My first impression of Yayoi Kusama’s work was not favorable. What I saw was phenomena art, kind of like Op Art . . . no real substance beyond just what you see. It seemed to me that her work had a 60’s psychedelic design flavor to it. I knew she was associated with Pop Art and had exhibited alongside both Andy Warhol and Claes Oldenburg, both artists I do not care much for. I also knew that she had no problem translating her art into pop culture consumer products. She is shameless promoting her collaborative efforts with Louis Vuitton.
Then there are the endless self portraits, photographs of her in front of her work. I thought her art was kind of narcissistic. Her outlandish clothing blurs into the paintings behind her, and blurs the line between fine art and fashion. I am not one to really care about fashion and outward appearances, I’ve always been more concerned with what is deeper and inside, nor am I one to care much about cults of personalities. I’ve always thought her self-portraits literally got in the way of the paintings behind her.
Yayoi Kusama is the Queen of Polka-dots. Where Damien Hirst’s spot paintings are cold and pharmaceutical, Kusama’s art at least has a celebratory feel to it. I’ll giver her credit for that. This is a reflection from the peace and love idealism she embraced in the 60’s. Still, I could not get past that a lot of her work was reminiscent of a fabric pattern.
All of these negative things really colored my perspective of both her and her work. So, it was to my surprise when I discovered that she had once identified with the abstract expressionists, this was before she changed allegiances to Pop Art in the 1960’s. She made some really good work. In reading about her, I found she could be really deep and psychically aware. Here is a really good quote from her concerning one of her paintings, Flower (D.S.P.S.), 1954:
One day I was looking at the red flower patterns of the tablecloth on a table, and when I looked up I saw the same pattern covering the ceiling, the windows and the walls, and finally all over the room, my body and the universe. I felt as if I had begun to self-obliterate, to revolve in the infinity of endless time and the absoluteness of space, and be reduced to nothingness. As I realized it was actually happening and not just in my imagination, I was frightened. I knew I had to run away lest I should be deprived of my life by the spell of the red flowers. I ran desperately up the stairs. The steps below me began to fall apart and I fell down the stairs straining my ankle.
It is clear that Kusama is sensitive to her surroundings, a signature of a good artist. Perhaps this sensitivity is why she has chosen to live in a psychiatric hospital ever since 1977. What about the polka-dots? They are more than just decorative elements to her. This is what she has to say about the dots:
A polka-dot has the form of the sun, which is a symbol of the energy of the whole world and our living life, and also the form of the moon, which is calm. Round, soft, colorful, senseless and unknowing. Polka-dots become movement ... Polka dots are a way to infinity.
This might not always translate to me in her work, but I like that in her heart she still has an appreciation for symbolism (many in contemporary art do not). I have also learned to like some of her recent installation work. I find that it can be beautiful and even, at times, sublime. Her work sometimes suggests to me self-obliteration, infinity, losing yourself, and dissolving the ego into the universal void. There is some spirituality hidden in there! This is not your average everyday Pop Art!
It is good to be skeptical . . . just do not allow it to overwhelm your curiosity. I am glad I dug deeper into Kusama's art and gave it another chance. I've learned to appreciate both the substance and motivation behind some of her work. Unfortunately we do have to be willing to get past work such as her video piece Manhattan Suicide Addict (2010) in order to access it.