During the last two or three years, Asian art has enjoyed a certain popularity in Japan and there have been a large number of exhibitions of contemporary Asian art. Why Asia now? It seems that this interest in Asia takes one of two different forms. One is a tendency seen in Europe and the United States to shift attention from the West to Asia as a way of bringing in new energy from outside to alleviate the slump being experienced by contemporary Western art. The Japanese are following in the footsteps of the West here, and there is nothing particularly new about this point of view. It is a way of looking at Asia which made its way to Japan through the West, something like the way certain Japanese artists in the recent past achieved a reputation in their own country after being recognized overseas. In its endless search for novelty, Modernism has set its sights on Asia. This trend has not brought about any revolutionary changes in contemporary art. It simply makes Asia into one more object of consumption, in the same way that new artists and new movements are exploited for their superficial novelty.

However, this "Asia boom" came belatedly to the world of contemporary visual art. It had penetrated areas like music and films and the consciousness of the general public much earlier. A renewed interest in Asia revealed itself in the popularity of overseas tours, ethnic food, and displays of books on Asia in book stores. I feel that this is more than a passing fad. It might be too much to call it a paradigm shift, but there has been a definite change in people's taste. Apparently, the stereotype of "advanced West, backward Asia," believed by most Japanese since the Meiji Restoration, is changing. Until recently, Asia has been a target of derision. Suddenly, it has a fresh appeal for us.

Although our daily lives are blessed by the advantages of modern Western civilization, this same civilization is the cause of many serious contemporary problems including nuclear weapons and the destruction of the earth's environment. The modern civilization which humankind expected to provide a such a bright future has fallen under a shadow. We are at a historical crossroad, uncertain as to the best path to take. Formerly, we tried to escape from Asia because of what was considered its backwardness, but now many people are looking to Asia for the values which have been lost in the modern world. There is more to this than nostalgia for a lost past, just as there was more to the Renaissance than nostalgia for classical antiquity. In the present age, when dreams have become exhausted, there is a sincere desire to rediscover their source and bring them back. While accepting the achievements and benefits of modern civilization, realizing that it is unavoidable and there is no going back, people are looking for the source of something rich and abundant in the things that have been rejected in the process of modernization and trying to restore it in the present.

What is it that is uniquely Asian? What are these alternative values?

Can they be described as something native, something ethnic, as values rooted in traditions of life and culture? Since the Meiji period, we have thought of modernity and tradition as opposing categories. Our value system has been based on the ideas of "progressive modernity, backward tradition" as if in agreement with the concept of "advanced West, backward Asia." We have seen tradition only in negative terms as something which restricts freedom of expression. However, when we consider how ethnic traditions in the countries of Asia and Mexico were an important bastion of resistance to Western imperialism, and when we notice the enervation and stagnant condition of modern culture today, the stereotype of a conflict between modernity and tradition is no longer valid. We are at the threshold of the new age, where the values created by modernity are forced to be revalued and reconstructed. The players who are furthest from the goals of modernity can become front runners when the goals are changed. Indeed, the modern view of historical progress which has determined these linear goals has itself lost validity.
So then, what are these native or ethnic values? And why do they appeal to us right now?

The reason is that the modern has become overripe and are moving toward decadence. Modern art has willfully cut itself off from the living world and enclosed itself in a world of intellectual operations which cannot be understood by anyone without a specialist's knowledge. Because of this, its connections with living world have been severed. Because art has become so intellectual, the audience has no opportunity to respond to it emotionally even if it understands it. Many people now desire art to have a more fundamental impact with sensual and spiritual as well as intellectual aspects. In the past, art was solidly connected to spiritual concerns through the magic and the ritual and daily life. It gave vitality and nourishment to the spiritual life of human beings. Today, the position of art in society has changed; it cannot be resurrected in its past form in the present. However, there may be a way to restore the fertile sources existing in native and ethnic aspects in the spiritual life of contemporary people and in contemporary society? If this could be done, art could regain its former power and have real significance for the many people who need it rather than being a sort of general cultural influence for the masses and an elite entertainment for a few intellectuals.

From this point of view, Asia is only part of much broader vision. There are values different from those of modernism to be found in Africa and Oceania, among the natives of North America, and even in the middle of Europe. They are values which emphasize difference and separateness rather than the universality of European modernism. The approaches of these different cultures need not be exclusive, however. It is possible to respect each other's differences and still have mutual understanding among human beings. A few of the better Western artists have noticed the important meanings in their own personal roots, and have used them to nourish their work. For example, Joseph Beuys used honey, fat, and felt to"reawaken the power in people, the power of imagination and intuition," and had a dream of rebuilding society through art. Beuys's vision has something in common with the alternative values spoken of here. Michael Ende has characterized this as a "positive utopia" which replaces the bankrupt utopia depicted by modern scientific civilization. One might also think of the structures inspired by Eskimo igloos and Mongolian yurts made by the Italian Arte Povera artist, Mario Merz. Thus, new visions are already being proposed. By digging down to their roots, Western artists are attempting to bring back the power once possessed by art for contemporary times. We should not lightly evade tradition. It is possible to extract rich nourishment from traditions created throughout the history of ordinary human life.

The present exhibition has been organized on the basis of the views I have presented here. Toshihiro Kuno and Kim Soo-ja are different in many ways - a man and a woman, Japanese and Korean, who work in monochrome and polychrome. What they have in common is their attempt to find connections with the world of real life, which has been intentionally cut off by art in modern times, in order to restore a new power to art.

Kuno, for example, places a variety of objects and materials - including wooden benches, black sand, rope, and plain wire - on the floor or attaches them to the wall to create a space. Viewers can observe the scene from a distance or enter into it and look at each item closely. They can enjoy the transitions of the scene as they walk through it. This is more like enjoying a garden than a work of art. One reason for this impression is the frequent use of natural materials, for example, sand, rusted wire, wood, and cloth. Also, the work is developed throughout the entire space. It has no center and needs to be seen from multiple viewpoints, from close up and far away. These works also resemble the dry landscape gardens of Japan because they are uncolored except for the colors of the materials used, and the basic color scheme is black and white. The wooden benches, constructed by the artist, are painted black on top. They are isolated in some places and in others placed end to end, suggesting the bridges in Japanese gardens.

Looking carefully, one notices that each individual form projects a sense of intimacy. Many of them are parts of familiar objects or implements, often seen in everyday life, with simple modifications. For example, a ladle commonly used in Chinese cooking is cut off near the base of the handle, and the handle is bent and attached to the wall. A vase placed on the bench is a funerary urn cast in bronze. Kuno is fascinated with the beauty of forms developed over time in everyday life and extracts these forms for his work. He modifies them in his own unique way and develops these forms into an installation. For example, he fills the bowl of the ladle with rice. He puts ashes, salt, or water in the bronze funerary urns or bottles. Then he arranges these objects in the exhibition space according to a carefully considered plan. The ladles are attached to the wall at certain intervals, creating a row of black iron parts and the circles of white rice. In each of the four corners of the room is a pile of black Fuji sand, forming a quarter cone, with salt and a light bulb on top.

The objects used by Kuno are associated with archetypes buried in our memory. They have a deep connection to basic needs of life, food, clothing, and shelter. His choice of materials may be subconsciously related to his interest in folk art and tools and his childhood experiences in a family which operated a store selling chicken meat and a toy store. Although he developed his art in the context of Minimal and Post-Minimal Art and Arte Povera, he also seems to have found a creative impetus in the primitive things of the non-Western world. That is probably because they suggest a place of wholeness which has been lost from contemporary life, and this wholeness is what Kuno is trying to restore.

Kim Soo-ja has been making works of art using textiles since 1983. Her involvement with textiles began while sewing bed covers with her mother. She says of this, "Suddenly, I had an incredible experience of unity in which a sense of intimacy was mixed with my thoughts, perceptions, and movements. At that time, I felt that memories, pain, even a love of life which I had buried for a long time were wrapped up in this experience." Textiles are especially familiar objects to a woman. They contain a history of life passed on over the generations, from grandmother to mother, and from mother to daughter. Kim goes on to say, "When we are born we are wrapped in cotton cloth, we sew cloth until we die, and according to old customs, are wrapped in cloth for burial. In Korea in particular, cloth is used symbolically for major ceremonies like celebrations of the 61st and 70th birthday, weddings, funerals, and prayers for the ancestors. Therefore, cloth is not just an object. It is the same thing as the body, that is, a container of spirit."

She carries on the tradition of the beautiful pojagi, sewn together from different pieces of cloth by anonymous Korean women, and has resurrected it in the context of contemporary art. She scatters bright red and green pieces of cloth or cloth-covered bundles on the floor along with traditional folk implements. These works make a strong impact on the viewer with the beauty of their naive color and form. Her work has metamorphosed and grown, shifting from two to three dimensions, moving out into the space of the room and then out into nature. Sewing has been a perennial theme. In recent works where she does not actually sew with a needle and thread, she compares the body to a needle and when she and gallery visitors walk over the textiles on the floor, their actions become a kind of sewing. For Kim, sewing is the same thing as living.

The present work is simply composed of her colorful bed covers and cloth-covered bundles of old clothes. Beds (or sleeping mats) are a fundamental part of human life, the place where most people are born and die. According to Kim, the human body is the most complex of bundles, wrapped in the fabric of the skin. When cloth is spread out it invites people in; when it is used to wrap something it signifies parting (in Korean, the words "to wrap in a bundle" mean to part, especially when women leave home). Wrapping is also protecting. The artist notes that cloth creates a boundary, protecting what is inside and repelling what is outside. Also, wrapping cloths are used for moving with a minimum of belongings; they are associated with traveling performers or merchants. Thus Kim's work is indelibly marked with the activities of everyday life through the symbolic acts of wrapping and sewing which have been carried on by Korean women throughout a long history.