The islands of art

“In Japan you confirm that, almost always, less is more...”

In order to visit the unique Japanese art islands, the traveler must follow precise instructions that, in my case, had been given to me by two friends who love Japanese culture.

From Kioto I had to take a fast train called Shinkansen to Okayama. There I had to get a vacant locker where I could leave my suitcase and carry only a light backpack with the essentials for two nights in the islands, and then take the local train to Uno Station with a combination in Chayamachi. In front of Uno Station is the port from which you take the ferry to the islands: first Teshima and then Naoshima.

Even if you don't understand anything at all, Japan is a country where it is very easy to stroll. In addition, everyone there is ultra respectful, orderly and friendly.

On the first stop of this challenging journey, at Okayama station, an English couple "stole" the empty locker I had found after much effort. Adrian appeared from behind, opened the locker, Tony put the suitcase in and they left. I gave them a look of fury, thrown like a missile. Then my new search began in that great station. Out of nowhere, Adrian appeared and told me that he had found an empty locker. We walked two blocks until we found it, I thanked them both and we said goodbye.

At the destination I visited the only work on display at the Teshima Art Museum, where you enter without shoes a gigantic concrete shell that has two elliptical openings. I sat down and when I saw the water droplets magically emerging from the floor and slipping away as if it had a life of its own, I felt as alive as they were.

Art provokes that, it shakes you, be it for its beauty, for its monstrosity or, as in this case, for the simplicity of nothingness, of empty space that lacks limits and only leads you to observe the sky and nature through those oval "windows", which provokes you to remember that that instant is being lived and will pass.

I wanted to stretch that moment but other great works were waiting for me for those surrealist days of the islands.

Before boarding the ferry to Naoshima, I toured Teshima Yokoo House. I was surprised once again to appreciate its architecture, the red that invades its spaces, the water that flows.

At night, once in my lodge in Naoshima, "Tsutsuji-so", I discovered the peculiar Japanese house booked. In the dining room, to my surprise, my "locker friends", Adrian and Tony, were dining alone. After the uncomfortable courtesy greeting that was due in the situation, the usual conversation began, talking about where we were from, what we were doing and the exchange became an excellent company, to the point that we joined the tables and stayed until the owner invited us to sleep because she had to close. It was then that Adrian confessed to me that the effect of that look of mine had caused him tremendous fear, even to the point of being afraid of some South American curse. That is why, despite Tony's resistance, he did not follow to the platform to catch the next train, but went in a frantic search for an empty locker for me and then the challenge of finding me in the middle of the bustle of the station. His Saxon determination made it possible for eventually finding me.

After his story I blushed, but the laughter that followed was stronger. This generated the bond that years later continues thanks to social media.

The next morning, Naoshima awaited to continue the journey, like Alice in Wonderland. But before discovering the bizarre houses of artists of the Art House Project, the polka-dotted pumpkins of Yayoi Kusama, the deformed and perfect Pavilion, not to mention the minibuses and the smart cars also painted with dots, I treated myself with a breakfast at the Benesse House Hotel. Those permits not only open you up to exclusive services and delicious flavors, but also to get to know the interior of those five unique stars in the world. In this case, walking through its corridors with unusual works of contemporary art was an unbeatable extra.

Back at the lodge, I met Adrian once again, a short farewell although with the typical desire of travelholics to keep in touch.

The icing of the cake of Naoshima is its museums, built in such a way that they blend in with the natural beauty of the island. That's what I was expecting.

The Chichu Art Museum designed by the self-taught master Tadao Andō is immersed in the depths of the earth, so as to obtain the perfect natural lighting for its rooms, in maximum simplicity. Minimalist, of course, it exhibits a few works of art. Perhaps that is what makes it so perfect.

Claude Monet's water lilies stand out, governing a pristine white room, inviting you to contemplate them in silence, so that, once again, you feel alive, because your inside moves.

James Turrell's Ganzfeld is an invitation to appreciate sensitivity. On a personal level, just as when I entered his creation for the Museo de la Bodega Colomé in Molinos, I had an enormous desire to dance, as when I practiced ballet as a girl.

There are other museums to visit like the Lee Ufan Museum, small neighborhoods to discover, and the unusual retro bar that my friends had recommended, all set with the most peculiar antiques, the Shioya Diner.

The next morning, already on the return ferry, I remembered the new English friends and then all my friends who appreciate art. For a while I was overcome by a strong desire that one day they may have the chance to visit these islands. They are simply an invitation to feel alive.