Ataru Sato

For his current exhibition, “Courtship" at the KOSAKU KANECHIKA Gallery, Sato is showing his most recent work of paintings, drawings and collages. He tells us "everything that is depicted in this exhibition is about myself. I want to see all about myself, both the pure and the dark. By representing myself in my paintings, I look for someone who can understand me. It’s very hard to live without being connected with someone”. ‘ Love' and 'connection' sound like a big key to find out about his inspiration. Office is very lucky to catch Sato and interview him about his early influence, family, and all about his work.

Hey, congratulations on your new exhibition at KOSAKU KANECHIKA Gallery. At first glance, I am quickly moved by your work, probably because your urgency to capture something instinctive rather than logical is a sheer force of your creativity. Ataru, you draw a lot of eyes, and I wonder what eyes mean to you.

When people ask me about my work, I am not very comfortable responding to them, since I know that they follow whatever I say. Let’s say. if a painting itself has its consciousness and emotions and it is capable of talking about what it means, my painting might think that my eloquent explanation is really annoying. Even if I could perfectly explain what my work is about, I don’t think it is a great thing to do so.

In the past, I had an experience where I was depressed by many small things that were happening to me, and I felt as if I was the only person in the world that was suffering from a lot of horrible pains and trauma. Then I made a work around that time, wishing that everybody should be dead. When I showed the finished work to people, they asked me about what my work was about. I obviously had a hard time to tell them the truth and explain about it. But one person told me that he saw ‘love’ in my work. I was totally stunned by his response.

I am an artist and I therefore make work, but once I finish painting, I am not necessary to the work I made. I can also say the same regarding how I feel about my work. Once I finish a painting, I sometimes find it unnecessary to keep it with me, and I throw it away. What is the most important for me is my act of creating the work, and I really don't care whether other people look at it.

I know that our biggest tragedy occurs when we cannot find the way to express ourselves or recognize anybody to share with. I feel as if I can live ok because I let out my emotions through making works whenever I come across something unethical or unreasonable in my mind.

Regarding eyes, I've in fact never thought about it. But you know, I learned from this exhibition that thinking about the gazes of the visitors is very important for an installation. We made a careful choice of the position of each work on the wall for the consideration of viewing it perfectly from any given direction.

You know, in Japan we have a saying, “sense the mood’ (kuki wo yomu). We are likely to respond to the things corresponding to a given situation, and we become pretty sensitive about the other’s perception, rather than quickly acting or doing things for the sake of manifesting our own will or idea. I also used to be concerned about how people look at me or what they expect from me, especially because of my background. My parents both have hearing impairments, and people often gave us particular looks. Their eyes made me do, feel, and think about the things that I need to deal with. I must think that one’s gazes/eyes have a tremendous power to others, and they sometime deeply affect the other’s life and mind.

I notice that you used pretty basic colors, black, red, blue and white in painting and don’t seem to mix them up much. My first reaction to your color scheme is that it reminds me of Francis Bacon’s painting, and I wonder if you like his work. How come you prefer such basic colors in your painting? Do you have any western artist that inspires you?

When I started oil painting, I was pretty poor and could not afford to get an expensive paint set. The only color paints I could buy are the four colors: red, blue, black, and white. Now I can buy more colors and I of course own them, but I somehow still feel attracted to these four basic colors. When I was a small child, I used to enjoy seeing body anatomy and medical illustration books, and specific organs were painted in red or blue for highlighting its function in the pages. I wonder if my color preference comes from my past experience.

I like Bacon’s work but I don’t really pay too much attention to it. What's similar between him and me is that our studios are pretty messy from many paintings and other documents. When I was in college, I saw a documentary film of Robert Crumb and I was truly moved. I still think of him, his mother, brother and wife from time to time.

You mentioned that when you were a child, nobody really wanted to look at your work, or they didn’t give you any positive comments on it, and then you tended to hide it from the others. Are you feeling happy and free now about your paintings and drawings?

My parents really didn’t like that I was drawing. It didn’t matter where I drew or whom I showed my painting or drawing to. Nobody liked my work and people just said it was creepy. I had very few friends and I was not good at school. Even during my junior high school days, I was playing with dolls and painting at a very small corner of my house, since I didn’t want my family to know what I was doing. When my father noticed what I was doing, he took me to the river beach and he draw the line on the ground and asked me to walk on the line straight. I was pretty sad when he asked me to do so and then I always felt very scared if my parents wanted to abandon me whenever we decided to go out together.

When I went to high school I only talked to girls in class, and I was still making the work that many people found just ‘creepy’. But one day, one senior student at school told me that he liked my drawing and asked me to draw him more. It was a big cornerstone experience for me.

I am still making work, and I am totally aware that not all the people like it. But my experience in high school keeps me painting and drawing, since I have a hope now that there must be somebody in the world who finds my work great, I however still feel alienated from society.

How about your days at college? Did you meet many classmates who shared your visions then?

My college was for the students from the wealthy families, and I was not really the same type as the other students. And my school debts were getting bigger and bigger as I stayed in school longer. On the surface I got along with my classmates, but I felt that I was not the same as them, and I don’t keep in touch with anybody from school.

However, I was pretty determined that I would never drop out from school, even if I met nasty teachers or disliked the assignments that were given, since I was the one who chose to go to school. I might look to the others like a really miserably hard working and poor student.

I couldn’t afford to pay any attention to my classmate’s work back then, but I recently finally feel ok to review work by the artists in my same generation.

You said that you recently started paintings more, but before your main work were drawings. What made you turn to painting?

The reason why I started painting is that I read that Michaël Borremans started making paintings at an age of 30 years old. I thought that I should started painting too, since I was 29 years old back then. I know it is such a stupid reason, though. I find there are differences between drawing and painting. Drawing is made from introspectively reviewing my soul and diving into myself really deep down. On the other hand, painting is made from objectively observing myself.

It is very important for me to show both drawings and paintings, and that’s the reason why I decide to show both at my current exhibition.

When I look at your work, I somehow feel there is crazy urgency to life and suffocation for living well. I wonder if you are attracted to ‘death'.

I always think of death. I think we in fact are afraid of living as much as dying. In Japan, there are many young people are not into sex and it can be applied to Freud’s theory regarding relationship between Eros and Thanatos, and they might gain too much Thanatos and less Eros. I am just like the other young Japanese people since I like masturbation more than actual sex. I guess that it is one of the reasons why my work doesn’t appear erotic, since my sexuality comes from my growing Thanatos and distorted Eros. It is like looking at life from death instinct and longing.

“Q1” in the exhibition title has multiple meanings, a homonym for the word “kyu-ai” meaning “courtship” in Japanese, and also “Question 1”. Tell me why you call the show this way.

The way of connecting with people has drastically changed because of our use of the internet in society. Connecting with the others doesn’t require any real physical or sensual involvement, since we use electronics and an LCD screen through the computer for reaching out to them. We seem to feel pretty satisfied by this situation. I really want to connect with people in person, but I also notice that it is not easy to be associated with people because we all have very complex contradictions in our minds.

We really hope to be close to others but it is really hard to be, and we are unfortunately more likely to be not accepted by them. When I am working on my work, I avoid any communication from the outside, except seeing my lover and gallery owner. I even abolish the daily activity and I focus on working my work. Without losing myself, I can keep making work this way only because I am always thinking of people. I, therefore, believe art is done by a person and made for a person.

'Courtship' is on now until June 24 at Kosaku Kanechika gallery in Tokyo.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.