Takashi Murakami: Bridging Dichotomies
As one of the most intersectional artists of the 21st century, Takashi Murakami forces us to consider our arbitrary divisions and ask, “Why can’t it all exist together?”
Every step across the colossal eighty-two-foot-long canvas sends forth a wave of clashing emotions. Take a step forward and the tsunami of skulls will haunt you, two steps back and it will seem cartoonish. Stand at an angle and the colorful buddhas will look noisy, turn around again and they will all tie in harmoniously.
Stunned in front of the masterpiece, I did not finish looking at all 2000 pieces at the Broad Museum in Los Angeles. Instead, I left the Broad thinking about one artist only.
Murakami is a man who strives to bridge the dichotomies of art; his work is both low and high culture, commercial and commentary, eastern and western. The message he sends to his audience is clear — that separation, classification, and divisiveness is not an option.
Nihonga, Otaku, and Mr. DOB
Murakami’s Ph.D degree in traditional Japanese art and his intense passion for Japanese manga allows him to intricately weave the complexities of high and low art. For his doctoral degree, Murakami chose an emphasis in Nihonga — a genre based entirely on traditional forms of Japanese art, originating from the Meiji period of Imperial Japan. As Murakami was finishing up his Ph.D program, he also started to cultivate a heavy interest in Japanese manga and anime culture. With his elite degree, Murakami went on to create his own genre that consisted of a mix of Nihonga and Japanese otaku subculture.
He started off by designing a mickey-mouse-on- psychedelics like character named Mr. DOB and painting him on a canvas full of smiling acrylic flowers; this became an instant hit. One of the earliest paintings of Mr. DOB was in “727” (1996) where his eyes are lost in focus and his teeth are glaring out westward into open space. Though the design of Mr. DOB is entirely cartoonish and colorful, he still sits upon traditional Japanese waves which are inspired by 19th Century painter Hokusai.
Superflat Movement
Mr. DOB was showcased not only in contemporary art museums such as the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles, but also in public spaces such as New York’s Grand Central Station and the Palace of Versailles in France. The juxtaposition between the Palace of Versailles, one of the most celebrated works of aristocratic architecture, and anime-inspired sculptures of smiling flowers must have been jarring. However, Murakami argued that this marriage of high and low art was necessary — that art lovers should be interlocking, not separating, the two.
This argument was the fundamental idea behind what sparked his “superflat” movement where he pushed for the flattening of high and low art so that genres such as anime could coexist with ones typically considered to be highbrow. Only Murakami, through the “superflat” movement, could have made it possible for a character such as Mr. DOB to look both out of place yet organically accepted into the royal chateau of Marie Antoinette.
Commercial Success and Criticism
The commercial value of Murakami’s name has grown exponentially. His vibrant color scheme and anime-inspired characters have been essentially branded; it is recognizable beyond the halls of contemporary museums due to his very successful collaborations with brands ranging from Uniqlo to Louis Vuitton and celebrities like Kanye West, Billie Eilish, and Lionel Messi.
There is a reason why his work has accumulated so much attention: Murakami never limited his capital to simple coffee mugs and posters that would be sold at the end of every exhibition. Instead, he understood and continues to understand the value of popular culture and its key figures. Thus, his fame is intentional — intentional in his collaborations with certain brands or celebrities that will take his work far beyond the shelves of the museum gift shop.
Murakami has been collaborating with ComplexCon, one of the biggest streetwear and music festivals in Long Beach that brings in A-list celebrities, designers, and more than 15,000 people from all around the world. When I attended in 2017, his work was everywhere; from physical tickets featuring Mr. DOB, to the overall design of the venue, Murakami’s work was incorporated into much of the festival experience.
By tapping into the versatility and commercial power of his work, Murakami has been able to create one of the largest range of consumers a modern artist has ever been able to attract. You can almost always expect to see museum curators, the Kardashian-Jenners, musicians, luxury and streetwear designers alike entertaining Murakami’s newest creations, allowing for Murakami’s work to fluidly exist as fine art, pop culture, and mass consumer goods.
Though Murakami’s art mainly serves as a commentary on important societal issues and his “superflat” movement, his penchant for commercializing his work, whether it be in the forms of a key-chain or Louis Vuitton suitcases, has brought forth a good deal of criticism from art critics. The main critique is that Murakami’s work has become rather materialistic and self-promotional; that he is more of a businessman than an artist by creating art with the goal of increasing visibility and market value.
In comparison to Andy Warhol, who passed away before he could profit off of the commercialization of his art, Murakami is making sure that he does not make that mistake, exercising full control over the commercial power of his art. As mentioned in his book Art Entrepreneurship (2005), Murakami does not think that his desire to accumulate wealth through his work should denigrate his artistic creations. Rather, he thinks that capital can be used to further manifest his creative visions.
Furthermore, the commercialization of his work may be a characteristic of the “superflat” movement — giving ordinary people the chance to own a piece of his art, without having to pay millions at a Sotheby’s auction.
Taoism: The Greater Picture
Murakami’s passion for the message behind his work, however, is never shadowed by his desire for financial success. Most of the art he creates, even the anime-inspired flowers, is designed with the intention to raise awareness of the effects of radiation and tragedies of war. Therefore, the context in which he created these highly popular anime characters must be considered.
The reason why paintings such as “727” (1996), which is a reference to the American plane model Boeing 727 flying over Japan during World War II, and “Super Nova” (1999), which depicts a field of large psychedelic mushrooms, show oddly distorted images of characters like that of Mr. DOB is because it represents Japan’s aftermath from the nuclear bombings of World War II. “Super Nova” on its own looks like a cute painting full of colorfully animated mushrooms, each mushroom different in shape and size. There are, however, many layers to this painting: not only does it show the effects that radiation has had on wildlife in Japan, the mushrooms are also deliberately chosen to mimic the shape of atomic explosions.
If the post World War II paintings by Murakami mainly consisted of contorted images of Mr. DOB, the unforeseen damages by the earthquake that struck in 2011 catalyzed a new direction in Murakami’s artistic focus — bringing peace to his viewers through the incorporation of Japanese Taoism.
In 2011, a 9.1 magnitude earthquake and tsunami struck the east coast of Japan, resulting in more than 15,000 casualties and a nuclear power plant explosion. Thus, most of Murakami’s artwork after the year 2011 depict the pain and death that resulted from the natural disaster. At the same time, Murakami infuses the important message of healing and staying hopeful through the use of his vivacious anime-inspired techniques.
“In the Land of the Dead, Stepping on the Tail of a Rainbow” (2014) is a perfect example of Murakami’s purposeful incorporation of Taoist elements into his work. The painting, at first glance, showcases Murakami’s distinct artistic style — a mixture of anime-inspired subjects, traditional Japanese elements, and more than 100 layers of colorful acrylic paint perfectly sanded down into a (super) flat surface. Take a few more minutes to examine the painting, and one will notice that there is something very unique with its composition. This is because the piece is inspired by an 18th Century painting called “Immortals” by Japanese artist Soga Shohaku.
The main subjects of both Shohaku’s “Immortals” and Murakami’s rendition are the Taoist immortals who were believed to help connect humans with the divine world by bringing peace upon the mortals. In Murakami’s piece, the immortals are given a colorful upgrade with flowing garments, long painted nails, and dramatized limbs. Half of the 82-feet-long canvas is covered in different colored strokes of acrylic paint which collectively flow into giant bodies of waves — his interpretation of the 2011 tsunami.
In the midst of the tsunami of colors lies a very large image of a black skull, where the hollows of it are full of smaller skulls, representative of the colossal damage that the tsunami brought onto the shores of Japan. Though the skulls bring forth feelings of harrowing emptiness and helplessness, Murakami adds a hopeful touch — images of the sun and moon are drawn right above the skull, representing yin and yang or the Taoist values of peace and harmony. Next to the tsunami’s large waves, a massive whirlpool of chaos with spikes protruding from all angles can be seen.
The intent of the design is an explosion — the eruption of an earthquake. Its impact is felt through the animated drawing of a dragon that is curled up between the explosion and the impending tsunami. The dragon, a symbol of energy and order is growling out into the distance — in agony at what is happening, but also in pursuit of bringing back order onto the earth.
The latter half of the painting shows more of the immortals, holding bodily distorted babies that have been affected by nuclear radiation. However, it is notable that even with abnormal facial and body figures, all of the babies are smiling. Though they may have been affected by an unfortunate ripple of disasters, the children are hopeful with the help of Taoist immortals. Some additional touches that Murakami includes are the depictions of plants and animals. There is a cherry blossom tree that has just begun to blossom, a peacock full of rich feathers, and a nightmare-catching white elephant common in Taoist paintings — each of them symbolic of new life after the death of many.
“In the Land of the Dead, Stepping on the Tail of a Rainbow,” conveys not only a vulnerable country in mourning but also a significantly hopeful one that is resprouting both environmentally and spiritually. This piece is what makes Murakami unique; an artist who understands the market with an ability to gain major commercial success, but also someone who creates curatorial masterpieces that feature the reverence and compassion he has for the history and people of Japan.
As creator, celebrity, and healer, Murakami is redefining what it means to be a modern artist in this day and age. He has challenged the notion that fine art can only exist in formal spaces by bringing his ingenious creations into the hands and minds of ordinary people. He can produce consumer goods and experiences one day, spiritually healing paintings the next, and excel at both. He has smoothly interlaced Japanese culture and artistic techniques into his work so that it is comprehensible to both a Frenchman in Paris and a Japanese native in Hiroshima. In Murakami’s world, there are no dichotomies or binaries. His art, from its message to composition and dissemination into the world, acts as a challenge to convention, all the while keeping the respect he has for the traditional. As one of the most intersectional artists of the 21st century, Takashi Murakami forces us to consider our arbitrary divisions and ask, “Why can’t it all exist together?”
