Portrait of Nature: Myriads of Gods / Duality / Rice | Ramen | Ruminations
Nobuyuki Kobayashi and Masato Okazaki: Portrait of Nature: Myriads of Gods
Mieko Kaneshi: Duality
Margaret Kasahara: Rice | Ramen | Ruminations
Sangre de Cristo Arts and Conference Center
210 N, Santa Fe Avenue, Pueblo, CO 81003
June 7, 2024-January 11, 2025
Admission: $10/adults, $8/children, students, educators, military, healthcare workers, and museum workers
Review by Zoe Ariyama
Three exhibitions of artwork by Japanese and Japanese American artists are currently on view at the Sangre de Cristo Arts and Conference Center in Pueblo, bringing international artists to Colorado and lending visibility to Colorado-based makers. These shows display a range of media—antique photographic methods, sculptural collages, and vibrant oil paintings—while also presenting the nuances of contemporary Japanese identity.
The low lighting in the third-floor gallery holding Portrait of Nature: Myriads of Gods, an exhibition of monochromatic photographs of the natural world by artists Nobuyuki Kobayashi and Masato Okazaki, makes one feel as if entering a hushed shrine—and that’s the point.
“I regard things in nature as gods and capture spiritual moments with my camera…I feel as if I am taking portraits of gods,” states Kobayashi in the film of the same name playing beside the entrance. This sentiment, the artist explains, is rooted in Shinto, an ancient Japanese belief system that recognizes the presence of kami (deities) in nature, whether manifested as a noble mountain or a single blooming tree.
A series of hanging scrolls by Kobayashi line the first wall, each inlaid with eight-by-ten inch platinum palladium prints on washi paper. In Ensou (2015), a circular opening emerges among tree branches as sunlight settles on the leaves, like a portal to another world, the title referring to the circle’s significance as a Zen symbol. The delicate tones of the platinum palladium print softly illuminate the image while the washi paper support lends its fibrous texture, allowing the photograph to gain a more natural roughness.
Kobayashi hikes with the old-fashioned, large format camera he uses for all his images, carrying it up mountains or precariously balancing its tripod across streams. But that’s only the beginning of the artist’s labor-intensive process. He also sources a particularly thick, handmade washi paper from his home prefecture of Saitama—it’s believed that the sheets will survive for a thousand years—as a photographic support, treating the surface with pine resin and carefully tweezing off stray fibers before finally printing his planned photographs.
Kobayashi’s Yuuen (2013) is an exceptional composite of nine platinum palladium prints painstakingly placed together; the dark lines of paste construct a grid, creating the illusion of looking at the scene through a windowpane. Each of Kobayashi’s artworks shares the artist’s genuine awe and respect for the landscape around him, and his hope to preserve it.
The other half of Portrait of Nature: Myriads of Gods is comprised of silver gelatin prints by Masato Okazaki, many focused on the wintry landscape of Japan’s northernmost island of Hokkaido. Collected from the past forty years of his career, Okazaki’s photographs display the same intentionality of composition as Kobayashi’s, but while Kobayashi’s photos may capture the quiet and overlooked, Okazaki homes in on the dramatic and surreal.
In 37-2022, a string of orbs seems to float on an aluminum surface before you realize they are buoys bobbing along an icy pond. In 20-2022, the worn ruin of a wooden boat roars across the print like a cresting wave. In 22-2022, the snow-dusted roots and branches of a fallen tree unfurl in every direction—a many-tendrilled creature emerging from the forest’s depth.
Okazaki’s 30-minute film Charm of the Silver Gelatin Print, also playing in the gallery, shows the artist burning the sky and dodging the river (adding light exposure and limiting light exposure, respectively) of the 03-2015 photograph with two small circular boards attached to sticks—like shadow puppets dancing in his hands. Okazaki heightens the contrast in the images, masterfully manipulating the prints to emphasize the unexpected forms he encounters in nature. What binds these two photographers, Kobayashi and Okazaki, is their search for the strange and majestic, hoping to capture some semblance of the divine in a fleeting environment.
Mieko Kaneshi’s exhibition Duality, on the other hand, is based in the artist’s fascination with the monumental scale of the American West. Kaneshi left Japan over two decades ago, describing in her statement how, “In Japan, we look at nature under a microscope. We focus on very small things. The sky is always gray and misty. In America, I discovered color and size and scope.”
In landscape works like Among Giants, Kaneshi paints the vibrant purples, oranges, and reds of desert rock formations at sunset, while a small lone figure rides a horse below. It’s a familiar scene, a classic image of the “rugged frontier,” but rendered with brushstrokes reminiscent of the traditional calligraphy Kaneshi studied as a child.
Kaneshi similarly draws upon Japanese art history in her figurative works of Native American women. One multi-media work of two women in geometric-patterned dresses, one donning a cross and the other a turquoise necklace, is titled Utamaro’s Women—a reference to eighteenth-century ukiyo-e printmaker Kitagawa Utamaro’s famed bijin-ga, images of beautiful women.
The third exhibition, Rice | Ramen | Ruminations by Colorado Springs-based artist Margaret Kasahara, pivots focus to consider personal identity—and its mutability—as a Japanese American. Kasahara’s Oriental Flavor series, with each work centering a painted block of instant ramen noodles, plays on the clichéd, immediately recognizable symbols of “Japanese-ness” portrayed in popular culture: plastic sushi grass, maneki neko (lucky cat), origami paper, painted bamboo, and Hello Kitty.
If these stereotypes are the options for how to be Japanese in America, how does one navigate authentic self-expression? The artworks call attention to this painfully relatable aspect of being Japanese American, while also finding the humor in the absurdity of shallow fetishization.
For the Notation series Kasahara turns inward, describing the small works on paper as “contemplations and distillations,” each creating a “visual poem.” Here, those same items Kasahara used in Oriental Flavor are broken down to their most basic forms. On a grid made of her own hair threaded through the paper, Kasahara carefully arranges grains of sushi rice, each almost but not quite identical. In another, Kasahara has applied 12-karat white gold leaf to each grain, which float in a haze of pencil markings as if surrounded by haloes.
The most visceral iteration is Notation 5-18 (2018): a thick, fraying circle of Kasahara’s dark hair winds above three blocks of origami paper, creating an introspective, spiritual symbol much like Kobayashi’s Ensou (2015). Kasahara’s thoughtful compositions exemplify the final line of her artist statement: “I’m searching for the essence of things.”
Sangre de Cristo continues to support an impressive calendar of programming in conjunction with the exhibitions, including workshops on sumi-e painting, tea ceremonies, and raku pottery. Bringing these artists and community organizations together creates a space where the focal point is contemporary Japanese and Japanese American art—a much-appreciated addition to the Colorado cultural sphere.
Zoe Ariyama (she/her) is a writer/reader. She holds a BA in art history and political economy from Tulane University, and focuses on projects considering Asian American makers, institutional memory, and the oddities of the art market.