Positive Contact (2011)		Partial view of Talking Head (2010)

The artist is happy to extemporize at length about his intentions, both in the captions on the walls and in the accompanying catalog. He describes his work as an intersection of several interests -- obsessions, really -- that have captivated him since his youth: history, science-fiction films, plastic models, and samurai armor. His first epiphany came, he says, when he saw a photograph taken at the end of the shogunate era of an armored samurai, looking less like one of the noble warriors exalted in period paintings and more like the "mutant offspring of a human and a lobster." Another source of inspiration was Tomoto Kobori (1864-1931), a Nihonga painter and scholar of ancient court and military practices who made, and dressed up in, his own meticulously replicated samurai armor.

Noguchi's talent for parody and homage extends to the written word. One of the pleasures of this exhibition is reading his commentaries on the works on display. Written in a perfect sendup of the stodgy, ploddingly detailed prose of academic curators, they offer poker-faced "background" on the crazy goings-on in the pictures. The caption for Armored Warrior Going into Battle on a Bicycle, for example, calls attention to the exquisite ornamentation on the bicycle struts, with its pattern of "flower-rhombus family crests . . . suggesting that the rider is a personage of high social status, although there no clues available as to his identity" (my tentative translation).

Un samourai vient (2012)		Chanel Samurai (2009); © Tetsuya Noguchi / Collection: Chanel K.K.

In a running joke that Noguchi milks in a series of paintings and sculptures, the interlocked C's of the Chanel logo appear as a samurai crest (and a very authentic-looking one indeed). One of the attendant captions describes how in the fifth year of the (fictitious) Enpo era, a samurai received from his master, in recognition of exploits in battle, a Chanel-brand handbag and permission to adopt the logo as a crest (as well as change his family name to Shaneru, written in kanji). The explication goes on to point out that goods from Europe enjoyed special status among Japan's elite during this period . . . What makes the entire conceit almost plausible is the fact that the age of the samurai did overlap with the modern era, producing sometimes jarring imagery like the photo-portrait Noguchi saw in his youth. It is probably a good thing that his commentaries all end with a fine-print demurral that "the above is entirely a figment of the artist's imagination."

Screen Painting of Floating Warriors (2008) All works shown are by Tetsuya Noguchi; images are courtesy of the Nerima Art Museum.

Given the cost and time required to prepare parallel English texts for an entire exhibition, it is understandable that the Nerima Art Museum chose not to do so for the Noguchi show -- but more's the pity, since these faux-commentaries are such an integral part of the presentation. Fortunately the images speak for themselves and will elicit guffaws and admiration from any visitor, Japanese-reader or not. Unfortunately they will only be up until April 6, but if you are in the area before then, this exhibition is well worth the trip to Nakamurabashi, just a few minutes by train west of the Yamanote Line loop around central Tokyo.