Autumn in Japan

If you go down to the woods today...

Konnichiwa friends,

Jet lag has turned me into an early riser. I arrived into Aomori on the fourth consecutive flight of the lengthy journey from Orkney, sweaty, sleep deprived, and not a little bit disoriented. Four days in, so thoroughly bamboozled is my body clock that I am still waking long before dawn and topple into bed just as soon as I manage to eat some dinner.

But this does give me deliciously quiet morning hours to sit and watch the light change and the weather move through the trees outside the window of my little room here at Aomori Contemporary Art Centre. Thanks to a partnership between ACAC and the Pier Art Centre back home in Orkney, I’ll be artist-in-residence here for the next month, alongside four other artists, two from Japan, one from Thailand and one from Indonesia.

ACAC’s spectacular campus was designed by Japanese architect Tadeo Ando

My bedroom felt stuffy that first evening so I opened the window before I went to bed. I slept in several long, deam-filled chunks, and woke to the sound of the sea. Slowly remembering I was not at home, I lay in the dark puzzling sleepily; I didn’t remember the the sea being close. Then I realised it was the sound of heavy rain falling on a million leaves, coming in through the open window. I peeped out into the darkness and could see paler veils of rain blurring the dark shapes of the trees and sat to watch the light rise, opening up the view from my room’s big window cantilevered out over a deep, forested gorge.

The speed of jet travel is too fast, arrival brutally abrupt, so a couple of slow hours drinking coffee, watching gusts of rain send shivers through the branches and swirls of red-gold leaves fly through the grey air, was a welcome change of gear. A chance to arrive properly.

My wee room for the next month

Outside, it’s cool and autumnal. The air smells sweet and yeasty. For this tree-starved Orcadian the leaves are a feast of colours and the ground erupts everywhere with fungi. Inviting pathways thread through the forest around the grounds, and I’m longing to walk them, but I am warned off by Keep Out signs everywhere.

If you go down to the woods today…

Later, I am warned about the bears. I am given a little bear-bell to wear as I move between the buildings, so they hear me coming. Its tiny, musical tinkle doesn’t feel much defence against a marauding bear.

The bears this year are starving. The acorns and beechnuts they usually fatten on before hibernation are in short supply and they have come down from the mountains to seek food. 10 people have been killed in bear attacks in the north of Japan since April, and 78 have been injured in this month alone. One bear made its way into a supermarket in Gunma, ransacking the fish counter and terrifying shoppers as it struggled to find its way outside again. They have become such a menace that there is talk of bringing the army in. So my ventures into the woods are cautious. The bears have more need than I do to roam and forage. I’ll stay out of their way, though the woods are so very inviting this morning, now that the sun has come out…

But so far there has been plenty to keep me busy anyway, as I settle into the studio and make plans for the exhibition that opens here on the 14th November. The facilities here are tremendous; wood workshop, darkrooms, a print studio with the most enormous etching press I’ve ever seen, and a big shared workspace looking onto the trees. My fellow artists have all been here a few weeks already and are deep into the final stages of production. There’s an atmosphere of quiet focus.

Top row: ACAC outside. Bottom row: studio spaces

The first days here felt a bit like being on retreat in this place of seclusion just outside the city, with no independent transport. People move quietly around the campus with a purposeful air. A caretaker sweeps up leaves with a broom of bundled twgs, the kind we used to call a besom. There is only the sound of the rain or birds as I walk the covered walkways that flank the buildings like monastic colonnades.

I have been mostly working on preparing the drawing ‘Confluence’ that some of you may remember from Northlight Gallery in Stromness. Maybe you contributed to it? I’ll be taking it to a local High School soon to work on it with the students there, and it will form the centrepiece of my contribution the gallery exhibition, where I am hoping that my rudimentary Japanese and a winning smile will be enough to tempt others to come and draw with me. Yuji, the wonderfully helpful technican here, is building me a huge table 4.5 metres long. Tomo, the curator, is helping me source other materials I need. I feel well supported.

‘Confluence’ at ACAC

Today brought a distinct change of pace, and place. It’s the first day we’ve had access to the gallery in central Aomori where all five resident artists are showing our work, so I went down with Tomo in her car to have a look at the space and make some final decisions. I’m glad I arrived here with a plan, ready to hit the ground running: the show opens in ten days’ time. We need to crack on!

Curators, technicians and artists start the install at Aomori Citizen’s Art Gallery.

So I’d better get back to the studio.

Remember there’s no Life Raft co-working session while I am here in Japan. If you get withdrawal symptoms there’s quite a few recorded sessions on the paid subscriber chat.

That’s all for this week from Aomori!

Jaa, mata! じゃあ、また

Sam

P.S. You can still see some of my recent work in the exhibition To the Sea, From the Land at Tatha Gallery in Newport-on-Tay, until November 15th. View the works online here: