There’s always a minor sense of relief when we make it through the fleet of taxis (not to mention armada of buses) bunched around an historic site. So there was a little spring to our step leaving the Osaka Castle and trekking to the subway where we caught a metro that took us to within a 15 minute walk to the National Art Museum, a streamlined tubular glass dome sunk among the high-rises.
Immediately inside the airy atrium lobby there was, save for the sound of echoing footsteps, the quiet that I’ve come to associate with entering temples of modern art.
There were two exhibits reached by descending escalator. One was on the theme of “no borders”, a common motif in art museums we’ve visited recently. The idea is that countries across the globe are increasingly porous, cultures increasingly mixed. Given the resurgence of populist anti-immigration sentiment in Europe as well as the United States, this artistic statement betrays a hope that now seems almost nostalgic in its optimism.
My favorite pics from this exhibit were of Miwa Yanagi’s two enlarged color photographs of contrasting grandmothers.
The “Undo-Redo” exhibit on the next floor up featured creations made out of fabric.
I always enjoy the unhurried hush of modern art museum cafés and this was no exception. I ordered a café au lait (espresso machines so far are not that common), and Ella had a chai that looked like a root beer float. On one side there was a table of Spanish speaking women; on the other, a German father with his son. The family crush we usually encounter at our historical site stops is usually absent when we visit modern art venues; it seems so adult, so un-Disney. Talk about nostalgia! I felt like donning my bourgeois bowler and lighting a cigar.