Naoshima: Alone on an Art Island

Arriving at Naoshima was both exhilarating and strangely disorienting. There is only one konbini (コンビニ) on the island. Compare this to a place like Tokyo where anything you could ever want is directly within reach. Most businesses on the island are closed on Monday, and, as my driver noted shortly after I stepped off the boat, there is no dentist. These things, along with a fusion of contemporary art and natural beauty, are part of what makes Naoshima so special. The absence of embellishment gives rise to introspection — something I would first witness at Naoshima Ryokan Roka.

Naoshima Ryokan Roka

A quote from Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood comes to mind: “Just [be]ing here is the convalescence.” Detached from the outside world, encircled by forest, there is something deeply therapeutic about Roka. The amalgam of zen gardens, succulent plants, and sculpted rice paddies is a welcome sight after the multi-legged journey involved in getting to the island. However, it’s the guest suites that truly captivate. Tatami floors and sliding shoji paper screens gradually give way to an open-air bath overlooking the adjacent hillside and a sculpture of spiraled bamboo that runs alongside it.

At the time, I had been listening to the meditations of the Jamaican spiritual teacher known as Mooji. The words from one of his practices were particularly apt: “There is…a stillness, a silence…” Cultivating this stillness inward became increasingly effortless the longer I was there. The presence of nature and some of the first signs of spring — budding greenery with bursts of deep pinks from plum blossoms or ume (梅) — had a predictably soothing effect while the art infused throughout the property and even in the guest suites served as a constant source for contemplation and a means to combat against a wandering mind.

At night, an ambient soundscape and multicolored light installation dubbed “Light of Butterfly” further accentuated the harmony between art and nature. Passing the outdoor hearth and a fire blazing within, wearing a hanten, a traditional Japanese coat offered to guests to use during their stay, I would study this scene before arriving at “Restaurant EN.”

Based on the length of my stay, I was fortunate to try both the seasonal and sushi kaiseki courses, each of which featured fresh-caught fish and other local ingredients from the Setouchi region. To my surprise, no two meals were identical. While the sushi kaiseki course offered intimate counter seating and a traditional omakase experience, its seasonal counterpart was equally delightful thanks to an assortment of unique dishes and complex flavors. Some of the best food that I had in all of Japan was at Roka.

Benesse House Area

Being on that island, alone for three days, trying to quiet my default mode network — failing spectacularly at times but ultimately prevailing — allowed me to obtain a kind of clarity that had long eluded me. I spent the majority of my time contemplating David Hockey’s works at Benesse House Museum or sipping matcha at Hiroshi Sugimoto Gallery: Time Corridors — Ryuichi Sakamoto’s async, and LIFE, LIFE in particular, playing repeatedly in my head. Later, when I arrived at Yayoi Kusama’s “Pumpkin,” gazing out at the Seto Inland Sea after dreaming about such a moment for years, the scene felt entirely surreal, almost dissociative for that reason alone.

Nothing was more dreamlike though than James Turrell’s Open Fields (located in Chichu Art Museum), the experience of which involved stepping into what at first glance appears to be a wall of light. Naoshima is filled with these types of experiences. Secrets lie waiting, ready to be discovered, around virtually every corner. Optical illusions and visual paradoxes often prompt quiet revelations. Bruce Nauman’s 100 Live and Die, a neon display of various phrases featured in Benesse House Museum, is but one example. Different words illuminate at different intervals, but one phrase in particular, glowing alone among the rest, made the greatest impression: “Try and Live.”

Here again, I’m reminded of Murakami: “You need to live [life] to the fullest. No matter how shallow and dull things might get, this life is worth living. I guarantee it. And I'm not being either ironic or paradoxical. You need to use the thread of logic, as best you can, to skillfully sew onto yourself everything that's worth living for.” His words, having long colored my notion of Japan, assumed new meaning shortly after arriving at Naoshima.

Valley Gallery

Perhaps my favorite installation on the island was Tadao Ando’s Valley Gallery, a whimsical interplay between nature and some 1,700 stainless steel spheres. Beginning at Kusama’s Narcissus Garden, the mirrored objects reflect and distort the lake in which they float before gradually climbing uphill to the trapezoid-shaped structure designed by Ando. Inside the open-air, concrete building, more spheres await, inviting visitors to contemplate the stark yet increasingly familiar juxtaposition between one’s reflection and the surrounding environment.

Call it a kind of Proustian impulse but both a proclivity for second looks and my fascination with this site compelled me to return once more before leaving the island. The convergence of light and shadow under different weather conditions, times of the day, and states of mind made for a deeper, richer experience. Standing atop a hill overlooking the valley, listening to the orbs gently clattering in the lake below as the wind continuously transformed the scene, I was filled with a tremendous sense of gratitude.

I cannot stress enough how otherworldly my time was on Naoshima. The combination of solitude and art facilitated something I will never forget. What’s strange to me is how one can have this incredibly memorable, deeply personal, if not life-changing than certainly pivotal experience…and no one knows (here, I’m reminded of Kurena Ishikawa’s No One Knows). They don’t know because it’s impossible to express — at least in casual conversation, which, in turn, adds to the strangeness of it all. This is part of why I decided to start this blog — to reflect more deeply on my experiences and to share them with others.

As with many places in Japan, I have a strong desire to return to Naoshima. Despite having spent three days there, there was still so much I didn’t get to see, including the Red Pumpkin, Naoshima Pavilion, the Ando Museum, Art House Project: Go'o Shrine, The Naoshima Plan 2019: “The Water,” Benesse House Oval, and, most notably, the neighboring island of Teshima. But as the popular Japanese saying goes: kondo wa kondo (今度はこんど), next time is next time.