May

Growing Radishes and Creativity

by Sheron Long on May 26, 2014

Radishes growing from the pages of a Japanese manga comic book, accomplished through the creative process of Koshi Kawachi (Image © Koshi Kawashi)

Radishes pop up in an icon of Japanese pop culture—manga comics.
© Koshi Kawashi

Take a Page from a Manga Comic Book

Creativity sprouts in likely places—i.e., anywhere:

In a Toronto street crack,

At the easel in a French atelier,

On a butcher-paper tablecloth in a Carmel cafe, or

Like this creative radish garden, within the pages of Japanese manga.

Planted by Tokyo artist Koshi Kawachi as part of his contemporary art series “Manga Farming,” the work places agriculture, a fundamental activity for the human race, in juxtaposition with a pastime of Japanese pop culture—manga comics.

A surprising seedbed? Perhaps. But manga—graphic novels of action and adventure, romance, sports, horror, business, and more—tell the tale of human life, the very life that is sustained by the food grown in the world.

Planting the Seeds of Creativity

Farming, even on the small scale of a vegetable garden, has more to say about creativity than you might think. Both involve a kind of “playing in the dirt.”

Bed of radish seedlings, symbolizing how ideas pop up from a creative process that involves getting your hands dirty. (Image © S847 / iStock)

Like farming, creativity flourishes when you get your hands dirty.
© S847 / iStock

I don’t know how long it took Kawachi to create his artwork, but I imagine that it started with just the seed of an idea. Like real radish seeds nourished by rich soil, the seeds of creative ideas need a nurturing environment—time to grow, freedom to poke up in any direction, timely watering.

Pouring water onto radish seedlings sprouting from the pages of Japanese manga comics. (Image © Koshi Kawachi)

To grow a good idea, water well and wait a bit.
© Koshi Kawachi

Attending to Tender Ideas

When well-tended, the radish seed takes 25 days to grow into a leafy plant and bear the crunchy radish.

Radishes ready to harvest, symbolizing how farming is like the creative process in which good ideas yield fruit. (Image © HandmadePictures / iStock)

From seed to harvest—creative ideas, unlike the radish,
may not mature in a predictable number of days.
© HandmadePictures / iStock

Creativity works on its own timetable. But the creative process is more like growing veggies than not—caring hands must thin the crop, pull weeds outright, and support the good ideas as they grow.

Tying up radish seedlings that sprout from the pages of Japanese manga comics, symbolizing the need to take care of good ideas in the creative process. (Image © Koshi Kawachi)

Help out a sprout, and a flower pops out. That’s true of creative ideas, too.
© Koshi Kawachi

One of Kawachi’s good ideas was to plant the radish seeds like bookmarks on his favorite manga pages. Oh, I see the artist’s statement—he connected the seeds as symbols of necessary sustenance to the height of fleeting entertainment.

His ideas sprouted, grew, and flowered.

Flower on a radish plant seeded into the pages of Japanese manga comics, symbolizing a critical step in both the agricultural and creative process. (Image © Koshi Kawachi)

Radishes and creative ideas have to flower before they bear fruit.
© Koshi Kawachi

Crops on Display

When radish farmers spy the first red shoulders of the fruit, they know the payoff of the harvest is near—a literal feast for their tables.

Dinner plate with face made from black olives for eyes, red radish for nose, its green leaves for eyebrows, and a lemon slice for a smile, showing the fun of creativity. (Image © Julia Saponova / Hemera)

Creativity! It’s something to smile about.
© Julia Saponova / Hemera

Artists, however, often sense the completion of their work through a visceral feeling when it is just the way they want it—a feast for the eyes.

For one exhibit in the museum at the Matsuzakaya department store in Nagoya, Kawachi assembled dozens of manga farms, arranging them in long rows like those of a field, as solitary sprouts, and in aesthetic groupings.

Four manga farms on display, showing the result of Koshi Kawachi's creative process. (Image © Koshi Kawachi)

Kawachi’s manga farms on exhibit—a feast for the eyes with manga eyes staring back
© Koshi Kawachi

He encourages others to try the idea, following the manga farmer’s simple steps:

1. Read the manga.

2. Plant the seeds on the pages you like best.

3. Bring up vegetables.

Well, it might be necessary to repot the seedlings first. Even such repotting is part of becoming more creative. Artists will often tell you how their works start in one direction, growing and coming to lovely fruition only when redirected.

And so it is that out of the pages of Japanese manga comes a new chapter in understanding the creative process. Radishes and creativity—a fertile mash-up, one with crunch!

A single radish with leaves, symbol of what the creative process has in common with farming (Image © bajinda / iStock)

Crunch!
© bajinda / iStock

Follow Koshi Kawachi on Facebook.

The Kyoto International Manga Museum has a collection of more than 50,000 manga. Stay in touch with current manga events online at the Toronto Comic Arts Festival.

Sheron Long Comments

Japan/The World's Art & Design

May

Hey, Could You Please Block My View of This Mural?

by Bruce Goldstone on May 12, 2014

Mural in Buenos Aires, Argentina, illustrating how street art appreciation thrives on interactions with the public. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

Thumbing his nose at the rules of art appreciation?
© Bruce Goldstone

Obstructions and Street Art Appreciation

Like many photographers, my eye is constantly drawn to vibrant murals and colorful street art. I often stake out a spot in front of an exuberant wall and wait for the perfect, pristine moment to capture the image.

Art appreciation guidelines suggest that the artist’s message is best interpreted with as little interference as possible between you and the art.

I’ve spent plenty of time waiting for everyone to get out of the way so I can snap the perfect picture, free of unplanned interlopers. But now I’m not so sure that’s really the best way to catch the spirit and meaning of art created on public surfaces.

It’s Alive!

More and more often lately, I’ve stopped waiting for everyone to clear out. I just snap away.

An addled face responds to the rhythms of street traffic.
© Bruce Goldstone

When I go back through my photos, I find that the shots with people in front of them often capture the sensation of viewing street art much better than the pristine gallery shot.

An “Oh, I see” moment came when I was trying to choose the best picture of a mural in San Telmo, Buenos Aires. The shot I took of only the artwork was a fine, clear record.

Nice pic, but something’s missing,
© Bruce Goldstone

But the photos with people passing by the mural do a much better job of capturing the playful way the giant apes interact with their close-kin cousins on the street.

Three photos of a mural in Buenos Aires, Argentina, illustrating how street art appreciation thrives on interactions with the public. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

Add a few more primates and a hidden energy springs to life.
© Bruce Goldstone

I’ve come to realize that the interaction between the passersby and the art is an important part of the message in street art.

Random Acts of Finesse

The more photos I take of people in front of murals, the more instances I find of happy accidents and lively synchronicities. Of course, these visual events happen whether or not a camera’s there to record them. They’re a built-in part of the street art experience.

Follow the bouncing arrow
© Bruce Goldstone

A rubbery arrow seems to push this woman along the sidewalk.

A passing red jacket adds a vibrant burst to the color palette.
© Bruce Goldstone

Colors recombine in surprising and appealing ways, turning people—and their clothing—into part of the design.

Waiting for the game to start
© Bruce Goldstone

Contrasting energies create tension and interest. A young soccer player waits for friends to arrive, while the wall in front of him is already in full play mode.

Part of the Art

Even though it seems contradictory, I now believe that street art looks best when you can’t see everything clearly. Obstructions are constructive.

Blending in and adding dimension
Bruce Goldstone

It’s the reason that gallery shows of street are are so often disappointing. The sterile viewing conditions of a museum don’t enhance our view of street art—they limit it.

Visual overload can be a good thing.
Bruce Goldstone

Of course, murals and other street art are best viewed in person, surrounded by the pulsing action in which they were created.

But since I can’t curb the desire to capture this energy in photos, I’ve adjusted my street art appreciation to include the web of people, pets, and other features that I once thought of as unwanted obstacles. Now I see them as part of the art.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Bruce Goldstone Comments

Argentina/The World's Art & Design

May

Do Wind-Up Toys Have Inner Artists?

by Bruce Goldstone on May 1, 2014

Artwork created by a tin toy showing how wind-up toys can unleash creative expression. (Image © Echo Yang)

Guess what the artist was thinking. Now guess again.
© Echo Yang

Creative Expression Unleashed with the Turn of a Key

When we look at art, we often try to imagine what the artist was thinking: How is this artwork a creative expression of the artist’s thoughts and feelings? Take, for example, this vibrant starburst of primary dots. What did the artist have in mind?

In this case, chances are pretty good that the artist didn’t have anything in mind at all. That’s because the artist was a tin wind-up toy. Wind-up toys are great, but great thinkers they’re not.

Here’s the wind-up chicken that painted the artwork, armed with a watercolor-dipped cotton swab.

Artwork being created by a tin toy showing how wind-up toys can unleash creative expression. (Image © Echo Yang)

OK, to be fair, this wind-up toy didn’t grab the swab and start painting. The set-up was done by artist and graphic designer Echo Yang, who has created a series of autonomous artworks, turning the repetitive gestures of a variety of machines into vivid, creative artworks.

In addition to toys, her team of artists has included an alarm clock, a vacuum cleaner, an electric razor, and a hand mixer.

By attaching mark-making devices to these normally reticent machines, Yang uncovers the hidden beauty in the shapes they trace while working.

The Fun in Function

In Yang’s explorations, function becomes the motor of creation. This video shows Yang and her mechanical collaborator at work.

http://vimeo.com/70360563

If the video does not display, watch it here.

The resulting forms are surprisingly elegant, expressive, and playful.

The Tracks of My Toys

When I saw Yang’s creations for the first time, I had two immediate reactions. First: “Hey, I have a wind-up bird that’s an awful lot like that one.”

Then: “I wonder if my bird wants to be an artist, too?”

There was only one way to find out.

I began my experiments by taping a thick marker to my bird’s back. I wound it, placed it on a newsprint pad, let it go, and waited to witness the magic of mechanical creation.

Except my bird didn’t budge.

A tin toy trying to create art showing how wind-up toys and unleash creative expression. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

Apparently, the heft of the chunky marker was too much deadweight for my little toy. If I was going to find my bird’s inner artist, I needed to consider the capacity of its tiny inner machinery, too.

So I attached a smaller, lighter marker to see what my bird was dying to show me. This time when I wound it up and placed it on the pad, the bird hopped along nicely.

A tin toy creating art showing how wind-up toys can unleash creative expression. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

But the feeble results looked like, well, chicken scratching.

If my bird wanted to be an artist, it clearly wasn’t approving of my choice of medium.

Perhaps my bird preferred paints?

For my next attempt, I tried a light brush dipped in watercolor gouache.

Artwork created by a tin toy showing how wind-up toys can unleash creative expression. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

Eureka. My toy scampered along happily, its usual happy hopping only slightly interfered with by the awkward new encumberance.

Some Toys Shouldn’t Quit Their Day Jobs

While Yang’s toy hopped in spirited circles, mine tended to follow a more arching track each time I set it down. The results in green gouache somewhat resembled fern fronds.

If the video does not display, watch it here.

We decided to add a couple of pink passes for contrast.

Art created by a toy showing how wind-up toys can unleash creative expression. (Image © Bruce Goldstone)

Careful analysis of the final artwork led to an “Oh, I see” moment: Maybe all wind-up toys want to be artists, but there’s still such a thing as talent. And my bird . . . well, he’s very cute.

Where Yang’s artwork is graceful and suggestive, my bird’s artistic hand is rather leaden and sluggish.

Yes, of course, I blame the bird.

My conclusion? Wind-up toys and other machines can indeed foster creative expression. But it takes a true artist, like Echo Yang, to uncover those hidden impulses in a genuinely artistic way.