Murakami and Me

It's not all happiness, flowers, and octopuses at MCA.

These days, I travel mostly alone. Sometimes that leaves me longing for a travel companion to share experiences and discuss crazy art-world hypotheses. The situation probably sounds more tragic than intended. Because other times, being alone makes me feel like I have a more personal relationship with the things I encounter. Such was the case with a recent visit to Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA).

I planned a short weekend in Chicago specifically to see The Octopus Eats Its Own Leg, a retrospective of the work of Takashi Murakami. In truth, I've had a relationship with Murakami for quite some time.  He's an artist who has taken me out of my way so I could bask in his fields of happy flowers.  But this is the first time I've traveled to a city specifically because of a Murakami installation.  

MCA's extensive exhibition didn't disappoint. The show was jam packed with galleries that were bursting at the seams, the large-scale works straining to fit on the walls.  In fact, in some places the show felt cramped. I would have enjoyed a little more breathing room.  However, I'm not sure what I would have asked the curators to leave out.

I loved the early works on view which looked nothing like the paintings and sculptures that are instantly recognizable as Murakami.  And yet, they helped me understand how his art ended up where it is. And the octopuses that were created specifically for the show (I especially loved the graphics that covered the museum facade and walls to promote the show) stayed true to the trick that makes Murakami's work so intriguing and moving. Because for all the cuteness, brightness, and polish that these octopuses (and Murakami's other work) deliver, there's always something just a little too perfect, a little too happy. The result are works whose intent is somehow unsettling and sinister. It's a feeling I share almost on a daily basis.

That leads me back to the place where this post started: traveling alone. I'm all the more attracted to the art of Murakami because of my travel habits.  So often when I encounter art, I'm traveling to interesting, exciting, delightful places that inspire happiness.  And yet, I have a sneaking suspicion that all this happiness is a facade. That there is something (or someone) missing. Maybe that missing element makes Murakami's clever deceptions all the more invasive.

MCA Chicago

Spectacular tentacles overwhelmed the MCA to announce the arrival of Murakami.

Polyrhythm, 1991

Synthetic resin and stainless steel

As someone who has played with the iconic power of the militaristic toys, I found this early Murakami work interesting. It said something about how the “sinister” can often be found in the “cute.” A note from the artist: "Our society's paradox is that we create plastic toy models that create a background for aggression and murder."

Date Paintings

Date Painting 1978/2/4 1992/11/7 1988/11/1

Acrylic on canvas with sticker

I obviously like On Kawara's conceptual date paintings more than Murakami who saw them as pretentious. And yet, he chose to make art that is a riff on those very paintings.

Nuclear power Picture, 1988

Straw, cardboard, and silver and gold pigment on canvas.

Murakami had seen a retrospective of the work of Anselm Kiefer and you can see the influence here. More important for me is the fascination (or horror) with nuclear power that seems to regularly invade Murakami’s work.

DOB Genesis: Reboot, 1993

Acrylic and silk screen on canvas mounted on wood.

Any Murakami fan is all too familiar with the friendly, mischievous, sometimes evil Mr. DOB, Murakami’s alter ego. This painting marks his debut.

Installation View

The large graphics associated with the show embraced Murakami’s often-repeated imagery including this view of a skull/atomic mushroom.

ZuZaZaZaZaZa, 1994

Acrylic and silk screen on canvas mounted on board.

More early versions of Mr. DOB, with nods to pop-culture and Disney as well as traditional Japanese Nihonga painting.

727, 1996

Synthetic polymer paint on canvas board.

Murakami’s time spent studying traditional Japanese painting were on view in this work featuring Mr. DOB riding a burbling white river across the canvas.

And Then, And Then, And Then, and ten, and Then (Red), 1996

Acrylic on canvas mounted on board.

After asking a professional wall painter to render Mr. DOB, Murkami found the result to be "too perfect." So he sanded it down creating a mottled surface.

Installation View

Murakami’s flowers are one of my favorite themes in the world of art. From the moment I experienced them, I was sucked in by their “superflat” charm that somehow feels just a little sinister.

Flowers, flowers, flowers, 2010

Acrylic and platinum leaf on canvas mounted on aluminum frame.

Installation View

Murakami’s works inspire contemplation. And yet, they are often as unsettling as they are calming.

Of Chinese Lions, Peonies, Skulls, and Fountains, 2011

Acrylic on canvas stretched on wooden panel.

Eighteenth-century works by Sakaki Hyakusen and others are the inspiration for this work.

Tan Tan Bo Puking - aka Gero Tan, 2002

Murakami’s works strained to fit the walls of Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary art including this work which features Mr. DOB transformed into a crazed monstrosity.

Dragon in Clouds--Indigo Blue, 2010

This painting is directly based on Dragon and Clouds by eighteenth-century artist Soga Shohaku's. The work is a departure for Murakami and is painted by hand without his typical laborious studio process.

Detail: Dragon in Clouds--Indigo Blue, 2010

Isle of the Dead, 2014

Acrylic on canvas.

In response to the 2011 massive earthquake and tsunami that killed more than 15,000 people in Japan, Murakami turned to historical paintings and the legend of a band of Buddhist monks called arhats who roamed the land in an attempt to heal and comfort people.

Isle of the Dead, 2014

Acrylic on canvas.

Isle of the Dead, 2014

Acrylic on canvas.

The Octopus Eats its Own Leg, 2017

Acrylic, gold leaf, and platinum leaf on canvas mounted on wood panel: 45 panels.

This multi-panel references a Japanese folktale about an octopus who eats its own leg to survive, knowing that it will regenerate.

The Octopus Eats its Own Leg, 2017

Acrylic, gold leaf, and platinum leaf on canvas mounted on wood panel: 45 panels.

This multi-panel references a Japanese folktale about an octopus who eats its own leg to survive, knowing that it will regenerate.

Chakras Open and I Drown Under the Waterfall of Life, 2017

Styrofoam, water-based urethane, wood, iron, and acrylic paint. Sculpted by Lucky Wide Co., Ltd. Painted in collaboration with MADSAKI and snipe 1.

I watched the creation of this work on Instagram. So it was delightful to see the work in person. It was also my introduction to the art of Madsaki.

The Octopus Eats its Own Leg, 2017

Acrylic, gold leaf, and platinum leaf on canvas mounted on wood panel: 45 panels.

This multi-panel references a Japanese folktale about an octopus who eats its own leg to survive, knowing that it will regenerate.