Craft beer from the Land of the Rising Sun



Shigeharu Asagiri loves beer so much he has even brewed it by the light of the moon.
He’s not a bathtub hootcher with vampiric tendencies, but the boss of Japanese microbrewery Coedo and a man committed to putting his craft beer on the map, no matter what it takes.
His nighttime brewing activity came just after the earthquake that rocked Japan’s Tohoku region last March led to frequent blackouts at his brewery just outside Tokyo.
From those difficult days and dark nights, Coedo has continued to make some award-winning beers that are helping to put the spotlight on interesting microbrews from Japan.

Earthquakes and blackouts aside, it hasn’t been easy for Coedo, founded in 1997 by Asagiri’s father-in-law. It wasn’t until prohibitive laws against small commercial breweries were repealed in 1994 that a microbrew scene in Japan could emerge.
Even since then, breaking the chokehold the big four Japanese brewers – Asahi, Kirin, Suntory and Sapporo - have on the domestic and international beer market has been a challenge. What Coedo produce in a year is the equivalent to what just one of the big boys produce in a day.
The taxman in Japan still takes around $2.50 on every liter of beer brewed there, which has led to the big breweries creating cheaper “beer-like” drinks (alcoholic and often additive-rich) and further diluting the market among a local population more familiar with types of sake than varieties of beer.
“For most (Japanese) people, beer is just beer, no one orders it by name; it’s no fun, but it should be,” says Asagiri. “Beer is exciting!”
Asagiri discovered the thrill of beer while backpacking across Europe after graduating from university. After a desk job in Tokyo, he took over the reins of Coedoin 2003; the highpoint for the number of independent breweries in Japan.
That number has been declining since with only around 50 operating microbreweries today, says Asagiri. But if the number of breweries has decreased, the quality of the brews has generally risen. By bringing in a German braumeister to train the Coedo staff and using German and Austrian grains, Asagiri decided Coedo would emphasize quality with its five brews.
Coedo’s beers aren’t pasteurized so strict hygiene is enforced at the state-of-the-art brewery; employees aren’t even allowed to eat natto, a typical snack of fermented soya beans, for fear of bacteria spoiling the beer. The award-winning Beniaka ale also has a nice twist as it is brewed with locally-grown organic sweet potato as one of its ingredients.
But Asagiri is keen to point out that his beer and Japanese microbrews in general shouldn’t be viewed as novelty ales; something they generally were until recently.
From porters to wheat beers and IPAs, many Japanese microbrews are picking up international awards for their quality and getting a higher profile in bars and restaurants away from Japan’s shores.
Hitachino Nest Beer, distinctive with its “kawaii”, or cutesy, owl logo, is sold at over 500 places in New York alone, and Hong Kong distributors have doubled the amount they’re selling in the Chinese city since 2009. Minoh Beer from Osaka is another that is making a name for itself in Japan’s growing craft beer bar scene, regularly picking up World Beer Award medals.
With another Coedo “Oktoberfest” in the town of Saitama planned later this year, Asagiri is convinced real beers with character, allied to a smart bit of lifestyle marketing, will win a place at top tables across the world.
“Our motto is ‘Beer Beautiful.' I want everyone to see real beer that way,” he says.

Japanese Snow Viewing Tea Ceremony Feb. 4 at Anderson Japanese Gardens

Rockford’s Anderson Japanese Gardens will offer the rare opportunity to participate in a yukimi chakai, a traditional Japanese Snow Viewing Tea Ceremony, Saturday, Feb. 4.
The demonstration will be in Anderson Japanese Gardens’ 16th-century Sukiya-style Guest House.
Participants will gather in the Visitor Center, where they will enjoy a hot cup of genmaicha, roasted rice-flavored tea while viewing the picturesque beauty of the gardens below. Following this warm introduction, guests will be guided through the winter landscape to the Guest House.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, participants are invited back to the Visitor Center to view an extraordinary display of tea bowls and tea ceremony-related items, which will be available for purchase.
Kimiko Gunji, professor emeritus of Japanese Traditional Arts and Culture and the former director of Japan House at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, will be the host of this event.
The tea bowls are crafted by Jason Armour, one of her esteemed students. Armour’s goal is to help people “find beauty in plainness and tranquil simplicity through set naturalistic aesthetic values” — a concept derived from his interpretation of the Japanese concept of Wabi-Sabi.
Professor Gunji states: “As technology continually advances, human beings are so enraptured by its power and capability; however, through this captivation, they often succumb to surrendering the very element that makes them human: the use of their five senses. My concentration is to impart to those with whom I encounter through my teachings and my art, the significance of becoming a fine human being through the vitalization of the senses and the natural manifestation of one’s kokoro.” Kokoro can be translated into “mind, spirit and heart.”
Traditional Japanese Tea Ceremony times will be 10:30-11:10 a.m., 11:30 a.m.-12:10 p.m., 1-1:40 p.m., and 2-2:40 p.m.
Cost to participate is $25 per person. Reservations are required. Space is limited to 15 participants for each of the Tea Ceremony times. For reservations or more information about the traditional Japanese Tea Ceremony, contact Julie Pastore by phone at (815) 229-9390, ext. 10, or by e-mailingjpastore@AndersonGardens.org.
Anderson Japanese Gardens is at 318 Spring Creek Road, Rockford, and can be reached at (815) 229-9390 or online at www.andersongardens.org.

Edible Installation Art in Tokyo


Food and art make provocative bedfellows. At Tokyo’s recent Open Harvest event, food served as both medium and message to a project intended to spark discussion about sustainable agriculture in Japan.
Held inside Content, a restaurant at the Tokyo Museum of Contemporary Art, the event billed itself as a “participatory edible art installation.”
After passing through a noren curtain of dried rice stalks and grazing on a garden-like arrangement of potted salad greens, guests were free to forage among the food stalls, which had been arranged to evoke fields and ponds. Posted on the walls and projected onto large screens at the back of the venue were portraits of local farmers and fishermen, as well as images of the Open Harvest crew harvesting rice and visiting producers.
Sam White, a Chez Panisse maître d’ who co-produced Open Harvest, said he’s been thinking about holding a food-and-art event in Tokyo for more than a year, and he began discussing the possibilities with Sylvan Mishima Brackett, owner of Bay Area catering company Peko Peko.
“Given the fears about radiation, this seems like a special time in Japan when people are thinking critically about where their food comes from,” Mr. Brackett said.
That reality was on display at several points during the evening. In the middle of the room, near a stand serving wild pigeon and mushrooms, a group of chefs plucked and gutted a basket full of the birds before carrying them to the kitchen to be sautéed in wine and butter. Onlookers snapped photos as a deer was skinned, dressed and later served as delicious venison burgers.
More harrowing were the crowds, which filled every inch of the space, forcing diners to balance paper plates and glasses while trying to eat with chopsticks. The threat of being doused with hot bouillabaisse loomed around every corner, and was, unfortunately for me, eventually realized.
Tickets to the main event cost 10,000 yen per person (about $129), but the organizers said that the idea was not to turn a profit but to break even.
While they have no firm plans to make it a regular event, they’re open to the idea, Mr. White said. “We have created friendships and alliances that will undoubtedly work together.”

Osamu Tezuka: the man who set manga in motion


Japanese comic strip meets contemporary dance in this show based on the work of Japanese cartoon artist Osamu Tezuka.

A show based on the work of Japanese cartoon artist Osamu Tezuka – revered in his homeland as “the god of manga” – is a prospect apparently designed to raise the hackles of anybody wary of contemporary dance. It certainly raised mine.
Despite the lofty reputation of Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, the half-Flemish, half-Moroccan choreographer whose new creation, TeZuKa, is currently in rehearsal in his native Antwerp, I was ready to be baffled by the sight of dancers “becoming” Japanese calligraphy, mimicking strokes of the pen with their bodies, and by the unfamiliar culture of an artist whose best-known character is a robot child named Astro Boy.
Yet within a couple of minutes of entering the theatre in Antwerp, all scepticism was blown away. It was a remarkable sensation: a lesson. What struck me was the sheer completeness of the enterprise; the certainty with which Cherkaoui is seeking to reveal the imagination of Tezuka.
With the help of some top-drawer collaborators – Nitin Sawhney with a sinewy and melancholic score, a set of beautiful simplicity by Willy Cessa, on-stage musicians and a cast of 10 drawn from both Japan and Europe – it is clear, even at the rehearsal stage, that Cherkaoui is giving us an entire world in TeZuKa, one that is both alien and resonant.
Amid long white blinds – like scrolls of paper – on to which are projected shifting squares representing frames in an animation, the dancers perform moves that do, indeed, resemble the strokes of a pen. But what they also conjure, far more tellingly, is the very act of artistic creation.
The piece also offers segments from stories by Tezuka, which generate a serious rethink of what animated art actually is (in Japan, of course, no such rethink would be necessary, but the British view of manga is rather less elevated). Tezuka began work in the bleak years after the Second World War – he died in 1989 – and saw what it meant to rebuild a society, how progress brings with it both good and evil. His stories are like little myths. At times, they are also incredibly dark and daring – “One story can take on four taboos,” as Cherkaoui says – and deal with issues such as homosexuality, incest and religion.
For example, a passage in TeZuKa depicts the relationship between a priest and a boy whom he has raped. Their twisted connection makes for an intensely powerful duet, while above the dancers’ heads, extraordinary images from the original cartoon are projected. It is an eye-opener in every sense and explains why Cherkaoui, three years ago and with the backing of Tezuka Productions, was inspired to create this work. “It’s impossible, in one piece, to honour him enough,” he says.
Now 35, Cherkaoui grew up watching Tezuka on French television, drinking in a morality that “shows consequences, but does not make judgments”. A character such as Astro Boy could be seen as merely a child’s superhero; in fact, as Cherkaoui convincingly asserts: “Comic books are not just for children – there’s real authorship in them, and because you also have to be able to draw, they are really just like theatre.”
His passion is echoed by Daniel Proietto, the Argentinian-born dancer who plays the priest’s lover and whose dark doe eyes are, as his choreographer says, “a bit like animé, you know?”
Proietto – who dazzled in Russell Maliphant’s AfterLight in 2009, and later in Faun, Cherkaoui’s homage to Nijinsky – is relishing the challenges of this dense ensemble piece. “It’s complicated but exciting. Tezuka is so rich. You constantly have to figure out how to solve problems. I find it magical.”
Cherkaoui clearly thrives on the responses of intelligent dancers. He draws an analogy between Tezuka’s work and his own creative process. “He would draw a character with a scar, say, and then afterwards find a reason why there was that scar… For me that’s something recognisable, because with choreography you will see something in your mind, but you only find out what it really is later on, by trying things.”
He himself used to draw, but moved into what he calls the “more sensual” world of dance. Watching a friend imitate Kate Bush was an early inspiration. Then came work with the Belgian collective Les Ballets C de la B. His career has been notable not just for its success – most recently, a 2011 Laurence Olivier Award for Babel – but for the diversity of the worlds it explores.
The 2008 work Sutra, for example, was a collaboration with Antony Gormley and Shaolin monks. In 2009, he worked with the flamenco dancer Maria Pagés on Dunas. Ook, an early work, developed from a workshop for mentally disabled actors. Last year, he was the choreographer on a production of Das Rheingold at La Scala. “That really did feel like a different world. Wagner was much more exotic to me than Tezuka.”
Cherkaoui is an intellectual at heart, highly courteous and articulate, a faintly donnish figure as he moves delicately among his cast before resuming his seat in the stalls behind a laptop, surrounded by books and photographs of Japanese costumes. “His mind is almost mathematical,” says a colleague. “He is on top of everything – budget, travel arrangements… He has hundreds of Post-it notes about the show, and the next day they might all be shuffled around, but he always has a sense of where everything is going.”
It is ambitious, though. To render one art form through another is not easy. The separate parts of this show are certainly mesmerising; one hopes that the whole will convey what Cherkaoui intends.
“As an adult, we sometimes try to undo our childhood. We are discouraged from saying what we really care about – things like cartoon books – but now I want to uncover it instead.”
Hence, TeZuKa: a deeply complex work, born of simple childlike passion.

The art of spying on bathing beauties

Women at times are like canvases. You see them on the trains, painting their faces, or else walking around wearing intriguing outfits, usually somewhat poker-faced. Consequently, the thought keeps occurring that perhaps they want to be looked at rather in the same way that a painting is looked at — to be appreciated without acknowledging it.



It is this quality — one that invokes the voyeur — that has made women such suitable subjects throughout the ages for artists such as Goyo Hashiguchi, the early 20th-century print maker, who is the subject of the latest exhibition at the Chiba City Museum of Art.
As with the work of his contemporaries, Kiyokata Kaburagi and Yumeji Takehisa, it is the undominating presence of Hashiguchi's ladies that paradoxically dominates his works. Their seemingly patient, passive but thoughtful expressions seem to tolerate our gaze as it roves over the gentle curves of their bodies or the gorgeous patterns of their attire.
Hashiguchi, who was often in poor health and died at the age of 41 in 1921, is known for a handful of very high-qualityukiyo-e woodblock prints produced as part of the shin hanga (new prints) movement. Indeed, he was so fussy and exacting about the quality of his prints that after a single collaboration with Shozaburo Watanabe, the famous publisher who was the driving force behind the movement, he was dissatisfied and decided to go it alone.
While featuring excellent examples of his most famous prints, this exhibition greatly expands Hashiguchi's oeuvre by including pencil sketches, designs, posters, and even oil paintings that he produced while a student at Tokyo School of Fine Arts, under the tutelage of Seiki Kuroda. These tenebrous daubings show that oil painting was never going to be his forte. However, his poster designs, including those he did for an international steamship company and an impressive hanging scroll painting, "Yellow Rose" (1912), reveal the breadth of his talent.
One of the biographically most interesting parts of the show, and indeed the catalyst for the exhibition, is the section on his illustrations for Natsume Soseki's famous novel "I Am a Cat" (1905).
"We decided to organize this exhibition firstly because we specialize in ukiyo-e prints," museum curator Junko Nishiyama explains. "But also because two or three years ago a collector entrusted his collection to us and it had a lot of artwork connected to Hashiguchi's illustrations for 'I Am a Cat.' Hashiguchi was acquainted with Soseki through his elder brother who had been a student of Soseki's."

Although the illustrations are mildly intriguing and it is interesting to see how many different designs were used for a novel in those days, artistically this is the weakest part of the show. No doubt the academic and historical element of this section provided a useful counterbalance to the numerous frankly suggestive sketches and prints that make up the mass and main artistic interest of this exhibition. But, just as the "pornographic" aspect of baroque European art was mitigated by references to classical myth and occasionally the Bible, Hashiguchi's nudes can also be viewed "innocently" as a celebration of Japan's onsen (hot spring) culture.
"In 1911 he went to the hot springs in Beppu in Oita (prefectures in Kyushu) and saw many bathing females," explains Nishiyama. "In that he found a very impressive theme — bathing girls."
In artistic terms, Hashiguchi was inspired by the 18th-century ukiyo-e artist Kitagawa Utamaro; but, as Nishiyama points out, there are also traces of a fascination with English Pre-Raphaelite art, most notably in "Woman Combing Her Hair" (1920).
"Natsume Soseki went to Britain, and when he came back he introduced Hashiguchi to many Pre-Raphaelite works of art," Nishiyama explains.
Although he also tried other subjects in his prints — the landscape "Rainfall at Yabakei" (1918) is particularly impressive — his pencil sketches reveal an artist who was most at home contemplating the female figure and exploring new ways to show it.
The sketches also reveal that Hashiguchi was intrigued by the potential of using reflection to add an extra voyeuristic element of interest to his compositions However, little of this interest made its way into the final prints, except for "Hot Springs Inn Woman" (1920), where we catch a glimpse of nipple in the reflection of the woman bending down to dunk her tenugui towel into a bucket of water. The surreptitious pleasure that this picture gives us has an element of the Peeping Tom about it, but backed up by the knowledge that Japanese ladies in ukiyo-e prints don't mind too much being spied on, our injured sense of chivalry can be kept within manageable bounds.
"Hashiguchi Goyo" at the Chiba City Museum of Art runs till July 31; admission ¥1,000; open 10 a.m.-6 p.m. (Fri., Sat. till 8 p.m.). For more information, visit www.ccma-net.jp (Japanese only).

Let's Talk About Art: Raku is so hot

Raku is a pottery-making technique that originated in Japan nearly 1,000 years ago. The dark lead-glazed pieces were used in tea ceremonies.

Fast forward to 2011: As a down and dirty creative activity, raku is one of the hottest forms of pottery-making in America. The fun includes starting a fire in a garbage can -- seriously! Finished pieces of earthenware are funky and rugged looking.

Layne Wyse, ceramics coordinator at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts, says raku is exciting because of the "red hot parts and smoke." He recently gave a tour of the facilities and explained the process for making raku pottery at PCA.

First, you form clay by hand or on a pottery wheel. At this stage the clay is called "greenware," and it is soft. The greenware is fired at a low temperature, becoming more porous and able to hold glaze.

Glaze is poured over the pot, and then it's time for the second firing, which happens in the specially constructed raku pavilion. Built in 2007, the Mr. and Mrs. Ira H. Gordon Pavilion has become a popular addition to PCA's campus, doubling as an intimate outdoor venue for summertime concerts and performances.

A large kiln is wheeled into the pavilion and hooked up to a gas line. The pots are placed inside, heated to 1,900 degrees Fahrenheit for an hour, then pulled out of the kiln by staff using gloves, eye protection and a mask. The pottery is then placed directly in the garbage can, with the lid closed.

This part of the process causes color and finishing changes to the pot. Areas with no glaze turn black, and glazed areas get a black crackle look with rich copper colors, Mr. Wyse explains. The finish could be glossy, or it might have a more matte-like texture.

"Part of the fun is that raku is unpredictable."

Pittsburgh Center for the Arts offers raku summer camps as well as a variety of other ceramics classes, including tile-making, mosaics and wheel-throwing. For more information: 412-361-0455.

By Anna Venishnick for PF/PCA
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/11179/1156618-437.stm