Tag Archives: RackGaki

The postwar (World War II) state of affairs of Japan dramatically paralleled the social postwar struggle during the Edo period; yet quite opposite of Edo-period concerns with national isolation, postwar Japan reflected upon globalization’s effect on Japanese identity. Due to the interrelations between nations, Japan’s feudal divisions between rural and urban areas weakened by closing the gap between incomes due to the American occupancy during the 1940s. Moreover, by the 1960s the television united most Japan by broadcasting to all persons with a television. The newly-constructed bullet train provided easy access to major cities.[i] While postwar Japan struggled to regain economic and political standing, it attempted to supersede “modern” countries by efficiently recovering from the war and focusing technological advancement with government commissions of “authentic” Japanese art. A new generation, unfamiliar with national culture and tradition, arose from shared information and innovative technology. Japan’s economic bubble in the 1980’s acted as a catalyst yielding the contemporary subculture otaku, “home,” who purportedly had traded national identity for modern expansion.[ii] The collision of “traditional” Japanese art and modern western painting created a nuclear environment for a new subversive movement—Japanese postmodernism, super flat defined by Takashi Murakami in his essay “A Theory of Super Flat Japanese Art” from Painting at the Edge of the World.

Super flat strives to achieve the quintessence of Japanese authenticity, importantly distinguishable from a collective of earlier Japanese movements while incorporating contemporary identity or, more truthfully, identity crisis. Murakami has defined super flat as a term that embraces artists and works exhibiting “that unique Japanese sensibility… . [t]hat original expression, Japan.” He has characterized super flat works as those which possess an “eccentric” or a “superficial” quality that together force the viewer to realize the simple planarity of the piece. Presumably, Murakami has mentioned “superficial” as a universal adjective of art and subject matter implying that the images depicted (usually commodities, manga or distorted Edo-period woodblock-print images) are “phonies.”

Suiko (based out of Hiroshima) uses kanji, “tag” or logo similar to American graffiti artists’ street names, to sign his RackGacki, “graffiti.”[iii] Adhering to Murakami’s manifesto, Suiko uses an ancient and still used Japanese typography that has its origin in Chinese pictographs 5,000-years ago; a majority of RackGacki artists employ foreign words due to their legibility and facility.[iv] As one views Suiko’s shockingly massive piece entitled Eternity, spraypainted on a Hiroshima wall, the viewer is overwhelmed by the mere size. Kanji interweaves with graphic images creating a delightfully-decodable concoction, in which the viewer must invest time. The mix of image and text also mimics woodblock prints, such as Toyokuni’s Cherry Blossom previously discussed in Part II . The writer’s aggressive strokes of austere metallic silver suggest a harsh unpacked message. Symbols confront the viewer by manipulating the standard kanji form—the letters are aligned in a paradoxical pattern rather than canonical vertical form.

Hollow pictorial space stands as a hallmark for super flat emphasizing the hopelessly shallow subject matter. Suiko flattens physically-erect medium by encompassing walls with chaotic patterns. Enternity jumbles typography, graphic mimicry of manga characters, realistic glimpses of landscape, and other obscure forms into one collage. By contorting and combining common iconography, Suiko confronts the viewer with the fallacy of known imagery. The viewer strains to render a palpable explanation for the perplexing placement of the floating pig surrounded by equivocal shapes. The elementary graphics are lightly shaded, but mostly consist of one pure hue.

Suiko’s piece entitled SKLAWL. BELx2 berates commodification with unprecedented force. Similar to erotic-genre Edo-woodprint blocks’ critique of idealized female form, Suiko engulfs the contemporary idealized woman with counterintuitive graphic mess. The woman leans back, eyes close and hand rests upon her forehead, as she wades in a void sea of spray-painted blackness; from what one can see, she lies nude and pouts her slightly-open mouth exuding erotic implications, and she resembles a typical advertisement. She appears to be suspended in a state of rest or enjoyment, but she is consumed by kanji and manga images. Disruption causes the viewer to accept the superficial reality of the advertised fantasy as sharp images cut into her soft contours.

As technology increases, art must reformulate to maintain public interest. Rather than permanent art pieces of the isolated period like Edo-woodblock prints, contemporary RackGaki artist Suiko creates in a constant state of transformation and offers ephemeral glimpses of contemporary ideologies. His production imitates as it assesses globalization and information exchange: he chooses city space as the most pervasive medium; he illegally paints private property, a direct criticism of political coercion; he appropriates style from Edo subversive art and manipulates iconography from contemporary consumerism; chooses large-scale exhibitions in order to attract attention; and as quickly as it is painted, the work is painted over by the city. Suiko seems to be caught in a constant cycle of production and destruction—a circular performatvie art piece in and of itself. In some respect RackGaki has to compete with contemporary culture, and so it must also appropriate it, respectively.[vii] Consequently, we see Suiko’s RackGaki directly projected onto a car or other icons of development.[viii]

Notes

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[i] Noi Sawaragi, “On the Battlefield of ‘Superflat’: Subculture and Art in Postwar Japan スーパーフラットという戦場で　戦後、日本のサブカルチャーと美術,”in Murakami, Takashi, Toshio Okada, Chiaki Kasahara, Reiko Tomii, and Japan Society Gallery. Little Boy: The Arts of Japan’s Exploding Subculture (New York/New Haven: Japan Society/Yale University Press, 2005), 188.

[ii] Ibid., 189.

[iii] Ryo Sandra, RackGaki: Japanese Graffiti (London: Lawerence King, 2007), 72.

[iv] Natalie Avella, Graphic: from Woodblock and Zen to Manga and Kawaii,” 103.

[vii] Thomas Crow. “Modernism and Mass Culture in the Visual Arts” from Pollock and After: The Critical Debate edited by Francis Frascina (London, England: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1985),  233-4, 239.

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The ukiyo-e—translate to “pictures of the floating world” and are woodblock prints—exemplify an infamous Edo-period subversive art form due to their strong association to ukiyo, “floating world,” subject matter and premodern city life. Ippitsussai Bunchô’s (unsigned, due to the erotic subject matter, but attributed to Bunchô) colored woodcut entitled Lovers Spied upon by a Little Boy, circa 1770-80 portrays a highly-contrived, erotic scene delineating an intimate encounter between a girl and her lover as they are watched by a peeping boy. The scene is brought to life by pure-hued paint and most obvious representation.[i] Flatten-pictorial space, reminiscent of manuscript illustration, provides ample viewing ground inviting the viewer to roam freely along the surface of the print, yet the staged setting—noticeable by the seemingly-propped box and umbrella—reminds the audience of the artificiality. A man interrupts his lover, who attempts to play the samisen, insinuating that intimate relations will soon occur; presumably, the artist utilizes the intrinsically-erotic nature of “catching” two lovers in the midst of relations as a tool to stimulate the viewer, as he reinforces the notion of “catching” by juxtaposing a peering boy behind a curtain near the foreground. Direct invitation to such a private matter overtly contradicts Neo-Confucianist principles that are supported during the time of production.

Furthermore, the woman appears highly-idealized implying an upper-class air drawn with limited lines on her face, well-groomed hair, and detailed, heavy drapery. Her presentation imitates esteemed women depicted in Japanese antiquity or medieval scrolls. Her heretical display of explicit sexuality disillusions the purported pious upper-class woman as well as dogmatizes the canonical role of the woman, written of in Japanese scrolls.[ii] On the horizon, an allegorical, cherry-blossom tree perches, most-likely, referring to the notorious ukiyo tradition of transplanting robust cherry trees to align the central boulevard of Yoshiwara on the “25^th day of the second month for the duration of their blossoming season until the end of the third month,” when they are removed; similarly, Utagawa Toyokuni has also referenced the ceremony in the five-sheet colored woodblock print, entitled View of the Cherry-blossom at Shun Yoshiwara in 1811.[iii] Allusion to the ceremony buttresses the suggestions of a direct correlation between the manicured and the geisha, “art person,” who solely resides in ukiyo neighborhoods.

The ukiyo-e production mimicked the technological advancement of mass manufacture invented during the Edo period. As the merchant-class influence and size had increased, the stipulation for a more universal print distribution arose and moreover an equal necessity for innovative print making. The standard hand-painted illuminated manuscript was not warranted as a proper depiction of urbane life; consequently the ukiyo-e styled print was derived at by appeal to the latest print-making technology unveiling an inexpensive, commercial art form that could be copiously reproduced. Bunchô drew the image; another carved it onto a woodblock (usually with a company’s trademark on the piece); next, the woodblock, coated with ink, was set on print paper—the approach rendered a commodity good, which eventually was sold signally or in sets separately from books.[v] Production-line technique spread the consumption of illustrative art, which formally was only available to the upper class in the form of precious texts.[vi] Officially illegal, Bunchô’s erotic-genre ukiyo-e was indubitably distributed in packs of twelve with an array of petite, fantasized domestic scenes exposing the taboo chimera often purposely omitted from Neo-Confucianism values associated with Edo-period mainstream culture.[vii] In effect, the image, embodying the essence of ukiyo, transformed into a pervasive message fully capable of infiltrating popular culture. Those who could not personally engage in ukiyo were able to actively consume the culture by buying a “souvenir” of the culture in the form of an ukiyo-e print.[viii]

The ukiyo-e resonated throughout Japan as a loud reminder of the beginning deconstruction of feudal hierarchy. By examining Bunchô’s woodblock cut, one realizes that Edo social and political circumstances angled for appropriation of established visual iconography and style that had been rooted in illuminated manuscripts and scrolls, and that inconspicuous small-scaled images were reliable exchanges for subversive contexts; moreover, mass production mediated a successful medium for pervasive information. In turn, ukiyo survived several tried impositions by relying (to some extent) on small, woodblock prints. As a result ukiyo culture molded a distinctive Japanese identity and continued to prompt self-expression.

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[i] Sarah Thompson, “The World of Japanese Prints” from Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin, Volume 82, Number 349/350, The World of Japanese Prints (Philadelphia Museum of Art, Winter-Spring 1986), 30. Appendix, Figure A.

[ii] The Tale of Heike translated by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1988), 88-9. Appendix, Figure B

[iii] Clark, “Flowers,” 70-71. Appendix, Figure C.

[v] Thompson, “Japanese Prints,” 4.

[vi] The Tale of Heike, 88.

[vii] Thompson, “Japanese Prints,” 28.

[viii] Ibid., 5.

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The formation of authentic identity has prevailed as a common goal in Japanese art since the Edo period; yet more specifically, the tension between an unfolding dichotomy of social axioms and dissident ideologies has rendered a subjacent art lineage, incongruent with politically-influenced commissions. Both periods’ subcultures offer a severe artistic approach countering enforced conformity, but each responds to a different political circumstance and technological advancement. In both periods, the usages of the city as subject matters act as self-referential observations of Japanese urbanization. Edo-period woodblock prints echo the ukiyo, “floating world,” attraction to the Yoshiwara neighborhood. In comparison, contemporary Japanese graffiti (RackGaki), which projects “super flat” technique on the city space, embraces the Otaku’s exploration of the post-war Japanese identity and correlates to other postmodern studies of city and architecture. It can be suggested that the manner in which the Japanese artist presents subversive art has shifted from a persistent and small-scaled Edo-period piece to an ephemeral and large-scaled contemporary exhibition due to the shift from isolation to globalization of the Japanese city, which actively engages in the interactions of art and historical context.

The Edo period (1603-1868) cushioned Japanese society with economic growth and political stability, yet the period’s nearly-totalistic sovereign paternalistically ruled its people with strict laws that demanded a revival in Japanese nationalism, developing a generally-united society but also an opposing subculture who found pleasure in the Ukiyo.[i] After over one-hundred years of political chaos during the Sengoku period of “warring states,” the city of Edo was officially established as the military capital of the Tokugawa shôgunate, and in 1603 the commission to rebuild the Edo castle validated the new feudal reign.[ii] The reconstructed castle yielded a magnetic force attracting citizens and creating a powerful polis around it. In an attempted avoidance of the apparent ubiquitous influence of Christianity, which had posed an “alarming” threat against Japanese ideals, trade was restricted by the Edo government and Neo-Confucianism was implemented as a pseudo-Japanese philosophy (pseudo, insofar as its origin lies in Chinese philosophy, empirically outside Japanese philosophy)—isolating Japanese citizens from the rest of the world.[iii] As a result of the need for political structure, the samurai warrior achieved the ruling position in the categorical social hierarchy that had evolved. Limited social mobility encouraged members of a specific class to identify with one another, and, consequently, divisions between classes grew equally as strong.

Around 1730, the city of Edo’s population had soared over one-million people during the Kyôhô, which induced an explosive rate of urbanization and which furthered the distance between set-class distinctions. Accordingly, stimulated economic growth and introduction of the populated city had given rise to a powerful class of nouveau-riche merchants who patronized pleasure quarters developed in the Yoshiwara, arguably translated to “the most splendid of flowers,” neighborhood (and later surrounding city) of Edo.[iv] Inhabitants of Yoshiwara deviated from Neo-Confucianism maxims and promoted the urbane way of life, ukiyo, which consequently assumed a completely Japanese identity and included a plethora of indulgent activities: theaters, brothels, fashion.[v] A flourishing surplus of artistic portrayals—e.g., woodblock prints, literature—of ukiyo had idealized the hedonistic pursuits, thus they remained an integral part of premodern Japanese society long after Matsudaira Sadanobu had determinately endeavored to impede their practice by instituting strict spending restrictions and abolishing depictions of immoral scenes from prints, which stifled the districts’ earlier overwhelming expansion, in 1787 and continuing until 1801, known as the “Kansei Reforms.”[vi]

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[i] Gerald Groemer, “The Creation of the Edo Outcaste Order,” Japanese Studies, Volume 27, Number 2 (The Society for Japanese Studies, Summer 2001), 263.

[ii] Ibid., 271-2.

[iii] W. G. Beasley, “The Edo Experience and Japanese Nationalism” from Modern Asian Studies, Volume 18, Number 4, Special Issue: Edo Culture and Its Modern Legacy (Cambridge University Press, 1984), 556-8.

[iv] Timothy Clark, “Flowers of Yoshiwara: Iconography of the Courtesan in the Late Edo Period” from Decoration and Display in Japan, 15^th-19^th Centuries, Nicole Coolidge Rousmaniere edited by Kazari (2002), 64.

[v] Amy Boyce Osaki, “The Floating World Revisted: 18^th Century Japanese Art” from Art Education, Volume 49, Number 3, Metaphor and Meaning, (National Art Education Association, May 1996), 26.

[vi] Clark, “Flowers,” 65.



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