The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) in Los Angeles has been hosting since October 29, 2007 the exhibit © Murakami. On show for three and a half month, this event is getting a broad success. The long line of people waiting to enter on a Saturday afternoon in January is a proof of that. Meant to survey the entire career of the contemporary Japanese artist Takashi Murakami, this solo exhibition of over ninety of his works spanning nearly two decades has been well marketed: bright fuchsia posters and banners were visible throughout the city and the media have commented widely on the controversial and daring take by the curator Paul Schimmel to install a Louis Vuitton boutique within the exhibit. But once drawn into this event, the notion of Takashi Murakami’s art being highly commercial dissipates to surprise us with its numerous references to Asian art history.
The first arresting example of his influence is visible from the entrance with the Oval Buddha (2007). This sculpture made of aluminum and platinum is about eighteen feet tall. Because of its large scale, it does remind us of the giant sculptures of Buddha, like the Kamakura Great Amida Buddha (Daibutsu). If we recognize the lotus flower base and other elements such as a vague resemblance with the ninth century Shaka (or Miroku) Buddha of Todai-Ji, or with Dogu figures of the Jomon period, this Buddha is treated in a cartoonish way with its frog-like body and goggle-eyes.
The same is true of Reversed Double Helix (2003-2005) protected by four guardians placed as if to signify the four cardinal points, a commonly used theme in ancient art that we find in ancient Mesoamerican temples and in ancient Asian art as well. These guardians are however not quite as frightening and imposing as the Kongo Rikishi of the Kei School sculptors of the Kamakura period in Todai-ji, Nara, but they seem to take their function just as seriously.
Cosmos (1998) is another work that is very reminiscent in form and content of ancient Asian screen paintings. The construction of the painting, separated into vertical panels, directly recalls the screen painting format. The content shows flowers over a silver background. It reminds us for example of Morning Glories by the nineteenth century Japanese painter Suzuki Kiitsu. Gold is replaced here with silver but the theme and composition are quite similar. The “Superflat” style of his work can also be linked to painting styles of the Kamakura period, for example the portrait of Minamoto no Yoritomo by Fujiwara Takanobu in the twelfth century Japan.
Yes, there are references to business and commerce in the exhibit. The Vuitton Boutique is an obvious one. The Kaikai Kiki Merchandise Display Room is clearly another one. Aligned in small window displays are a series a key-holders, cotton t-shirts, postcards, etc., all indicating mass-produced merchandise. We can almost hear the cash register ringing sales. However, if you stand back, this entire catalogue transforms itself in a color wheel as the objects are organized according to a color arrangement. This display, with its geometric layout of consumer goods, recalls the repetition of cans of Campbell’s soup by Andy Warhol in the 1960s, when Takashi Murakami was born. Even the patina-like background of Murakami’s 727, notable for its Disney-like character, recalls the Big Electric Chair by Warhol (who also worked on representations of Mickey Mouse). In both of these artists we see an intention to blur the line between fine art and popular art and clearly Murakami is appearing as the new pop artist of the beginning of the millennium. Like Warhol, Murakami is criticized for being too “commercial”. It’s been a long time since an artist did not intend to make any money from his art and Murakami welcomes it as any other artist would. It also needs it to pay the teams of sculptors and painters and other skilled people who (like Warhol) he employs on his projects. It is interesting to note also that like Warhol, Murakami also has his own “factory” (the Hiropon Factory).
The title of the exhibit, with the copyright symbol (© Murakami), clearly associates the name of Murakami to the pragmatic aspect of business with the legal and commercial and preservation of interests. Photographs inside the exhibit are strictly forbidden. The © symbol is very discrete but omnipresent. Ironically, it looks like a jellyfish eye! The jellyfish eye is a recurring theme in Murakami’s art, almost a signature for him. This demonstrates a Dadaesque sense of humor since jellyfish don’t have eye. But it could also be a twinkle to the riddles commonly suggested in Zen Buddhism such as the one illustrated by the fifteenth century hanging scroll Catching a Catfish with a Gourd by Josetsu. Relating to this nonsense, Murakami came up with the phrase “The meaning of the Nonsense of the Meaning” (subtitle of his Superflat Manifesto) referring to the purely decorative role of Japanese art, in comparison to the “meaning” present in Western art.
The exhibit would probably be amazing experienced in a Zen garden or a natural setting. But the Geffen is a nice venue for this show, tucked next to Little Tokyo and the Japanese American National Museum. The humor, the colorful artworks and youthful and seemingly innocent characters of this show have an invigorating effect. © Murakami might be the grown-ups exhibit with the youngest attendance to date. The overall feeling that emanated the exhibit space was of the exhilarating lightness of being young! Murakami appears to be building a bridge not only between the past and the present (the old and the young) but also between East and West.