1980 JAPNES ADVERT
Bonnie and Clyde actress Faye Dunaway sits in a darkened room, staring intently at the camera. In front of her is a hard-boiled egg, which she slowly picks up, peels, and begins to eat, half smiling from time to time as she continues in her task. Perhaps surprisingly, this isn’t a Lynchian interlude in a particularly bizarre episode of Twin Peaks; rather, the surreal, 90-second-long film is an advert for Japanese department store Parco – as directed by photographer and fine artist Kazumi Kurigami.
KAZUMI KURIGAMI
TATE ARCHITECTURE
On the ground floor of the Tate there is a arge concrete chamber that usually has exits however hs time it was empty. But to me the space was so huge and drowning it felt like and exhibition to display the emmense power of the urban environment. Such huge rooms with nothing in them supporting thousands of tones on top. It felt like being in a cave but so deliberate.
ED RUSCHA INTERVEIW
t’s a viewpoint that Ruscha can relate to. “On the one hand we’re supposed to embrace new ideas and aggression, or at least the positive side of aggression,” he says. “But I don’t want to see the old world go away. I like the black and white world. I equate my growing up and first coming to LA [with the] black and white world. But now we’ve got Vegas everywhere. I saw it just now at Piccadilly Circus … these giant motion graphics. Soon it will be everywhere – in small towns in America and probably England, too, with people using their real estate as possibilities for advertising. It’s scary, but it’s coming soon.”
That phrase could sum up the foreboding that lurks in Ruscha’s work, zen visions of the modern American west infused with a sense of impending apocalypse. Now 80, he’s a little unsteady on his feet but sharp as a tack. His photography and paintings have helped define modern America – its gas stations, corporate logos and prairies. But there’s often an unsettling undertow – as in his most famous work, The Los Angeles County Museum on Fire.
Graffiti wall redone
this work was done by a small Instagram artist I just found it so cool. normally people try and cover up street tagging, its seen as ugly vandalism and something bad people would do. This artist turned that around and to me made a really strong piece of work. I th8nk it visually looks really cute and noting like tagging, if u saw this on a wall 7 would assume it was purposely put there. It’s very deliberate.
DYSTOPIAN BRUTALISM
In the context of popular culture, film and television, brutalist architecture* is often associated with and/or set in a dystopian or utopian future, no matter what year the film was made, from A Clockwork Orange in 1971 to Blade Runner 2049 in 2017, the visual image and aesthetic has remained almost the same.
*Brutalist architecture and the movement of Brutalism is an architectural style which flourished from the 1950’s through the 1970’s. The word is derived from the French word ‘Béton brut’ which translates to ‘raw concrete’ and references the exposed concrete construction as the main component to Brutalist architecture.
“In order to be brutalist, a building has to meet three criteria, namely the clear exhibition of structure, the valuation of materials ‘as found’ and memorability as image.”
Architectural critic Reyner Banham on brutalist architecture.
The inception of brutalism by its forefathers was architecture as a social tool, creating affordable homes for the many; seen as a positive option for forward-thinking, modern urban housing. However, brutalist architecture in film has shaken this image off and has relinquished its role as “the guardian of social balance”; with brutalist architecture is often a big role as headquarters for oppressive regimes and as cold and sterile environments in areas of decay or trouble; an association with poorly maintained brutalist buildings.
Image
KIMONO TO RUNWAY
a “real kimono revival happening in Japan.” (Scroll down for examples from Vogue’s Tokyo street-style portfolios.) She traces the roots of this trend to early 2000s street style, when scenesters started wearing vintage kimonos as a way, Rout explains, of turning their backs on the “the ubiquity of global...fast fashion,” and also as a reaction against an older generation, “who saw the kimono as kind of old-fashioned and a bit too traditional. Younger generations,” she notes, “don’t have quite the same hang-ups, regarding kimonos.”
Kimonos, used by men and women, are the national dress of Japan and were worn with regularity until after the Second World War, when they went from being everyday dress to “codified costumes that people would only wear for special occasions,” according to Rout. What’s thrilling to her curator’s eye is to see the circularity in the present-day revival. The last time kimonos were fashionable garments was in the early 20th century, and what’s à la mode today are kimonos from that earlier era. No longer ceremonial garb, kimonos are, notes Rout, “something that people can wear and have fun with again. And that’s true whether the garment is vintage or by created by a new gen of kimono designers responding to the revival.”
Kodama
Kodama (木霊, 木魂 or 木魅) are spirits in Japanese folklore that inhabit trees, similar to the dryads of Greek mythology. The term is also used to denote a tree in which a kodama supposedly resides. The phenomenon known as yamabiko, when sounds make a delayed echoing effect in mountains and valleys, is sometimes attributed to this kind of spirit and may also be referred to as "koda
If a tree falls in the forest, and someone hears it, is that the plaintive cry of a kodama? Because that is what ancient, tree-worshipping Japanese people thought.
The Japanese have always known that some trees were special. For whatever reason—maybe because of an interestingly shaped trunk, or a sequence of knots resembling a human face, or just a certain sense of awe—some trees were identified as being the abodes of spirits. Depending on where you lived, these spirits went by many names. But the most common term, the one that is still used today, is kodama.
DYSTOPIAN VS UTOPIAN
Concepts of utopia and dystopia represent imaginary societies in which people live their life either in a perfect environment, governed by the laws that provide happiness to everyone, or in an oppressive society that is ruled by the repressive and controlled state. Origin of these concepts can be traced to the year of 380BC when Greek philosopher Plato released his influential political dialogue called “Republic”. In it, he first postulated the main themes of utopian society and his visions of the perfect Greek city-state that provided stable life for all of its citizens.
The modern world “Utopia” came to life during early years of 16th century, in the work of the famous English philosopher Thomas Moore. His description of utopian society gave birth to an enormous wave of utopian thought that influenced the life and works of many future philosophers and novelist and helped in the creation of several significant political movements (most notably socialism). Utopias that were envisioned by the minds of those authors can most easily be divided into several distinct categories, all based on the means of their creation – Ecology utopia, Economic utopia, Political Utopia, Religious Utopia, Feminists Utopia and Science and technological utopia. The 19th century gave the birth of the largest wave of utopian thought the world has ever seen. Numerous novelist and philosophers focused their careers on the exploration of those themes, and the result of their work influenced the audiences across the entire world. Most notable utopian novel from that period was without a doubt “Looking Backward” by Edward Bellamy.
BROKEN BUILDINGS
I think the buildings look really eerie and sad breaking down.a structure that has been abandoned by its creater.
SHIZUOKA TEA PLANTATIONS
*Chagusaba Nouhou／ It's a traditional agricultural method to spread the grass such as silver grass or bamboo grass as an organic matter on furrows for high quality tea production. The grass which is mowed at the Chagusaba (half wild grass land) around the tea plantation is dried and cut to put into the tea plantation. It is said that it makes the tea taste and smell better.
The history of Japanese tea
LUCY ORTA
British visual artist.
After graduating from a fashion design school, Lucy Orta turned towards visual arts as of 1991, when she met Jorge Orta, an Argentinian artist with whom she has collaborated since. Experimenting with sculpture, photography, as well as interventions in the public space, her work, which she defines as “body architecture”, addresses the boundaries between architecture and the body. While she chooses to show her work in museums and cultural institutions, she also insists on showing it outside, in that she considers the street a crucial element to re-assess our social realities through the use of poetic and metaphorical forms made to explore the notion of exchanges in the public space. With her first Refuge Wear and Body Architecture pieces in the 90s, which were made out of humanitarian equipment like tents, survival blankets and sleeping bags turned into temporary shelters and portable architectures, Orta took an interest in means of survival.
ARTICLE ON 1980 JAPANSE ADVETTS
For the first twenty years, Japanese TV commercials had given the audience the "dream" of a modernized style of living and much new information necessary for achieving it. Consumer goods such as electric appliances, cars, medicines, and western foods – things that help people modernize and simplify daily life – were mainly and most favorably broadcast by the companies (clients) over and over again until the name of the products could be the topic of a small talk over tea. Those commercials were widely broadcast and largely accepted through the new method of advertising, although in many cases the commercials were considered an intermission in the regular programs – a time for going to the bathroom.
It is safe to say that people and their culture create TV commercials and that through watching and studying TV commercials in a particular country, we can gain insight into the characteristics of the people and the society. These days, the recession and the resulting drop in consumption have had a great effect on the production and the content of TV commercials – even in Japan. The need to cut expenses has made it difficult for clients and advertising agencies to produce attractive commercials at low cost. Extravagance and some other features of the 1970's advertisements seem to have disappeared from the screen. Still, in the circumstances since 1980, thousands of commercials have been broadcast daily from five major commercial TV stations in Tokyo. Since watching TV is one of the most popular pastimes for the Japanese, it is quite sure that a socio-cultural study of Japanese TV commercials gives us a mirror for perceiving the trends, tendencies and characteristics in the Japanese society as well as of the Japanese themselves. Analyzing the commercials from the viewpoint of communication – specifically of nonverbal communication – must give us insight into the foundations of culture and society and help us understand the thinking and behavioral patterns of the Japanese.
3. Results of the Research – Particular features
Based on the analysis and categorization of the American TV commercials in his paper of 1988, the author pointed out the particular features of Japanese TV commercials as follows.
90
Intercultural Communication Studies III:2 1993 Koji Akiyama
(1) Smiling to express happiness and satisfaction by using the product or service (including the Japanese masked smiling of abashment and embarrassment).
(2) Close-ups of women, especially those of actresses, singing idols, movie stars, and TV talents, frequently appear instead of information about the contents and effectiveness of the product.
(3) Gestures (emblems which are originally Japanese or Americans, or both) often appear as effective means of communication. Proximity is also used for expressing close relationships.
(4) "Soft sell" approaches as opposed to "hard sell" approaches commonly appear.
(5) Inconsistency between the visual image and the product or the service
(6) More frequent appearance of TV personalities
(7) Using trained animals, beauties, children (the basic ABC's).
(8) Frequent appearance of foreigners, especially Caucasians
(9) Use of music to improve the image (almost always used)
(10) Frequent use of concepts in which tradition and modernity
combine together to produce a beautiful contrast
(11) The use of foreign languages, especially English (Sometimes the
English used is ungrammatical or is used carelessly.)
(12) Frequent use of puns (Humor sometimes appears)
(13) The concept of "family" is often a central concept of the advertising.
(14) Public service announcements are rare.
(15) Comparative or challenge ads are rare.
(16) Advertising of alcoholic beverages and tobacco is often broadcast;
the former is very common, the latter somewhat restricted.
(17) Frequent appearance of mini-dramas or stories in commercials
(18) Insurance companies, security companies, and banks are allowed
to make TV commercials; however, adequate information is not offered. (Another example of a "soft sell" rather than a "hard sell" approach.
(19) Except for the discount stores, supermarkets, and junk foods, indication of prices is rare.
(20) Shortening of the time of commercial broadcasting; 15 or 30 seconds is common. (Because of the rise in costs, one or two companies by themselves cannot afford to buy commercial time during a program in prime time.)
Daniel Arsham
Daniel Arsham employs elements of architecture, performance, and sculpture to manipulate and distort understandings of structures and space. Arsham became widely known at the age of 25 when he was asked to design his first of several sets for Merce Cunningham’s productions. His practice has been guided by a curiosity for architecture and structured space, stemming from childhood memories of seeing the wreckage of Hurricane Andrew in his hometown of Miami. Some of his best-known works include a series of installations that destabilize the solidity of gallery walls, such that they appear to be dripping, folding, oozing, or absorbing furniture; also figuring among his oeuvre are pixelated clouds based on photograph
Daniel Arsham - Blue garden
Dubbed “Blue Garden,” the installation is a blend of sand, stone, wood, concrete and plants, in addition to modern petrified artifacts replacing the traditional stones as an element of decoration to embody the contrast between ancient and modern.
Award-winning Brazilian curator Marcello Dantas explains, “With cultural distancing, Daniel Srsham observes the Karesansui, the Buddhist art of the Japanese zen gardens. He proposes to project into the future an archaeological site about our present time, in which different layers of knowledge and contamination overlap.”
He continues, “Where the stones should be, we find everyday objects. Petrified, functioning as a kind of geological expression, in dialogue with the monumentality of the geological expression of Pão de Açúcar — solemn, straight ahead, creating the strange equilibrium of this garden.”
By balancing on the line between architecture and art, Arsham reconstructs environments with elements that blend and confuse our idea of space, time and form.
V&A TIM WALKER
“It’s about me finding a charged object that has illuminated and touched me, and then I’ve turned that into a world,” says Tim Walker of Wonderful Things, his largest exhibition to date
In the background, meanwhile, a skinny, somewhat pasty Englishman, not quite 25, looks on. He is Avedon’s fourth assistant, meaning he defers not only to the photographer but to a third assistant, a second assistant and a studio manager. His main responsibilities are changing light bulbs, emptying wastepaper bins, getting food for everyone. He’s shy and a little dreamy, but he is noticing everything.
“My role was very, very basic, but having to clear dog shit off the street right in front of his studio – which I had to do a lot – enabled to me to have a front-row seat in the experience of seeing Richard Avedon photograph,” recalls Tim Walker, now 49 and one of the world’s leading fashion photographers for two decades. “I was on the front line and how Dick communicated with the subject was everything.”
WHY KIMONO
I think these garments are so beautiful I especially draw,n to how the fabric folds and drapes over the human form. I think they are so so majestic and elegant. This is a opposit to w(a5 I’m usually drawn to - a more urban rustic style.
TOKYO HOME
I went on google earth to look at the street view of where I lived during summer and I think how the app viewed and stylised the street was so cool. It was like looking at a griddled simulation of Tokyo. I loved the jagged shapes it came up with. Accurate enoug( to recognise the building but sill not it.
KOMUSO MUNK
he komusō (虚無僧, komusō, hiragana: こむそう; also romanized komusou or komuso) were a group of Japanese mendicant monks of the Fuke school of Zen Buddhism who flourished during the Edo period of 1600–1868.[1] Komusō were characterized by a straw bascinet (a sedge or reed hood named a tengai or tengui) worn on the head, manifesting the absence of specific ego.[2] They were also known for playing solo pieces on the shakuhachi (a type of Japanese bamboo flute). These pieces, called honkyoku ("original pieces"), were played during a meditative practice called suizen, for alms, as a method of attaining enlightenment, and as a healing modality.[citation needed] The Japanese government introduced reforms after the Edo period, abolishing the Fuke sect. Records of the musical repertoire survived, and are being revived in the 21st century.[citation needed]
The priest were known first as komosō, which means "straw-mat monk". Later they became known as komusō, which means "priest of nothingness" or "monk of emptiness". Fuke Zen emphasized pilgrimage and so the sight of wandering komusō was a familiar one in Old Japan.
Komusō wore a tengai or tengui (天蓋), a woven straw hat or kasa which completely covered their head like an overturned basket or a kind of woven beehive. The idea was that by wearing such a hat they removed their ego. What the hat also did was remove their identity from prying eyes. Further, the government granted the komusō the rare privilege to freely travel the country without hindrance—playing the flute for alms and meditation. This was because many komusō were spies for the Shogunate; and some were undercover spies, disguised as priests.
Shoji - sliding doors
shōji (障しょう子じ, Japanese pronunciation: [ɕo:ʑi]; often spelt "shoji" in English) is a door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame. Where light transmission is not needed, the similar but opaque fusuma is used[1] (oshiire/closet doors, for instance[2]). Shōji usually slide, but may occasionally be hung or hinged, especially in more rustic styles.[3]
Shōji are very lightweight, so they are easily slid aside, or taken off their tracks and stored in a closet, opening the room to other rooms or the outside.[4][5][6] Fully traditional buildings may have only one large room, under a roof supported by a post-and-lintelframe, with few or no permanent interior or exterior walls; the space is flexibly subdivided as needed by the removable sliding wall panels.[7] The posts are generally placed one tatami – length (about 2m or 6ft) apart, and the shōji slide in two parallel wood-groove tracks between them.[8] In modern construction, the shōji often do not form the exterior surface of the building; they sit inside a sliding glass door or window.[5]
Shōji are valued for not setting a sharp barrier between the interior and the exterior; outside influences such as the swaying silhouettes of trees, or the chorus of frogs, can be appreciated from inside the house.[9] As exterior walls, shōji diffuse sunlight into the house; as interior partitions between rooms, they allow natural light deep into the interior. While shōji block wind, they do allow air to diffuse through,[9] important when buildings were heated with charcoal.[5] Like curtains, shōji give visual privacy,[4][7] but they do not block sounds.[4][10]Shōji are also thought to encourage a home's inhabitants to speak and move softly, calmly, and gracefully, an important part of the ethos behind sukiya-zukuriarchitecture.[9] Sliding doors cannot traditionally be locked.[10]