The second half of my summer Japan trip!
It was tempting to stay in the peace and quiet of Yufuin forever, but there was more to see so it was back on the train… watching the morning commuters is always entertaining. This group of 20-somethings were all dressed in the professional office uniform (black blazer, white shirt, black pants/skirt/shoes), but they seemed more like shy kids on the school playground.
Our train first stopped in Hiroshima, which felt jarring after the sweet idyllic pace and comfort of Yufuin and southern countryside. I’ve wanted to visit this place for so long, to bring some kind of deeper resonance to what feels like a placeholder in my mind when I think “nuclear bomb.” Like visiting a former concentration camp or the 9/11 memorial in downtown New York, I’m always struck by how different it is to experience reflexive sadness in the actual space where the event took place, rather than just think “sad” in a (respectfully) distant way.
Taking a taxi with Mihoko to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park , I was suddenly so nervous. I thought maybe I would spontaneously burst into tears, overwhelmed by the weight of what took place here. I kept looking at the typical daily life going on all around, it seemed impossible that amid all these people and impressive buildings were footprints of devastation. But we arrived and I didn’t have a chance to fall apart: we were immediately absorbed into a beautifully respectful, quiet, almost reverential crowd moving towards the Genbaku Dome, or “A-Bomb Dome,” a former exhibition hall and one of the only buildings to survive at the bomb’s hypocenter.
Somewhere in the crowd, a woman kept singing “Amazing Grace” over and over as we took in the presence of the building and were comforted by the life all around: school kids, tourist tour groups, boats moving down the Motoyasu river. IN 1942, the river was filled with people trying to escape fire and pain of the radiation burns, but today there were just ducks and tour boats.
I made my way through the Peace Memorial museum and then went to see the eternal flame and ring the bell at Sadako’s paper crane statue.
It didn’t seem like there was enough time to absorb it all (I’m not quite sure how, but the afternoon felt both endless and incredibly short) and I was a little relieved when the sun started to set and it was time to catch the train to our next destination.
I had read an article a few years back about a mysterious “art island” in the Seto Island Sea and I couldn’t resist going to explore. Although it is a remote speck of an island, the Japanese provide a well organized set of ferries to and from the mainland, so getting there was pretty easy.
About 15 minutes into the ride, spongy mountains started sprouting up on the horizon and soon we were weaving through them like an easy obstacle course of sleeping giants.
And then, pulling into the dock, a giant red pumpkin welcomed us!
one of Yayoi Kusama’s iconic sculptures
Naoshima was transformed from refinery town into peaceful art lovers haven about 30 years ago by Benesse Holdings (an educational/publishing company with large art collection). On one side of the island, there is still the industrial landscape where
On the other side is a sprawling outdoor museum of installations tucked in valleys and laid across shorelines. You can pick up a map or just wander around -either by foot, bike, or bus- discovering various art installations as you go along. Here are two pieces I stumbled upon as I biked around: a sculpture of a giant 2-story trashcan and a folk-artsy painted ceramic elephant. I loved how integrated all the pieces were with the landscape, making the viewer truly feel like they had been transported into another world.
There were the most beautiful views everywhere I wandered.
And nestled in the hills, this little sweet cluster of houses (Seto islands hold a permanent population of about 100,000 residents)...
It was a tight squeeze into my last day in Japan, but I couldn’t leave the country without paying respect to my art hero, Isamu Nogouchi. His studio and house are nearly hidden in the hills of Mure-cho, a small town still known for its masonry- the main road is still lined with small companies that advertise their skills with rows of huge funerary headstones. It felt like I was following stone breadcrumbs to Nogouchi, his aesthetic and spirit seemed to be everywhere.
Men load a piece of basalt in a masonry warehouse. Everywhere are the sounds of machines cutting, sanding, and shaping the pieces of rock.
Noguchi’s front yard with two sculptures, "[name]” resting by the gate. As the rain fell on and off all afternoon, the colors and textures of the stones kept changing…as soon as I put down a color, the light changed it immediately!
Spending my last day here in an admired artist’s space was the perfect way to finish my time in Japan. I went into his workshop one last time before catching the train out of Mure: not exactly sure why, but I found myself sketching all his stone cutting tools, materials, and work bench. I felt just a little bit closer to the often elusive majesty and timelessness that is, to me, Japan.