Art in Japan>Contemporary Art 1930-2004>We Love Painting

Original articles on art, artists, architecture, exhibitions, galleries, museums and cultural institutions around Tokyo, Japan.

We Love Painting

by John McGee

Edward Ruscha, Western, 1991, acrylic on canvas (Image courtesy Edward Ruscha)

We love “We Love Painting.” New media may be the latest trend, but this unexpectedly good exhibition of 100 works by 43 American artists shows the enduring strength and importance of the old ways. It also tracks over 30 years of shifts within American contemporary art, from the late 1960s Pop Art of Warhol and Lichtenstein to the ’90s abstractions of Philip Taaffe and Dennis Hollingsworth. 

Such a diverse collection would be at home in a good regional museum in the US. Incredibly, it belongs to the Misumi Corporation, an industrial mold company based in Toyo-cho, a shitamachi (old town) neighborhood mere blocks from the museum. 

Due to antiquated tax codes and other factors, Japan has far fewer corporate collections than Europe or the U.S. Almost none collect contemporary art (Benesse is a notable exception). While other Japanese kaisha (companies) purchased trophy Monets or van Goghs as speculative investments during the Bubble, Misumi started collecting in 1989 to fill their new headquarters with creative energy that would inspire employees. Misumi’s former president, Hiroshi Taguchi, explained their philosophy in 1996, “Since we must be innovative and creative, shouldn’t contemporary business follow the lead of the art world?” 

Bold words and a bold show. The Misumi Collection, which employs an in-house curator, is not a slave to fashion and even includes a handful of artists from Los Angeles and other sub-centers outside New York. The exhibition starts in a solemn entry chamber with the seeds of the collection, prints by de Kooning, Johns, Rauschenburg and their contemporaries. From there, the layout capitalizes on themes running through the collection. 

Peter Halley, Joy Pop, 1998, oil on
canvas (Image courtesy Peter Halley)

"Pop" goes the first gallery, with Lichtenstein’s ’60s-era silk-screened cartoons next to Warhol’s Marilyns. Fascination with film extends into the adjacent room with Ed Ruscha’s 1968 print of the Hollywood sign at sunset and enlarged black and white stills from his short movie Every Building on the Sunset Strip (1966). 

At this point, the collection turns from expensive blue chip artists to the innovators of the ’80s and ’90s. One gallery holds glistening abstractions by Philip Taaffe and monochrome patterns by Julian Lethbridge and Christopher Wool. Another displays oversized photos like Gregory Crewdson’s cinematic suburban melodramas and Vic Muniz’s photo documentations of his chocolate and ink drawings. 

The collection’s continuity can come across in small but significant touches. For example, in an upstairs gallery, one of Lichtenstein’s cartoon brushstrokes (1965) mocks the heroic gestures of ’50s abstract expressionism. Downstairs, there’s a David Reed painting (1995-99) with equally large brush movements, this time reflecting the reemergence of painterly abstraction. 

Beyond themes, the collection has multiple holdings of individual artists like Carroll Dunham and Greg Bogin. But Peter Halley seems a particular favorite, with his “cell” paintings in vivid oranges and textured pinks as an introduction to a new “explosion” piece he made for the museum’s huge atrium. 

Some of the work in the show is of a lower caliber than others and some represents lesser work by major artists. But much of the collection on view is impressive, and nice discoveries, like Donald Judd’s simple woodblock prints in red on beige paper, outweigh weak points. Perhaps most importantly, the exhibition is a testament to Misumi Corporation’s long-term cultural vision and dedication, a rare but welcome example. 

This exhibition was held Feb-Mar 2003 at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Tokyo (MoT) in Kiba, Tokyo, Japan.

©2006 John McGee

©2006-2008 John McGee. All Rights Reserved. No part of this site may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission.