Early last year, I wrote about Japanese Avant-Garde Pioneers, a documentary by Amélie Ravalec on a group of artists that in the 1960s and 70s revolutionized their country’s creative expressions. These expressions include the full gamut of what we understand as art, whether photography, printed or painted visual art (posters as much as paintings), writing, theater, dance, and more.
A new lavishly illustrated companion book has now been published in the form of Japan Art Revolution (The Japanese Avant-Garde, from Angura to Provoke). The documentary and the book complement each other perfectly, especially given that some of the expressions need to be seen as they unfold while others are static and live from being experienced with the flow of time stopped.
Examples of the former include butoh dance performances or recordings of the Hi Red Center performances. Given the time that has passed since they were staged, video recordings are all we have left to experience at least some of their impact. Examples of the latter include photography, posters, and paintings.
What I have found particularly compelling about the artists included in this look at a particularly rich moment in Japan’s cultural history is the fact that many of them interacted and worked with each other. In addition, some played more than one role. Terayama Shūji, for example, was an avant-garde poet, dramatist, writer, film director, and photographer. Nakahira Takuma was a writer and critic, photographers, editor, and translator.
In fact, almost all of the photographers included in Japan Art Revolution are the least interesting in this larger setting. With the notable exception of Hosoe Eikō none of them sought out other artists to create collaborative work (Terayama had pulled a few of them, most noticeably Moriyama Daidō, into his orbit to have them photograph underground theater, but most appeared eager to leave when they were able to).
For all the right reasons, Hosoe’s work with both writer Mishima Yukio and dancers Hijikata Tatsumi and Ohno Kazuo has been widely celebrated. With Mishima he created Ordeal by Roses, with Hijikata Kamaitachi.
Perhaps due to the very nature of their medium, photographers tend to be an insecure bunch, preferring to establish a lone-wolf image around themselves. Hosoe knew better. He deliberately worked with Mishima, Hijikata, and Ohno — all three incredibly strong personalities themselves — because he knew that in the give and take between two very different forms of creative expression something magical can occur.
Mishima was known for his writing, but as Donald Keene made very clear in his diaries, he was intensely focused on creating a particular image around himself, which included sculpting his body.
Both in Ordeal by Roses and Kamaitachi, the push and pull between two magnificent artists collaborating can be seen — and felt. In the former, Hosoe managed to channel Mishima’s narcissism into an utterly compelling set of photographs. In the latter, it feels as if Hosoe’s camera barely managed to contain the sheer physicality and wit expressed by Hijikata.
Japan Art Revolution is particularly interesting given that it showcases the back and forth between many of the artists featured in its pages. It is as if even as viewers far removed from the time when these pieces of art were made (or performed) we still end up enmeshed in the spider web that was created by this large group of artists.
That spider web arose out of a very specific moment in time in Japan’s post-war history, with massive protests erupting against the so-called Anpo security treaty with the United States (there is a chapter in the book) while the economy started booming and living conditions for most people became a lot better within a short period of time.
Richly illustrated, Japan Art Revolution provides a marvelous overview of what Japan’s most cutting-edge artists would produce. The illustrations are complemented by a wealth of quotes either by the artists themselves or by a number of scholars. As can be expected, the artists talking about themselves and their work yields in much insight into why things look the way they look. The experience of living under frequent bombings during World War 2 and the later occupation play very prominent roles.
Depending on where you’re coming from, you could view Japan Art Revolution as only looking back on a particular moment in Japan’s cultural history — or as asking questions about our own particular moment right now. I personally would like to think of it as doing both.
While there is much to admire in how the artists showcased in the book reacted to the troubled times they lived in, there is a lot less to admire in how today’s artists are reacting (or rather mostly not reacting) to what we are facing today.
Of course, comparing different times in history is always problematic, especially when large cultural differences come into play. Still… Will there be a book like this one about our times and our artists?
In other words, what can we learn from all of the truly gifted and fearless individuals whose work still resonates so strongly almost five decades after it was first made?
Recommended.
Japan Art Revolution — The Japanese Avant-Garde, from Angura to Provoke; editor: Amélie Ravalec; with contributions by numerous artists and writers; 320 pages; Thames & Hudson; 2026
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