5. Naoshima Island Part Two: Interactive Art

Naoshima Island Part Two: Interactive Art

Since publishing my last post, I've discovered that writing about interactive art is incredibly difficult. It relies so much on personal experience, even more so than other art, but I've found a (possibly unauthorised) YouTube video of one of my favourite pieces to help ease you in. The Japanese artist Rei Naito and architect Ryue Nishizawa created the incredible Teshima Art Museum in 2010, a single art space where Maja and I were entertained for a surprisingly long time. The best endorsement of the museum came from Maja, who, while we were waiting in the irritatingly long queue, decided that she had had enough of art and sightseeing and that she refused to be impressed anymore. As soon as we entered the space and realised what was going on, she exclaimed that it was absolutely incredible and the best thing she had ever seen!

See for yourself!


While I know little about architecture, the architect also staying at my airbnb said the museum is an architectural wonder. It is a seamlessly curved concrete shell, which echoes the contours of the surrounding hills. On either end of the cave-like space, there are two elliptical open holes. This means that the art space changes according to the weather and the height of the sun. The effect was other-worldly in its naturalness and seeming timelessness.

Teshima Art Museum (www.domusweb.it)

 (https://theolderpennsister.wordpress.com/2015/04/07/a-sacred-space/)

What captivated us even more than the surreal space was the artwork. We were warned before entering to look where we were stepping and that everything on the floor was art. There were a couple of small sculptures on the ground, some looking like hollow plastic balls. But mainly there was just water. At first we thought the water was mixed with some kind of chemical or gel, causing it to stick together and move in such a fascinating way, but we discovered that it was all natural water being pumped from a well beneath the museum and into the space through tiny holes in the floor. It was the coating on the concrete surface which made the water move like a living being. When we first entered the space it was a bit windy and long, thick bodies of water were racing towards a shallow pool like big caterpillars.We spent around an hour watching water and could easily have stayed even longer. It was mesmerising watching it move around, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, moving around in small and large formations, swirling away into a hole in the ground or joining one of the big pools in the sunny area... you get the picture! Everyone had to be careful not to walk or sit on an area with water, or get caught in the two loops of ribbon hanging from the holes and waving in the wind. One tourist got into trouble for blowing on some drops of water, trying to get them to move. I guess he wasn't technically touching it!

It was the participation and the wonder of the spectators walking through the space, or sitting in the sun and staring at the water, that made the art so special. The museum demanded exploration and a willingness to participate, to let yourself be awed by something as simple as water. It certainly inspired a child-like wonder in everyone. The best example for this was a Japanese grandmother who came with her grandchildren and couldn't contain her loud excitement, even after being reprimanded several times. The toddlers, however, were exemplary.

I would love to visit Teshima again and see the museum in different conditions. It must be even more magical in the rain, or at sunrise or sunset. It was like an organic being, despite being entirely made up of inanimate things. Before my trip to Naoshima and Teshima, I had never thought of concrete as a potentially beautiful material, but this museum managed to used ordinary materials and make them into something inspiring and breathtaking.

Teshima Art Museum (wordlesstech.com)

James Turrell's Open Field

I've already written about two of the art spaces in the Chichu Museum of Art. The incredible design and organisation of the museum, where every detail is designed for maximum impact, already contains a certain interactive aspect. But the art space dedicated to James Turrell's work took this interactivity one step further. Particularly one of his installations, Open Field, requires active participation. Again, only small groups were allowed in at a time, and a guide took us to black steps leading up to what looks like a plain blue screen.

Open Field, James Turrell, 2000 (http://benesseartsite.jp)

When everyone was gathered in front of the screen, the guide told us to touch it. Our hands went right through it. We were then asked to walk into it. The moment when we passed through the screen into a room suffused with blue light is almost indescribable. The sudden shift in perception was dizzying and, once walking through the room, there was a general feeling of amazement and exhilaration.

Open Field, James Turrell, 2000 (http://memory-imprint.blogspot.jp/)

The viewer must participate in order to experience the artist's desired effect, which asks the viewer to question the accuracy of what we see and perceive by actively tricking the viewer's perception. I liked the idea of hidden rooms, hidden worlds, behind a deceptive surface, and the act of penetration and immersion to discover the reality. Being actively involved creates a more personal, individual experience of the art. I guess it could be seen as a metaphor for art in general, where in order to truly experience or understand it, it's necessary to take some time and look beyond the first impression. 



Coming up: Disaster, WW2 and Art