© 2004 Takashi Murakami/Kaikai Kiki Co., Ltd. Photo by Fanis Vlastaras & Rebecca Constantopoulou
Takashi Murakami, "Inochi" (2004)
© 2006 Mahomi Kunikata/Kaikai Kiki Co.
Takashi Murakami, "Momo Tomomatsu-chan and Gohyagohya-san" (2006)
NEW YORK—Takashi Murakami has been shaking up the art world since the early 1990s with
his unconventional approach to both subject matter and artistic production.
The Japanese artist and curator first made an appearance on the
global art scene with his controversial Randoseru Project, for which he
constructed backpacks, of the sort typically used by Japanese schoolchildren,
from the skins of endangered or exotic animals.
In the mid-’90s he provoked patrons of high- and low-brow art alike
by creating life-size sculptures of ultra-sexual, anime-inspired characters.
Most recently his work has blurred traditional lines between fine
art and the mass-produced object by pairing his signature, cartoon-like designs
with a limited-edition series of Louis Vuitton handbags.
Never content to play the traditional role of the solitary artist,
Murakami has moved into even broader areas of the art world, seeking out new
talent among young Japanese artists and becoming a curator for shows at the
Museum of Contemporary Art-Los Angeles and the Japan Society in New York.
For creating his own art, he has developed a unique factory-style
production line in studios in Tokyo and in New York—that involves dozens of
artists and assistants and runs like a well-oiled machine.
Working to promote those artists who have helped him build his
KaiKai Kiki studio, Murakami established the semi-annual Geisai art fair in
Tokyo in 2000. Now on the brink of the fair’s 10th edition, Murakami has
announced a special sneak preview of the next Gesai fair at the Volta art fair
that opens in Basel next week.
Some complain that the current art market has become too
commercialized. As a market-savvy artist, what’s your perspective?
It’s always funny when people say this, because it sounds like they
don’t understand what a “market” is. Isn’t it a place to buy and sell?
Personally, I think that the more commercialized the art market, the easier it
is to understand strategically. I do appreciate all different kinds of art,
though; just like I appreciate all different kinds of people. There are some
people who compete in the commercial arena and there are some who abide by more
personal, spiritual or idealistic guidelines. If done well, both can be equally
satisfying.
You’ve done work with Louis Vuitton and others that
straddles the line between art and commercial products. Do you think there are
dangers to mixing art with branding and merchandizing?
I don’t think of it as straddling. I think of it as changing the
line. What I’ve been talking about for years is how in Japan, that line is less
defined. Both by the culture and by the past-War economic situation. Japanese
people accept that art and commerce will be blended; and in fact, they are
surprised by the rigid and pretentious Western hierarchy of “high art.” In the
West, it certainly is dangerous to blend the two because people will throw all
sorts of stones. But that’s okay—I’m ready with my hard hat.
Your work has a decidedly cartoon-like or anime-inspired
aesthetic that is also quite common in other Japanese artists’ work. Why do you
think there is this fixation among contemporary Japanese artists on the “cute”?
Can you explain this sometimes creepy fascination among many young Japanese
artists (i.e. Aya Takano, Mahomi Kunikata) with images that depict prepubescent
girls in sexualized situations?
Anime is a big industry in Japan and is extremely widely and evenly
broadcast, so that the majority of people grow up watching the same TV shows.
You could go so far as to say that anime is part of Japan’s national
consciousness.
The cute obsession is a complicated problem, but I think that it’s a pleasant
and not-so-intimidating aesthetic ideal, so that is why it’s very popular. It’s
good for people who are introverted, which many Japanese are. Cute is so
fetishized in Japan that it’s actually also sexualized. It’s just like how
Americans have a fetish with steroid body builders and breast implants.
Personally, I think that’s creepy.
Tell me about how and
why you developed the idea to create your own “factory-style” studio.