second attempt on Sapporo

I think I did better this time.

I started the day right, in proper Japanese time, opening my eyes with the dawn light. (Mr and Mrs T were already awake, of course). Mr T was going to Sapporo on business and offered me a lift. After breakfast of natto and rice, we did ten minutes of a ballet-like calisthenics programme which runs on Japanese TV.

Never seen such enthusiastic gardening. No tea-breaks here.

In Sapporo, I attacked. I went to the Hokkaido Museum of Literature (not even open when I arrived. I had to wait in the park and watch community gardeners hard at work among the rose beds) and saw a rather confusing exhibition of European-style fairy tale engravings based on Studio Ghibli films.

I was told off for taking this picture

The prints were titled and arranged weirdly, with such gems as:

"The Prince lets out the hairy man."
"For a moment, the dove's head becomes that of a beautiful girl."
"The Gazelle cuts off the servant's head."

But then I managed to find the permanent exhibition. A modest single room housing the photographs and major works of Hokkaido authors from the 1800s to the present day. The first was a woman author, Chiri Yueki 知里幸恵 writing in the early 20th Century, whose most famous work focusses on Ainu mythology. I would love to read more, but as usual, I was left deciphering the barest information and moving on.

In one corner was a section dedicated to our old Niseko-based friend Arishima. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION as follows: Arishima studied abroad in Germany, France, Austria and Italy for three years. Seemingly leading a life of ease with his little brother, moving from hotel to hotel ('studying'). In one hotel in Schaffhausen called 'The White Horse' he met a Swiss woman called Louise Mathilde Heck, the daughter of the proprietress. He only stayed there a week, but their correspondence continued for many many years. That's nice, isn't it? He started the correspondence with 'Dearest Tilda, do you still remember me?'

I dashed to the Hokkaido Museum of Modern Art. Here, I have to admit, I had a nap in the general seating area, before bravely entering into an exhibition on Finnish Glass. The exhibition-literature mostly reiterated the fairly basic point that Finland is very good at making glass and has won all the glass art competitions that there ever were. There were some things that were mesmerising - one, entitled 'Oasis', was a knee-height glass cube filled with tiny coral-like objects: all different shapes and infused with colour. Then there were rooms with bubble-filled glass illuminated in fading blue light. I thought it was a bit tacky (!) at first, but then I came to like it. It was like being in a crystal ball or something.

Twisting and turning wing-like object outside the museum

Across the hall was a rather different exhibition. Paintings of 'Human Images' by the Japanese answer to Francis Bacon, Katstumi Fukai. Only not as good, and doubly as scary and grotesque, lacking Bacon's sense of self-awareness, perhaps (please don't ask me further questions on this point). The images were full of monsters and open bleeding body parts. And I stood in front of one of the paintings (entitled 'HOLE' or, you know, 'SCREAM', or 'PAIN' or whatever it might be) and I thought 'ah, I don't like this one. It's a bit disgusting'. But then I thought, no, no, it's disturbing me, it's making me feel things, so it has succeeded... In any case, Fukai committed suicide at the age of 30 after battling with ill-health all his life. Certainly this came across in his work.

'Lukewarm Water'

The exhibition left me dazed and a little depressed so I hurried out but the woman at the desk stopped me and said, "Excuse me, but surely you have already viewed the second floor of the exhibition...?" So I dutifully apologised, hung my head, and returned to view yet another floor of the same.

lady of the park

On the long drive back, Mr T told me of his plan to go abroad and learn English for 6 months at a homestay. Probably Canada or England. Definitely not Australia, he said. And it occurred to me with what ease he could simply do that, in his idyllic semi-retired state. He could simply leave off his business for a while and go wherever he liked, do whatever he liked. I hope that I can do that when I'm in my early sixties.... It seems unlikely, but it's something to aim for anyway.