Quick background: Naoshima is an island that, in the face of diminishing population and decreased employment (Mitsubishi used to be the major employer), has become an art island. The Benesse Corporation bought a pile of land here back in the 80s and has gradually turned it over to artists, either through museums or through installations of both public sculptural work or interior/architectural work. It is a magnificent spot, top to bottom.
My friend Eva had emphatically recommended Naoshima to me, mentioning that she did it as a (long) day trip, and found it a highlight, but said the best way to visit would be to overnight. And I almost did! The island has a few modes of accommodations: the coolest end of the range is staying literally in a museum (the Benesse House) in rooms with stunning sea views and original artwork hung in your ding-dang hotel room. The simplest end of the range are camper vans and yurts in a grassy area near the shore. And there are a few guesthouses in between there. But it didn't quite fit neatly into my geography, so I decided to set it aside as a probable day trip, and hey, if I didn't get to it, I didn't get to it.
My last full day in Osaka, slightly sick after too much running around and not enough sleep, I woke up at 6 AM and decided to stumble into the city, not sure exactly what I wanted to do. I blearily made my way to Shin-Osaka, the station for the shinkansen bullet trains, thinking that I might zip over to the gardens of Okayama or the castle in Himeji... or maybe I'd loop back to the main city station in Osaka for some breakfast and a wander. I looked at the board and saw the next train to Okayama was leaving... now. OK, let's sprint. On board the train, finding a perch in the nonreserved car, I started checking schedules to see if I could, in fact, connect to the train to Uno (where the ferries to Naoshima depart) once I arrived. I would just miss it. Ah, well. Gardens would be nice. As we arrived in Okayama station, I checked one last time, and this time Google pointed out that I could take a bus to Uno, which - though it would be close - could just barely connect me to the 9 o'clock ferry, after which it would be a two-hour wait for the next departure. Well. I had my kindle, so why not give it a go.
Using my embarrassingly bad Japanese, I confirmed that my bus was headed to the right place, and settled in for a surprisingly scenic hourlong ride down to the coast. As I disembarked at my stop, fumbling with coins to pay my fare, I went to cross the street to the port. The bus honked at me - this might have been the first time I heard a horn honk in Japan? - and I looked over to see the bus driver frantically pointing me in the direction of the ticket booth I wanted. I waved gratefully and sprinted to the booth, where the woman at the ticket counter sold me a return ticket, said "Number Four. Nine o'clock!" and pointed to a mooring down the pier. I had about thirty seconds to sprint down the pier and across a parking lot, landing on the boat just as they cast off. And now, my favorite travel moment: on the water, a sunny day, coasting somewhere new.
The way you do Naoshima is like this: once you land on the island, there's a little town where you can pick up snacks and rent a bike (single-speed, multispeed, or electric) or motorcycle. There's a bus that loops around the island and a few taxis, but biking is the way to go. You then take off on basically the only road that rings the island, and start exploring the museums and installations; the major sites are the Benesse House, Benesse Art Site, Chichu Art Museum, and Lee Ufan museum. I didn't make it into the Ufan museum, but packed my day with the other three and a perfect sunnycool day of cycling.
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| PLUS ALSO I SAW A ELEPHANT. YAY A ELEPHANT!!! |
The Benesse House is probably the most traditional museum, notwithstanding the "also we rent rooms" component. It's a gorgeous, airy space with some striking modern and contemporary pieces from the likes of Robert Rauschenberg (my heart skipped a beat when I turned the corner, not expecting to see his work here) and Jasper Johns and Andy Warhol.
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| Jannis Kounelis, "Untitled 1996" was among my favorite pieces - this is not my photograph, and doesn't do it justice (the museum prohibits photography and frankly this is why - the tactile experience of getting close to this piece is part of what's great about it). |
The Benesse Art Site, by contrast, is a collection of abandoned buildings that were turned over to artists to set up installations. I only set foot in a couple - one of many reasons I'd like to spend the night on the island, to expand the time to explore every site there is - but it's a great project, and a fun prompt to explore the little town where these buildings sit.
For me, the highlight of the day/island/trip/year (???) may have been the Chichu Art Museum. This is a fascinating spot: created primarily to showcase a quintet of Monet water lillies, the whole complex has become a meditation on space and light. It's literally carved into a hillside, leaving the landscape intact around the museum itself, with a few concrete shafts into the space letting natural light in.
The water lillies themselves are housed in a room that has the feel of a European bathhouse, all tiny white tiles and with (I swear) a slightly humid atmosphere. You don slippers to enter this space, surrounded by the paintings in an all-white room. It's hypnotic, but not quite as hypnotic as the other major pieces of the museum. Elsewhere, James Turrell's "Open Sky" leads you into a concrete room with a massive floating opening to the sky above. I laughed when I walked in - one of those surprised laughs of delight - and was enormously pleased when others did the same. (Some people came in, got irritated, and left. Sorry, you-people!) You essentially sit on this concrete bench and just slowly start noticing how the light plays off the walls, how the quality of light changes as clouds move across the sky, where the heat of the sun can be felt, and where the light of the room mingles with the light of the out-of-doors. It's lovely, and joyous, and simple, and grand. (His "Open Field" is likewise stunning, though much more confounding and disorienting to me.)
Finally, Walter De Maria's Time/Timeless/No Time is one of my singular most favorite patches of time in Japan. It's a huge hall with... well, here, let's nick the photo from the Chichu Museum's site:
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| The other side of this house, which you can see in my Osaka video, has a two-story white plastic replica of the Statue of Liberty. It's an old dentist's office! Wacky times ahoy. |
The water lillies themselves are housed in a room that has the feel of a European bathhouse, all tiny white tiles and with (I swear) a slightly humid atmosphere. You don slippers to enter this space, surrounded by the paintings in an all-white room. It's hypnotic, but not quite as hypnotic as the other major pieces of the museum. Elsewhere, James Turrell's "Open Sky" leads you into a concrete room with a massive floating opening to the sky above. I laughed when I walked in - one of those surprised laughs of delight - and was enormously pleased when others did the same. (Some people came in, got irritated, and left. Sorry, you-people!) You essentially sit on this concrete bench and just slowly start noticing how the light plays off the walls, how the quality of light changes as clouds move across the sky, where the heat of the sun can be felt, and where the light of the room mingles with the light of the out-of-doors. It's lovely, and joyous, and simple, and grand. (His "Open Field" is likewise stunning, though much more confounding and disorienting to me.)
Finally, Walter De Maria's Time/Timeless/No Time is one of my singular most favorite patches of time in Japan. It's a huge hall with... well, here, let's nick the photo from the Chichu Museum's site:
So. Beyond the fact that this is obviously the inspiration for Zelda: Breath of the Wild's shrines (nerrrrrrrd), what's cool about it? Well. Thanks to timed entry, there's a decent chance that you will be, as I was, the only person in this room by the time you get there. And so, cautioned against touching the massive marble sphere at the center or the gold-leaf pillars throughout the space, you'll be let loose to wander, to take it in from within the artwork itself. To see how the sky reflects off the marble, and where the light falls as the angle of the light changes. You'll just breathe, and share the room with the object. It all reminds me of how it feels to be in a Buddhist temple looking at a rock garden. There's a simplicity of contemplation, of being one with your surroundings, that becomes powerful with more time and silence to take it all in.
So. That's Naoshima. (Well, that and the sculptures that dot the island as you bike around, one of my favorite surprises - which photography couldn't do justice - being a ~12 foot tall trash can sculpture full with giant refuse.) If you're headed to Japan: make room for this. I know it's a theme of everything I write about travel, and a major theme of Japan in particular, but: go slow. Take the time. The more you can soak into corners like these, the more magnificent the trip becomes.
So. That's Naoshima. (Well, that and the sculptures that dot the island as you bike around, one of my favorite surprises - which photography couldn't do justice - being a ~12 foot tall trash can sculpture full with giant refuse.) If you're headed to Japan: make room for this. I know it's a theme of everything I write about travel, and a major theme of Japan in particular, but: go slow. Take the time. The more you can soak into corners like these, the more magnificent the trip becomes.
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| Plus some Kusama pumpkins. You KNEW there were gonna be Kusama pumpkins!!! |
