A Meeting of a Leading French Artist and an Architectural Gem from Early Showa

The Hara Museum in Shinagawa, originally a private residence built in 1938, has been operating as a museum since 1979. Nestled amidst a neighborhood of closely packed houses, this elegant Western-style building, with its spacious garden, was serene and bathed in gentle sunlight, like a world apart. There, as if mirroring the sunlight, stood a calm and warm French artist, who had lovingly arranged his works. Jean Michel Othoniel, a leading contemporary French artist known for his work "Kiosk of the Sleepwalkers" adorning the entrance of the "Palais Royal" metro station in Paris, and the outdoor installation "kokoro" at the Hara Museum ARC in Gunma, has reconfigured his Paris exhibition for the Hara Museum.

A Turning Point Arrived with the Use of Glass

──This exhibition is titled "My Way." Does it signify a look back at your career?

Yes. This exhibition covers over 20 years of my work. It's like a comprehensive overview of my journey so far. I've divided the space by periods that were significant for me, allowing visitors to experience them as they walk through. I hope to express my life, or perhaps my way of thinking, through this.

──Was this glass black from the beginning?

Yes. It was black and opaque. That was my first challenge. Through creating this, I discovered the world of glass craftsmanship. I felt a potential there, a sense that glass could be used as a sculptural medium.

──Did you create this piece alone, Mr. Othoniel?

I designed the mold. That was a turning point. Until I made this piece, I worked entirely alone. I'd lock myself in the studio, kneading sulfur, completely by myself. But glass works cannot be made alone. It requires teamwork. There are glass artisans, glassblowers, and many others involved.

And so, I started creating smaller glass pieces—like those hanging over there. They're small, aren't they? They feel very personal. Almost like erotic fruits. My early glass works were like this. I was quite introverted back then. But gradually, I became more confident, and my works grew larger. The last piece from that period is "Le Grand Noeud Autoporté," which is almost architectural in scale. So, this room represents my transition from a reclusive, introverted self to a more open one.

──How many people are on your team?

I conceive the ideas in Paris, with a team of four, including myself. Then, the craftsmanship itself involves a team of 30 to 40 people for large projects. These artisans are from Murano, an island in Venice. The glass made by Murano artisans is superb in color and of the highest quality. Look at the work outside the window. Isn't it magnificent? The weather is beautiful today. It's wonderful.

──Is that the charm of glass for you, Mr. Othoniel?

Hmm. It's not entirely that, but I am also very drawn to the technical aspects. Of course, I want to give form to my ideas, create large-scale works, exhibit them to the public, and captivate everyone. That desire is there, but the act of making things is also fascinating. I also draw a lot of inspiration from the artisans.

The Exhibition as a Single, Grand Artwork

──This one feels a bit different, doesn't it? Like a goldfish bowl...

Haha. I made this when I was in Mexico. I traveled to various countries for several years. In Mexico, in particular, I worked with local glass artisans. They were artisans who created very small and delicate glass pieces, and seeing their work inspired me to create large installations using many of these small elements. The scale of the work is important. This piece, perhaps a microcosm, contains an inner world within the vessel. The exhibition itself is similar; we are within a grand artwork, the exhibition as a whole, as we move from one piece to another. The interplay between small and large scales is crucial.

In Front of a Watercolor Sketch

My work still begins in solitude. It starts with a sketch. I always carry a sketchbook and draw. Of course, not every drawing becomes a piece, but no work is created without drawing. What you see here are sketches made for "Le Kiosque des Noctambules," which adorns the Paris Metro entrance. After sketching, I collaborate with engineers and construction professionals. We simulate in 3D, and then involve the glass artisans. The sketch is the very first step in that process. For the children's workshop, "Mysterious Reality," I wanted children to feel that after drawing, the next step is the three-dimensional world. That is, the work with engineers, the technical work that awaits them. On one hand, the transformation of a sketch into reality is like magic, a wonderful, ethereal process. On the other hand, there is the practical world of production. I want them to understand that behind the seemingly whimsical lies the work of engineers.

This Metro entrance work is based on the same concept: the entrance to the Metro, the "mouth," so to speak. I wanted to emphasize the transition from a dark, narrow world to a bright, expansive one. My works are often based on such simple ideas. From darkness to light. And the entire exhibition follows the same principle. I, who used to create only small things alone, began working with a team, and my works are now placed outdoors—it's enjoyable. It has become joyful. Therefore, light and darkness are not separate entities but exist along a single path.

A Red Necklace Like a Wound

──This red necklace is displayed on the mezzanine, isn't it?

I've placed it separately from other works because it's quite unique. But it's an important piece for me. I once did a performance in Paris where I created 1,000 of these, naming them "Necklace of Scars." I distributed them at Paris "Gay Pride," an event for the gay community. Then, I photographed people wearing the necklace. I believe everyone carries scars within. This work is about transforming those scars into something more positive. After the performance, I felt my message had been conveyed. Since creating this, I've worn this necklace every day. It's a fashion statement, but it also allows me to wear my own work. So, this is a piece with a political dimension.

The Monstrous Quality Necessary for Beauty

──The works on the second floor are not primarily glass, are they?

Just before I started using glass, I had a strong desire to work collaboratively. I created "Glory Holes," a piece using perforated fabric, and exhibited it alongside a dancer's performance. Since the holes allowed one to see through to the other side, it created a dynamic where the artwork not only observed people but also people observed the artwork.

This "Tits Painting I" carries a similar sentiment. I want my works not only to attract viewers but also to push them back. To make them feel a sense of unease, even fear. I want the artwork to become stronger than me, to dominate me. That's how a work gains presence. Artworks are like traps; initially alluring, but once caught, you realize it's a trap and want to escape. This tension, this sense of unease—I believe that beautiful things require not just pleasantness, but also a monstrous, unsettling quality.

A Diary of Happiness

──Are the works that resemble abacuses also older pieces?

These are more recent. The red glass spheres have an irregular shape, and like the necklace, they evoke a sense of wounds. However, the title is "Happiness Diary." Each combination of red spheres and rods represents a day. If it was a good day, you move a red sphere to the white side; if it was a bad day, to the black side. At the end of the year, you can see your entire year laid out.

──So there are 365 of them?

Yes, exactly. And then, next year, you start over. I tried it myself, and it was a bit tedious. I tend to get very motivated suddenly, or feel very down (laughs). Don't you think most people are like that?

Fragile Things. Things to Be Loved.

──The paintings on the second floor are not sketches, are they?

These are a series titled "Femmes Intestines." I paint over reproductions of classical paintings. In French, "intestins" also means "internal." So, this work can also mean "the woman within me." I created it by embracing and embodying the feminine aspects within me. I've used gentle, feminine elements, discarding the masculine aspects like aggression and imposition. In my work, embroidery and drawing are also feminine. Especially drawing, which has traditionally been considered a feminine activity. This series, with its fragility, is an attempt to affirm and clarify these feminine qualities.

──Glass is also a fragile material, isn't it?

Yes. That's why viewers and owners must cherish the artwork. It means pouring love into it. If cherished, an artwork can last for centuries. In Japan, for example, you have beautiful fans displayed in museums. When I see such objects, I feel, "This has been loved for generations. That's why it's here before me now." And I'm moved by that. Large, strong, and hard objects, like Notre Dame in Paris, are naturally durable. But when a fragile object from centuries ago has survived to this day, it means many people have loved it, cherished it. In that sense, glass is also a material that desires love. The final piece, though large like a building, requires careful handling.

Wonderful Reality

I placed this work at the end because I wanted to see how Japanese people would react to it. I believe Japanese people have a strong sensitivity to appreciate reality, observing things like trees and flowers, but at the same time, they possess a powerful world of imagination. The reason I named the children's project "Mysterious Reality" is similar: I wanted children to understand that by observing reality and being moved by it, reality itself can become wonderful. I also wanted them to know that there is technology behind the artwork, and that touching the artwork is a positive experience. You can't touch artworks in a museum, can you?

──I experienced it earlier, and it's fun even for adults!

Of course! The Hara Museum exhibition is much larger in scale than the one in Paris, and I want everyone to enjoy it.

Jean Michel Othoniel: My Way
Hara Museum, 4-7-25 Kita-Shinagawa, Shinagawa-ku, Tokyo
Exhibition Dates | On display until Sunday, March 11, 2012
Opening Hours | 11:00 AM - 5:00 PM (Wednesdays until 8:00 PM. Last admission 30 minutes before closing.) Closed on Mondays.