The Japanese avant-garde art of the 1920s and 1930s was remarkably international. An example is the anarchist art movement Mavo, which was active in the early 1920s. By the late 1920s, a Proletarian art movement affiliated with the transnational workers' movement emerged, with several former Mavo artists also playing a central role in it. In the 1930s, government institutions such as The Society for International Cultural Relations (KBS) engaged in soft power campaigns to promote Japan's visual branding and national image at home and abroad. Fascinatingly, these campaigns employed cutting-edge artistic techniques, including photomontage and collage. The avant-garde art of Japan's interwar period also provides many insights into Japanese society after the great earthquake of 1923.
Andrew Maerkle: Omuka-san, today I would like to explore the circumstances of the interwar era and the context in which its artistic developments took place. What were some of the significant turning points in the Taisho Era (1912-1925)?
Toshiharu Omuka: The Great Kanto earthquake of 1923 sharpened the social consciousness of the artists by driving them out of their studios. "I became radicalized," recalled Iwao Uchida, due in part to the murder of his neighbors, the anarchists Sakae Osugi and Noe Ito. After Kamenosuke Ogata and Shinro Kadowaki withdrew from Mavo,the group became increasingly centered on Tomoyoshi Murayama and new, more extreme members like Michinao Takamizawa, later known as Suihō Tagawa. This was echoed in the second Mavo exhibition, post-earthquake, held simultaneously in 20 cafes and restaurants around Tokyo. In 1924, Mavo began decorating both the facades and interiors of restaurants and cafés, culminating in a statement of sorts at an exhibition for architectural design held in aid of the disaster. By 1925, reconstruction was well underway, and the demand for barracks decoration had faded, but the social awareness of modernist artists was revitalized. In September of that year, Murayama wrote a review of the Sanka Exhibition, featuring a broad coalition of radical artists, at Ueno Park's Jichi Kaikan auditorium. He divided the 122 exhibited works into three categories: 64 purely artistic pieces, 38 utilitarian pieces, and 20 anti-art pieces. The utilitarian works were further divided into five pieces addressing social activism and 33 other pieces. It should be noted that there were far fewer works than in later Proletarian art exhibitions.
Thus 1925 was the peak of the Mavo movement. Aside from the aforementioned barracks decoration, projects such as the Mavo magazine, the production of cinema interiors and drop curtains, and Murayama’s designing of stage sets for the German Expressionist play "From Morning to Midnight", were among many of their intense activities. Mavo expanded into Sanka and reached its pinnacle. Internal pressure led to Sanka's demise that September. After the collapse of Sanka, Murayama joined the Japan Proletarian Literary Union, formed late that year. In February 1926, he published the book, Kōseiha kenkyu (Studies of Constructivism). The cover is a clear statement of Murayama's leftist leanings. It features a dinosaur-like shape (kaibutsu) in the center, which stands in stark contrast to the bold, Constructivist-inspired lines on the left. "A spectre is haunting Europe", begins the Communist Manifesto, and my interpretation is that the kaibutsu shape is aligned with the "spectre". It will shed its black skin and transform into a red monster. Put simply, it implies he is determined to adopt communism.
AM: Tomoyoshi Murayama was a central figure in Mavo. The kind of work he was producing, for example, "Construction" from 1925, features assemblage and other Constructivist techniques while displaying a keen interest in the media. Murayama cut out various images from magazines to make those collages. This results in an engaging and dynamic work that departs from conventional academic expression.
The journal that the Mavo artists produced from 1924 to 1925 is fascinating. The contents include images of artworks, along with scripts for Dadaistic plays, and reportage pieces. Nearly every issue includes a list of noteworthy international magazines on the back cover, with contact details for avant-garde journals associated with groups involved in the avant-garde art movement and publishing scene of that era, such as "MA", "De Stijl", and "Der Sturm", among others. In Mavo Issue 3, you can also see their intent to engage a social context in placing reproductions of their works on top of newsprint. What is remarkable is that the Mavo artists were projecting themselves into a global community from their position in Japan. The relationship with various international magazines wasn't one-sided. The Polish magazine Blok for instance, also featured Mavo. Some of Tomoyoshi Murayama's writings cite content from these other magazines. This suggests that there was a certain amount of exchange despite the distance.
TO: In 1922, Tomoyoshi Murayama traveled to Berlin. During his time there, he had various encounters with artists through the Der Sturm gallery. There was also, from the end of May to June of 1922, a major international exhibition held in Düsseldorf that Murayama reported on, as I touched on earlier. It was at these events that the groundwork for collaboration with international artists relevant to this context was laid. When he returned to Japan and began to publish magazines this connection gradually evolved into direct magazine exchanges. The Italian Futurists had already been engaged in connections with Japan for some time too. As a case in point, Shohachi Kimura, a member of Ryusei Kishida's circle, established direct communication with Marinetti in Italy and received a substantial amount of material from him. It's not that Murayama suddenly initiated this, but I think that among the artists of the Taisho period, there was always an inclination to seek out international collaboration, and members of Mavo also shared an understanding of that. In the aftermath of the Great Kanto earthquake, artists were undoubtedly left questioning what their role and actions should be.
AM: One fascinating aspect about the internationalism of Japan's 20th-century avant-garde is that it came from a diverse array of sources. For instance, while many artists journeyed to Europe, some ventured to neighboring Russia to pursue their studies and they published reports in magazines and media outlets. On top of that, following the Russian Revolution, David Burliuk, an artist involved in the Russian avant-garde, gradually made his way to the Far East and reached Japan in 1920. He stayed for two years, giving lectures and engaging with artists, before settling in the United States. Likewise, Varvara Bubnova, who is one of the originators of Constructivism, came to Japan and lived there for many years. In this sense, when people talk about modern and contemporary Japanese art, they often refer to "imported” styles, but the situation was far more complex than just having a single source from which those styles were adopted.
TO: I think what we are overlooking here is the impact of World War I. This conflict led to Japan's disconnection from Europe. Besides, Europe was not in a position to foster a fresh art movement. Not to imply that none existed, as the Russian movement was ongoing. For Japanese artists at that time, although France held the utmost significance outside of Japan, there was a lack of new information coming from there. There was a build-up of intense frustrations. Even though it wasn't possible to go to France right away after the war, over a hundred Japanese artists flocked to Paris soon after—a city that began to lean towards conservatism after WWI. There was a prevailing sense in France that their values had emerged triumphant over Germany. Conversely, Germany was on the verge of revolution due to intense post-war turmoil, and this is the context from which the avant-garde Dada movement emerged. While developments in Russia were not readily accepted in Paris, Germany became their hub, and that's where Murayama went. To put it simply, until then, Japan was essentially academically oriented, thinking about Picasso and others, with avant-garde artists focusing on Paris. Meanwhile, Murayama embarked on a wholly distinct path, gaining something entirely new from his journey. The post-war era brought forth a substantial wave of change, with Japan also being impacted by its effects.
AM: This is when the Proletarian Art movement was formed. While the Proletarian Art movement could also be seen as an "imported" form of expression, the art was deeply rooted in the local society and its issues, challenging reductive binaries between international and Japanese art. Starting in 1928, the Proletarian Art movement organized an annual exhibition, which was held in 1928 and 1929 at the Tokyo Prefectural Art Museum, in Ueno. It was then suppressed and forced to move venues. I brought an album of postcard reproductions from the 1930 exhibition with me today. The back cover features slogans like “Struggle to liberate the workers and farmers through art” and a quote from Lenin on culture. It also includes “instructions for use,” which encourage activists to distribute the postcards at factories and send them to comrades in jail. The postcards are in a sense an extension of the newsprint reproductions in Mavo's Issue 3. How would you contextualize the politics and internationalism of the Proletarian movement?
TO: When reflecting on art, I strongly believe that seeing the artwork holds immense importance. For most individuals during the Taisho era, seeing real artworks was rare. So reproductions became the primary way to appreciate international works. In this respect, the chance to see authentic paintings originating from what is now Russia was tremendously precious. And I believe those works provided a model for artists. The world often saw Russia and the Soviet Union through the prism of Socialist Realism. There seem to be two perspectives to consider. One is to view it as artistic expression, the other as art for a social movement. Whether to look at it as art or as a political device is a question that persists. In this context, when discussing the relationship with international developments, the challenge revolved around the practical difficulties of maintaining exchange. Looking at the leading exponents of Proletarian Art, it becomes clear that venturing to Russia held a crucial and noteworthy significance.
AM: If we take the Grand Exhibition of Proletarian Art as a reference point, it began in 1928 and had its final iteration in 1932. With the repression escalating, the Proletarian Art movement came to an end in 1934. But as we entered the 1930s, Surrealism, abstract painting, and other forms of abstraction gained more traction. In that context, the overlaps between nationalism, internationalism, and transnationalism raise questions. For example, Harue Koga's "Sea" was recently shown at the Tate Modern in London, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, in the exhibition "Surrealism Beyond Borders." This is one of the iconic pieces from Japanese Surrealism during that time. There was also the pictorial magazine Nippon. It combined journalistic photography with a dynamic design to promote the appeal of Japan with a nationalist agenda. How do you view the Japanese art of the 1930s?
TO: As Proletarian Art waned, a clear trend emerged where new forms of expression gained momentum in its place. When Sanka split up, some became highly conscious of politics and social movements, and those who wanted to pursue greater artistic experimentation sought further artistic radicalism. Essentially, those committed to advancing art as a social movement put in significant effort during the early 1930s. However, this path came with its own set of sacrifices such as the risk of arrest.
Then, due to the Proletarian Movement's highly organized nature, there were monthly committee meetings, and it became entrenched in art history as a social movement. The role of an artist doesn't naturally involve diligently attending meetings or participating in various conferences to keep records and such. Some just wanted to make art, and when they sought avenues for self-expression in the late 1930s, they opted to do so within the discipline of art. In the 1930s artists were "permeative". In short, the 1920s saw more radical and socially rebellious actions, pushing boundaries aggressively, while instead of sudden outbursts, the 1930s artists steadily and diligently pushed their work forward. Those who had been deprived of the means of representation due to the failure of the Proletarian Art movement were striving to safeguard their artistic expressions within the realm of art. The very idea of being permeative might suggest that art has reached its limit.
AM: When we compare the interwar period to today's situation, it raises questions for me about globalization. Even in a globalized world how deeply are we connected with other nations?
TO: I see the issue of "national/international" as fundamentally the collision point where international and national interests intersect. Staying within "national/international" keeps us bound to the national. To break free from this national framework, being transnational is essential, as implied by the wording. On the other hand, when it comes to escaping this national framework, the question is whether a mere physical relocation would be enough to transcend borders. Deepening mutual cultural understanding requires time from both parties. To put it simply, it's a language issue. We tend to generalize East Asia as one entity, and while I have many Korean acquaintances when it comes to communicating with each other in a language other than English, I feel somewhat awkward, and the missing piece here is my effort. I think it's incredibly challenging to go beyond this national framework without such efforts. Even if Japan aims to foster good relations with Asia, mere handshakes won't qualify as meaningful exchanges. For us to become more global, it is necessary to invest more time and effort in transcending national boundaries, now more than ever before. How to approach it in the arts seems like something artists should consider.
AM: There are elements in these artworks that both quickly captivate and that require careful observation before you can fully appreciate them. Thank you very much for reflecting on these with us.
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