Japanese crafts, which, while being presented as contemporary or modern crafts, have remained a world that is completely different from contemporary art, have in recent years been assimilated and absorbed into the contemporary art world at an accelerated pace. In the process, problems with both the entity being absorbed (pus?) and the entity doing the absorbing (mammonism) have been exposed, but the first thing that should be pointed out is what perhaps should be called a difference in awareness between Japanese crafts and Western crafts.

One could say that Japanese crafts accepted modernism twice, the first time actively and the second passively. The first was the Mingei movement of the early Showa period (1926–1945), which essentially accepted modernism. Based on the great dualism that formed the framework of modernism of “a social system comprising two antagonistic entities” versus “everything outside this,” or in other words “(A vs. B) VS. C,” the Mingei movement pursued a third option in the form of “outside” “C” projected unilaterally from the social system on the left (“the asymmetrical principle of beauty”). Buji kore kijin (“The noble person lets everything be as it is”), straightforward art devoid of pretense, the importance of the unvarnished everyday, the “work of nature” as creation freed from the artist’s ego, etc. The second was the acceptance of contemporary art after Japan’s defeat in World War II and saw the emergence of so-called “modern crafts” spurred on by various designs, including Surrealist objects, Picasso, Miro, Art informel, Isamu Noguchi, Pop art, and Minimalism. And in terms of a broad outline, people who have differentiated the former as traditional crafts and the latter as contemporary crafts, and people pursuing two objectives have shaped the crafts world. However, the former was different from traditional crafts, and the latter, which was nothing but a superficial imitation, could not be contemporary art. Japanese crafts could not possibly be connected to the global contemporary art world.
In the West, as the name suggests, crafts represent none other than strengths in various techniques. Techniques are but methods, and do not in themselves form genres such as painting or sculpture. If a painter wants to make a print they ask a printer, and if they want to make a ceramic piece, they ask a potter. In fact, many contemporary artists rely on outsourcing for the production of their work, and it is not unusual for an artist to express the same idea in marble, bronze and brass (e.g. Constantin Brâncuși’s Bird in Space). In other words, the essence for forming a distinct genre does not lie in technique. A technique is a technique for processing materials, and in the final analysis, the essence of art lies not in the materials but in the idea.

The essence of art is not in the technique—an understanding that will elude many Japanese artists. Because “the essence of art appears as the result of technique.” Something like an unfettered and flexible performance finally achieved by a skilled pianist (Hamada Shōji’s “15 seconds plus 60 years”) is the ideal in Japanese art. Accordingly, in Japan, each individual technique— ceramics, lacquer art, woodworking, printmaking, metalwork, and so on—claims a position as a genre just like painting or sculpture. In other words, in Japan, a single idea for a work of art cannot be divorced from questioning the essence of that technique and by extension from questioning the essence of the materials concerned. Lacquer art that does not inquire into the essence of lacquer or into the essence of the technique of lacquering is not art, and is nothing but a mere means of production that could just as well employ some material other than lacquer (e.g. FRP).

Viewing the works of the 22 artists in this exhibition on the basis of the above thoughts, I found that indeed there was no place for traditional lacquer art, and while all the works were excellent pieces produced in earnest, there was a dizzying gradation from survivors of the bad post-war “modern crafts” (or rather, dotards that had outlived their time: Informel-like, glossy lacquer objects with the streamlined forms of clouds or waves; lacquer panels of Man Ray’s red lips, which appear so frequently in contemporary art one is tired of looking at them, etc.) to the vanguard of contemporary lacquer art.

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Since ancient times, the most direct method of transforming physical worldly matter into metaphysical transcendental entities (fetishes, ritual implements, artworks) has been polishing. When transformed into a “mirror” in a broad sense of the word (something that reflects light or projects an image), matter rises above the world. As is commonly known, the top two stories of the Golden Pavilion at Rokuon-ji temple are covered with gold leaf and the floors with black lacquer, representing the glittering Pure Land of Amida Buddha. Following this example, the most fundamental essence of lacquer, in lieu of polishing, is another form of transcendentalization (a deeper, more immersive non-materialization or visualization into black lacquer). Here, an awareness of layers arises not from polishing but from the act of applying lacquer in layers one on top of another. Another essence of lacquer is this multilayered quality, and it is from this that techniques of polishing down from multiple layers developed in general (mother-of-pearl and gold-inlaid lacquerware, Tsugaru-nuri lacquerware, the kinma technique of Kagawa-nuri lacquerware, Negoro-nuri lacquerware). Furthermore, as an extension of this multilayered quality, lacquer also acquires a dualistic quality as both coating and support (the object that is coated). It goes without saying that the dry lacquer technique, carved cinnabar lacquer, and carved black lacquer rely on this dualistic nature of lacquer as both decoration and substance, but so do such techniques as inden (the application of lacquer to soft leather to create patterns). Inquiring into the nature of lacquer and the essence of lacquer techniques is the same as inquiring into the transcendentalization/non-materialization effect of lacquer between matter and spirit (idea), and involves addressing lacquer’s multilayered and dualistic natures.
As space is limited, I would like to comment briefly on four artists who caught my eye in particular. Shirako Katsuyuki is an artist I have been following for more than ten years.¹ The fascinating thing about his lacquer art is that its starting point is line drawings. He focusses not on lacquer’s multilayered/dualistic nature based on “surfaces,” but solely on its essential quality of transcendentalization. Freehand line drawings (2D: spirit) are turned into sculptures (3D: matter) carved from material (MDF), parts of which are coated with lacquer (non-materialization). They are also accompanied by a line-drawing quality (2D) in the form of shadow. His ambiguous works that straddle the before and after of the transcendentalizing effect of lacquer demonstrate a particular originality.
Ichikawa Yōko also creates lacquer art between lines and surfaces. She applies lacquer to the mesh surfaces of soft forms woven from strips of leather and bamboo. In a sense this is the negative of inden. The lacquer over the top of moving curved surfaces playfully betrays the traditional image of lacquer based on its stable multilayered quality.
Morita Shiho, who has attracted attention with her works in which beads formed when drops of lacquer turn into tiny balls under their own surface tension are lined up closely on threads, also shows an inclination towards expressing lacquer as lines or points and in the context of its dualistic nature. Unfortunately, because her lacquer thread installations approach the déjà vu-laden theatrics of the red thread-based works of Shiota Chiharu, for example, the hair-like threads are attended by an unnecessary gender quality. Expression that turns lacquer itself into three-dimensional forms ought to be freer.
Someya Satoshi is an artist who has pursued lacquer as decoration, but this is precisely why there have been ill feelings stemming from the lack of necessity in the forms of his works. This time, due to his choice of secondhand lacquerware as the stage for his decoration, the aspect of the decorations as collages floating unconstrained by the supports was nicely expressed. There are similarities here with the surrealist technique of dépaysement (displacement or disorientation). Like placing a lemon in Maruzen,² decoration is applied to an arbitrary surface using lacquer.

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1. Shimizu Minoru, “Geppyō 23: Shokubutsu no setsuna to urushi no eien” [Monthly review 23: The ephemerality of plants and the eternity of lacquer], Bijutsu techō (July 2010); Critical Fieldwork 38: Flowers of Japan,” ART iT (October 2013) https://www.art-it.asia/en/u/admin_ed_contri7/shgxzp7vl5r4qey26dvl/
2. Referring to a scene from Kajii Motojiro’s (1901–1932) famous short story “Lemon,” in which the young protagonist, tormented by poverty, playfully places a fresh lemon in Maruzen, imagining it will blow up the posh Kyoto stationery store.
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Shimizu Minoru
Critic. Professor, Doshisha University

“Current Lacquer Expression 2024—A Look at Lacquer” was held at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, People’s Gallery, from October 23–November 3, 2024.