations.
Most photographs of real-life events tend to be documentary by nature, but the kind of photographic image-making that makes a point of approaching its subjects with an “objective” viewpoint and a for-posterity sense of purpose — can such photos ever convey a truly neutral position vis-à-vis their subjects?
Every spring, a resurrection occurs in the Echigo-Tsumari area of Japan’s Niigata prefecture.
Relieve yourself of the conventional biennials and triennials of the art world with the first art festival dedicated entirely to bathrooms.
Late last year Shima, a city of about 50,000 located 100 miles east of Osaka in Mie Prefecture, unveiled a new municipal mascot.
The Hollywood trope of the 40-year-old virgin, lampooned in Steve Carrell’s 2005 film, isn’t a joke in Japan.
One of art’s greatest functions might be the way it helps us share our common experiences, though those experiences are sometimes all too tragic.
Amidst the magical girls and sentient robots that dominate the Japanese graphic novels and comics known as manga, pockets of intrigue and eroticism lie.