Friday, January 12, 2007

Kyoto's Shangri-la Museum

What I looked up at could have been a temple built two hundred years ago except for that gleaming glass. My journey ended as I left the paved plaza and climbed sets of steps to this dream made real. Shangri-la indeed

The view to the mountains and the Pei bell-tower


Chinese writer Tao Yuan Ming told a tale about a fisherman who loses his way and discovers a grove of blossoming peach trees. At the end of the grove, he finds a small cave at the foot of a mountain. Inside the cave, he follows a narrow pathway towards the light, and finally stumbles out into a peaceful Shangri-la.

World famed Chinese-American architect E.M.Pei remembered this tale when he was asked to design a museum in the Shigaraki Mountains in Shiga Prefecture, not far from the city of Kyoto, in Japan. A museum was needed to house a special collection of artworks from China and Japan and antiquities from Egypt, Rome, Persia and other parts of the world. Location and construction had to meet stringent conditions set by local authorities to preserve the mountain’s pristine environment. It was, for Pei, who designed the glass pyramid gallery for the Louvre in Paris, a stimulating challenge.

I was visiting Japan, and I’d been told about the Miho Museum, which opened in November 1977. So I decided to set a day aside (I was in Osaka at the time) and discover Pei’s Shangri-la for myself. I’d heard stories about its breathtaking site and equally stunning design. And getting there was relatively easy. All I had to do was hop on a train and go direct to Ishyama station just a few stops beyond Kyoto. At the station, I could take a bus direct to the mountain and to the museum. What could be easier?

At the station, I passed by a statue of Basho, Japan’s haiku poet laureate, who, I thought to myself, would understand the journey I was about to make and the excitement I felt as the bus approached the mountain, passing old rural villages, rice paddies, bamboo groves, trees turning red and yellow and a mountain stream gurgling over pebbles. He’d certainly create a poem to celebrate the occasion.

Autumn morning
A mountain beckons
My heart sings

Well, maybe something like that. The architect, in any event, when he’d examined the site, decided to create not just a memorable building but an equally memorable arrival. Just as the fisherman, in the old tale, undertakes a journey, so, too, would visitors here be faced with a journey. When my bus arrived, about fifty minutes after leaving the station, I turned and faced an avenue of peach trees, bare-branched now but pink perfection in spring. I walked slowly up the avenue, enjoying the crisp mountain air, and into the mouth of a shining, stainless-steel lined tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, I came to an elegant 120 metre bridge cantilevered across a deep and heavily wooded ravine. Finally, there, in front of me, the museum, mostly hidden from view - a contemporary vision based on classic Japanese design. What I looked up at could have been a temple built two hundred years ago except for that gleaming glass. My journey ended as I left the paved plaza and climbed sets of steps to this dream made real. Shangri-la indeed.

Miho's magic: cantilevered bridge, autumn foliage among the evergreens

Huge glass doors slide open silently and once into the lobby area, the impact of Pei’s creative inspiration overwhelms you. Eighty percent of the museum’s 45,000 square metre space lies underground, thus preserving the magnificent natural setting. When construction was complete, the earth was replaced on top, and replanted with carefully selected native vegetation. But you have no feeling of being underground, for luminous, open spaces surround you. It was a sunny day, and golden light washed the walls of beige-coloured French limestone. Innovative stainless steel framing on vast, sloping glass skylights cast geometric shadow patterns on the walls and floor. Panoramic views to surrounding mountains and to the Pei-designed bell tower complete this feeling of paradise discovered; your view of blue-green ridges is artfully framed by specially selected Akamatsu pines. The whole structure, with its two levels and two separate 1000 square metre exhibition wings, embodies the disciplines that were called for in its design the museum had to stand in nature and at the same time be a part of it.

Entrance lobby; patterns of light and shade

The Miho Museum was the dream of Mihoko Koyama (after whom it is named), the heiress to the Toyobo textile business, and one of the richest women in Japan. In 1970, she founded the Shinji Shumeikai spiritual movement which has 300,000 members worldwide. The museum contains Mihoko’s extraordinary art collection over 2,000 pieces worth close to a billion dollars. I loved the remarkable mosaic, which you can see from above (it’s on the lower level) and, after you descend the stairs, up close all those tiny pieces of coloured tile coming together in such a miraculous way to tell a story from classic mythology, the moment Dionysos, the Greek god of wine, first sees his future wife, Cretan princess Ariadne. From afar or close up, it’s an amazing piece of art. I loved, too, a youthful and (for once) slimmed down Buddha, athletic almost, clothed in the Greco-Roman fashion. The Buddha smiles and the piece seems mystical and familiar at the same time. The sculpture, from Pakistan, dominates its space and is very much at home here on the mountaintop. To see it is to feel comforted by its spiritual presence somehow. Hard to explain. I won’t even try.

The magnificent Buddha at Miho Museum

From ancient Pompeii comes a fresco, originally gracing a wall in the garden of a well-to-do citizen. From Rome comes a handsome sculpted bust of a youth. From Egypt, there are several superb acquisitions; the museum has been well advised in its purchases and has been lucky indeed. As you enter the Egypt Gallery, you see, first, a larger-than-life Queen Arsinoe II, wife of Ptolemy, probably created after her early death. In another room, a cult figure of a falcon-headed deity, circa 1295 BC, fashioned in silver, gold, lapis lazuli and rock crystal and, close by, a statue of Nakht, crafted in acacia wood, with eyes and nipples in inlaid ebony. This rare sculpture of a young Egyptian man is practically life-size and you almost feel you should walk up and say Hello. I missed seeing (because of a special exhibition of Chinese antiquities) the museum’s huge 16th century Persian carpet, one of the best-preserved objects of its kind in the world. One gallery had to be altered during construction to make room for it! The museum has artifacts (the word does not do them justice) from China, old Japan, Europe, the Middle East and Central Asia. The Persian pieces are particularly interesting; a golden goblet from northwest Iran, on the southern shores of the Caspian Sea, is very well preserved and its glowing patina gives it an imposing presence.

But, in truth, the museum itself is what I’d come to see. The displays here are memorable, but Miho, in its tranquil mountain setting, has charisma. For me, it’s the real star of the show - the most splendid exhibit of them all.

I spent several hours here, wandering through the galleries, admiring the rock-and-moss garden in the upper-level north wing atrium, and relaxing with fresh baked bread and plum juice in the Pine View Tea Room, which has two huge planters filled with green bamboo thrusting skyward and a view to the Wind Garden’s pines and limestone wall. There’s an audiovisual room, where you can examine the museum’s treasures in greater detail and also see a documentary on its design and construction. And there are two shops, where you can purchase books and memorabilia of exceptional quality.

Tempted? The museum is open 10am to 5pm every day except Monday from mid-March to the beginning of June, from July 20 to mid-August and from September 1st to the middle of December. Admission is Yen 1000 for adults, Yen 800 for students and Yen 300 for children to 16 years. For visitors to Japan in search of something special, it’s a must-see. Miho Museum is easily accessible from either Osaka, Kyoto or Tokyo. More info at www.visitjapan.jp and, for Miho Museum’s website, go to http://miho.jp

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