A large-scale solo exhibition by the art collective SIDE CORE is currently being held for the first time in Tokyo at the Watari-um Museum of Contemporary Art in Jingumae. SIDE CORE’s mission is to explore the “expansion of expression in urban spaces.” How can we find excitement in the city, intervene in its spaces, and seek out new forms of expression? Put simply, they are “artists who create in the city.”
The exhibition is divided into three themes: (1) Perspective, (2) Action, and (3) Storytelling. After experiencing all the works, you’ll likely notice a shift in how you see and hear your surroundings. The city becomes fascinating—the street signs, the space between buildings, the water flowing into the gutters—all suddenly intriguing. The senses you’ve unconsciously muted for everyday life may return, and you’ll start to find humor in the chaos and randomness of the space you’re living in.
Ironically, the day I visited for coverage was a rainy day as a typhoon approached. That morning, Tokyo’s disaster infrastructure, the Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Channel (nicknamed the “Underground Temple”), was activated, making ‘#UndergroundTemple’ a trending topic. In hindsight, there may not have been a more fitting day to engage with SIDE CORE’s works.
Below is a selection of highlights from the captivating ‘SIDE CORE Exhibition | Concrete Planet’ that I’ll report on.
INDEX
Chapter 1: “Perspective” — How to View the City?
On the second floor, the first eye-catching piece is Tokyo Streets. The wall displaying the artwork rotates slowly, illuminated irregularly by natural light and light from the pieces on the opposite side. The large screen features a collage of familiar roadwork signs. However, each piece of text and pictogram, while appearing similar, has subtle differences upon closer inspection (such as the angle of a person holding a shovel or the brim of a helmet). Unlike road signs or emergency exits, construction signs lack a standardized design, resulting in a “kind of like this, right?” discrepancy akin to a game of broken telephone. The prism reflective materials used in the signs are also varied, creating a beautiful and elusive play of light.
The light source is Breath of the Night. One side of a car’s headlight is mounted on the wall and flickers in complex patterns synchronized with programmed music. The single headlight can resemble an animal’s eye or even wings.
The highlight is the large installation piece Time for Computers and Bulldozers on the right. Balls are dropped from the third floor into iron pipes, and the resulting sounds create a “sound sculpture” that immerses the audience. The sharp, resonant metal noises are much more intense than expected, resembling the sound of subway brakes. Eventually, when the balls are ejected into a simple bucket at the far right, the space regains its tranquility. I was surprised by the small size of the balls, but what struck me most was that the piece relies on the museum staff to collect and replenish the balls at regular intervals. It’s intriguing to think that the piece cannot function without people… but upon reflection, almost everything in the city is made by people for people and fundamentally depends on human presence for its existence.
Soft Buildings, Hard Ground is a ceramic sculpture. It features objects that seem to lack clear ownership, such as street blocks, broken bottles, haphazardly placed plants, and broken umbrellas—items that are suspended in their existence. While trash thrown into a household bin is considered personal waste, objects left on the street acquire an odd sense of publicness and become part of the urban landscape.
Ceramics, created through shaping and firing clay, are often considered humanity’s first industrial waste. The artist uses ceramics as a symbolic medium to create objects that exist in the zone between the individual and the city. It’s amusing to think that if a major earthquake buried the Watari-um Museum underground, future generations might discover this artwork and scratch their heads in curiosity.