A special exhibition by Yoichi Ochiai has been held since September 14 in the Kusakabe Mingeikan in Takayama City, Gifu Prefecture, entitled “Animistic Randomness from the Divine Null: Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe – Circle, Mandala, Triangle”. To open the exhibition, furthermore, Ochiai staged a foundation ceremony to summon the God of Null, at which he himself performed a dedicatory tea ceremony as a priest. We continue our conversation now.

The tea house as an installation

– “Animistic Randomness from the Divine Null: Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe – Circle, Mandala, Triangle” is a truly magnificent work of art. Its theme of the syncretism of Shinto and Buddhism also matches wonderfully with its venue, the Kusakabe Mingeikan.

Ochiai: I agree. The venue functions beautifully as a medium in and of itself. It should be said, though, that the use of a sacred space like this, a space where the gods are said to reside, as a medium for works of art and culture is something that has been done in Japan since time immemorial. We often view cherry blossoms in spring, or foliage in autumn, in shrines or temples. That is a classic example of media art. After all, the trees and flowers in the grounds of these buildings did not grow there naturally by themselves; they were planted by someone. People have made a conscious effort to plant them, and in that respect, the modern trend for lighting these plants for nighttime viewing is just a natural extension of that design. The installation of gold byobu screens is another example: shrines and temples have long been places where art can be found.

– During the gallery talk you gave following the foundation ceremony, you spoke very persuasively about the strong affinity between tea and media art.

Ochiai: Tea itself is a medium; it really is the perfect example of media art. The tea house is essentially an installation, wouldn’t you say? The guest enters the installation space (the tea house), views the scrolls, flowers and vases prepared by the tea artist within that space, and then the teaware is brought out. The guest eats sweets and drinks tea as an artistic experience. The space has its own sounds and sights – it’s the very definition of an art installation. There are other examples of Japanese art that are also about creating spaces to be experienced: fusumae (art on sliding doors), byobue (art on standing screens, ukiyoe… We Japanese have been creating art installations for 500 years. I believe that if we showed the people of Sen no Rikyu’s era modern-day media art, about the only thing that would surprise them would be that our art is lit more brightly.

– I believe you have created three different tea houses so far as part of your work: “Plastic Hermitage” in 2021, “Null-An” in 2024, and “Null-Beni-An” in 2024. What is it that draws you to tea houses?

Ochiai: First of all, tea is, like I said, a classic example of media art. As a media artist, that inspired me to want to create my own tea house.

　The first one I made was what I dubbed “Plastic Hermitage”, which I built from plastic Gundam model runners. I used plastic, but in fact the use of scrap materials to build teahouses was something that was done even back in Sen no Rikyu’s age. “Null-An” was a tea house made using lenses, curved mirrors and speakers. “Null” is a term in computing that means “nothing at all”. As a result, the room had no scrolls or decorations, while the walls moved. My most recent tea house creation was “Null-Beni-An”, a mobile tea house based on the conceit of Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s golden tea house, but a vivid crimson instead, with all four walls covered in safflower-dyed cloth. It was able to be taken apart and reconstructed in a new location. As safflower dye is easily damaged by UV light, it had to be installed in a dark space. This is similar to Hideyoshi’s golden tea house, in that it was used in the dark, and lit by candles to accentuate its golden color.

　Whenever I make a tea house myself, I try to consider the context of the tea, the meaning of the tea house, and the purpose of any media devices within, to arrive at the kind of tea house that a media artist would envision.

– Tea has a long history, and some well-established forms and styles. All of the tea houses that you have made so far have been revolutionary in style; is that the result of a conscious effort on your part to try and break the typically established style of the tea house?

Ochiai: The three tea houses I mentioned before are all just two tatami mats in size, and all have basic layouts that are identical to Tai-An (Sen no Rikyu’s tea house, designated as a National Treasure). The pillars are placed in similar locations, the entrances likewise, so they basically replicate the same traditional format. It shows that even just by changing the materials they are made with, you can change the experience of the tea house quite dramatically. “Null-Beni-An” is covered in a thin cloth that can be seen through. “Null-An” takes an auditory approach, with loud sounds played through speakers then stopped over and over again. This creates a polarity, whereby the silence is still more noticeable because of the deafening sounds which preceded it.

　None of these approaches would have been possible in Sen no Rikyu’s day. But I don’t see any reason why they shouldn’t be allowed.

– I believe one of your previous tea houses used a De’Longhi kettle in place of a teapot.

Ochiai: That would be “Plastic Hermitage”. The entire tea house was made of plastic, so I didn’t want to use anything that required a naked flame, you see.

– It seems to me that there are many techniques and concepts within the tea ceremony that you see as replaceable with modern technology. What elements do you feel are irreplaceable?

Ochiai: I would say the teacup and the chasen, or tea whisk. The tea I provided in “Null-An” was made not by human hands, but by an electrically powered chasen whisk. That was criticized as being unfaithful to the spirit of the tea ceremony, but it still tasted better than most handmade tea. As well as being very convenient, it produced a particularly creamy and delicious tea. But I still think that only worked because it used a proper chasen, and not an eggbeater, or some other mechanical contrivance. I also made sure that the “chasen-toshi” process (where hot water is poured over the chasen in preparation) was followed.

　For teacups, meanwhile, I really do prefer high-quality cups with a history, those made in the Muromachi or Edo eras, for example. I was speaking with Raku (Raku Kichizaemon XVI) about this the other day, and it’s not really a matter of the flavor changing as much as it is about the feel of the cup in the hand.

– Personally, I think it’s a bit of a shame that you don’t feel that handmade tea tastes better…

Ochiai: Each type has its strengths and weaknesses. It would be out of place to produce an electric chasen at a traditional tea ceremony, but I don’t see any problem with using one behind the scenes, in a restaurant kitchen, for example. I do admit that machine-made tea tastes different, but I happen to think that that’s a good thing. There are plenty of contemporary approaches to traditional fare that are perfectly tasty.

　I do think it would be a bit of a laugh if a tea master took out an electric chasen in front of his customers. Give them all a bit of a shock, as he blasts it. It would work pretty well as a gag, anyway.

– I know you have personal relationships with many tea masters. As a media artist, what is your opinion of tea artists as a group?

Ochiai: I see them as curators more than artists, perhaps. Like the kind of people who put together art exhibitions. Rikyu was a curator, but he sometimes made tea himself as well. Tea artists also make tea themselves, but they also curate the things they can’t make, so I see them as positioned midway between the roles of artist and curator.

Tea culture needs to be mixed up with other cultures

– I have interviewed many people who work in the tea industry in one way or another, and one refrain I often hear is that they struggle to impress upon others the value of tea. How do you see tea culture in Japan today?

Ochiai: When I made “Null-An”, I felt that it was easier to get people to understand tea than it was to get them to understand modern art. Visitors have to pay 1500 or 2000 yen just to enter an art gallery, and they take nothing home with them for that. Just like with modern art, there are elements of the tea ceremony, like scrolls or teaware, for example, which can be hard to understand, but everyone can appreciate that you get to eat and drink something at the end.

　I wrote this in my serialized articles in “Danko”, but my son has also recently taken up learning the way of tea. And he said to me one day, “Dad, the best thing about the tea ceremony is that you always get to eat a really tasty sweet.” When I told him I agreed, he continued, “But there’s one thing I really don’t like. That sludgy green stuff is the worst. It’s too bitter.” And I thought to myself, this kid’s a genius. [Laughs]

– That’s cute. I think it’s important to value honest opinion like that, though.

Ochiai: I think he’s really put his finger on something. The matcha served during the tea ceremony is something one learns to appreciate as one gets older, but to a child, the sweets are clearly the highlight. So I really think that for people who find rich matcha too bitter to drink, perhaps foreign visitors, for example, it’s perfectly okay to serve a matcha latte instead.

Ochiai: I remember one time, when I was visiting Saudi Arabia for work, one of the locals said to me, “How come matcha tastes so good?” After talking with him, though, I found out that what he was referring to was sweet matcha-flavoured drinks, the kind that are served with whipped cream, for example. Even though that was different from what I understood as matcha, I thought to myself that that was fine too. What I’m trying to say, is that if there are people who want to drink that kind of sweet matcha drink, then we should prepare tea ceremonies that provide that.

　I think it’s important to put myself in Rikyu’s shoes, and think, what would he do if his lord came to him and told him that his daughter wanted to drink a matcha latte. If the King of Saudi Arabia came to me now, and told me that he wanted to drink a matcha latte in a proper tea house, then it would be a fascinating prospect as to how I would go about doing that, don’t you think?　I think a lot of tea artists would be prepared to give it a shot. That’s what culture’s all about.

– It seems to me that you are saying that while tradition may be important, it is vital that we adopt a broader point of view, and accept others who have an interest in tea from a different perspective.

Ochiai: I think tea culture needs to be mixed up with all sorts of other weird and wonderful cultures. We shouldn’t be raising the bar to entry any higher, but we don’t have to lower it all the way to the ground either. I think conducting matcha latte tea ceremonies is a good compromise.

　The question, though, is how to incorporate milk into that culture of fire and water. We have to have a serious philosophical discussion about where the milk should be placed within that small space to begin with. But in a hundred years’ time, we will definitely be making matcha lattes in the tea ceremony. It’ll just be common sense by then, I’m sure.

　The use of habuta (the covering of teacups with tree leaves), for example, is something that is relatively new in terms of the history of the tea ceremony. Plenty of people accept that now, though, as a part of the culture. The art of tea incorporates the concept of making one thing appear like another, and is, in my opinion, an art form that allows for a great deal of freedom.

Approaching with respect and a playful spirit

It is almost time for our conversation to end.
Ochiai has responded to every question I have thrown at him with grace and fluency,
and it has been both eye-opening and somehow comforting to hear him talk about tea in a way that I have never had the opportunity to hear before.

While I want to hear more, I know my time is almost up.
Finally, I ask Ochiai the question I ask most of our interviewees: “What does tea mean to you?”

Ochiai: What does tea mean to me…? I don’t know… It sounds a little cheap, but it’s something that makes me feel like I am glad to be born Japanese. After all, the act of brewing tea is understood by people the world over as an act of hospitality. Just as we understand that for people of the Islam faith, prayer is an essential part of their life, the concept of the Japanese tea ceremony is known the world over. I think we’re very lucky to have something so iconic. But if I’m being a little more objective, then tea to me is something that creates a range of many different exhibition spaces. That’s why it’s important to pay our respects properly to the culture that has been built up over a period of many years, but at the same time have a sense of fun and playfulness about it when appropriate. It’s also about doing the traditional thing at times that demand tradition. The traditional tea offering ceremony I performed today made me realize how difficult that is. Traditions only exist when there are people to protect them, but cultural protection is not about keeping every aspect; it’s about making sure the culture doesn’t die. It doesn’t preclude trying new and revolutionary things.

While I wish we had longer, we are now officially out of time.

Respect tradition, but approach it with a playful spirit. Ochiai’s words make me realize anew that this philosophy is an important one to maintain when considering the future of tea. And Ochiai’s own implementations of this spirit of adventure, in creating revolutionary new approaches to the tea house, help me feel that he is with me on my journey.

Ochiai will continue to use tea as a motif in his works. The fact that I have been given the opportunity to understand Ochiai’s surprising relationship with tea and his stance towards its cultural importance, has only made me more excited to see what his future works will bring. I won’t be able to wait 100 years, but the next time I notice a sea change in the culture of tea, I would love to come back and speak to Ochiai about it again. It is with these comforting thoughts in my breast that I leave the Kusakabe Mingeikan behind me.

Yoichi Ochiai
Media artist. Born in 1987, he began working as an artist from around 2010. Seeing media art as as a vernacular, popular art dealing with digital nature, his activities transcend the boundaries of art and research, and continue to follow his stated philosophy of “confronting the objectification of the digital and the natural, and ruminating on the longing and emotion between object and image.” Associate Professor at the University of Tsukuba. Thematic Project Producer for Expo 2025 Osaka. With a strong interest in tea culture, he has frequently incorporated tea as a motif in his artworks and exhibitions in recent years.
yoichiochiai.com (official website)
note.com/ochyai (note)

Kusakabe Mingeikan Special Exhibition: Yoichi Ochiai’s “Animistic Randomness from the Divine Null: Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe – Circle, Mandala, Triangle” 
Exhibition Period: September 14 (Sat) 〜 November 4 (Mon), 2024
Opening Hours: 10:00 AM 〜 4:00 PM
Location: Kusakabe Mingeikan (Oshinmachi 1-52, Takayama City, Gifu Prefecture)
kusakabe-mingeikan.com (Kusakabe Mingeikan homepage)

Photo by Tameki Oshiro
Text & Interview (originally in Japanese)  by Rihei Hiraki
Edit & Interview by Yoshiki Tatezaki
Produce by Nanami Kanai