2003 - Influence of Japan

"Hikikomori literally "pulling inward, being confined", i.e., "acute social withdrawal" is a Japanese term to refer to the phenomenon of reclusive adolescents or young adults who have chosen to withdraw from social life, often seeking extreme degrees of isolation and confinement because of various personal and social factors in their lives. The term hikikomori refers to both the sociological phenomenon in general as well as to people belonging to this societal group." Wikipedia

Hikikomori

In 2003, I went to live in Japan. In my imagination, Japan was country that was the extreme opposite of Australia and I liked the idea of being confronted, and outside my comfort zone. In reality, I found Japan to be more educational than confronting. Ironically, rather than suffer any kind of moral clash or inner turmoil, I seemed to find a sense of peace. In English Chad means 'war' and in Japanese, it means 'tea ceremony.' The different meaning of my name in each language seemed to find reflection in my art.

One significant influence of Japan was a heightened ability to appreciate beauty. In many ways, beauty and visual art are natural bedfellows but they have become relatively divorced in Australian contemporary art, and until I lived in Japan, beauty had never been part of my own art. Things changed when I came to admire how the Japanese were able to block out the distractions to give something beautiful a refined sense of respect.  For example, they might marvel at a cherry tree blossoming in spring, and make a huge excursion to see an orchard blossom and then lose its petals softly in the morning breeze. Although a homeless man may be underneath one of the trees and a factory bellowing smoke in the background, the Japanese could just block out such negatives that may have otherwised prevented them from appreciating that beauty.

Another significant influence was a greater appreciation for the intangible. I found that the Japanese were highly motivated to experience an ephemeral pleasure from something that they could not possess. For example, they may have spent a thousand dollars on a fresh plate of sashimi that was presented immaculately. Initially, I looked at such motivations with a pragmatic mind and thought it was sheer madness, but I soon came to realise that the appreciation of art itself requires a similar appreciation of the intangible. Specifically, it requires that an onlooker stand before something that does not provide any kind of pragmatic benefit, but still bestowe upon it tremendous value because of the feelings and ideas it can provoke. It is that widespread ability to appreciate the intangible which I think best explains why art appreciation is spread through all facets of Japanese society.

In regards to finding expression in my art, the Japanese influence combined with my background to make me particularly curious in the term hikikomori, which referred to a phenomenon of individuals withdrawing from society. Basically, teenagers refuse to leave their rooms for years on end. Their parents leave food at the door and continue on with their lives because they don’t really know how to deal with the problem. For reasons that I could not explain at the time, and which still confuse me today, hikikomori fascinated me. In many ways, it seemed to hold some promise of revealing the secrets of Japan.

When dealing with the concept, I didn't paint teenagers, rather, I painted the most beautiful objects in the world, women; however, I was never able to completely refine my appreciation to block out the distractions. One distraction was negative ideas about appreciating women for their beauty alone. I had been schooled in a liberal arts culture that stressed the negative consequences of the beauty myth and those ideas stayed in my mind whether I wanted them or not. Another distraction was that feeling of insecurity as man around a beautiful woman, and some of the loss of power it entails. In a sense, I was experiencing my own kind of hikikomori as I looked at the world but was not really part of it and not really sure of my approach to it.

Lacking a studio, I mostly drew pictures. I used a style that involved drawing a picture, slicing it up, then reassembling it like blinds over a window. It sort of reflected a voyeuristic feeling of being in Japan, but not being part of it, and seeing a beautiful face of Japan, but being even more curious about the mystery behind it.

When I returned to Australia, I made a couple of paintings in the style based on memory but away from the Japanese environment, my enthusiam for the style waned.

Although the hikikomori style left me, some of the seeds of my Japanese art stayed with me and grew. One of these was an appreciation for rocks. When staying in a traditional Japanese hotel, I came upon a garden that was composed of nothing but rocks. At the time I thought it was a bit odd, but six years later, the expressive qualities of rock became one of the chief focuses of my art.

Another influence came when I met a group of artists that painted ancient kanji (Chinese characters) in expressive ways. I asked one of the artists what the kanji said, but she responded that she didn’t know. Meaning was less important than expression. Again, the idea was odd at the time, but it stayed with me, matured and eventually became highly influential in my use of symbols.