One of the most exciting aspects of the Shinsedai Cinema Festival, not just for guests but for its organizers as well, is the opportunity to highlight filmmakers and artists whose work may not immediately pop into the public’s mind when “Japanese cinema” is mentioned. A perfect example is 30-year-old video artist and composer Takagi Masakatsu. During this past decade Masakatsu has redefined what “video art” is capable of, producing lush, colourful and just plain joyful short videos accompanied by his minimal and lilting compositions. As a preface to the screening of four of Masakatsu’s short films and the North American Premiere of his brand new concert documentary Aruongaku Shinsedai co-programmer and co-director Chris MaGee chatted with Masakatsu about his creative process.
CM: Can you tell us a bit about your background? I think a lot of people would be very curious – did music come first for you or visual art?
TM: I took piano lessons when I was 6-years-old and then from when I was 12 to 17-years-old. I learned how to play classical music like Bach, Mozart. I tried to go to university for art or music, but somehow I went to university for English language studies. I dropped out in a year though.
After dropping out from the school, I start to create my own works with a friend. First, for 2 years, I worked only on video, my friend made music. We got kind of successful in Japanese club culture, but I wanted to expand my own art, so I quit working with my friend and started to make my own works, music and video together. So I’ve never been to art school, I learned by myself.
CM: Many Japanese artists are based out of Tokyo, but you’ve chosen to stay in Kyoto. What is it about Kyoto that keeps it as your base of operations? Do you think that the city is an influence on your work?
TM: Mainly because I was born in Kyoto, and had no chance to live outside of Kyoto. That’s the simple and main reason why I keep staying here. It’s not difficult to work outside of Tokyo. People who ask me to collaborate together, like companies, galleries or record labels, are of course based in big cities like Tokyo; but for artists, we need only time and space for working. So we can choose anywhere we feel good. Of course, when some big projects happen, I have to travel to Tokyo, but from Kyoto to Tokyo takes 3 hours by train, so it’s not a big issue. I go to Tokyo, basically once a month, I think. It is fun to move around.
Sometimes I think about living in Tokyo, but it’s never a big attraction. If I moved to Tokyo some good things might happen, but as much as I can I make my works here and my surroundings keep inspiring me. Maybe I will keep staying in my own place. I want to feel like my place is my own world. Tokyo is too far from that. Cities are a good place for meeting people, countryside is a good place for relaxing and feeling nature.
CM: While your earlier films have been available in North America through Carpark Records for a number of years your new films have not. When I was watching them recently I noticed two big changes from your films from the early part of the decade. First, the visuals are much more painterly and complex, but also the accompanying music is a lot more minimal. I was wondering what brought about these changes. For the visuals was it due to technology improving, or was it simply a conscious choice to explore new territory? And for the music, do you find your compositions becoming more minimal?
TM: As for changes in video, I think my own technique has improved a lot compared with before. I got used to working with the software and computers. And also my thought processes have improved too, so the context of video works has changed more deeply. I always wanted to make video works that were like painting because the reality that’s spread out around us is difficult to be captured by a camera. When we paint something, we can paint it as we want. So I keep researching and improving my technique for that direction, video painting. Only nowadays, because of improvement of my technique, I feel I could start to make something really I wanted see. So the basic concept or context of my video works have not changed from the beginning.
For sound, when I make sound/music for my video work, I don’t care about fitting my style. I care about the fitting of images and sounds. So if I feel the images are not strong enough in themselves I want to put more sounds for making the video work strong. Nowadays, I feel there’s some kind of strength in my images, so I don’t feel I need as much sounds for the images.
CM: The digital effects in some of these recent films that looks like thick, wet brushwork almost remind me of Vincent van Gogh and the Post-Impressionsts. Were those paintings an influence on you at all?
TM: Influence? Not directly. But of course I know van Gogh, and the Impressionists. Sometimes I get influenced by the work of other artists, but most of the time I get inspired by the non-art world. I mean, I like to see / hear more local and normal images and sounds, like traditional things or someone’s particular hobbies. Recently I enjoy looking at ancient cave paintings.
CM: When the average person thinks of video art they think of rarified, theoretical, and inaccessible. One thing that I always admired about your work is just how accessible it is. How it’s not afraid to be joyful. Is it important to you that people come away with a feeling of joy from watching your videos and listening to your music?
TM: Yes, I feel the same thing you’re describing. For me, most video art isn’t that interesting. So when I make my works I always think about whether I can enjoy my video or not first. I want to make videos that act like medicine. The style or the surface of the work isn’t important for me. I want audiences to feel something good when they’ve finished watching my work.
For the music for the videos… Most of the time with music is a nice way to get in contact with audiences. For me, I can enjoy my videos without sounds, but in most cases that doesn’t work well for others. I mean, during the creation I am in some special feeling, so I can understand and can feel every important thing only from the video, but once that special moment is over, it’s difficult to access that same feeling, even for the artist. So by adding music it’s a good way to access that special feeling. I and audiences can feel the same special feeling again, because of sounds. Music has that power.
If you watch your favorite movie without sounds, you will notice how it’s different.
CM: Can you give me a bit of background on the Tai Rei Tei Rio concert that’s captured in the concert documentary Aruongaku? How did the concert come about? Whose decision was it to turn it into a film?
TM: The Tai Rei Tei Rio concert happened on October 2008 at a concert hall in Tokyo. My manager gave me the chance to be on stage, so then I started to think about what kind of concert I wanted. The concept of the concert was really simple. I wanted to do something related to the Japan where I’m living. I wanted to make sounds and images that related deeply to my land and my blood.
Aruongaku wasn’t started as a movie, but as recording of the concert which would then be a concert DVD. However at some point, the footage began forming into a film. That was strange. The movie was mainly focused on the concert, but I think we can enjoy some different feeling beyond the concert itself from the film. I’m satisfied with the result.
CM: You’ve obviously traveled extensively with footage shot in Turkey, Guatamala, Cuba, Indonesia, Nepal, Germany, and France forming the basis of many of your videos. I wondered what different perceptions and reactions you’ve experienced to both yourself and your work in these different countries.
TM: When I travel, first, I want to see different things, I want to feel different feelings. But I’m always attracted to something related to myself in the end. That something attracting me is very similar to myself, something I’ve forgotten, something I always wanted to see from childhood. Those things are waiting in different places, so I have to go and search for them. They are spreading all over the world. For me, traveling is the experience for knowing myself deep, deep, deeply.
CM: You had the pleasure of touring with British singer-songwriter David Sylvian in 2003 and he ended up contributing vocals to the track exit/ delete on your 2004 CD “COIEDA”. How did you first meet Sylvian?
TM: I met him when I went to his studio for rehearsal of his tour in 2003. In 2002, I was touring around Europe for my own concerts, and David’s manager came to see that. And she contacted to me after that. Collaborating with David was really fantastic. That experience brought about a lot of important changes.
CM: Are there any projects you’re working on currently that you could tell us about?
TM: Actually, now I’m in just resting at home. These past two months, I renovated my house and learned how to cook. It was fun.
I’ve been starting to think about the next project little by little. One thing is the next concert which is coming in Autumn 2010. Maybe it will be in a simple style, only me, the piano and images. It might be difficult, but want to try. The other thing is a video collaboration about astronomy, a video about the stars. Uhh… for me, now is the time for researching new things and practicing new techniques. I don’t know what kind of works or projects are coming up in front of me.
Aruongaku, along with four recent short videos, will screen at Shinsedai Saturday, August 22nd at 6:00PM as a co-presentation with the Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival. For more on Takagi Masakatsu check out his official website.
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