Finally, a diversion for sports fans who have been to their share of ballgames.
Sometimes, it's good to be a little bored. After a doctor's visit in one of the several cookie-cutter medical towers along the coast in Newport Beach, I thought it would be disappointing to head straight home. On an impulse, I turned right onto the oval that is Newport Center Drive instead of the usual left. Passing the Fashion Island mall complex and the Pacific Life building on the ocean, I felt somewhat sheepish for having headed in no particular direction. But then, it hit me.
At the intersection of Newport Center and Corporate Plaza, there's a small sign indicating that the Newport Sports Museum is ahead. Aside from this marking, there is little to draw the observer toward the building that houses a surprising array of memorabilia. However, I had passed the sign enough times in the past to pique my curiosity, and this was the perfect opportunity to visit. As I walked toward the door, I noticed several construction workers entering as well. For a split second, I wondered if this might not be the best time to check out the collection. But the same part of my mind that encouraged me to come this far was not about to turn back. I can unequivocally say that I made the right decision.
As I entered, I had a flashback to another sports collection I visited in San Jose when I was early for a Sharks hockey game, which turned out to be a showroom for potential buyers. I asked the receptionist at the entrance whether this was actually a gallery, and she informed me that none of the pieces were for sale. As it turned out, this was not the only difference between this 15-room collection and the one I remembered from Northern California.
First of all, the Newport Sports Museum's assembly is impressively extensive. From autographed footballs, to Presidential golf balls, to Olympic swim caps, the place is loaded with clothing and gear used in athletic competition. Additionally, the museum does not confine itself to recent years: 'anti-shank' golf clubs from the late 19th century stand are included along with cartoonish-looking Shaquille O'Neal shoes.
Another fascinating aspect of being able to see this equipment displayed lies in the details of each piece. I was pleased to see a hockey stick once swung by Jaromir Jagr, star right wing for the New York Rangers. In small print on the side of the lumber were the words: "The Choice For Me: Drug Free." It was the sort of thing one might not even have noticed watching a game on television. Furthermore, on a ball autographed by Jackie Robinson, it was interesting to note that the baseball pioneer's artful signature was written in ink the color of Los Angeles Dodgers blue. One room contains several glass cases of baseballs signed by winners of every World Series since 1940, including a ball intended for use in the 1994 World Series cancelled due to a strike.
Above all, game-worn jerseys steal the show: while many are from local teams, a large number of franchises are represented. A couple of the highlights include a Paul Kariya sweater worn during the Mighty Ducks' run to the 2003 Western Conference Championship, a baby blue shirt worn by the Royals' George Brett, and Dan Marino's famous #13. Universities are included as well: nearly an entire room is devoted to the history of USC and UCLA football, including the Trojans' rivalry with Notre Dame, complete with uniforms from decades past. Does anyone else remember when the LA Kings regularly wore purple and yellow?
Some of the artifacts in the collection are placed in historical context. For instance, a humorous and yellowed newspaper clipping complements the exhibit of prehistoric-looking golf balls, including one that was 'hand-scored' about a century ago. The article jokes that golfers should boast about never having lost to great professionals such as Francis Ouimet, because such a statement would probably be true. In the same fashion, the description under Jim Craig's apparel retells the story of the American hockey team's Miracle on Ice performance in the 1980 Olympic Games, recently the subject of a major movie. Even tickets from the Los Angeles Olympics and souvenirs from the Mighty Ducks' inaugural year are labeled clearly.
Upon visiting the museum's website, I learned a little more about its purpose. Founder John W. Hamilton opened the building in 1995 after having collected pieces for decades, and insisted that it never charge the public for entry. Today, the hall hopes to inspire children, and even allows clubs of 30 or more to tour it guided by a sports personality. In fact, many athletes have donated to the assembly in hopes of having a continued positive impact on the lives of local youth. I was the only visitor in the time I walked the museum, but it's heartening to know that it can have that kind of an effect.
Newport Sports Museum
100 Newport Center Drive, Newport Beach
Open: Monday through Friday, 9am-6pm and Saturday, 10am-3pm.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Going Big: Japanese Baseball’s Impact on the Major Leagues
Leron Lee stands behind a podium as the proud owner of multiple highly regarded baseball records. His statistics are impressive, his career accomplishments numerous, and his demeanor engaging. He comes from a family of athletes, as he is the uncle of Chicago Cubs’ first baseman Derrek Lee and brother of Leon Lee, another former star. Why, then, would he need an introduction before a gathering of baseball fans at a recent appearance in a San Francisco?
As it turns out, Lee is largely unknown to American fans because he spent the bulk of his productive seasons playing baseball in Japan. While Lee did spend time with Major League franchises, his major impact on the sport took place during his 11 years playing for the Mainichi Orions of the Pacific League. Lee, who is 56 years of age, provides the insights and knowledge of a player raised in America, but because of his experiences in Japan he has a unique understanding of baseball and sporting cultures in both lands.
On this Wednesday night, Lee is a member of a panel along with author Robert Whiting and sportscaster Steve Bitker, all of whom have been asked to explain the impact of Japanese professionals to the highest level of baseball in the United States. The setting is the elegant Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill, and the evening is hosted by the Japan Society of Northern California. Around 50 guests are in attendance, a rather small turnout considering that the event was open to the general public and the space allowed for around 100.
Those who did arrive, however, were privy to the trio’s knowledgeable banter about topics as wide ranging as Hideki Matsui’s impact on the New York economy and differences in training techniques between the two countries. Whiting wryly informs us that this is yet another stop on his “19-city death tour” in support of his new book The Meaning of Ichiro. In a typical use of international baseball jargon, he likened his heavy travel schedule to a rigorous “1000 fungo drill” employed at baseball practices in Japan. An accomplished writer, Whiting has written several novels, traveled extensively, and been a journalist for myriad publications such as The New York Times. Bitker is a morning sports anchor for radio station KCBS, author, and occasional announcer for the Oakland Athletics. While he mostly performs the role of moderator, he has spent time in Tokyo and intelligently questions Lee and Whiting on subjects with which he has obvious familiarity. This is not surprising, as he explains that his “two great loves” are Japan and baseball.
The seminar is entitled “Play Ball: Godzilla in the Major Leagues,” but the major goal of its planners is to make sense of the effect of Japanese pros on the American game as well as the cross-cultural exchange that has resulted. According to Whiting, the first such player was Masanori Murakami, a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants in 1964 and 1965. Despite his efforts, no one would follow Murakami’s path until Hideo Nomo took advantage of a contractual loophole and risked his reputation in Japan to leave Kintetsu for the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1995. There is little doubt that Nomo’s presence in America enticed many residents of Japan to pay attention to American baseball. For example, Whiting remembers an elderly woman in Tokyo approaching him to ask why the Dodgers had recently acquired a struggling pitcher for their starting rotation.
The idea of Japanese competing in the United States has not always held popular appeal. Whiting quoted Lee himself as saying “the Japanese and American games are on parallel tracks that will never cross” in his 1989 work You Gotta Have Wa. Additionally, the author confides that his first book was turned down by 13 publishers complaining that baseball and Japan were both “bad sellers” when it came to subject matter. Now, however, he likes to point out how successful recent players have been in both drawing American fans and further piquing Japan’s interest in the game. His anecdotal support is convincing: Hideki Matsui is credited with bringing $100 million to the New York economy in 2003, and the Seattle Mariners sold enough souvenirs in the first two weeks of Spring Training to cover Ichiro Suzuki’s entire salary. The home stadiums also show signs of their arrival: Yankee Stadium routinely sports advertisements in Japanese, and the Mariners’ Safeco Field has found a niche selling “Ichi-roll” sushi to hungry fans. Such players’ publicity often transcends their play on the field: the author explained that TV Guide had named Matsui one of the ‘23 Most Lovable Men’ for his affable demeanor and hospitality toward media and fans.
The relatively large number of Japanese-born players in the Major Leagues in recent years has prompted the broadcasting of hundreds of games per year in their homeland. According to Whiting, even exhibition Mariners games appear on television, and every regular season Yankees contest is also available. Bitker mentions that $275 million was paid for the rights to broadcast Major League games in Japan. As a show of support for Japanese fans, MLB began the 2004 season with Matsui’s Yankees playing the Tampa Bay Devil Rays in the Tokyo Dome for two games. As if on cue, Matsui homered in the series and had his best games of the young season in his homeland.
What Leron Lee did not anticipate was a phenomenon which has significantly altered baseball and Japanese-American relations as well as globalization in general. To Lee, the influx of professional Japanese players to American baseball’s highest level particularly in the last several years is a mirror image of a phenomenon that began decades ago in which some talented Americans opted to sign with Japanese teams. He uses as examples players like himself, his brother Leon, and stars of the past such as Joe Pepitone. One debate that American players in Japan create is the definition of exactly what makes a Japanese athlete. For instance, Sadaharu Oh, a much-revered player, had a Chinese mother, and pitcher Hideki Irabu is of mixed parentage. However, American pros face some forms of discrimination: Tuffy Rhodes has played in Japanese baseball and was denied a chance to break the home run record after he tied Oh’s mark because at the end of the season a team simply refused to pitch to him. That team, interestingly, was managed by Oh, who received scorn in the Asahi Shimbun for his club’s actions, who called them ‘disgraceful.’
Baseball has contributed to, and perhaps coincided with, a new surge in the popularity of Japanese culture in America. Whiting is amazed to see Americans honoring Ichiro by wearing headbands with kanji written on them, but also is fascinated by non-sporting influences like manga and sushi, of which many were unaware as recently as a decade ago. Lee is of the same opinion, saying he couldn’t have envisioned Nintendo owning the Seattle franchise or minor outfielder Tsuyoshi Shinjo selling the most souvenirs on the San Francisco Giants. Whiting believes part of the openness between the two nations has to do with shifting attitudes toward foreigners in general on the part of the Japanese. He points out that in the middle of the 1980s, above 50% of Japanese polled did not want their children to marry a non-Japanese citizen. However, this changed dramatically the decade afterward. It also helps Japanese players that they are taught English from an early age, says Lee. While most Americans learning Japanese begin from a ‘blank slate,’ a majority of Japanese understands English and thus has a foundation from which to proceed. He mentions Seattle relief pitcher Shigetoshi Hasegawa, who at first struggled at press conferences to physically speak the language but significantly built up his confidence over time.
While the audience seemed a little surprised that Ichiro was the subject of more attention than the headline name Matsui, the commentary was received warmly. When asked about the most recent acquisition of the New York Mets, shortstop Kazuo Matsui, Lee replied astonishingly that he was half a step quicker than Ichiro himself. Another guest inquired about Ichiro’s skill level; according to Whiting, some professionals believe he’s the best all-around talent they have ever seen. If there is anything the panelists hoped to demonstrate, it was that baseball is one of many bridges that can bring cultures together. Whiting quoted former Giants manager Dusty Baker, who when asked about his player Shinjo’s hairstyle commented simply, “He’s pretty cool.” Finally, it seems that the American public is largely in agreement about the ever-increasing numbers of Japanese players in the nation’s most hallowed pastime.
As it turns out, Lee is largely unknown to American fans because he spent the bulk of his productive seasons playing baseball in Japan. While Lee did spend time with Major League franchises, his major impact on the sport took place during his 11 years playing for the Mainichi Orions of the Pacific League. Lee, who is 56 years of age, provides the insights and knowledge of a player raised in America, but because of his experiences in Japan he has a unique understanding of baseball and sporting cultures in both lands.
On this Wednesday night, Lee is a member of a panel along with author Robert Whiting and sportscaster Steve Bitker, all of whom have been asked to explain the impact of Japanese professionals to the highest level of baseball in the United States. The setting is the elegant Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill, and the evening is hosted by the Japan Society of Northern California. Around 50 guests are in attendance, a rather small turnout considering that the event was open to the general public and the space allowed for around 100.
Those who did arrive, however, were privy to the trio’s knowledgeable banter about topics as wide ranging as Hideki Matsui’s impact on the New York economy and differences in training techniques between the two countries. Whiting wryly informs us that this is yet another stop on his “19-city death tour” in support of his new book The Meaning of Ichiro. In a typical use of international baseball jargon, he likened his heavy travel schedule to a rigorous “1000 fungo drill” employed at baseball practices in Japan. An accomplished writer, Whiting has written several novels, traveled extensively, and been a journalist for myriad publications such as The New York Times. Bitker is a morning sports anchor for radio station KCBS, author, and occasional announcer for the Oakland Athletics. While he mostly performs the role of moderator, he has spent time in Tokyo and intelligently questions Lee and Whiting on subjects with which he has obvious familiarity. This is not surprising, as he explains that his “two great loves” are Japan and baseball.
The seminar is entitled “Play Ball: Godzilla in the Major Leagues,” but the major goal of its planners is to make sense of the effect of Japanese pros on the American game as well as the cross-cultural exchange that has resulted. According to Whiting, the first such player was Masanori Murakami, a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants in 1964 and 1965. Despite his efforts, no one would follow Murakami’s path until Hideo Nomo took advantage of a contractual loophole and risked his reputation in Japan to leave Kintetsu for the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1995. There is little doubt that Nomo’s presence in America enticed many residents of Japan to pay attention to American baseball. For example, Whiting remembers an elderly woman in Tokyo approaching him to ask why the Dodgers had recently acquired a struggling pitcher for their starting rotation.
The idea of Japanese competing in the United States has not always held popular appeal. Whiting quoted Lee himself as saying “the Japanese and American games are on parallel tracks that will never cross” in his 1989 work You Gotta Have Wa. Additionally, the author confides that his first book was turned down by 13 publishers complaining that baseball and Japan were both “bad sellers” when it came to subject matter. Now, however, he likes to point out how successful recent players have been in both drawing American fans and further piquing Japan’s interest in the game. His anecdotal support is convincing: Hideki Matsui is credited with bringing $100 million to the New York economy in 2003, and the Seattle Mariners sold enough souvenirs in the first two weeks of Spring Training to cover Ichiro Suzuki’s entire salary. The home stadiums also show signs of their arrival: Yankee Stadium routinely sports advertisements in Japanese, and the Mariners’ Safeco Field has found a niche selling “Ichi-roll” sushi to hungry fans. Such players’ publicity often transcends their play on the field: the author explained that TV Guide had named Matsui one of the ‘23 Most Lovable Men’ for his affable demeanor and hospitality toward media and fans.
The relatively large number of Japanese-born players in the Major Leagues in recent years has prompted the broadcasting of hundreds of games per year in their homeland. According to Whiting, even exhibition Mariners games appear on television, and every regular season Yankees contest is also available. Bitker mentions that $275 million was paid for the rights to broadcast Major League games in Japan. As a show of support for Japanese fans, MLB began the 2004 season with Matsui’s Yankees playing the Tampa Bay Devil Rays in the Tokyo Dome for two games. As if on cue, Matsui homered in the series and had his best games of the young season in his homeland.
What Leron Lee did not anticipate was a phenomenon which has significantly altered baseball and Japanese-American relations as well as globalization in general. To Lee, the influx of professional Japanese players to American baseball’s highest level particularly in the last several years is a mirror image of a phenomenon that began decades ago in which some talented Americans opted to sign with Japanese teams. He uses as examples players like himself, his brother Leon, and stars of the past such as Joe Pepitone. One debate that American players in Japan create is the definition of exactly what makes a Japanese athlete. For instance, Sadaharu Oh, a much-revered player, had a Chinese mother, and pitcher Hideki Irabu is of mixed parentage. However, American pros face some forms of discrimination: Tuffy Rhodes has played in Japanese baseball and was denied a chance to break the home run record after he tied Oh’s mark because at the end of the season a team simply refused to pitch to him. That team, interestingly, was managed by Oh, who received scorn in the Asahi Shimbun for his club’s actions, who called them ‘disgraceful.’
Baseball has contributed to, and perhaps coincided with, a new surge in the popularity of Japanese culture in America. Whiting is amazed to see Americans honoring Ichiro by wearing headbands with kanji written on them, but also is fascinated by non-sporting influences like manga and sushi, of which many were unaware as recently as a decade ago. Lee is of the same opinion, saying he couldn’t have envisioned Nintendo owning the Seattle franchise or minor outfielder Tsuyoshi Shinjo selling the most souvenirs on the San Francisco Giants. Whiting believes part of the openness between the two nations has to do with shifting attitudes toward foreigners in general on the part of the Japanese. He points out that in the middle of the 1980s, above 50% of Japanese polled did not want their children to marry a non-Japanese citizen. However, this changed dramatically the decade afterward. It also helps Japanese players that they are taught English from an early age, says Lee. While most Americans learning Japanese begin from a ‘blank slate,’ a majority of Japanese understands English and thus has a foundation from which to proceed. He mentions Seattle relief pitcher Shigetoshi Hasegawa, who at first struggled at press conferences to physically speak the language but significantly built up his confidence over time.
While the audience seemed a little surprised that Ichiro was the subject of more attention than the headline name Matsui, the commentary was received warmly. When asked about the most recent acquisition of the New York Mets, shortstop Kazuo Matsui, Lee replied astonishingly that he was half a step quicker than Ichiro himself. Another guest inquired about Ichiro’s skill level; according to Whiting, some professionals believe he’s the best all-around talent they have ever seen. If there is anything the panelists hoped to demonstrate, it was that baseball is one of many bridges that can bring cultures together. Whiting quoted former Giants manager Dusty Baker, who when asked about his player Shinjo’s hairstyle commented simply, “He’s pretty cool.” Finally, it seems that the American public is largely in agreement about the ever-increasing numbers of Japanese players in the nation’s most hallowed pastime.
Japan’s New Variations on an Ancient Art Form
Modern art in Japan is attention-grabbing not only for its visual content, but also because it provides a window into a changing society as seen through the eyes of an individual. Appreciating the skill of a particular artist and the shape his or her art takes becomes a springboard to interpreting his or her message. This concept figures prominently in the new exhibit “New Urushi Forms: Three Lacquer Artists from Japan” at the San Francisco Museum of Folk and Craft Art. On display until the 8th of August, the collection of artworks opened to the public May 5th, and in the eyes of the curators Karin Nelson and Rachel Osajima the pieces “transform traditional materials and techniques to produce new and exciting work.” The urushi exhibit is presented on the second floor while “Subtraction and Addition: Ceramic Sculpture and Installations” appears on the first level.
The museum is located in Building A of the Fort Mason Center, an area that for centuries was used by the armed forces and became a National Historic Landmark in 1985. Today, it includes parks, shops, a center for the performing arts, and plenty of open space. Walking toward the gallery, it is commonplace to see garden plants being sold under a tent, a frisbee game, families attending a play, or groups of tourists just trying to relax. The laid-back atmosphere is ideal for an exhibition that spotlights skillful artists who take their work seriously but aren’t afraid to forge new paths in the medium.
That medium is a kind of lacquer derived from the sap of the urushi tree which is indigenous to Korea and Japan. Described by artist Sakuro Matsushima as ‘a natural plastic of the Rhus vernicifera,’ it has been used by humans since the ancient past, especially for the creation of tools and weaponry. Other functional items have also been created from this material, and in Japan it has been associated with dining utensils and platters as well as jewelry up to 9,000 years old. In addition, urushi items have been attested in religious and traditional capabilities, serving as incense burners and tea containers. However, the works placed in the gallery do not have a utilitarian purpose, but rather take on a sculptural quality invoking themes of nature and the human experience. Each of the three featured urushi makers have strong opinions about what their compositions signify, as evidenced by their statements of artistic philosophy placed within the exhibition. Without a doubt, each has a very distinct form, and it is nearly impossible to misidentify who created a particular work among those presented.
Toshiaki Fujita earned his Master’s degree in urushi from the Tokyo National University of Fine Art and Music. He is a member of the faculty at Musashino Art University and has created artwork for nearly two decades. Emphasizing the time-honored attributes of lacquer craftsmanship, many of his exhibited pieces also are composed of clay powder and gold leaf. His 2003 work ‘Layering Form III’ is oval-shaped and takes on a earthy brown tone on its exterior, which to the viewer appears to be made up of an endless pattern of small rings. This hue and texture is an allusion to tightly packed layers of rugged terrain or the layered appearance of bark on a tree. In the circular center of ‘Layering Form III,’ Fujita forms a shiny red crater in which the gold leaf appears. While the artist makes no direct mention of its significance, the tint reminds one of volcanic lava or the color of the sky at sunset. The duality of clay and gold, or earth and fire, appeals to one’s primal senses. He also presents other works as a variation on the ‘layering form’ concept, such as making the center shaped like a four-leaf clover rather than an oval while keeping the color scheme intact. Indeed, Fujita’s aspiration is for his work to “be understood in a direct sensual manner by anyone.”
Sakurako Matsushima made her emphasis in ‘traditional lacquer techniques’ as she received her Master’s degree at the same school as Fujita. Presently lecturing at Utsunomiya University, her works have appeared throughout Tokyo on their own as well as in larger collections in Belgium, France, Great Britain, The Netherlands, and the United States. What Matsushima produces is meant to adorn the body as large jewelry, and the first of these creations were the products of an effort at the end of her college career in 1991. ‘Upper Body Ornament II,’ which includes shell and gold powder, is an intriguing example of her creativity, in that its curves resemble vines or twisting rope, and its varied colors intermingle as a result of the design itself. She may attempt to use a clay form, plaster model, or core of hemp cloth in her urushi, binding it to the lacquer with three to five layers of clay powder or rice glue. After this, she is able to polish the developing artwork with a stone or piece of sandpaper. A major theme in Matsushima’s portfolio is the delicate nature of each strand or ‘vine’ alongside the potency of the collective unit that is the entire ornament. Her main objective is similar to Fujita’s in that it stresses the basic essence of experience. As she puts it, her ornaments ideally “express other aspects of human existence to bring out the spiritual dimension inside us all.”
Natsuki Kurimoto attended Kyoto City University of Arts, where he remained for both his undergraduate and graduate studies. He is a veteran of over 100 exhibitions, and his pieces are permanent members of many renowned museums, including the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Kurimoto stresses natural forms that are heavily ornamented and highly pleasing aesthetically. He sees his take on urushi “as a medium rooted in the traditions of Japan and other parts of Asia” but does not necessarily worry about whether his style is traditional. ‘Shadow of a Fish III’ has a smooth, thin shape that tapers at both ends with meticulously decorated surfaces. The substances used to make the work include wood, silver powder, and steel in addition to the lacquer component. In this exhibition, Kurimoto uses predominantly black, red, blue, and green colors in the art displayed. Due to its transparency, images displayed in this kind of lacquer ware are unique because they can appear to hover above the face of the material or look as though they are buried deep within the piece.
The information provided by the artists that appears in the gallery allows the observer a richer perspective on the world of urushi. It is obvious that Matsushima enjoys her work, but she also calls her medium a ‘poison’ which can plague an artist who pays too little attention to the craft or becomes frustrated while working with the material. Alternatively, when her state of mind was positive and peaceful, she saw that the urushi would respond much more easily to her touch. While all three artists are among the finest lacquer artists, each individual has certain levels of mastery in technique, and as a result specialize in specific aspects of the process. For instance, Fujita has become adept at application of decorative touches like applying gold leaf and coating of the wood model. Alternatively, Kurimoto has worked extensively with the use of gold powder in a process known as makie.
Without question, there is a strong desire on the part of urushi makers to preserve the technique that they practice while not allowing its development to stagnate. The current exhibition demonstrates that artists may cultivate a particular style even as they test its boundaries through experimentation. In the past, Matsushima has often used a similar pattern of interweaving strands, but not always in the shape of body ornaments. She has even dabbled in objects of completely different shape, such as the disc-shaped objects she presented in a 2003 Tokyo exhibition that appear slightly similar to what Fujita has on display, which could reflect the influence of their university’s manner of teaching. While urushi today is practiced most commonly in Japan, its appeal is far from confined to its borders. Echoing Matsushima’s sentiment, Fujita believes that its universal appeal is clear, as evidenced by the hope that his creations “transcend the boundaries of race, culture, history, and religion” so that urushi gains the respect it deserves from the international community. Considering that the exhibition has just been inaugurated, the coming months will at the least give urushi exposure in the Bay Area.
The museum is located in Building A of the Fort Mason Center, an area that for centuries was used by the armed forces and became a National Historic Landmark in 1985. Today, it includes parks, shops, a center for the performing arts, and plenty of open space. Walking toward the gallery, it is commonplace to see garden plants being sold under a tent, a frisbee game, families attending a play, or groups of tourists just trying to relax. The laid-back atmosphere is ideal for an exhibition that spotlights skillful artists who take their work seriously but aren’t afraid to forge new paths in the medium.
That medium is a kind of lacquer derived from the sap of the urushi tree which is indigenous to Korea and Japan. Described by artist Sakuro Matsushima as ‘a natural plastic of the Rhus vernicifera,’ it has been used by humans since the ancient past, especially for the creation of tools and weaponry. Other functional items have also been created from this material, and in Japan it has been associated with dining utensils and platters as well as jewelry up to 9,000 years old. In addition, urushi items have been attested in religious and traditional capabilities, serving as incense burners and tea containers. However, the works placed in the gallery do not have a utilitarian purpose, but rather take on a sculptural quality invoking themes of nature and the human experience. Each of the three featured urushi makers have strong opinions about what their compositions signify, as evidenced by their statements of artistic philosophy placed within the exhibition. Without a doubt, each has a very distinct form, and it is nearly impossible to misidentify who created a particular work among those presented.
Toshiaki Fujita earned his Master’s degree in urushi from the Tokyo National University of Fine Art and Music. He is a member of the faculty at Musashino Art University and has created artwork for nearly two decades. Emphasizing the time-honored attributes of lacquer craftsmanship, many of his exhibited pieces also are composed of clay powder and gold leaf. His 2003 work ‘Layering Form III’ is oval-shaped and takes on a earthy brown tone on its exterior, which to the viewer appears to be made up of an endless pattern of small rings. This hue and texture is an allusion to tightly packed layers of rugged terrain or the layered appearance of bark on a tree. In the circular center of ‘Layering Form III,’ Fujita forms a shiny red crater in which the gold leaf appears. While the artist makes no direct mention of its significance, the tint reminds one of volcanic lava or the color of the sky at sunset. The duality of clay and gold, or earth and fire, appeals to one’s primal senses. He also presents other works as a variation on the ‘layering form’ concept, such as making the center shaped like a four-leaf clover rather than an oval while keeping the color scheme intact. Indeed, Fujita’s aspiration is for his work to “be understood in a direct sensual manner by anyone.”
Sakurako Matsushima made her emphasis in ‘traditional lacquer techniques’ as she received her Master’s degree at the same school as Fujita. Presently lecturing at Utsunomiya University, her works have appeared throughout Tokyo on their own as well as in larger collections in Belgium, France, Great Britain, The Netherlands, and the United States. What Matsushima produces is meant to adorn the body as large jewelry, and the first of these creations were the products of an effort at the end of her college career in 1991. ‘Upper Body Ornament II,’ which includes shell and gold powder, is an intriguing example of her creativity, in that its curves resemble vines or twisting rope, and its varied colors intermingle as a result of the design itself. She may attempt to use a clay form, plaster model, or core of hemp cloth in her urushi, binding it to the lacquer with three to five layers of clay powder or rice glue. After this, she is able to polish the developing artwork with a stone or piece of sandpaper. A major theme in Matsushima’s portfolio is the delicate nature of each strand or ‘vine’ alongside the potency of the collective unit that is the entire ornament. Her main objective is similar to Fujita’s in that it stresses the basic essence of experience. As she puts it, her ornaments ideally “express other aspects of human existence to bring out the spiritual dimension inside us all.”
Natsuki Kurimoto attended Kyoto City University of Arts, where he remained for both his undergraduate and graduate studies. He is a veteran of over 100 exhibitions, and his pieces are permanent members of many renowned museums, including the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Kurimoto stresses natural forms that are heavily ornamented and highly pleasing aesthetically. He sees his take on urushi “as a medium rooted in the traditions of Japan and other parts of Asia” but does not necessarily worry about whether his style is traditional. ‘Shadow of a Fish III’ has a smooth, thin shape that tapers at both ends with meticulously decorated surfaces. The substances used to make the work include wood, silver powder, and steel in addition to the lacquer component. In this exhibition, Kurimoto uses predominantly black, red, blue, and green colors in the art displayed. Due to its transparency, images displayed in this kind of lacquer ware are unique because they can appear to hover above the face of the material or look as though they are buried deep within the piece.
The information provided by the artists that appears in the gallery allows the observer a richer perspective on the world of urushi. It is obvious that Matsushima enjoys her work, but she also calls her medium a ‘poison’ which can plague an artist who pays too little attention to the craft or becomes frustrated while working with the material. Alternatively, when her state of mind was positive and peaceful, she saw that the urushi would respond much more easily to her touch. While all three artists are among the finest lacquer artists, each individual has certain levels of mastery in technique, and as a result specialize in specific aspects of the process. For instance, Fujita has become adept at application of decorative touches like applying gold leaf and coating of the wood model. Alternatively, Kurimoto has worked extensively with the use of gold powder in a process known as makie.
Without question, there is a strong desire on the part of urushi makers to preserve the technique that they practice while not allowing its development to stagnate. The current exhibition demonstrates that artists may cultivate a particular style even as they test its boundaries through experimentation. In the past, Matsushima has often used a similar pattern of interweaving strands, but not always in the shape of body ornaments. She has even dabbled in objects of completely different shape, such as the disc-shaped objects she presented in a 2003 Tokyo exhibition that appear slightly similar to what Fujita has on display, which could reflect the influence of their university’s manner of teaching. While urushi today is practiced most commonly in Japan, its appeal is far from confined to its borders. Echoing Matsushima’s sentiment, Fujita believes that its universal appeal is clear, as evidenced by the hope that his creations “transcend the boundaries of race, culture, history, and religion” so that urushi gains the respect it deserves from the international community. Considering that the exhibition has just been inaugurated, the coming months will at the least give urushi exposure in the Bay Area.
Return to the Ravine: A Night in Dodgertown
As I strode toward the left field pavilion at Dodger Stadium this Friday night, the memories of seasons past came rushing back. Naturally, I noticed some cosmetic changes, the painted visage of Orlando Hudson on the exterior wall among them. Still, after I presented my ticket to watch batting practice, I realized that many things remain constant at Chavez Ravine. No BP viewing there would be complete without fans shamelessly angling for souvenirs. Sure enough, one man yelled, “Belisario, we love you!” in a blatant yet unsuccessful attempt at getting the reliever to toss a ball his way. Among the Dodgers gathered near the too-light-to-be-Dodger blue outfield wall was Eric Stults, who started the previous night’s game in place of the injured Hiroki Kuroda. He had emerged with his second victory of the season, yet another sign that everything was going right for the home nine of late. Now, though, he was content to watch his teammates smoke line drives and the occasional homer, much to the delight of those gathered there.
I exited and made a beeline for Autograph Alley. Last season, a friend and I had attended a game against San Francisco and gotten the signature of Jim Gott, who then talked to us at relative length about some of his favorite ballparks in the majors as well as his distaste for the Giants. It was an altogether impressive experience, and while some of the most popular nights draw sizable crowds of autograph seekers, on that day there was literally no one in line to interrupt our conversation. I approached the area today to notice that a Dodger staffer was holding one leg of the tent in an attempt to keep it standing. He then muttered to a co-worker, “I don’t know how to operate this thing.” Today I wasn’t alone with the athletes, but stayed long enough to hear Jay Johnstone comment on how players of his era actually have legible signatures. I smiled and said it was a novel concept before proceeding to Rudy Law’s table. Law, as I later found out on Baseball Reference, only spent one full season in the outfield with the Dodgers, but he amassed 40 steals in the campaign. Still, that would pale in comparison with the 77 he recorded with the White Sox in, ironically, my birth year of 1983. Then again, on Wednesday Clayton Kershaw racked up 13 strikeouts, and by the time he was born in 1988 Law had been retired for two years.
I dodged a golf cart filled with burly Prime Ticket television crew members and departed for my seat in the stratosphere known as the Top Deck. Despite being the stadium’s highest level, the Top Deck still offers a better view than most comparable seats at new ballparks, which have many levels of luxury boxes. It would be hypocritical of me to knock these suites much, as I have on occasion indulged in a massive slice of carrot cake after being invited by a friend or relative to sit in one. Nevertheless, as I often sit in the cheap seats, I appreciate places like Dodger Stadium that were originally built with the average fan in mind. That is, until I’m climbing the countless steps to what they literally call the Top of the Park, and wishing I ran marathons like my brother. When I finally reached the apex, a pale green Econoline camper caught my eye. It looked as though it had seen its share of presidential administrations, and I couldn’t help but envision its driver as a decades-long season ticket holder, even though I had no other evidence to support my conclusion. Speaking of which, I had bought my ticket from someone with a full-season plan, so if I had chosen a lofty perch from which to witness the game, at least my destination was Row C.
When I got there, the visiting Rockies were about to conclude their batting practice session, and the man at the dish was putting a charge into the ball. Spying the number 27 on his jersey, I realized it was the player immortalized in my memory due to an opponent’s fantasy team name: The Garrett Atkins Diet. After Colorado vacated the field, I caught a glimpse of the left field scoreboard. For the moment, it listed the American League leaders in batting average with runners in scoring position, and Brian Roberts held the distinction of hitting 1.000 in these situations. It felt great to have confirmation on just how young the season was.
Tonight, the umpiring crew featured the Welke brothers, Tim and Bill. This caused me to realize how little attention I usually pay to the arbiters when I’m watching at home. I wondered how many casual fans realized that sibling umps even exist in the major leagues. Then again, umpires are probably happiest when the fans don’t notice them at all. A teenager with an eerie but officially licensed Dodger mask declared into a microphone that it was time for Dodger baseball, and the men in white took the field.
I was most interested to see the first Colorado batter, Dexter Fowler. I recalled watching Fowler play on an Internet stream as a member of the U.S. Olympic team last year, but there’s no substitute for live and in person, an attitude I’m sure MLB endorses heartily. The Rockies center fielder started with an innocuous ground out to third, but Randy Wolf gave up a walk, a double to Atkins, and then a majestic homer to Brad Hawpe. Less than an inning in, the crowd seemed stunned at the 3-0 deficit, particularly since L.A. was fresh off a home sweep of the Giants. Only Wolf seemed unfazed, throwing slow curves and striking out Chris Iannetta to end the frame.
The term Dodgertown historically has been used to describe the Dodgers’ former Spring Training site in Vero Beach, Florida. However, this year it is sometimes used in reference to the ballpark in Los Angeles now that the Dodgers relocated their spring facilities to Glendale, Arizona. In the Dodger half of the first, the home fans celebrated loudly as Manny Ramirez followed a Rafael Furcal single with one of his own. Still, Jorge De La Rosa snuffed out the rally by finishing his inning with a strikeout, this time against Andre Ethier. Ethier was once traded away by Oakland, and his success with L.A. has inevitably led me to mention him if anyone claims Billy Beane is infallible.
The subsequent span of scoreless innings had a few plays of note, including a throwing error on a routine grounder back to De La Rosa which caused nearly everyone to gasp in surprise before realizing happily that Wolf had reached base as a result. It was also hard to believe when Hudson attempted a bunt with no one on base, as he had hit for the cycle just days earlier. In the third, Matt Kemp was awarded a ground rule double, not because the ball bounced over the wall, but rather because it became lodged in the left field tarp. For the most part, though, Colorado kept the home squad frustrated in its attempt to crawl out of their early hole. The fan next to me had clearly begun to lose faith, repeatedly insulting the newly trimmed beard of Ryan Spilborghs during his at-bat in the fifth. When he went down swinging, I heard, “Spend more time in the batting cage and less in front of the mirror!” Now there’s commentary that even Vin Scully can’t provide.
Despite the big first inning, the turning point in this one immediately followed the seventh-inning stretch. Matt Belisle sandwiched hits to Furcal and Ramirez around a walk to Hudson. Clint Hurdle then lifted his hurler, who was hit so hard in the series that the Rockies considered demoting him. Alan Embree followed and at least retired a batter, but Ethier’s double into the gap tied the game. It’s hard not to love baseball, even if only because one moment a crowd can be nervously watching and the next clapping along to “We Like to Party.” One out later, Mark Loretta reached on a 2-out infield single, plating the fourth run of the inning and giving the Dodgers a 4-3 advantage. Even the usher who demanded a beach ball from someone sitting near me couldn’t dampen the section’s enthusiasm.
Needless to say, the Rockies could have used better relief pitching. The Dodgers ended up holding onto the lead and sweeping the series after winning two high-scoring affairs on the weekend. Colorado was left with nothing to show for its trip to Southern California. After Friday’s game finished, though, the most vivid image in my mind was of Jonathan Broxton coming into a bases loaded situation with one out and striking out a pair of Rockies before closing the door in the ninth. Especially after this performance, you could call him Big Jon, as Scully does, for a reason other than his physique.
I exited and made a beeline for Autograph Alley. Last season, a friend and I had attended a game against San Francisco and gotten the signature of Jim Gott, who then talked to us at relative length about some of his favorite ballparks in the majors as well as his distaste for the Giants. It was an altogether impressive experience, and while some of the most popular nights draw sizable crowds of autograph seekers, on that day there was literally no one in line to interrupt our conversation. I approached the area today to notice that a Dodger staffer was holding one leg of the tent in an attempt to keep it standing. He then muttered to a co-worker, “I don’t know how to operate this thing.” Today I wasn’t alone with the athletes, but stayed long enough to hear Jay Johnstone comment on how players of his era actually have legible signatures. I smiled and said it was a novel concept before proceeding to Rudy Law’s table. Law, as I later found out on Baseball Reference, only spent one full season in the outfield with the Dodgers, but he amassed 40 steals in the campaign. Still, that would pale in comparison with the 77 he recorded with the White Sox in, ironically, my birth year of 1983. Then again, on Wednesday Clayton Kershaw racked up 13 strikeouts, and by the time he was born in 1988 Law had been retired for two years.
I dodged a golf cart filled with burly Prime Ticket television crew members and departed for my seat in the stratosphere known as the Top Deck. Despite being the stadium’s highest level, the Top Deck still offers a better view than most comparable seats at new ballparks, which have many levels of luxury boxes. It would be hypocritical of me to knock these suites much, as I have on occasion indulged in a massive slice of carrot cake after being invited by a friend or relative to sit in one. Nevertheless, as I often sit in the cheap seats, I appreciate places like Dodger Stadium that were originally built with the average fan in mind. That is, until I’m climbing the countless steps to what they literally call the Top of the Park, and wishing I ran marathons like my brother. When I finally reached the apex, a pale green Econoline camper caught my eye. It looked as though it had seen its share of presidential administrations, and I couldn’t help but envision its driver as a decades-long season ticket holder, even though I had no other evidence to support my conclusion. Speaking of which, I had bought my ticket from someone with a full-season plan, so if I had chosen a lofty perch from which to witness the game, at least my destination was Row C.
When I got there, the visiting Rockies were about to conclude their batting practice session, and the man at the dish was putting a charge into the ball. Spying the number 27 on his jersey, I realized it was the player immortalized in my memory due to an opponent’s fantasy team name: The Garrett Atkins Diet. After Colorado vacated the field, I caught a glimpse of the left field scoreboard. For the moment, it listed the American League leaders in batting average with runners in scoring position, and Brian Roberts held the distinction of hitting 1.000 in these situations. It felt great to have confirmation on just how young the season was.
Tonight, the umpiring crew featured the Welke brothers, Tim and Bill. This caused me to realize how little attention I usually pay to the arbiters when I’m watching at home. I wondered how many casual fans realized that sibling umps even exist in the major leagues. Then again, umpires are probably happiest when the fans don’t notice them at all. A teenager with an eerie but officially licensed Dodger mask declared into a microphone that it was time for Dodger baseball, and the men in white took the field.
I was most interested to see the first Colorado batter, Dexter Fowler. I recalled watching Fowler play on an Internet stream as a member of the U.S. Olympic team last year, but there’s no substitute for live and in person, an attitude I’m sure MLB endorses heartily. The Rockies center fielder started with an innocuous ground out to third, but Randy Wolf gave up a walk, a double to Atkins, and then a majestic homer to Brad Hawpe. Less than an inning in, the crowd seemed stunned at the 3-0 deficit, particularly since L.A. was fresh off a home sweep of the Giants. Only Wolf seemed unfazed, throwing slow curves and striking out Chris Iannetta to end the frame.
The term Dodgertown historically has been used to describe the Dodgers’ former Spring Training site in Vero Beach, Florida. However, this year it is sometimes used in reference to the ballpark in Los Angeles now that the Dodgers relocated their spring facilities to Glendale, Arizona. In the Dodger half of the first, the home fans celebrated loudly as Manny Ramirez followed a Rafael Furcal single with one of his own. Still, Jorge De La Rosa snuffed out the rally by finishing his inning with a strikeout, this time against Andre Ethier. Ethier was once traded away by Oakland, and his success with L.A. has inevitably led me to mention him if anyone claims Billy Beane is infallible.
The subsequent span of scoreless innings had a few plays of note, including a throwing error on a routine grounder back to De La Rosa which caused nearly everyone to gasp in surprise before realizing happily that Wolf had reached base as a result. It was also hard to believe when Hudson attempted a bunt with no one on base, as he had hit for the cycle just days earlier. In the third, Matt Kemp was awarded a ground rule double, not because the ball bounced over the wall, but rather because it became lodged in the left field tarp. For the most part, though, Colorado kept the home squad frustrated in its attempt to crawl out of their early hole. The fan next to me had clearly begun to lose faith, repeatedly insulting the newly trimmed beard of Ryan Spilborghs during his at-bat in the fifth. When he went down swinging, I heard, “Spend more time in the batting cage and less in front of the mirror!” Now there’s commentary that even Vin Scully can’t provide.
Despite the big first inning, the turning point in this one immediately followed the seventh-inning stretch. Matt Belisle sandwiched hits to Furcal and Ramirez around a walk to Hudson. Clint Hurdle then lifted his hurler, who was hit so hard in the series that the Rockies considered demoting him. Alan Embree followed and at least retired a batter, but Ethier’s double into the gap tied the game. It’s hard not to love baseball, even if only because one moment a crowd can be nervously watching and the next clapping along to “We Like to Party.” One out later, Mark Loretta reached on a 2-out infield single, plating the fourth run of the inning and giving the Dodgers a 4-3 advantage. Even the usher who demanded a beach ball from someone sitting near me couldn’t dampen the section’s enthusiasm.
Needless to say, the Rockies could have used better relief pitching. The Dodgers ended up holding onto the lead and sweeping the series after winning two high-scoring affairs on the weekend. Colorado was left with nothing to show for its trip to Southern California. After Friday’s game finished, though, the most vivid image in my mind was of Jonathan Broxton coming into a bases loaded situation with one out and striking out a pair of Rockies before closing the door in the ninth. Especially after this performance, you could call him Big Jon, as Scully does, for a reason other than his physique.
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