Meet Yuta Niwa, Japanese Painter Mixing Traditional and Contemporary Art – ARTnews.com

Painter Yuta Niwa, like many young Japanese artists, incorporates traditional painting techniques and materials into his work, such as Japanese traditional paper, ink, pigment, and Nikawa glue.

Niwa discusses disasters such as earthquakes and infectious diseases using giant salamanders and catfish as motifs.

In his graduate thesis project, he described the destruction of four recent earthquakes in Japan using the giant catfish, considered the source of earthquakes since ancient times, at the heart of his work. The work was inspired by the popularity of catfish paintings in the 19th century, when there were major earthquakes in Japan.

By exploring people’s resilience to overcome loneliness by replacing the disasters of humor, Niwa discovers the roots of the creative action that can be seen in every era.

ARTnews JAPAN Talked to Niwa, who has temporarily returned to Japan due to the pandemic after studying in Beijing since 2020.

On the day of the interview, Niwa appeared at Roppongi Station in Tokyo wearing glasses with a unique frame design, which she said she chose because “they look cool, like cyberpunk.” He smiled innocently and said he bought them as a reward for winning an art competition last year.

This year, he will begin work on 24 sliding door paintings for Tofukuji Temple, a 13th-century temple of the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism in Kyoto.

Niwa plans to stay in the temple and make paintings while living and sleeping with the monks. The scope of his activities is immense.

ARTnews JAPAN: Giant salamanders and catfish come out of your work. How did you become interested in these motifs?

Yuta Niwa: I was surprised when I came across a living giant salamander in an aquarium in Kyoto. From Tokyo, I have never seen such a creature. In today’s information -oriented society, it’s hard to get the impression of seeing something for the first time.

There is something strangely interesting about the drawings of the tiger and leopard made by medieval and early modern artists, who had not yet seen these creatures, but drew them in connection with imports from mainland China. and other resources. For me, I thought the giant salamander might be a motif. Therefore, when I paint, I value more the impression I had when I first met them than trying to be biologically accurate.

In fact, that’s how I started, with figurative interest, but as I researched the legend about the giant salamander, I understood that its existence was passed on as a metaphor for disaster. It is well known that catfish are believed to cause earthquakes, but there are many other examples throughout Japan of stories linking giant aquatic creatures to disasters.

ANJ: You could say that the culmination of your school days, marked by your interest in these disasters and legends, was your 2019 graduate school project, “The Giant Catfish Shaking Up the Archipelago Fusuma-e ( sliding door painting). ”

In the past, many Japanese masters made sliding door paintings for architectural structures that were politically or religiously important. You have created 12 sliding doors that are architecturally independent and presented them as installation works, depicting the earthquake disasters that have occurred in recent years in various parts of the Japanese archipelago. And in the middle of them lay a giant catfish.

Why did you decide to specifically describe recent disasters?

YN: I hesitate to use recent disasters as a subject for my work, because survivors still face a lot of problems and emotional trauma. However, when I saw woodblock prints depicting a giant catfish (Namazu-e) often made in 19th century Japan, I decided to use the earthquake disaster, which I have real memories and experiences of. , as the subject of my work. In the past, people have overcome negative topics such as earthquakes in Namazu-e’s humor. Instead of just being pessimistic, they relied on signs of social change and tried to keep the memory of the disaster in place names and legends and pass it on to future generations.

Whether it’s an earthquake or a plague, I’m sure giving a tangible appearance to something unknown will convince people and make them feel better. Whether people believe it or not, the visible threat is probably better than the unseen.

I believe this is how various imaginary ghosts and monster animals were created in Japan and turned into paintings and stories. When cholera broke out, a chimera-like creature combining a tiger, a wolf, and a raccoon was blamed for the epidemic. Interestingly, even today, when we know how earthquakes happen, catfish illustrations are still used as icons of disasters on signs and postings in Japan.

ANJ: Now, I want to get to know you better as an artist. What kind of child were you then? How did you become an artist?

YN: What influences my current job may be “Godzilla,” which I’ve loved since I was a kid. When my mom saw one of my drawings, she said, “It looks like Godzilla.” It’s true that the giant black creature born from hydrogen bomb tests and city destruction bears a resemblance to the giant salamander, which is a metaphor for disaster.

I like not only Godzilla, but also the special effects themselves. I think I’m interested in the kind of reality created by pseudo-reproduction, which is more real than the real thing. I know there is a lot of work in CG today, but the detailed models of cityscapes built on the assumption that they will be destroyed in the beginning seem more realistic than they actually are in the story of the film.

I didn’t want to be an artist in the first place. When I was young, I wanted to be a carpenter. Then, under the influence of my high school art teacher, I found out there was an option to study architecture at an art college. From there, I started researching art school entrance exams, visited art museums, and enrolled at Kyoto University of the Arts.

It wasn’t until I returned from a six-month study abroad program in Switzerland at the end of my sophomore year that I clearly decided to major in traditional Japanese pictorial expression at university. During my study abroad, I realized again that I knew nothing about Japanese art. Back in Japan, I started studying traditional Japanese painting materials and techniques under the guidance of Professor Yoshiaki Aoki of Painting Techniques and Materials.

I had a lot of admiration for Japanese artists in the 16th to 19th centuries, and I liked Tohaku Hasegawa. Then there are Jakuchu Ito, Soga Shohaku, and Kyosai Kawanabe, whose works are very interesting even if we look at them today, 300 to 400 years ago. I want to be an artist like them someday, and that’s what’s driving the back of my work.

ANJ: Are you attracted to the artists of the time, many of whom remain masterpieces of the fusuma (sliding door) painting, because of your interest in architecture in origin?

YN: I think it is. I am interested in the unique Japanese culture “shitsurae (installation)”. I really enjoy the time I spend thinking about the history of the place where the artwork will be displayed and the stories associated with that place, as well as the artwork and how it will be displayed. The term “site-specific” has been gaining ground in the Japanese art world recently. Ever since I was a student, I have always been uncomfortable showing up in a white hut, and I have exhibited my works at temples such as Koumyouin (the pagoda of Tofukuji Temple) and Koseiji Temple in Kyoto.

However, when an artist like me makes traditional Japanese painting materials and techniques, he is often considered an expressionist in a genre other than contemporary art. Even though we live in the same time period and are equally aware of the same issues in our artistic activities, our works are viewed through a filter simply because they are based on Japanese classics.

I think it’s sad that we have to adapt our works to current categories from the beginning. I feel that my works and activities are on the blurred boundary between traditional Japanese pictorial expression and contemporary art. I want more people to see my work in a flat way. Because I think art should be more diverse.

In Japan, there are original ink-wash paintings made by literati artists who left the secular world untied to technicalities, as well as Ukiyo-e prints, created against an economic background and valued in all over the world until now. I believe there should be more works with free ideas that are not tied to the conventions of the past.

ANJ: What is your vision for the future of your artist activities? Will you return to Beijing when the pandemic is over?

YN: I want to live in Japan eventually and work as a Kyoto -based artist, because Japanese materials are good quality and easy to handle, and I like Kyoto. However, I am currently attracted to China’s excessive enthusiasm.

In Beijing, I have a warm welcome waiting for me, along with artist Sun Xun. Before the pandemic, I made massive sheets of paper using an old Chinese method, but I left the paper, materials, and everything else in Beijing. Anyway, now I hope to return to Beijing to do my artwork soon.

For the past six months or so, I’ve been going to Mr.’s studio. Aoki, my former university teacher in Japan, and working again under his guidance. This year, I am planning an exhibition that will showcase not only my works but also a record of my interaction with him. It will be interesting to show not only the master-student relationship between me and him, but also the relationship between him, me and the artists of the past.