NTV NEWS (日テレNEWS) has covered the unveiling of Katsuhiro Otomo’s PROCESSION SPIN at Ginza Station and they have interviewed him for the occasion.
Read the original interview in Japanese:
INTERVIEW
How do you feel now that the work has finally been unveiled?
It’s been about four years since I first came down to this underground passage and was told, “We’re going to make it here.” A lot happened during that time. I guess you could say I’m deeply moved—or maybe it’s more that I’m relieved, like, “It’s finally over.” These things never move forward in a straight line so easily. So yes, it’s a bit emotional.
What kind of thoughts did you put into the piece?
Since it was public art, the question was, “What do you do with art?” I had the idea of collaging various forms of art from the Jōmon period all the way into the future. But just drawing a single straight path ends up looking surprisingly awkward from a design standpoint. So I decided to rotate it once, and I think that allowed for a larger, more complex composition. That didn’t come easily at all. I struggled a lot, and the project was delayed quite a bit. But all of those thoughts are packed into it, and that’s probably why today finally came.
Ginza Station is used not only by Japanese people but also by many visitors from overseas. Was there anything you consciously kept in mind?
I see myself as closer to entertainment than to being a pure “artist.” Rather than pushing my own world to the forefront, I want people to enjoy it. In that sense, public art might suit me. Instead of pursuing only my own vision, it’s more about people coming here and enjoying it—there’s a bit of entertainment mixed in. That might be the difference. Maybe I’m a manga artist after all, rather than an artist in the strict sense.
Was the motorcycle from AKIRA added as part of the “entertainment” aspect?
Yes, that was when I was stuck (laughs). When you hit a wall, you start thinking, “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore.” So I thought, “Well, I’ll draw it for now.”
As a small playful touch?
Exactly. And it’s hard work, you know (laughs). It’s not something you can do easily at all.
Since the theme spans from the Jōmon period to modern times, were there any references or materials you used?
Over a long life, when making various works—whether animation or film—you look at all kinds of materials. I feel like I collaged all of that together. Maybe you can’t do this unless you’ve lived a long time.
So it’s like a gesture of thanks, in a way, for having seen so many great works—Jōmon flame-style pottery, and sculptures by Unkei and Kaikei from the Kamakura period. Japanese art really does have something special. Jōmon is wonderful, Kamakura is wonderful, Edo is wonderful. I feel like we were raised by all of that.
Did you incorporate things that represent each era?
Yes. I think what represents each era is probably what was most cutting-edge at the time. What remains is often what was considered the coolest thing back then. Jōmon flame-style pottery feels like it was made with the attitude of, “Look how cool this is.”
Honestly, I’ve made this one, but next time it should be younger people. I’m getting pretty old, so younger artists should make the next new things.
You included not only culture but also elements of Japanese history like catfish imagery and the battleship Yamato. Why?
Because art exists alongside war and everything else. Art flows together with those things—war, recessions, economic bubbles. Everything flows along, and what resonated most at the time ends up remaining as art. That’s how it feels to me. So today, maybe it’s games, anime, and manga.
Ukiyo-e wasn’t originally considered particularly valuable. People thought works by painters of schools like the Kanō school—artists painting in lofty, elite realms—would remain. But nishiki-e were souvenirs, things people bought when visiting Edo. And now those are considered art. If that’s the case, then what may not seem very “art-like” today—though it may be starting to look that way—such as manga, animation, or games, could become art.
New things created from now on may become new art. That’s the feeling I have. That’s what I’m trying to say with this piece (laughs).
You’ve been active as a manga artist for over 50 years. What inspires you today?
What inspires me, after all, is the great works of those who came before. You notice something and think, “What is this? I didn’t know about it. There’s such an amazing work out there.” That’s where it begins.
It’s like musicians who start out playing rock from birth, listening only to contemporary music, and then one day they hear the Beatles and feel crushed. Modern rock stands on top of the Beatles, after all. When you make music without knowing that and then discover them, it’s shocking. That still happens to us. All art has roots. New things are built on top of them. It’s hard to go all the way back, but if you do, you can keep going back endlessly. That’s how we can even go back to the Jōmon period (laughs).
Your works are popular overseas as well. How do you think about working abroad?
I don’t actually go abroad to draw. That’s both unfortunate and maybe a good thing. If I had gone to America, I probably wouldn’t have come back (laughs). If I’d gone in my twenties, I definitely wouldn’t have. I didn’t go because I wasn’t very smart, couldn’t speak English, and had various other issues. But young people today—if they go, they might not come back. Though now, I’m not sure. Hollywood doesn’t shine like it used to. In the end, everyone has to find their own place. Tokyo was right for me, and that’s more than enough.
What is most important to you when working?
What matters most is that I find it interesting myself. If you do it for other people, it doesn’t last. If it’s not fun for you, it won’t last. Once you start making a work—say, a manga—you have to see it through, and you have to enjoy who you are at that time. You can’t keep the same thing going forever.
I’m doing public art like this now, but honestly, I want to hand it over to the next person as soon as possible (laughs). I’d rather go home and quietly paint ink paintings.
