In this Gender Reader, the wage gap: international edition, masculinities in Chinese and Korean dramas, Ariana Miyamoto, and research on attitudes toward coming out in Japan.
Archive for the ‘Culture’ Category
CHIHO AOSHIMA: REBIRTH OF THE WORLD
MAY 2 – OCT 4 2015
Seattle Asian Art Museum
Here’s what I love about Chiho Aoshima’s show, in a nutshell: the repetition of the theme of the delicate sylph whose flatulence creates smoke clouds billowing from volcanos while Buddha and entourage look on.
Aoshima’s digital and hand drawns are in the superflat style, but whereas the tween-girl characters of Mr.’s show had cutesy moe details, like bandaids and pigtails, Aoshima’s figures reject that aesthetic. Her mural-size piece Rebirth and the video installation Takaamanohara have been compared to Hieronymus Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights.
Update: sign the bilingual petition to Fuji TV to stop the performance on Change.org.
I’ve spent all weekend ranting about the Fifty Shades of Grey, but in the meantime, the Japanese band Rats & Star is planning a joint performance with idol group Momoiro Clover Z for Music Fair on March 7. Rats and Star plays Motown-inspired music–and performs in blackface; Momoiro Clover Z will be joining them, also in blackface. There are some images of this in the tweets embedded below.
Of course, there’s all the usual excuses used regarding cultural appropriation devoid of any sense of the history of minstrel shows in the US or race in Japan. I want to signal-boost some important links and tweets here. Content warning: links may contain images of blackface; racism, ignorance.
Major hat tip to Hiroko Tabuchi for re/tweeting many of these and calling out the performance.
Welcome, Feminist Friday readers! Although I’ve written about the wonderful world of genderswap* before in regards to Ôoku, today I’ll be taking a look at mainstream- and fan-created genderswapped works in English-language media and what they reveal about social norms and fans.
Live On: Mr.’s Japanese Neo-Pop at the Seattle Asian Art Museum is, to use an old slang term, frantic. My friend and museum companion hadn’t been through the permanent collection yet, and after an hour or so of contemplating mainly contemporary ink pieces, delicate snuff bottles, and lavishly detailed Persian paintings set in the elegant art deco building, we arrived at the eye-popping, jarringly neon moé world of Mr.’s neo-pop art.