Hyperart: Thomasson

by Genpei Akasegawa

In the 1970s, estranged from the institutions and practices of high art, avant-garde artist and award-winning novelist Genpei Akasegawa launched an open-ended, participatory project to search the streets of Japan for strange objects which he and his collaborators labeled "hyperart," codifying them with an elaborate system of humorous nomenclature. Along with "modernologists" such as the Japanese urban anthropologist Kon Wajiro and his European contemporary, Walter Benjamin, Akasegawa is part of a lineage of modern wanderers of the cityscape. His work, which has captured the imagination of Japan, reads like a comic forerunner of the somber mixed-media writings of W.G. Sebald, and will appeal to all fans of modern literature, art, artistic/social movements and writing that combines visual images and text in the exploration of urban life. Matthew Fargo's first U.S. translation of Akasegawa's hilarious, brilliantly conceived exercise in collective observation is accompanied by essays from noted scholars Jordan Sand and Reiko Tomii.

Genres: Art, Architecture, Nonfiction, Japan, Urbanism

352 pages, Paperback

First published September 30, 2009

About the author

Genpei Akasegawa (Japanese: 赤瀬川原平) is a rare phenomenon, an artist who successfully transitioned from the avant-garde to the larger realm of popular culture. He emerged on the Japanese art scene around 1960, starting in the radical “Anti-Art” movement and becoming a member of the seminal artist collectives Neo Dada and Hi Red Center. The epic piece Model 1,000-Yen Note Incident (1963-1974), which involved a real-life police investigation and trial, cemented his place as an inspired conceptualist. His irreverent humor and cunning observation of everyday life made him popular as a writer, peaking with his 1998 book Rõjinryoku, in which he put forth a hilariously positive take on the declining capabilities of the elderly. Hyperart: Thomasson, marks a crucial turning point in his metamorphosis from a subversive culture to a popular culturatus.

Reviews

[Andrew]

I've been familiar with the "Thomasson" concept for some time, and here is Akasegawa's full typology. I'm not sure if it merits the full 400-page treatment, but it would be great as coffee-table material. The typologies themselves are pretty amusing, and I found myself thinking about them walking around town – hey, that's an atomic Thomasson, isn't it? In fact, it's persuasive enough that it's hard to get out of Thomasson-brain if you're the sort of person who likes paying attention to things.

[Ichor · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Thomasson” is the term coined by Japanese conceptual artist Genpei Akasegawa to describe vestigial remains of the urban past that can be found in any city around the world. These are the staircases that lead to dead ends, the doors which open into thin-air and the stumped telephone poles— pieces of “unintentional art created by the city itself”.

I guess the reason I get freaked out sometimes when looking at Thomassons is because it feels as though I’ve seen a ghost. The ghost of architecture, the ghost of physical space. It’s as if the spaces themselves were alive—or at least brought to life by people. People gave them breath. And so these living spaces also experience death, and their ghosts linger in the places they once lived.

They are not just street furniture and redundant structures forgotten and allowed to lapse into dereliction. No! Much to Akasegawa’s surprise he discovers that they are maintained. Yes, someone is looking after these canopies devoid of windows to protect, these gates to nowhere, these backfilled tunnel entrances—making sure that they are polished and as presentable as the rest of the built environment.

Avant-garde artists have something of a reputation for dense, abstract and altogether impenetrable prose—that’s why this book is a treat to read. Akasegawa’s genuine passion and childlike sense of wonderment are reflected in this endearingly humble work.

He begins by curiously observing individual occurrences before forming a research organisation to document them. Through art exhibitions, photography magazines and the art community in Tokyo the pursuit of Thomassons becomes a genuine phenomenon in 1970s and 80s urban Japan, with even the president of the Royal Observatory and local government workers rolling their sleeves up to go out with their cameras and hunt for these architectural ghosts.

[Leifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Most enjoyable book i've ever read about conceptual art!

[Paul]

Weird and quirky and fascinating - glad that I learned about it in the "99% Invisible City". So glad that it included pictures of the architectural items begin discussed.

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Imagine that you're walking through an older neighborhood when you stumble upon a bit of historical detritus - an unused upstairs doorway with no porch or stairs, a stairway that leads to a blank wall, or the remains of a building impressed into the facade of its neighbor. What's more, you notice that someone has spent some time and effort maintaining this vestige. They've painted the door, or repaired a broken stair.

This manifestation is what Japanese avant-garde Genpei Akasegawa designated Hyperart, "...something a hyperartist makes unconsciously--without any idea that they are doing so. A work of hyperart can have an assistant, but not a creator. In the end, all hyperart has is the person who discovers it." These particular manifestations are called Thomassons, after an American baseball player who went pro in Japan, only to have his career fizzle. He was being paid the largest salary that a Japanese professional baseball player had ever made, but he spent all his time on the bench. He was being maintained, while being otherwise useless, just like the inaccessible door and destinationless stairs.

Hyperart: Thomasson is a collection of articles from a Japanese photography magazine, aggregated into book form, and then translated by Matthew Fargo. The book is worth the read, if only for the excellent discussion of the art and practice of translation offered by Mr. Fargo.

For one who's not feeling up to the full book (it can be tedious), I recommend Roman Mars' excellent 99 Percent Invisible piece on it (http://99percentinvisible.org/episode...), where I originally heard about the book.

[Melanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a really cool book. It was so different from anything I've ever read before. I liked the idea of found objects that could be found by anybody, and that these found objects in their uselessness found purpose in the form of becoming art. The author argues that art serves no true purpose. It has no function other than the hang or sit somewhere, so these found objects having lost their original purpose became art. It's a complex idea that stirs up other questions about the definition of art and purpose.

[Takashi Sakai · Rating 4 out of 5]

・東京に幽霊が出る．トマソンという幽霊である．
・都市という物件は，大自然に発生した人類による一時的な現象であり，いずれは崩壊してまた大自然の中に埋もれていくのであった．

現在はこの本の時代ほどトマソンがあるとは思えないけど，街歩きが楽しくなる見方をもらえた．今すぐ街に行きたくなる本．

[Mills College Library]

709.2 A3136 2009

[Bill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Why did it take me half a dozen years to discover this life-changing book, introducing a concept that fundamentally enriches my relationship to the built environment? Read my full review at https://www.interestingideas.com/upda...

[Mariano · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picture, well, that picture. You see some stairs leading into the subway. But there's something odd: part of the stairs lead into a solid wall. Thus, commuters will have to change their course before impacting the wall and losing consciousness and a teeth or two. But.... what is that? A.... rail! A rail to keep commuters from crashing into the deadly wall. But.... then, the only function of the rail is to make unreachable the already useless part of the stairs.

So useless... so beautiful!

And that's it. The rail makes part of the stairs even more useless than what it was, but the only reason to exist for the rail is said part of the stairs. A useless human physical intervention that defies logic and purpose, and can only be described as further than art: that is a Thomasson, that is hyperart.

If you want to laugh looking at other ridiculous and interesting examples of fortuitous art, check out Genpei's book. Maybe you will not learn anything of use.... or maybe you'll start to look at your surroundings with more intent. You will seek steps that lead nowhere, doors that cannot be used, and chimneys with no building. You will also try to know their stories. And then you will publish your investigation with other fans of the absurd. Whatever you do, remeber to always, always, document and catalog!

A trove of hidden treasures for the avid urban explorer, in Japan or aywhere in the world. Supa kawaii. Check it out!