The blogging for this year could be off to a better start. Ignore for the moment the fact that I'm a few days late and several dollars short (arigato very much, Japan). I like to joke around about the fact that I have six readers, but for the moment, it's actually true. If you are currently reading this, you are one of a very short list of people privileged to my writing. To explain why, I've gotta take the Wayback Machine to last January. A friend of mine asked me to meet her for dinner because she needed to talk about her then-husband's escalating temper. Between myself and her other friends, we got her out of the situation before any lasting harm was inflicted, but unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the tale. Her ex-person (as he turned out to not be legally married to her under either Japan or US laws) managed to get ahold of email addresses of some of her friends and has ever since been spamming us with emails that range from pathetic ("This is killing me") to manipulative ("I'm going to kill myself") to just plain creepy ("I pray to God that something happens to you like this one day," which I'd gleefully inform him isn't how God works - and even if He did, I'm pretty sure I'm on better terms with Him - except that would require a response, and I've been avoiding that). And then last week my friend let me know her ex-asshole looked up her new Facebook account, because my friends list is public, and the fact that I've never had anything to worry about as far as internet security goes was a thing of the past. There's not much solid info in here, thanks to the fact that I adopted The Evil One's practice of using code names shortly after I started this blog, but I suppose if someone wanted to be a creeper badly enough, they could figure out a lot, especially if they knew my actual name. So here we are. Eventually I imagine it will be okay to make my blog public again, but for now, I'm erring on the side of caution.
But that doesn't let me off the hook as far as the blog goes. I promised that I was going to blog y'all some Mongolian art, and that was just as well, since I sort of got stood up by an old student on Saturday morning. To be fair, I was dubious when he suggested meeting at 9:30 am, and it turns out for good reason, but I had a book and - as he pointed out - I had a good breakfast, finally learning exactly what eggs benedict are at ROC in Zaisan. I went to Merkuri from there to continue restocking my kitchen, since I had inexplicably rediscovered the desire to bake again after two years without an oven. After a well-earned foot massage I was finally ready to see some art.
The first artist I actually saw the previous week after visiting the Union of Mongolian Artists show. The Sengeragi Gallery (formerly Best Art) is in the same building, and although Art Avenue said that Batmunkh Tserendash's Nomad Art exhibition was only August 4-7, there it was, so I checked it out.
Sculpture is really not my thing, but I keep telling myself that I need to get over that. That's cause I'm an art teacher, yo. Of course, I'd never thought about it the other way around...that being an art teacher could help me get over my blocks about sculpture not really being my thing Looking at Tserendash's sculptures didn't make me a better sculptor myself, but I felt like I had a better appreciation for them because I teach about sculpture.
For example, the first thing that stood out to me about Tserendash's work was the materials that he used. Although I can't give you particulars about what kinds, he works primarily in wood, with metal embellishments. There is striking contrast between the warmth of wood and the organic qualities of its grain against the metal, but it's interesting to see the ways in which Tserendash manipulates these qualities to make them more compatible; staining the wood a cool color, or shaping the metal into more organic forms. Some parts of the work appear at first glance to be metallic, but on closer inspection turn out to be distressed wood. This purposeful manipulation of materials begs the question of what the the thought process behind the choice was. To make the sculptures lighter? To make a statement about the impermanence of nomadic life? I'm pretty sure I'm not versed enough in Mongolian art at this point to venture a guess.
The other thing I most enjoyed about Tserendash's work was the play of the shadows on the gallery walls. One quality of sculpture is that it does have that third dimension. You can view it from different angles, but this also means that when light strikes it (particularly the bright, directed light favored in galleries) there will be an interaction with the space. The sculptures were interesting but seeing the shadows they cast suggested to me that the work was the contemporary successor of Mongolian artistic traditions. But then maybe I'm stretching.
Queens, by D. Ganbold
I dropped in on the Altan Khaan Gallery after the Sengeragi Gallery, but didn't look critically until a week later. Dorjderem Ganbold's exhibition, "Once Upon a Time in Mongolia," highlights the usual Mongolian themes, but expresses them using a fauve color palette and abstract treatment. He is the grandson of a Mongol zurag painter named Ch. Minjuur, and it wasn't until I was getting ready to write this post that I figured out that Mongol zurag is essentially the Mongolian equivalent of nihonga. If you've ever seen a rendition of a Naadam scene, or a thangka painting, these are typically painted with mineral pigments, although the pigments used seem to be different from the ones I used over the last year and a half (unless they aren't, in which case it's probably down to the fact that I favored the large grain sizes that get that beautiful sparkle in sunlight).
Autumn Melody, by D. Ganbold
With these pieces Ganbold aims to give an eternal sense of grandeur to nomadic life. The scale of these works works well towards achieving this; although he had some smaller pieces, such as "Childhood," for the most part his paintings are at a relatively large scale. What makes these especially effective is the contrast between cool backgrounds and warm, vivid colors in the foreground. Even from outside the gallery the glowing effect of his color choices catches the eye and draws you in.
Splendid Altai Mountains, by D. Ganbold
I do have to say that I found the surface texture to be somewhat distracting. The paint was neither as thickly textured as some of the visual texture might lead you to believe nor super smooth. Either one of these would have been fine, but instead there were areas where the paint rose away from the canvas that - at least to me - detracted from the overall quality of the work. But maybe that's just me. If his goal is to preserve what he (in his artist statement) calls "true intangible assets of Mongolia," I would say that this is a successful body of work.
However...I'm sure this will come up again as I try to write about Mongolian art, but Mongolian art largely seems to incorporate the same themes over and over again ad nauseum. Herders and herds and horses and the fucking badass Mongolian queens, Chinggis, the steppe, the mountains, deerstones, long script: I'm probably forgetting one or two, but you get the gist. Don't get me wrong - these are important traditions to Mongolia, but I feel like contemporary art here is so obsessed with its past that it's blind to the issues of its present and future. And the more I've studied art, the more I value work that can shock and challenge and make a statement. So here's hoping for more of that in posts to come.
There were times over the last two years that I missed Mongolia simply because I thought it would be nice to have some down time. Japan was my own personal wonderland, but I ran myself ragged. Starting my master's with painting sent me on an art-making adventure that took up so much time that I didn't finish a single plushie until I got home that first summer. I didn't have much of a social life, but that was a moot point because my weekends didn't exactly leave much space for friends (especially since mine weren't really the kind to drop everything at a moments' notice to take a train to the other side of Tokyo for festivals or otaku events). I did manage to sit down and post a blog relatively regularly, although this was mostly thanks to the drink bar at Denny's on Saturday mornings. I know that someone, somewhere has said something about how you can't do it all. I can't think of what the exact saying is, or who came up with it, but the gist is that you have to make choices, and that was kind of the story of my last two years.
Well now, here I am, back in Mongolia, and I've hardly known what to do with myself the last two Saturday mornings. There's no Denny's, and Shibuya is too far to drop in for a nihonga lesson. This is compounded by the fact that I lived in Mongolia for five years last time. If there's something to do here, I have, most likely, already done it.
Going gallery hopping is no exception. In fact, a long, LOOOONG time ago I mentioned in a post that visiting UB’S art galleries was a good thing to do in UB when you're broke. However, I realized during my course in multiculturalism that I hadn't really studied Mongolian art; in fact, I was in the middle of that course the last time I was in Mongolia, but I didn't get to see a single show, in spite of spending an entire day walking from one gallery to the next. There are almost no resources on Mongolian art in English, but this has led me to the conclusion that this should be my raison d'écrire this go-round. To the extent that I can, at any rate. I mean, I'm not really an academic writer (too many swear words, for one thing) and I have few journalistic credentials. And by few, I mean none, unless you could second place in a blog contest and publishing a few yearbooks.
Nutag-2, Sh. Baatar
For my inaugural post I decided to visit my old favorite gallery, the Union of Mongolian Artists Gallery. They had a joint exhibition that ended yesterday, so I figured it should have priority over whatever else I might come across. The gallery was divided into two discrete sections, but I found myself drawn to Shagdarsuren Baatar's work first. It was characterized by earthy colors and energetic, flowing line work. Although she draws on a lot of well-worn Mongolian imagery - horses, knot work, Buddhist iconography, deerstones, and Chinggis Khaan, to name but a few - her style keeps them from getting stale. Many pieces shared the perspective seen in traditional Naadam paintings. Nutag-2 is one example, showing the way her treatment makes for a fresh and interesting take on traditional Mongolia. I was less inspired by her more polished portraits, such as Ezen; these more figurative works felt more pinned to reality by their treatment, losing much of the liveliness of other works.
Khair, Sh. Baatar
Her ability to play with historical Mongolian art forms was also brilliantly demonstrated in paintings on leather. Some of these were done on remnants stitched and applied to canvas, but she also makes use of traditional wooden stretchers to showcase her work, resulting in a beautiful recollection of the past.
But perhaps my favorite, somewhat predictably, were her erotic works. (Remember please that I was hentai long before I moved to Japan). She had a series of monochromatic drawings all titled Tatalbar in - best guess - charcoal, depicting couplings within gers. These stood out to me not only because of the exuberance of their eroticism, granted by her trademark linework, but the careful details included, such as the stitching in the felt rugs being frolicked upon. A more subtle reference to classical Mongolian artworks was found in Khair and Orshikhui, in which the subjects are posed similarly to tantric Buddhist sculptures (a replica of which - fun fact - I found in the school cafeteria this week. It wasn't particularly explicit, but I would be surprised if the high school boys hadn't picked up on it).
Uya-2 & Uya-1, B. Khongorzul
The other half of the gallery was taken up with the somewhat impressionistic work of B. Khongorzul. Her art consisted of monumental sized portraits and historic scenes, as well as some flowers. I was first struck with the feeling that her portraits were reminiscent of John Singer Sargent's, somewhat loose brushwork effectively rendering the cloth of her subjects' apparel. I never felt that Sargent portrayed people as they were, though, instead layering grandiosity upon them (to be fair, he was painting the filthy rich for money; they didn't exactly want to look like their everyday selves). Khongorzul's subjects, on the other hand, are everyday Mongolians, and her depictions of them as they are grants a feeling of dignity to such everyday people.
Khun Gurnii Uilchid, B. Khongorzul
Her historical works, on the other hand, have nothing everyday about them. Although these are grandiose - in a couple of cases even mythological - they are nevertheless grounded in reality. The labels demonstrate the meticulous research that went into making these works believable, even when the scenes depicted, such as the women sewing a felt carpet of which only a fragment remains, may not have happened at all. I can respect the hell out of that.
I have to admit that I may have been having something of an existential crisis since leaving Japan. The artistic work I've done over the last two years has been firmly rooted in my experiences there, so I feel a small bit justified in at least some panicking. Will I be able to finish my works in progress when cut off from their source, let alone begin new pieces? I'm still trying to figure that out, but I'm holding out hope that the sum effect will be a positive one. I've found myself struggling to decide whether or not my ideas have relevance, or if my appropriation of Japanese culture and imagery into my art is worth anyone's attention. Maybe by going outside my context I'll figure that out; if not, I at least hope seeing the ways in which Baatar and other Mongolian artists own their own culture might inspire me. Either way, at least I no longer have to live for the weekends. Even though it's only been a week and a half since work started - three days with kids - I remember why I loved working here so much. It didn't feel like work, and that's a wonderful thing.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." -Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities My first post after arriving in Japan pondered the possibility that it was better to be a tourist than to live here. After two years I'm not sure I figured it out. On one hand, I have had far more experiences and learned much more than I ever could have hoped, even if I'd spent every vacation I had in the last two years in Japan. However, the truth remains that work was...challenging, at best...and my salary low enough that after two years I've decimated* my savings. It was a two-year whirlwind, but the school year finally edged its way into thankful oblivion. I got my Mongolian visa, eventually** finished packing and cleaning, and headed back to the States for the summer.
Iowa might not exactly be my favorite place in the world, but it's got a few things in its favor, other than my family. There are times that I think you could film a live-action Studio Ghibli film here. Although spaces as green as the shady spot in a corner of my dad's field are few and far between, the sheer numbers of fireflies are mind-boggling, and the number of butterflies this year was just unreal. I mean, every time I drove anywhere I felt like I was mowing down nature, although this presented an excellent opportunity to collect...let's say...art materials, although I don't have a project in mind yet. It was also pretty cool to feel like I was stepping into the Shire whenever I left the house.
Under the circumstances, maybe it was inevitable that I'd want to celebrate achieving Level 40 with a bonfire/fairy party. I spent so long making wings for the various Winter Lords and Summer Ladies that it didn't turn out to be quite as big a dog and pony show as I originally envisioned, but that was probably for the best. The kids had fun playing together and the mortals invited to the revel all went away unscathed and still in fashion, as we broke up the fairy ring somewhere short of a hundred years. A couple of days before that my old rival and fellow Faerie Queen, Baby Chicken Wing, invited me to go see Japanese schoolgirls (and one schoolboy) play in a handbell choir. Could there possibly be a better event for me? I say nay. Both of us were familiar from handbells from attending a certain church in our hometown...Babysis turned down the opportunity because she still goes there, thus it ain't no thing for her...so we kind of had expectations about what a handbell choir would be like. Which they proceeded to smash with their first song, the main theme from Star Wars. They played some jazz, a traditional Japanese song, Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers...of course they played a couple of hymns, but they were so completely entertaining to watch that these couldn't even be compared to the old ladies that play at church. My mind was also occupied with thoughts of the social dynamics of the boy in the cultural club from a Japanese high school, when it wasn't busy thinking that I ought to reread the Old Kingdom Series by Garth Nix (necromancers with handbells...you tell me YOU wouldn't have been thinking it, too).
The family, on the other hand, convinced me to go to the zoo with them. Okay, it was actually Shaggy - I figured if he drove (just under) 5 hours (in his new Beemer, no kids or dogs, obvs) to celebrate with me I could brave the heat and sun, especially when he promised we weren't staying all day. He kept referring to the Henry Doorly Zoo as "the best zoo in the world," and while it is a damn fine zoological park I have reservations about it being the worlds' best, although since zoos aren't really my thing, I can't provide any annoying counterarguments. It was neat to see how much it's changed since the last time I was there, which was probably around 10 years ago, and I loved seeing the niblings together. Later I shared the photos with the family, prompting my dad to admit this might be the best way to experience the zoo.
On my actual level-up day my Mom and I packed up the niblings - detained to give their mom the chance to get shit done - and headed down to Shaggy's place. This is kind of important, since it gives me the chance to visit my grandmother and my great uncle along the way, but what I was really looking forward to was...less a mini-reunion than a micro one, since it's always just me and the Nice One.
That said, this is the third or fourth summer we've gotten together to catch up, providing some much needed sanity and at least a couple of reality checks. Also, a good browse through Barnes and Noble and more food than is probably a good idea. I mean, seriously, America! Who puts brisket on a burger?*** And THEN tops it with a bajillion onion straws??? That thing won't even fit in your mouth! For the record, I ended up knocking most of the onions out of the middle and eating them dipped in sauce, which, also for the record, was excellent, but probably made the order of onion straws we ordered as a side totally unnecessary. Hours later we chased it with custard from Andy's, which Shaggy pointed out they sell at the restaurant, but even if he has room for ice cream after a burger like that, I sure as hell didn't. We discussed taking a road trip for our next act, and now that I've seen this year's school schedule, we might actually be able to make that into a mini-reunion after all...the Evil One's going to be Stateside in January and with a longer vacation the fates may, perchance, align. We shall see.
Somehow vacation was over before I felt like it had really started. My mom always complains that my holidays are too short, but this time I couldn't really argue...in spite of the fact that I spent a whole month at home, it seemed to fly by. I'm not really complaining, since I'm happy to be back in Mongolia, although I'll be a lot happier once school starts and I get to spend time with my kids. Still, it felt strangely short, the way time is a little different in the realms of faerie, where a year can go by in the space of a cicada's song. There aren't any of those here in UB, but I have a feeling the next year will pass in the blink of an eye nonetheless... *I mean that very literally...I have 10% of the savings that I had two years ago. But if my parents are reading this right now, fear not - I'm planning to save more this go-round. **6 a.m. the day I left Japan... ***Blaaack Sheep, that's who.
Mention anime figures to a certified normie, and you might get a look of disgust. Everyone knows what that person is thinking of: attractive, big-busted (possibly underage) women, scantily clad and in anatomically unlikely positions. Well, there’s a reason why that’s a stereotype. There are an awful lot of bishoujo figures out there.
That is not, however, all there is out there. Figures come in a variety of formats, and at different sizes. But the best, in my humble opinion, are the nendoroids I mentioned in my last post. These are figures with exaggerated, “chibi” proportions - huge heads with small bodies. They have interchangeable parts, allowing you to do more with them. They’re smaller than a lot of figures, which means they'll be easier to pack up to your next port of call. Of course, some people think they’re expensive, but those people probably collect Funko Pops (which there’s nothing wrong with, even if the quality of the two can’t even be compared). Plus you can pose them and change their expressions, and even (if you’re tech-savvy and don’t have other things to do with your time) create stop-motion animation using them, as seen in the video below by Dan Von Carr.
However, my favorite thing about nendos (as we hip kids call them) is the fact that they demonstrate greater gender equality. I’m much more likely to find a nendo of a character I like than I am a scale figure. Hell, I think they may actually be planning to make every damn Touken Ranbu character there is, and that’s saying a lot. GoodSmile, the company that makes them, has a tendency to make whole series of characters from given shows.
For example, every one of the Generation of Miracles, from Kuroko no Basuke. One Saturday morning in May, I missed my planned Saturday outing because SOME idiot (ie, the one who writes this blog) volunteered herself to chaperone a 5th grade sleepover. As I sat in the Denny’s near Omori Station, fighting unsuccessfully to get to Asakusa for the annual Edo Firefighter’s Memorial, I checked Goodsmile’s Twitter feed to see whether or not they had FINALLY released any news on the upcoming Hyakkimaru nendoroid (pictured at the top). What I found instead was that there was an event happening in Akiba - WonHobby Gallery 2019. Since I had serious doubts that I was, in fact, going to make it to Asakusa in time, I decided to just stop when I got to Akiba. I’d kinda been meaning to go there soon, anyways...although it perhaps would’ve been better to wait til payday.
The event was like a smaller, less crowded, free version of the Goodsmile booth at AnimeJapan, offering a glimpse into what was coming up from the company. I was a little disappointed that they didn't have any life-size nendos or Nendoroid plushies, until I figured out that their previous announcement was an April Fool’s Day joke. Still, they had a pretty impressive range of upcoming releases to show off. If it weren't for the fact that I don't think I can handle sewing that small, I might even be interested in one of their Nendoroid doll bodies. Since I'm kind of burnt out on sewing at the moment, it wasn't a hard temptation to resist.
But Akiba being what it is, there's always temptation to be found, especially since I got sucked into a new blackhole: nendoroid customizing. See, here’s the thing. Although GoodSmile often releases a bunch of characters from the same show, this is not always the case. Sometimes they’re so busy making new versions of Hatsune Miku that they forget to make the other characters in your favorite show, which is why I’m still waiting for a Sugimoto nendoroid. Although I guess I should be grateful they at least made Asirpa...they’ve never made any of Noragami's characters. Over the course of my second year in Japan, I've been thinking about this more and more. Seeing the expansion pieces - Nendoroid More, as they're called - which allow you to dress up your characters differently, or give them different expressions, got me wondering if it might be possible to frankenstein some characters (cobble together a new creation from spare parts - get it?). It didn't really click, though, until I remembered how cheap I've found some nendoroids in my rambles about town. I realized that if you could find them for a decent price, it might not be so terrible to take a figure apart, make some color changes, and reconstruct it to create a new character.
Well, as it turns out, that's totally a thing. When I started trying to figure out whose hair would work for a Shinra nendoroid I stumbled across the community of nendoroid customizers online. One enterprising couple even created an online shop - the aptly named ChibiChopShop - where they buy and sell parts from nendoroids that have been split up. I'm looking for such specific things that I've only used them once, but when I discovered them, they had the only things I wanted - the hair and faceplates from nendoroid 151, Moritaka Mashiro. With the Nendoroid More doctor body I'd already found on eBay, all I needed was a pair of glasses and probably a little paint to make my first nendoroid, Celty, her own Shinra. He needs a lot of work - the hair’s the wrong color, and the face isn’t right - but once I’m reunited with my supplies in Mongolia, we’ll get there.
And that, of course, opened the floodgates. I had so many ideas that it was tough to decide which to pursue first...but since the pieces basically fell into my lap I started working on my first anime love, Yato.
I found Takagi Akito from Bakuman (#152, from Lashinbang in Kamata)for his body, and Kuroko no Basuke’s Kise Ryota (#1032, again at Lashinbang, this time the big one in Akiba Culture Zone) for his hair, and was able to sell the rest right away through the facebook group for splits. Then I hit up the Volks near Yokohama station on my way home from work one night and spent a good half hour deliberating over paints (ie, the ones that are waiting for me in Mongolia now - this post is kind of back and forth all over the place). Since I really had zero clue what the heck I was doing, I based my educated guess on the name of the paint. Very scientific, I know. Then I got to work, in a painstakingly (or paints-takingly) slow manner. Only to quickly realize the paint was much glossier than I wanted. Back I went for cleaner and advice. There’s still work to do on it, but for now, I’m pretty happy with how he’s looking.
In the midst of all this I made what may be the greatest discovery of all: Goodsmile's facemaker site. This is basically a website that lets you design your own faceplates and have them printed by Goodsmile and shipped to you. The options it gives you are unbelievable. I was a little skeptical at first, but a half an hour later I had designed two expressions for Yato that I had to get printed. The next day I went back to the site, just planning on messing around with it, and ended up ordering two more, I was so impressed with what I’d come up with. The site is in Japanese but with Google chrome that’s almost a non-issue. What might be an issue, though, if you’re not here in Japan is the fact that they only ship to Japan. Both of those issues, however, are covered in this post on Blog DeJapan.
So that’s how I found myself another expensive hobby. Wotakoi’s Nifuji Hirotaka was my third project, and although I still want to repaint his hair, I’m pretty pleased with what I’ve accomplished thus far. I haven’t been forced to do any drastic modifications, but maybe I never will. This past weekend was summer Wonder Festival and GoodSmile announced even more upcoming products - Kaguya-sama, for example, and a painted prototype of both Tanjiro and Nezuko from Kimetsu no Yaiba. What I was really excited about, though, was that they announced a nendoroid of Natsume from Natsume Yuujinchou. I’m not sure that I’ll actually order him - one of the rules I had to impose on myself to get out of Japan was that I was only allowed one figure of any character, and I’ve already got a figure of Natsume.* No, the real value of that announcement to me was, in fact, that there was still hope. That anime from several seasons back might still have nendos coming...sometimes there are copyright issues, after all. Sometimes they have to wait and see if it’ll be lucrative enough to justify making those figures (although I would think the fujoshi fan base of Golden Kamuy would make that a yes). Although it’s nice to rise to an artistic challenge, I’d much rather hold out hope for an official Sugimoto nendoroid, especially with a new season coming up.
If not, I’d settle for a scale figure. I left Japan with more of them than I was expecting, and when I get my apartment put back together, don’t be surprised when the inevitable nesting post highlights my carefully curated collection. I get an extra room this go-round and I know just what to do with it.
*As I mentioned before, nendoroids are small enough that it’s relatively easy to pack them up, especially if you’re willing - as I was, in the end - to get rid of the boxes. So - on the other hand - I might.
It hasn't quite been two weeks, but I already miss Japan. Maybe it was the Time Out Tokyo article about TeamLab's installation at Shimogamo Jinja. Maybe it was scrolling through my Pinterest feed, which is always littered with Japanese places, clothing, and words. Or maybe it was preparing for AnimeIowa last weekend.
For the fourth year running, I made the trek past cornfields to Iowa's one and only anime convention, AnimeIowa. Last year I questioned whether or not there was a point to American anime cons after living in Japan, but ultimately concluded that I enjoy being a part of the English-speaking side of the fandom.* So this year I contributed to it, presenting three panels (the magic number that gets you in for free): a pub-night style quiz, a panel on Japanese art, and one about Japanese religion and spirits. It was a lot of work to get ready for, and at least a little stressful, but actually really rewarding.
Volks' Hobby Center, a block from the station
At the end of the day, though, nothing can compare to the real thing, particularly the heart of Otaku-hood itself: Akihabara. I've been promising you a post about Akiba for the better part of two years now, and although I intended to do it the week before I left, I was so demoralized by trashing my carefully built Yokohama life that I just couldn't do it.
Instead, here I sit in my parents' living room trying to remember everything I was going to tell you, and I'm probably doomed to fail, but ganbatte-masu. The first thing you need to know about Akiba is that it's a teeming horde of anime, manga, and gaming stuff (as well as the electronics that it was originally named for and - perhaps somewhat inevitably - a sex toy superstore). You need to know what you're going for before you get off the train. If you want to just browse, that works, but knowing what you want to get out of your trip to anime's Mecca will keep your bank account from being bullied like the protagonist of a shoujo series.
So - for example - for Nendoroid parts, I liked Volks'. Most places have plenty of whole figures, and some even have parts, but as far as selection goes, Volks' was the best. They also have Goodsmile's playsets, diorama mansions, and pretty much everything you could possibly need to recreate scenes from your favorite anime. They sell model sets and paints and figures and other anime swag, not to mention ball-jointed dolls (or at least the one in Yokohama did...I didn't explore all the floors in Akiba because it's fricking huge) - and if it seems like they offer a lot in the way of making stuff, that's because it's sort of their specialty. Mulan, on the other hand, (pictured above) was a place where I was able to find tapestries I wanted - the first time I went in there, I came across exactly what I wanted, a B3 sized tapestry of Hoozuki.
If you decide to check them out, you should know that Google Maps is lying about the location - they're actually located next to one of the four Sega game centers, on the main strip of Akiba.
And while I'm on the subject, it's worth a trip just for the UFO catchers. Before I left I sort of got my addiction under control (mostly because I realized I could find most of the new prizes at Kawasaki's Book-Off for less than I'd spend trying to win them). For legit otaku prizes, though, it's hard to beat Akiba. I saw prizes there that I didn't find anywhere else (and sadly, I kept pretty close tabs on the game centers, particularly in Shibuya and at Yokohama station). These Kaguya-sama mascots are just one example. You'll still find more Disney crap than you might care to, and Ikebukuro still caters better to the otome population, but playing crane games - or at least looking to see what the current prizes are - was definitely one of my highlights of a trip to Akiba.
Turn the corner at the next intersection and about a block later you'll come to the Akiba Culture Zone. This is a huge building filled with smaller shops buying and selling swag, if you can make it past the first two floors: a ginormous Lashinbang. This was my first stop when I was looking for a nendoroid, as they seemed to have nearly every figure I was looking for.
There is some sort of logic to the way many stores are arranged, which is important to realize if you are, in fact, looking for something specific. Gunpla models pretty much always get their own section - sometimes even their own floor. Nendoroids and Figmas also tend to be grouped together, although this isn't always the case. Merch for major series is usually displayed together - One Piece and Dragonball, in particular, but Touken Ranbu, the Fate/Stay series, and Kantai Collection often have sections as well. The Nendoroids for these characters are sometimes found in these sections, as well, so if you don't find your favorite touken danshi with the other nendoroids, it may be on a shelf next to its scale figure. American media - Disney and various superheroes - are usually together. Beyond that? You may just have to be patient and sharp-eyed to find what you're looking for.
Surugaya Specialty was where I opened my wallet the first time in Akiba. I hadn't actually planned to spend any money that trip, since I hadn't gotten my first paycheck yet, but when I found Levi's nendoroid - pre-re-release - for only 3500 yen (the 3D maneuvering gear was damaged, but I didn't care), I knew they'd got me. They have a pretty good selection and I've found other good deals there, although most of the time I managed to keep from succumbing to temptation.
Closer to the station were a couple of other shops I liked to stop at...and I'm not actually sure what they were called anymore. Probably it doesn't matter. Just because I found Dazai there for only 7000 yen doesn't mean it will ever happen again.
And at the end of the day, you never know where you'll find the treasure you're seeking. For two years I was low-key hoping to find the one and only Yato figure ever released - by Megahouse in 2015. On my very last day in Akiba I randomly wandered into an alley off the main street, a kind of covered arcade that I pretty much walked past every time, and when I recovered from the discovery that Naruto and Sasuke figures based on the kabuki play had been released, I looked down and found my stray god. For 59800 yen. This isn't the most expensive I've seen him online, but it was, nonetheless, too rich for my blood, so I walked...or rather, limped...away in defeat.
Still, even without spending a single yenny, I always found trips to Akiba to be an excellent use of my weekends (or occasionally, weeknights). You'll see banners for new anime, or stumble across events you weren't expecting. Basically it's like an anime convention with a marketplace beyond your wildest imagination, with events randomly happening from time to time, one of which will be the subject of my next post.
*And, of course, winning prizes for my plushies. Asirpa and Sugimoto took first place in the plush category.
I’ve written about taiko here several times over the last three years. I’ve listened to it whenever I got the chance, dragging whomever I could along with me, because it’s just too good not to share. I took my first lesson the better part of three years ago, shortly after hearing it for the first time, but it wasn't until the end of last November that I was able to really get started.
You’re finally hearing about it now, at the end of all things, because studying taiko is the reason I was still puttering around Yokohama, a week and a half after school wrapped up for the year. But let me back up for a minute. I discovered my taiko studio, Hougaku Academy, a year ago, right before leaving for the summer. (If you're thinking that was about the time we went to see Drum Tao, you're not wrong!) I swore to myself that I’d start lessons as soon as I got back in August, and in fact, I did go to a trial lesson at the end of that month, but it was hot and I was being awkward about my crippling lack of Japanese and basically it took me til November to get my shit together.
Here’s a life lesson for you, although I’ve lost track of which number I’m up to. It really is better late than never. In retrospect, I wish I’d kept going right after that very first lesson. Would I have liked to learn more? Kashiko mari masu.* But the things I DID learn, the time that I did get, was priceless, to the degree that I think saying goodbye to everyone a week ago was the hardest thing to do this go-round.**
Photo courtesy of Sensei, who says, "I really like this you!"
That is not to say that learning taiko has been easy. I’ve made no secret about the fact that my feet suck. The stance you use when drumming definitely doesn’t help. The best day for them to teach a stray gaijin turned out to be Wednesday, which of COURSE has been my hardest teaching day ever since coming to Japan. Then there’s the language gap. My teacher ganbatte’d his heart out, and every week he was better than the week before. He put my Japanese ability - which, having been picked up (as you know) primarily by watching anime, is more or less worthless - to utter shame, but there were still times when I struggled to figure out what he was trying to tell me. And while I like to think I made up for a lot of what I lacked with my enthusiasm, it wasn’t quite enough to cover my complete uncoordination. Even on Sunday my arms still didn’t do 100% of what they were supposed to.
Something else I should probably mention, although it wasn’t a challenge so much as something I found interesting, is the fact that I was the only beginner in my class. While my senpais were drilling with our other teacher, Shima-san was teaching me the basics at the back of the room. Most of the time, the fact that 12 or so drums were playing something different really loudly in a relatively small studio didn’t make any kind of difference to what I was learning. When it DID make a difference, it was usually because what they were doing was so cool that I couldn’t help getting caught up in it, and wishing I was already at their level, so I could play, too.
Now, from the start I knew there was going to be a performance on July 7. I had my doubts that I’d be able to participate, though, because it felt like I was pretty slow going, especially at first. I probably should have spent more time practicing. In my defense, I found it hard to practice without an instrument. It took me until about a month ago to realize that this was actually an advantage, and that as long as I didn’t mind looking like an idiot I could literally practice anywhere - walking down the street, say, or during my super-stinky hour-long lunch duty. But gradually I learned all the rhythms I needed, and just before spring break Shima-san showed me how they were strung together to create a full piece of music. And I honestly couldn’t think of any better note on which to leave Japan.
So I kept going. There were days when I didn't really want to, days when the kids had worn me down or my feet were killing me, but most of those I went anyway. Because at the end of the day, I needed it. Apart from being fun and a good workout, I'm pretty sure taiko's responsible for keeping me sane these last six months. It was therapeutic as hell to be able to beat the shit out of the drum after a long day of back talking children and baka administrators. (The 6th rhythm of the first lesson is, in my opinion, best for stress relief.)
Once I'd learned everything, the uniform was actually the biggest hassle. Mostly this is my fault for not doing anything over the last two years about my marshmallowey shape, but I DID struggle to get tabi. Those split-toed shoes are a part of the uniform for taiko, and although my classmate told me where I could buy them in Kawasaki, I still couldn't seem to find them, so I went online and located a boutique in Omotesando that sells them, Sou Sou. They ended up being kind of expensive, but the staff were really helpful and I was able to try them on so I could be sure that they fit. Also, the soles have hiragana on them, so, you know, totally worth it.
In spite of all the words I've used, in this post and others, I'm still not sure I'm doing taiko any justice. In the end, I don't really think words can. Until you feel the beat hit you in the chest, reverberate through your lungs, shift your heartbeat, I don't think what I'm saying will make sense to you. But the day before our performance, I met one of the women I'd be performing with for the first time. She asked me how long I'd been playing, and it was the same length of time as her, and when we tried to explain to one another why we were studying taiko, it boiled down to the same thing. As she put it, "It's my soul music." I couldn't agree more.
*Certainly.
**I mean, other than packing and cleaning, which I only finished a few hours before my ride came to take me to the airport.
Unless you’re just now tuning in, you probably already know that the clock’s almost run out on my time in Japan. It’s been two and a half weeks since I said, “Sayonara,” to my students, and a week later I checked out of the school. Since then I’ve been marking time...ostensibly packing and cleaning, but in actual fact I'm working on finishing this post the night before take-off, during a break from my cleaning and final packing.
I wish I could say it was because I’d been living my best life with everything Japan has to offer before I go, but the truth is, I’ve been moping (among other things). I did, however, manage to experience one last festival, Tanabata.
Tanabata is a festival based on the story of two lovers, Orihime and Hikoboshi. According to Wikipedia, Orihime’s daddy, the Sky King, set her up with a cow boy, Hikoboshi, because she was too busy weaving to go find herself a man. They hit it off but - as you do when you have a new love interest - they immediately stopped being useful in any way, shape, or form, which was a problem for both the cows and the Sky King, who apparently had a side hustle selling the cloth Orihime wove. So he separated the newlyweds by sending them to opposite sides of the Milky Way.
Of course, this broke Orihime’s heart, and after crying for a really long time the Sky King took pity on her and allowed them a conjugal visit once a year - on the seventh day of the seventh month. Which to me seems hardly better than not seeing each other at all, but what can I say? I’m a cynic.
So how do you celebrate Tanabata? You write a wish on a slip of paper and tie it to a bamboo branch. Yeah. That’s pretty much it. Like Setsubun, you don’t have to go anywhere to celebrate...but it’s more fun that way.
I’ve been seeing bamboo branches and big streamers around town over the last few weeks, but I decided that - since I was going to be hanging around til then, I wanted to go to Shitamachi for their street festival. I mean, c’mon. Last weekend in Japan, you know?
Shitamachi goes by another name, though...Kappabashi, and this was another reason I wanted to go there. Kappa are a kind of turtle-ish youkai, and one of the creatures in my final nihonga painting. Sensei saw me drawing one not too long ago, and - ever the critic! - told me that it was too cute, that kappa are supposed to have big bellies and be scary. To that, my rebuttal is that there were plenty of kawaii kappas decorating the buildings and on the streets of Shitamachi.
There’s even a small kappa temple, Sougen-ji just off the shopping street. I’d read about it (on Atlas Obscura, I believe) before my first trip to Tokyo, but I’ve never had a reason to visit Kappabashi til now. Apparently Shitamachi came by its unusual name because once upon a time, it was overrun with the critters. The locals built the temple to appease the kappas, and even now you’ll see cucumbers - a kappa’s favorite food - offered at the temple.
Not that I can verify that with my eyewitness account, though. The gates to the temple were closed by the time I made it there. I’d originally thought I’d go after my concert, on the actual seventh day, but Sensei said it always rains on Tanabata, and apparently that’s part of the story, too. To allow the (literally) star-crossed lovers to meet each other, a flock of magpies creates a bridge across the Milky Way...unless it rains, in which case they’re just screwed and they have to wait another year to hook up. I took Sensei’s word for it on account of the rain, and made my way into Tokyo after rehearsal, although I got there a little later than I would have liked.
After writing down my wish, I started making my way down the street. Kappabashi runs basically all the way from Asakusa to Ueno, and along the way I stopped for treats - kakigori and yakitori, which had a pretty long line, which I was enticed into joining by force of the smell, which was divine. As I was waiting, they roped off the street and an awa odori dance troupe came dancing past right in front of me. As far as last festivals go, it didn't suck.
