Twenty years of changes, from the early phase when the region was opposed and the festival was postponed

“Humans are part of nature” is the basic principal of ETAT. In this series we have already introduced how the festival has taken as its stage this distinctive place called Echigo-Tsumari where humans and nature co-exist, and how it has opened this up to so many people.  Here, we would like to look at the relations between ETAT and those who are involved.

Echigo-Tsumari Art Field welcomes visitors to different seasonal programs throughout the year. The highlight of these activities is the Triennale that takes place once very three years. It has been expanded from its beginning in 2000 to its seventh iteration in 2018, encompassing 379 artworks presented across 102 villages in the region and receiving 548,380 visitors. (1)

While the fan base of contemporary art has expanded since the start in 2000, its proportion in the overall picture is still limited. Some people may visit Echigo-Tsumari thinking “Tokyo Disneyland is fun but I don’t mind spending two or three days at ETAT for a change”. Young people in their teens and twenties come with their friends whereas other generations bring their children or grandchildren. The data also shows that a significant number of working women in their late thirties and older visit here. Some try to find the cheapest accommodation possible whereas the other would choose to spend on luxury options. The number of visitors from abroad has been on the increase in recent years.

As a result, the festival operation team faces challenges. How should we best present unconventional projects to an audience that is diverse and not just aficionados of contemporary art. Any single artwork or project may attract a diversity of views. However, paradoxical as it may sound, I believe there is meaning in such mixtures,  as we seek out common ground within the differences. If we limit our audience to those who only appreciate contemporary art, for example, things will become simpler to some extent. Because of the diversity, there is a potential to create various things which, I believe, presents challenges we could engage with.

Naturally, the relation between the local people and ETAT is important. The origin of ETAT was the “Riso Plan,” a plan by Niigata Prefecture to revitalise community. The history of Echigo-Tsumari goes back more than 1500 years and it was once a region that supported Japan through rice production. However, the region faces the challenges of depopulation and ageing due to the concentration of population in the big cities and changing industries as a result of shift in agricultural policy.

Although ETAT was proposed as a means to find what can be done to support this region, the doubts and opposition amongst local people towards such an unfamiliar proposition were strong, and the first festival, set for 1999, was postponed. After long discussions, we managed to launch the first iteration of ETAT in 2000 and since then the meaning of ETAT for the local people has gradually evolved through ongoing discussions and exchanges with artists and visitors.

Meanwhile, I have come to realise one thing as I have continued my endeavour. While depopulation, ageing and the decline of industry exist as pressing local challenges, what is felt most painfully for people who have been living in this region is losing a place to make use of their wisdom and skills. For example, a place in the mountains where you might find the best sansai(mountain vegetables) that you would keep as a secret even from your family members, or the distinctive skills and wisdom of farming and clearing snow which they have been routinely engaged with.

When the festival asks these local people for help on something that they can utilise their experiences, they genuinely seem pleased. As mentioned, Boltanski used straw for “The Last Class”, and I would imagine he was very impressed when he saw the way locals bundled the straws. That was the distinctive skill of the region and mastery of those who make things.

When you see an artist going through trial and error and working hard, those who have previously regarded artists as people who deal with things that are beyond their comprehension begin to appreciate or empathise with them. “The Seat of Rain Spirit” (2000-2009) by Takamasa Kuniyasu is a large scale work assembling bricks and timber from forest thinning. Local seniors who watched the artist working silently and diligently from a distance at first eventually provided their expertise as a team and helped complete the work.

I also have strong memory of “Where the River Has Gone” by Yukihisa Isobe (2000 / re-installed in 2018). The artwork expressed the changing flow of the Shinanogawa River from a century ago using 700 yellow poles with flags. The project began with explaining the work to each of the land owners seeking their permissions. It wasn’t long before one of the local residents who had opposed the project at first gave us the advice “that it is windy around here and the wind changes directions from time to time – so it would be interesting to add flags to the pole”.

While this relates back to the principal concept of the festival that I mentioned at the beginning of this article, the more things that have been scientifically elucidated, the stronger I have come to believe that humans are part of nature. Each individual physiologically engages with an external environment through what connects them to nature. In other words, 7.5 billion different physiologies co-exist. As a matter of course, it is best to consider something based upon the assumption that there will always be differences that can never be unified. And I believe that what plays an important role here is the presence of an existing community, and that the art has high compatibility with the places where we implement our projects.