Brief (c) Murakami Review

I finally got my rear down to Brookyn to see the (c) Murakami show at the Brooklyn Museum of Art this weekend. And it was everything I'd hoped for and more.

His work is, above all, high in craft and a pleasure to view. The sculptures are phenomenal in monumental vision, his paintings breathtaking in technical execution. The curation of the exhibition was absolutely top notch, and particularly of note is a connecting room filled with white shadowboxes displaying all of his small marketed memorabilia.

Additionally, the exhibition book (it is not at all a mere catalog, it is much more than that) is fantastic. Big, beautifully printed, and featuring all of his work in the exhibition and more as well as pages and pages of essays, it is a must-purchase for the Murakami enthusiast.

Finally, the exhibition sports a feature with which you call call a phone number and make comments on pieces in the exhibition to be featured in the audio guide, a really interesting bit of interactivity that encourages the viewer to think critically about the pieces.

Go visit the show. If you miss it, you will regret it.

Upcoming are three entries about major aspects of his work. Stay tuned.

I'm a "Female Cowboy", Not a "Cowgirl"

An important part of my thesis project was the title of the "Cowboy" piece.

If a studiomate passed by and mentioned something about the "cowgirl," I would have to correct them— it was important that the subject was a girl playing the part of the male cowboy, not the female version of the profession. There were "cowgirls" in existance. And that is not what I was representing.

Two of my favorite animé in the whole wide world are Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon and Shoujo Kakumei Utena, and I've mentioned them before. They both had prominent female characters assuming male roles, and not merely the female version of those roles.

Looking to Sailor Moon first, I'm going to talk about Sailor Uranus. Her alter ego, Haruka Tenoh, was a race car driver. She was not a female race car driver, she was a male race car driver that was female. It makes sense to me at least, so bear on. I'm not sure if there were female drivers in japan sixteen years ago, (I doubt it) but if there were, thats not what Haruka was. It helped that she was actually happy to lead others to believe she was male, which many did.

Five years later, and under the same director, was male-uniform clad, pink haired Utena Tenjou. Utena wanted to be a prince. Straight up, no messing around. Her mission was much louder than Haruka's. Haruka seemed to want to live the male life quietly with her partner, while Utena made much more of a statement about equality and rights and saving others and the whole nine yards or it. If she wasn't enough, the series also included Juri Arisugawa, the lesbian of the series who had a quieter existence like Haruka.

I thought the concept was pretty cool, the female being a male character, thus my sincere desire to see Takarazuka Revue one day. I don't think I quite understood it until recently, though, when I thought about what the cowboy character represented.

Perhaps this is about the difference between being a transexual and a transvestite. In the end, Haruka was living the life of a man, and Utena was living the role of a prince (though to be honest I think she identifies as female. Utena is set in damned near an alternate universe so the rules are a bit hazy.) Growing up, I thought that female animé characters dressed in male clothes was freaking awesome, but I don't intend to just wear male clothes in my pieces, I plan to play the male. And for that Haruka is pretty much the best inspiration ever.


Images:
Top, Haruka Tenoh ; middle, Anthy and Utena ; Michiru and Haruka.

Super Sentai And His Children

Animé has a history of color coded teams. Voltron. Sailor Moon. Rayearth. Some may immediatly recognize the origins as "Super Sentai Series."

Short definition: Power Rangers.

Long Definition:
Super Sentai was a series of tokusatsu shows. Tokusatsu, meaning "special effects" applies to the genre of Japanese films including the monster movies like Godzilla and the hero movies such as Kamen Rider and Ultraman. Scale models, pyrotechnics, outrageous costumes, and transformation sequences all constitute the genre. Super Sentai is the "team" type series that we are most familiar with through Bandai/Saban's Power Rangers. Approximately five recurring characters, each assigned a color, and sometimes also an element, a specific type of power or prowess, and of course, a part of a Zord. I mean, giant robot mech. Silly me.

I want to talk about the appeal of Sentai genre. Primarily: market brilliance. I'm going to use Sailor Moon as my case study because I know more about it than Voltron.

In a single-hero story, your hero has a hair color, body type, and disposition. Often a characteristic that makes him a hero: often physical strength, possibly for some kind of magic, perhaps an important destiny. What if you had a choice?

Thats what Sentai gives you. Sailor Moon is the kindhearted klutz. If the show was just about a kindhearted klutz that fights for love and justice... yeah, that would be great, and its certainly been done. But instead, you get five heroines. A klutz, a brain, a toughie, an idol, and a priestess. Two long-haired blondes, a short and long brunette, and a long black haired one. A Pisces, a Leo, a Virgo... the point is that now there are numerous routes of sympathization. I happened to be an Aquarian questioning my sexuality and my gender role. Woh, so was Sailor Uranus.

"That character is just like me," she says. More types, more options, more chances to find a story about you.

The "team" theme is much more diluted now, but its fair to say its an animé staple. Fushigi Yuugi is an example of a team that isn't so Sentai. No colors or robots, but distinct roles and personalities. Consider harem anime/game: will you choose the girl next store, the lolita, the kemonomimi, the glasses-type, or your sister? Oi.

My current work references Animé openings that flash a sequence of characters or personas on screen, as in the beginning of New Cutey Honey, or later in Neon Genesis Evangelion (skip to 1:11), and especially in Sailor Moon (2nd R opening here, try skipping to 34 seconds in.)

Sigh. If I may, I remember being excited that in Sailor Moon S Series, there were two opening theme animations. The first not including Sailor Uranus and Neptune because they hadn't been identified in teh series yet, and then they appeared in the seconds version of the opening once they were introduced. Neat.

Originally the piece was focused more on The Cutey Honey/Transformation Pen aspect: you can have lots of costumes and skills. But I'd be lying if this work isn't a little about Super Sentai.

I wonder if I should or should not mention Bokutachi Wa Yami Ja Nai here, but an ongoing side project with the fine folks at Neko-Jin Designs is an attempt to force as many animé character stereotypes into a BL type comic of that title. It has three main characters that eventually allude to a group of five, represented by each element. So there you go. Its an on-again, off again project, not on the front burner right now, but shows up once and a while (like in the last post.)

See my "Animé opening" animation here. (Links to a MOV file.)

Animé Style and the Disgruntled Affected

An associate of mine recently blogged about how much she hated being told that she drew "manga" or "animé." She's much like me in that she is an American and that her illustrations are highly influenced by Japanese animation and comic book styles.

This got me thinking on it means when they say: "You draw animé."

Knowing the Japanese etymology of "animé" myself, saying that someone draws "animé" doesn't make any sense. "Animé" is just a shortened version of "Animation" (in Japan pron. Ahn-EE-may-shun), which, as you can probably tell, is an appropriated English word. In Japan, "Animé" refers to any animation, regardless of national origin.

But I think it's safe to say that the word "animé" has not just a different connotation, but an entirely different definition in English. Animé, as an English term, refers to any illustrated work with visible influence by the culturally Japanese animation style.

And before I get the "But Japanese comics come in LOTS of styles, look at XXX, or XXX!" I'd like to point out that this assertion is valid because the style is distinguishable. Even in those of us who try to make art "not look like animé anymore." Non-animé fans can look at a drawing and tell it was influenced by animé, even if the artist is both American and highly respected, IE Tech Jacket by E.J. Su or anything and eveything by Adam Warren.

Young, naïve Americans have created "portflios" of copied batman drawings just as they copy Japanese manga drawings today. The reason all manga influenced styles are lumped together is becuase most Americans do not have a cultural connect to it, therefore, don't know how to access it except as one style type.

If animé was accepted in American culture as a proper, intelligent discourse, in which we distingush the Japanese "animé" and the english "animé", this "You draw animé" thing would be invalid as saying "You draw Marvel." Am I wrong?

The problem, beyond the cultural disconnect to the style, is the iconography. Among the "Animé art" community, theres a pervasiveness of use of Japanese symbols and words. The "sweat drops", "tension knots", "bleeding noses" and "sigh clouds" are symbols that are completely recognizable in Japan and to American animé fans, but not part of the American iconography. As such, they are dead giveaways of the animé style influence. See Blue Monday by Chynna Clugston-Major. She's also guilty of slipping a few Japanese words in there, such as "baka," which will confuse the hell out of any American who doesn't know the otaku lexicon. These references speak only to the American otaku audience, not to the rest. So there you are.

Well, this article has spiraled out of control. But the point is, I think animé is on the verge of becoming a valid member of american culture. The Comics Journal articles mention animé on a regular basis, because it pervades in comic culture. Also a part of fine art culture now, and possible the rest to follow, will we have to worry about who draws "animé art" anymore? Or will we finally have to consider who draws "good animé art" and "bad animé art" instead?

I think Space Coyote understands. And the world understands Space Coyote. Actually identified as Nina Matsumoto, illustrator, she created the internet phenomenon at the top of this article, the "Simpsonzu." If anyone can be accused of making "Animé art" AND being damned successful at it, it is her. Check her out at http://www.spacecoyote.com/

Images:
Top: "Simpsonzu" by Nina Matsumoto. How animé style is commercially successful in America when the connotations are fully comprehended.
Right: Illustration for "Bokutachi wa Yami Ja Nai" by Kori Michele Handwerker. Yes, they have nostrils, but don't I know its animé styled? I sure do.

(C)Murakami: I'm a little scared

So I'm chomping at the bit here, anxiously awaiting the moment I'm free enough from this graduating thing to go to Brooklyn to see (c) Murakami. While in New England these four years, I've only been privileged to see one of his works, a Vuitton x Murakami wallpaper-painting that was, in fact, exquisite and poignent. Naturally, I'm obsessed with his work because it speaks to "Otaku" as a cultural asset and defining force of Japanese culture. I also think that hes very important to American art because he showing us the force that Otaku culture holds, as well as the threat it implies.

But as his work and his exhibitions develop, I'm getting a wave of dread... something I'm not confident to confirm or deny until I've seen the exhibition. The Louis Vuitton shop in the middle of the show? Are you trying to validate, or elevate Otaku Phenomenon? If that attempt doesn't crash into failure, should we be worried? Could it be that this phenomenon is actually going to amount to vengeance for the atomic bomb atrocities? Gah, what does it mean!?

I'm only scribbling now in between writing papers, so please excuse the speculations. But backing down now...

I hope My Lonesome Cowboy (see right) will be there, but I fear not since the Museum page only lists Hiropon. I can't wait to see the big red DOB too. But My Lonesome Cowboy is pure genius, and I think the most important piece he's ever done. It speaks to the idea that the animé we know now is about Japan reasserting it's strength (read: manhood) in the face of demilitarization by America.

(c) Murakami will be running April 5–July 13, 2008 at the Brooklyn Museum of Art in Morris A. and Meyer Schapiro Wing and Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Gallery, 4th and 5th Floors.

I suggest art students interested in the show take a look at the great slideshow of installation shots on the Museum Website:
http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/murakami/

Essays on Animé

While my blogging hiatus grows on account of my preparation for graduation, I've been doing a little reading in between the writing, photgraphing, and installing. Japanese Visual Culture: Explorations in the World of Manga and Animé is a collection of essays about the relation of animé to culture. Its a good read, and convenient when you have little precious moments to keep a book on your lap.

Heres a couple of sentences from "Opening the Closed World of Shoujo Manga" by Mizuki Takahashi about what "shoujo" means. It was shocking to me but makes the genre so much more sensical:

"Usually glossed with the English word "girl," the term shoujo specifically indicates a young woman who is not allows to express her sexuality. While a shoujo may be sexually mature physically, she is socially considered sexually immature and is therefore identifiable as neither male nor female."

That shoujo refers to a sexually immature condition, rather than an age or gender, makes a lot of sense.

The history that follows this passage is amazing and quite scary. I reccommend anyone interested in the history of the genre read this essay.

An exciting exhibition came and went in the past couple of years called Shoujo Manga: Girl Power! That is worth investigating if you're interested in the art related to the genre.

Another week or so and I'll be back in action. Thanks for reading!

Yuri: Girls Love and Identity

There are a number of theories people have to explain what we paint. A professor told me she heard that "We all paint what we think are the conditions during the big bang." Another artist said "We paint to replace all the things we hate in the world." But here's what I've been contemplating: What if all the work we do is really about our first love?

It would be an eerily accurate theory in the case of the work I do.

First, a briefing about "Yuri."

Yuri (or shoujo-ai) refers to any variation of girl's relationships in manga or animé. It can be sisterly love, romantic love, or sexual love. Often many of the above.

Yuri is literature with content about females, created by females for females to enjoy (in contrast to its more popular sibling, Yaoi, which is content about males, but also created by females for females to enjoy.) The content's relationship to the author and viewer is different. Nowadays, there's a lot of Yuri created by males for males (its only a natural progression) but that's not the Yuri we're going to talk about.

That said, this is going to be a wierd Freudian post about my past relationships and how they stuck with me. And animé. Just so you know.

My first love was a girl. She was my best friend from grade 2 until grade 9, and I thought we would be together forever. A cliché "ha, why would we ever get married? We have each other!"
But she had some emotional problems, which I tended to blame on her family, that ended our relationship in a messy separation. Said separation affected me for the rest of my life. Did I mention that this girl introduced me to animé? Yeah, that.

I felt an extraordinary guilt throughout my high school years because part of me thought I had failed her. I hadn't been able to fix her emotional problems, so the logical step was to keep trying to fix the emotional shortcomings of every girl I could get close to. My repeated attachments to needy girls led to my assumption that I was a lesbian, which proved untrue after I got to college. It also led to repeated heartache and stress.

Animé is jam-packed with both the lesbian role models that I desired in high school, as well as the innocent and unreserved grade-school female relationships that resonated with my middle school days. I have an eternal allegiance to Haruka Tenoh, also known as Sailor Uranus, from the Sailor Moon series. She is a transvestite, with a female partner. She is tough, with a low voice, and does the things that boys do. Revolutionary Girl Utena took over where Uranus left off, adding multiple layers to the "girl acting out the male role," by overlapping the insecurities, changes in adolescence, and layers of sexuality to the main character. Also loss, deciet, obsession, and confusion. Utena was more than an icon, she was a biography.

The other half of it is the stuff that isn't so heavy: The school age love between little girls who are best friends. The younger ones may see this in Cardcaptor Sakura, which is genius, I think, because it also addresses loss (the friend in love looks on quietly as the other moves on to have a boyfriend.) But the roots are in Shiroi Heya no Futari and later expanded on in the genre-stronghold Maria Sama ga Miteru.

What brought Yuri in to my studio as a considerable topic was a show I recently started watching called Gakuen Alice. The main characters are, in fact, elementary-grade girls who have an unbreakable bond of friendship. Yuri isn't the main content: it's about a magic school of sorts, and conspiracy, and angst, but the handling of the Yuri content is so refreshing because it isn't your standard "come to terms with your feelings, confess, yay now we're gay," story. It is assumed already that they're bonded for life, and then the rest of the story goes on after that. The same goes for two young boys in the series, who are shown to have a "dream" regarding them living happily ever after on a farm far away from everyone. Sigh.

I'm happily taken by a male now (It was harder to tell my parents I wasn't actually a lesbian than it was coming out in the first place) but that whole experience is still a part of me. The stories that move me the most are of girls who are best friends who have to separate. There is something very special about it. About realities. Heartache. Growing up. Very much a part of my identity.

The "girl team" has always popped in and out of my work. It manifests itself in a number of ways and comes down to this: there is something uniquely beautiful about two women or girls who can love and rely on one another unconditionally. I know it.

After The identity series, I'm considering doing a body of work about pairs of young girls and animé. I've been looking into Takashi Murakami's studio, Kai Kai Kiki Co., and how those artist's personal histories are informing their animé-themed work. The trick for me is, their work is informed by animé in Japanese culture; my work will be informed by animé in American culture. Very different.

Question: I've always wondered. Does Yuri, as a medium, affect Japanese Society? Do these great stories about butch, tough, or even simply audible women inspire anyone? Has Yuri effected your identity as a woman or girl?

Visit Okazu: Here
A great source for terminology, history, and literature about Yuri and Yuri awareness in America.

Images:
Top: Mikan and Hotaru from Gakuen Alice (Magazine scan)
Bottom: Kori Michele, photo from "A Storyboard?" Installation