About Collection

About the Collection


 The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo (main building) contains works of art from Japan and overseas spanning more than a century, from circa 1900 to the present day. Currently, the collection contains more than 13,000 works of various genres including nihon-ga (modern Japanese-style paintings), oil paintings, prints, watercolors, drawings, sculptures, photography, and film. In recent years, the museum has increased its focus on acquiring works by major overseas artists who have had a significant influence on Japanese art.

Recent Additions to the Collection

YOSHIDA, Katsuro, Touch “Body-47” , 1989

YOSHIDA, Katsuro (1943–1999)
Touch “Body-47”
1989
Powdered graphite and oil on canvas
145.0 × 112.0cm
Purchased FY2018

Yoshida Katsuro (1943–1999) produced a diverse body of work, originally making minimal modifications to basic materials such as wood, iron, and light bulbs and emerging as a central figure in the movement known as Mono-ha (the “School of Things”) in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In the 1970s he began making prints, using plates derived from photographs. Yoshida won the grand prize at the 1st International Biennial Exhibition of Prints in Seoul (1970, National Museum of Korea). In the 1980s he began painting, and his most noted work in this medium is the Touch series, to which Touch “Body-47” belongs.
Black dots and lines writhe across a canvas primed in light ocher. The black material is graphite powder, applied to the surface with the fingers rather than a brush: as the title implies, the marks on the painting are made by “touch.” Even areas that appear solid black are, on closer examination, evidently made with countless overlapping fingermarks.
Let us consider the implications of the title Touch for a moment. We can say that during his years as a key figure in the Mono-ha movement, Yoshida concealed signs of “hand-crafting” by combining readymade materials such as wood, iron, and light bulbs. The same can be said of his prints of the 1970s. Generally, printmaking is thought of as making multiple copies of an image crafted by the artist’s hand, such as a woodcut, but by printing with plates derived from photographs, he did his utmost to eliminate any signs of “hand-crafting” such as carving or drawing.
The Touch series, created in the later years of the artist’s life, did the opposite. He grappled directly with the canvas, pressing and rubbing his graphite-covered fingers against it again and again. This represented a breakthrough that differed radically from the traditional techniques of painting. As an artist who produced bodies of work in completely different media, all of them significant, during different phases of his career – sculpture during the early years, prints mid-career, and painting in his later years – Yoshida can be seen as a singular figure in postwar Japanese art.
To return to this particular work: the Touch series presents different types of spaces on canvases of various shapes, the largest of which have widths of two meters or more. Touch “Body-47” is a relatively small work. The trails of graphite running over the surface, with the canvas beneath showing through in places, generate an uneasy atmosphere. The work contains multiple forms of varying sizes, and when viewed overall the image resembles an outstretched hand. Or it may be seen as a part of the body, or perhaps as a canyon. The indefinable image can be said to emerge solely from the soft, dark powdered graphite material. Its richly expressive quality offers one answer to the recurring question of why painting is still necessary.

(Furutate Ryo, Assistant Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No. 635)

HAYAMI, Gyoshu, Scroll of Sketches (Winter Peonies) , 1926

HAYAMI, Gyoshu (1894–1935)
Scroll of Sketches (Winter Peonies)
1926
Pencil and color on paper, scroll
31.4 × 377.4cm (33.3 × 496.4cm including mounting)
Purchased FY2019

The museum was able to acquire a work that had been entrusted to the collection for many years, namely Hayami Gyoshu’s Scroll of Sketches (Winter Peonies) (referred to below as “the MOMAT work”), consisting of his sketches from 1926 made into the form of a picture scroll. The date is known thanks to an inscription by the artist, “Peonies by Gyoshu, February 1926,” at the beginning of the scroll. With a total length of 377.4cm, it was made by connecting four sheets of paper of various lengths.
Incidentally, another Gyoshu picture scroll of peonies is known to exist. Peonies (Scroll of Sketches) (total length 309.5 cm) is in the collection of the Yamatane Museum of Art. The year is not inscribed, but this series of sketches is thought to have been made around the same time as those of the MOMAT work, as it features the same approach to drawing, in its precise shapes made with a finely sharpened pencil, and application of color in its blurred wash of pink (thought to be made with the deep red pigment enji).
There is one more related work, Peonies (color on silk, 1926), in the collection of the Toyama Memorial Museum. Produced in September of the same year, it appears to adapt the same shape as the eighth peony from the right on the MOMAT work. It would be ideal if everyone could also view Peonies in person, preferably scrutinizing it through a monocle. On close examination, the gofun (white pigment) applied to the edges of the petals is thin and homogeneous like film on the surface of hot milk, and the petals are veiled with networks of extremely fine lines of white or pink. Viewers are guaranteed to be enraptured by the picture’s exquisite surface.
In light of this painting, these sketches can be regarded as preparatory. In fact, Gyoshu tested out several approaches in the MOMAT work, and they can be divided into those adopted in the painting and those not adopted, one of the former being color applied so that extends outside the outlines. The pink bleeding out of the outlines into the space around makes an impression like that of fragrance emanating from the flowers. Gyoshu could not have been unaware of this effect, and while he used the technique more modestly in the painting than in the MOMAT work, the pink around the flowers and the green around the leaves are both lightly blurred.
So, what were some of the approaches not adopted? They include emphasis of outlines and shading with pencil, as in the fourth through seventh flowers from the right. At the sketching stage, was Gyoshu considering painting options such as strengthening the contour lines with ink or adding shading in the ink-wash painting style? These sketches, which have a different effect from that of the completed painting, enable us to imagine how this might have looked.

(Tsurumi Kaori, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No.635)

SUGITO, Hiroshi, the secret tower , 1998

SUGITO, Hiroshi (b.1970)
the secret tower

1998
Acrylic and pigment on paper
176.0 × 230.0cm
Purchased FY2018

SUGITO, Hiroshi the secret tower , 1998 ©Hiroshi Sugito

SUGITO, Hiroshi the secret tower , 1998 ©Hiroshi Sugito

A tree stands in a green meadow. Its shape, with branches sprouting out at the top of a thick and massive trunk, recalls a baobab tree. Checking the painting’s title to see if this is correct, the viewer finds only the phrase the secret tower. This English title appears in the Japanese caption as well, and the standard rules of capitalization, which state that it ought to read The Secret Tower, evidently do not apply. The artist, Sugito Hiroshi, explains:

“The first letters of the title are lowercased to give the impression of a fragment plucked out of the middle of a sentence, and so as not to over-emphasize the title (something I was oddly focused on in my younger days). At the time I was making paintings in such a way that their contents could interconnect regardless of order, and at times framing them in curtains, characteristics that resemble kamishibai [traditional storytelling accompanied by pictures, performed in a small theater-like booth].” (E-mail from Sugito Hiroshi to the author, September 2, 2020).

The word “secret” has a range of nuances: untold, confidential, hidden. The meaning of “tower” is, so to speak, more solid. Indeed, there are small windows like those of a tower near the top of the tree trunk. In other words, the tree seems to have an interior, occupied (one imagines) by people. Judging by the size of the windows, the tree/tower is quite a huge one.
A small fighter plane is headed for the tree/tower. It may be an attempted attack, but judging by the size differential it will be difficult to inflict serious damage on the tree/tower. An attack that must be carried out, even though it is obviously foolhardy… The target is a tree/tower that has somehow grown to colossal size amid grasslands that look like the ends of the earth.
Here one is once again reminded of the type of tree it resembles, a baobab. The name of this tree, which grows mainly on the African savanna, is unexpectedly well known in Japan because it appears in The Little Prince. In Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s story, the roots of three baobab trees spread across the Prince’s small planet, and the trees will eventually grow up from these (invisible) roots and cover the world entirely unless he pulls the saplings up as soon as he notices them sprouting, symbolizing powerful and proliferating evil.
Sugito says that he was aware of baobab trees when he produced this painting, and he had read that baobabs in Africa could “communicate” with other baobabs even a considerable distance away (Telephone conversation between Sugito Hiroshi and the author, September 30, 2020).
However, it was not important here to confirm whether the tree depicted is a baobab (it seemed gauche to ask, and I did not do so). Rather, it is notable that this painting, painted in the year of the US Clinton administration’s Operation Desert Fox bombing campaign in Iraq, appears in a new light in our current time, inviting reinterpretation and reaffirming the enduring power of art.

(Hosaka Kenjiro, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No. 635)

AZAMI, Takako, Plum and Maple Trees , 2009

AZAMI, Takako (b.1964)
Plum and Maple Trees
2009
Sumi and pigment on paper
265.0 × 200.0cm
Purchased FY2018

Azami Takako’s Plum and Maple Trees was newly acquired in fiscal 2018. Azami has been drawing attention as a painter who opens up new frontiers of possibility in nihon-ga (modern Japanese-style painting), and won the top prize at the 7th Higashiyama Kaii Memorial Nikkei nihon-ga Awards in 2018.

When she was a student at Tama Art University in 1988, Azami noted the effects of a failed application of dosa, a traditional material used to prevent bleeding. This experience led her to conduct various experiments and to arrive, in the late 1990s, at a technique of working on the backs of sheets of paper, using bled-through dots and spots to powerful effect. The artist says that when ink is layered on the front as usual, the color becomes dull, whereas when one applies accumulated layers on the back, only fresh, vivid shades of the ink appear on the front surface, creating a vibrant impression. When one works on the back, the parts initially painted will bleed through the surface first, meaning that high-impact things in the foreground should be rendered first. A complex interplay of lines folding back on themselves is superimposed on pointillistic effects produced by sliding the brush over the paper and bringing it to a full stop, resulting in a surface that conveys the spatial expanse and multi-layered depth of the atmosphere, the light, and the rustling of leaves, and while far removed from a realistic, direct depiction of a tree, it captures and preserves initial impressions at the time of sketching. This approach does not allow for correction of errors, and requires the ability to skillfully control shading and bleeding of ink, but even the artist herself says that she cannot completely foresee how a painting will appear from the front, and on the contrary this bold embrace of chance outcomes and unexpected occurrences adds to the appeal of her work.
Azami produced Plum and Maple Trees after returning to Japan after studying in the United States for a year, and finding that back in her own studio, with high ceilings and considerable depth from front to back, she wanted to work with a vertical composition. The work depicts an old plum tree and a young Japanese maple just beginning to unfurl its buds in her garden, with complex intersections of the plum tree in the background and Japanese maple branches in the foreground illuminated by the sun, and is characterized by round white spots placed while sliding the brush horizontally. “Like the black ink spots and lines of the branches, the white areas against the black were also made from the reverse side, using a mixture of the traditional white pigment gofun, dissolved in nikawa resin, and acrylic dosa liquid. Dosa liquid alone would also work, but it becomes transparent when it dries, so I add some gofun. After I finish painting, I cover the entire back of the paper with gofun (to eliminate disparities between the white background and the white strokes I have applied, and because I feel it heightens the clarity of the black).”
The intricately entangled dots and brushstrokes brim with vitality, making Plum and Maple Trees an energetic image that fuses the power of inward concentration and outward diffusion, expressing the humming of air, light, and branches with a rich sense of organic life and amply conveying a wealth of new possibilities in ink wash painting.

(Tsuzuki Chieko, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No. 635)

 

MARUKI, Toshi (AKAMATSU, Toshiko), Emancipation of Humanity , 1947

MARUKI, Toshi (AKAMATSU, Toshiko) (1912–2000)
Emancipation of Humanity
1947
Oil on canvas
130.0 × 97.0cm
Purchased FY2018

The title is inscribed in red paint at the bottom left of the painting. In a previous exhibition it was presented with the title Nude (Emancipation of Humanity), but according to the work’s previous owner the word “nude” (rafu, literally “female nude” in Japanese) had been added for organizational purposes. Thus, when it was acquired for the museum’s collection, the title was changed to match the inscription on the painting.
Another inscription reading “1947.5.17.Toshi” is above the title. The first public appearance of this work was at the 1st Avant-Garde Art Exhibition held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum from May 23 to June 7, 1947. Those who saw this painting in Ueno would easily have understood the feelings of the artist, who inscribed the title and exact date on the painting as well as signing it. An event with emancipating effects for humanity had just occurred a few days earlier: on May 3, 1947 the new Constitution of Japan came into effect, calling for popular sovereignty, respect for basic human rights, and pacifism. The artist’s sense of elation at the prospect of living under principles totally different from those of the Meiji Constitution (enacted 1890) seems to have inspired the title, which suggests an ongoing process. To render the sense of liberation visible, Maruki Toshi depicts a figure with gaze directed diagonally upward, nude, and in a space surrounded by flowers, a location that cannot be identified and is thus in a sense abstract.
These features of the painting become more clearly pronounced when it is compared to another of Toshi’s works, Jinmin hiroba (People’s Square) (location unknown), which was shown at the same exhibition. Here “People’s Square” probably refers to the Imperial Palace Plaza in Tokyo. For several years after the war, this plaza was used for various gatherings of the people such as May Day. Toshi seems to have been among the participants in a so-called Food May Day on May 19, 1946, and the figures in her Jinmin hiroba (People’s Square), who are mostly female, may be based on that experience.
If Emancipation of Humanity was painted so as to present a diametric contrast to that scene inspired by real life, then the figure should not be thought of as merely a flesh-and-blood woman. Aspects of a real adult female figure such as pubic hair and nipples are either absent or rendered indistinctly, and the focus is on capturing the body as a volume rather than focusing on such details. The handling of the paint is also notable, especially on the left side of the body, where it resembles the plaster or clay of a statue.
For this embodiment of human beings living under the new constitution, Toshi drew inspiration from sculpture, a medium suited to portrayal of idealized human figures, while placing it in a quasi-abstract space only achievable in painting. This mode of expression enabled her to make a certain statement. By contrast, a look through art magazines of the time shows that female nudes by male painters are less confident and more coy or demure, facing away from the viewer, with cloths wrapped around their waists or legs, or their bodies twisting around. It is clear how fresh and bold Toshi’s work must have appeared.

(Hosaka Kenjiro, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No.634)

CARO, Anthony, Lap, 1969

CARO, Anthony (1924–2013)
Lap
1969
Painted steel
Height 109.0cm, width 244.0cm, depth 108.0cm
Purchased FY2018
© Barford Sculptures Ltd.
Photograph by Ootani Ichiro

First, to list the components of the work: there are five steel elements joined by welding, three curved plates, one straight L-shaped beam, and one U-beam (channel beam) forming an arc. All are painted a warm shade of brown. Three-dimensional works made by assembling mundane, non-artistic materials such as these came to be known as constructive sculpture, beginning in the early 20th century with movements such as Cubism and Constructivism. In the work of Anthony Caro, aggregations of elements such as steel plates and frames do not form closed masses as in cast or modeled sculptures. By arranging multiple elements and establishing relationships among them, work in this mode creates “spatial forms” differentiated from the unbounded actual space around. In critical discourse this has been described with the terms “relational” or “articulation,” and the critic Michael Fried stated, “…everything in Caro’s art that is worth looking at is in its syntax.” (Michael Fried, “Art and Objecthood,” in Artforum [New York] 5, no.10 [Summer/June 1967], p. 20).
So, what is it that unites the five elements of this work into a single form? It is the presence of the pedestal, or to use Caro’s terminology, the table. Caro referred to sculptures resting on pedestals or tables, which he began making in 1966, as “Table Pieces.” Application of color weakens the material presence of the steel, and the piece’s physical distance from the ground gives it a very light and buoyant feel. The form is entwined around the table, sticks out over its edges and droops toward the floor. Caro’s description of “a sculpture seated on a table” is apt, and the Lap of the title refers to the legs from the knees up when seated, often used to support things, and can also mean “a loose hanging part of a piece of fabric.” According to Caro, the height of the horizontal surface (the tabletop) and its edges are essential to the Table Pieces (Anthony Caro exhibition, Kasahara Gallery, 1979, p.4). In this work as in the others, these parts play a vital role, with the end of the steel U-beam arc supported by the edge of the table, and the horizontal line of the tabletop echoing the straight line of the L-beam descending diagonally to the left.
Usually, a pedestal is prepared for a sculpture after the sculpture is complete. When placed on a pedestal, the sculpture is distinct from the world around it, independent and self-supporting. By contrast, Caro begins with the table (pedestal) and then the sculpture takes shape around it. In this way, Caro devised a new sculptural approach and mode of expression, in which the table does not separate sculpture from the outside world, and does not “put it on a pedestal” of institutional or cultural consensus, instead serving as an indispensable structural element of the work.

(Miwa Kenjin, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No. 633)

YOKOYAMA, Taikan, Kannon in White, 1908

YOKOYAMA, Taikan (1868-1958)
Kannon in White
1908
Color on silk, hanging scroll
140.3 x 113.0cm
Purchased FY2018

Kannon in White, newly presented at last year’s exhibition The 150th Anniversary of his Birth: Yokoyama Taikan, has now been added to the collection. The whereabouts of this work had been unknown after it was reproduced in Taikan gashu (Paintings of Taikan), published in 1912. On the lid of a scroll box associated with the work is an inscription reading “By the brush of Taikan, a spring day, 1908.”
The date of 1908 makes sense in light of the work’s style. Taikan had traveled to India five years earlier, in 1903, with his associate Hishida Shunso. Though he stayed for less than half a year, Taikan subsequently incorporated Indian stylistic elements into his Buddhist-themed works for several years, including sari-like costumes, splendid jewelry, long bow-shaped eyebrows, large double-lidded eyes, and narrow, prominent noses. The artist’s fixation on “exotic” facial features had already faded by the time of The Floating Lantern (collection of the Museum of Modern Art, Ibaraki), dating from 1909, thus it makes sense that Kannon in White, in which this flavor remains strong, dates from a year and a half earlier than The Floating Lantern.
If there were any doubt regarding the work’s date, it would be about who might have commissioned such a large work from Taikan at this time. This was over a year after Taikan moved to Izura, Ibaraki Prefecture following the relocation of Nihon Bijutsuin (the Japan Art Institute), and he was still there in spring 1908. Few if any art dealers came to buy paintings from Taikan while he was in Izura.
Here we should note the name of Morimoto Rokubei, listed as an owner of the above-mentioned Taikan gashu collection of works. This man ran a brewery and a warehousing business in Kobe, eventually becoming a devout Buddhist and handing over his family business to his successor. He also went by the name Zuimei. The “zui” was evidently borrowed from Otani Kozui, the Buddhist abbot known for leading exploratory expeditions to Asia, and the name Zuimei is seen here and there in early 20th-century historical records in relation to Kozui and to his brother Otani Sonyu.
One of Taikan’s motivations for going to India was probably his ambition to capture something of the primal sources of Japanese art there, and to breathe new life into art with Buddhist themes. Meanwhile, Otani Kozui traveled to India in search of the origins of Buddhism, and Morimoto Zuimei was a great admirer of Otani’s. It seems that Morimoto may have directly commissioned from Taikan a representation of Kannon wearing a sari, but at this point it is still unclear.
In terms of points of contact between Taikan and Zuimei, we can cite the latter’s introduction of the artist to Murakami Kagaku, who had recently enrolled at the Kyoto Prefectural School of Painting in autumn 1911, and a single record of a painting commission from Zuimei in the artist’s “record of painting commissions” (collection of Yokoyama Taikan Memorial Hall), which lists these commissions from 1925 through 1957. These are intriguing clues for further investigation.

(Tsurumi Kaori, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No.632)

SMITH, David, Circle IV, 1962

SMITH, David (1906–1965)
Circle IV
1962
Painted iron
Height 215.9cm, width 152.5cm, depth 107.0cm
Purchased FY 2017
Photograph by Ootani Ichiro


Last year the museum acquired a sculpture by David Smith from the Circle series, which consists of five works produced in 1962 and 1963.
Smith was born in the US state of Indiana, and in between taking courses at several universities, worked on the assembly line of an automobile factory. He moved to New York in 1926 to study at the Art Students League. Made with the industrial materials of iron and stainless steel yet marked by a hand-constructed, free-form quality, Smith’s work is considered indispensable to any discussion of 20th-century sculpture.
Smith is an artist known for working in series (however, he eschewed the use of casting, and the concept of “editions” is absent from his oeuvre). Surely the best-known of these series is Cubi (1961-65), made with burnished stainless steel. The works in this series, which consist of rectangular prisms, cubes and cylinders, were highly praised by modernist advocates, i.e. art theorists, oriented toward purity and abstraction of form.
From this perspective the Circle series seems to be an exception to the rule, but matters are not so simple. During the 1960s Smith also produced the Zig series consisting of iron plates painted in flat, matte and often monochromatic color. In other words, incorporating colors and planes into sculpture must have been an important concern for the artist.
The Circle series is characterized by incorporation of a circle, a highly self-enclosed form even compared to other planar shapes, and by the use of multiple colors in a single work. Among them, this work (IV) is exceptional in terms of its distinctive brushstrokes, its lack of apertures in the circle (in I, II, III, and V there are circular holes inside the larger circle, although they differ in size), and clear introduction of multi-directionality to control the sense of movement.
In fact, this work is thought to have been made before the others in the series. Smith was known to assign numbers to works in series regardless of the order in which they were actually produced, and this series is no exception. Incidentally, I, II and III are currently in the collection of the National Gallery of Art, and V is in the JP Morgan Chase Art Collection. This work remained in Smith’s possession and then in that of his estate, but MOMAT was able to purchase it, a cause for celebration in that there are virtually no opportunities to see Smith’s work in person at museums in Asia.

(Hosaka Kenjiro, Curator, Department of Fine Arts / Gendai no me, Newsletter of The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo No.629)

 

Focus

Sol LeWitt | Wall Drawing #769 On view from December 22, 2020 at the “Room to Consider the Building” on the 3rd floor

Wall Drawing#769: A 36-inch (90cm) grid covering the black wall. All two-part combinations using arcs from corners and sides,and straight and not straight lines, systematically. 1994, water soluble wax pastel, water based paint and pencil on wall.

Courtesy the Estate of Sol LeWitt, Massimo De Carlo and TARO NASU
Copyright the Estate of Sol LeWitt. Photography by Kioku Keizo

About Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing #769

In fiscal 2018, the museum acquired one of Sol LeWitt’s (1928–2007) wall drawings. The work has now (December 2020) been completed in the “Room to Consider the Building,” located on the third floor next to the Collection Gallery.

LeWitt, a key figure in Minimalist and Conceptual art who began working in New York in the 1960s, created over 1,200 wall drawings over the course of his career. But that does not necessarily mean that LeWitt drew all of the works himself. As the artist explained, “The artist conceives and plans the wall drawing. It is realized by draftsmen (the artist can act as his own draftsman); the plan is interpreted by the draftsman. There are decisions that the draftsman makes, within the plan, as part of the plan. Each individual, being unique, if given the same instructions would understand them differently and would carry them out differently.” (Art Now, June 1971)

As the text suggests, LeWitt’s wall drawings are executed by a draftsman as specified by the artist (or his estate). In other words, the works are the product of a relationship, recalling that of a composer and a performer. Moreover, the use of this type of system presents the viewer with questions regarding the foundations of art, such as the role of the creator, and the relationship between the concept and the physical entity.

As the title of the wall drawing, which adorns the museum wall, explains, the work is a grid measuring approximately 90 by 90 centimeters. Each square is made up of a two-part combination, containing 16 types of arcs, and straight and non-straight lines, with a total of 120 patterns. The rhythm, arising from the repeated and divergent figures, presents the eye with a comfortable stimulating experience akin to a visualization of minimal music.

In the past, the work was made for exhibitions of LeWitt’s work that were held in Paris in 1994 and Madrid in 1996 (both were erased after the exhibitions).This version was created by the following:

Drawn by Cho Sachiko
With assistance from Ishimura Masami and Hirakawa Toshiko

Installation of the wall drawing From October to December 2020

Slide Show : Installation of the wall drawing 

Online : Now Showing

Distributed Free Online: "A Pottery Produced by Five Potters at Once (Silent Attempt) with Japanese Sign Language and Subtitles", directed by TANAKA Koki, 2021

In an attempt to broaden opportunities for art appreciation, the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo produced in 2021 a new version of the video A Pottery Produced by Five Potters at Once (Silent Attempt)” directed by TANAKA Koki (2013) from our collection by adding Japanese sign language and subtitles. It is an eighty-minute HD video in color with audio. We distribute the video online for free for one year.
You are invited to view the video as it also includes English subtitles.

Distribution period: March 31, 2021–March 31, 2022

 

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