- Views Public Bathhouses: Take a Dip in Everyday Japan
- Tanaka Mizuki: The Young Woman Keeping the Tradition of Bathhouse Paintings Alive
- [2017.03.23] Read in: 日本語 | 简体字 | 繁體字 | FRANÇAIS | ESPAÑOL | Русский |
Many traditional neighborhood bathhouses are decorated with huge murals, often featuring Mount Fuji. Today, this tradition is kept alive by just three specialized artists. We spend the day with one of them, a young painter looking to carry the form into the future.
Tanaka MizukiBorn in Osaka in 1983, grew up in Tokyo. Studied art history at Meiji Gakuin University. Started work as a bathhouse painter as an apprentice to master painter Nakajima Morio in 2004, while she was still a student. Started her own business with her husband in 2013 focusing on bathhouses and building renovation. Spreads the attractions of sentō culture through her blog and other activities.
Keeping a Japanese Tradition Alive
The mere mention of the word sentō (or neighborhood public bath) is enough to trigger nostalgia pangs in most Japanese people old enough to have memories of daily visits to the local bathhouse in their younger years. In recent decades, as bathing at home has become the norm, the number of public baths has declined steadily. According to a nationwide survey carried out in April 2016, sentō have gone from a peak of around 18,000 in 1968 to just 2,625 today. An essential part of the bathhouse experience for many people are the huge murals of Mount Fuji that fill the space above the baths. These paintings are the work of a small band of specialists. At one time dozens of artists around the country specialized in this work, but today only three remain. The oldest, Maruyama Kiyoto, is now 81. Another, Nakajima Morio, is 71, and was officially designated a Contemporary Master Craftsman by the government last year. The third is a little different: She is Tanaka Mizuki, a young woman in her thirties.
One day in January this year, Tanaka set up her ladders and scaffolding inside the Nakanoyu bathhouse in Kasai, located in Edogawa, Tokyo, and got to work on a new painting of Mount Fuji that straddles the women’s and men’s baths. As usual, Tanaka needed to work fast. The plan was to finish the sprawling mural on the one day a week the bathhouse is closed. The mural was to cover an area around six meters across and three meters high from the height of the tubs. Tanaka clambered onto a ladder and started from a patch of sky close to the ceiling.
Tanaka works with her husband and business partner. They start by scraping off the places where the old paint has started to peel, then painting work, begins on the sky. Tanaka’s husband, handyman Komamura Yoshikazu, is the one up the ladder in this picture.
The previous painting decorating the walls of the Nakanoyu was a fresh and invigorating picture of Mount Fuji done by the late Hayakawa Toshimitsu. Because paint deteriorates over time, it is normal for the murals to be replaced every few years. And when repainting the pictures, an iron rule is to make the painting new by shifting the position of the various elements—they should differ when viewed from the women’s and men’s sections—and varying the coloring, even if the basic subject of the painting remains the same, which in the case of sentō is customarily Mount Fuji.
Tanaka’s work starts with the job of scraping away old paint that has started to peel. Then she starts to paint the sky, before adding clouds, foreground, background, and Fujisan, carefully maintaining a sense of balance in the picture all the time as her paintbrush constantly swishes back and forth. It is a job requiring attention to detail as well as vision, concentration, and physical strength. When one side is finished, she moves her gear and gets to work on the other half. By the time the picture is finally finished it is nearly nine o’clock at night. The bathhouse now sports a new, soothing image of Mount Fuji with a more gentle and relaxing color scheme than its predecessors.
Tanaka studied art history at Meiji Gakuin University, but she is too young to have memories of visiting the local bathhouse as a child. This leads to the question of how she came to make a career out of painting bathhouse pictures.
Tanaka says she became interested in contemporary art as a student. Her favorite artists are Fukuda Miran, whose works boldly reinterpret historical pieces, and Tabaimo, who treats scenes from everyday life in daring new perspectives. Tanaka became fascinated by the two artists’ use of public baths as a motif, and this prompted her to visit a public bath for the first time as a university student. As she soaked in the hot water and looked at the paintings on the wall, she noticed how the murals helped to add depth to the space and seemed to lure visitors on a journey away from the everyday world. She says she was entranced by the strange attraction of the paintings.
Tanaka also accepts commissions for bathroom paintings in private homes. A few years ago she was approached by a British couple and traveled to London to complete an assignment. The painting depicted Enoshima, a local landmark in Fujisawa, Kanagawa Prefecture, where the couple lived during their time in Japan.
“Time seems to move at a different pace inside a sentō. A lot of the time the bathhouses are built to resemble Buddhist temples. As soon as you walk in you can sense you’ve entered a different space. I like soaking and gazing up at the painting of Mount Fuji. You seem to enter a kind of reverie. Old memories start to come floating back. Sometimes one of the regulars will strike up a conversation. You have these brief interesting experiences. And even though it’s only half an hour or so, I always feel like I’m on a trip to some faraway place.”
Tanaka’s exposure to sentō culture made her interested in finding out more about the painters, and she ended up writing her graduation thesis on the history of the bathhouse paintings. She realized that with many of the bathhouse buildings deteriorating from age and no one available to take over the business traditional sentō were closing one after another, with obvious consequences for the painters who made their living from the bathhouses. Tanaka knew that the few remaining painters were getting older and realized that unless the situation changed, in 100 years’ time this precious culture would be lost forever. “So I thought, if there are no young artists around who can paint these pictures, the quickest thing would be for me to learn to do it myself,” she says. She applied to be taken on as a trainee by Nakajima Morio, and began her apprenticeship in 2004.
The labor was demanding, but observing the master at work held a fascination of its own. “There was something therapeutic about watching these huge murals gradually take shape.” For several years after she started, Tanaka was allowed to paint only skies. Day after day, blue sky after blue sky. This experience made her realize that although masters like Nakajima made it look easy, painting evenly on a wall that often contained bumps and holes required considerable technique. First of all, she had to learn how to handle the paint.
Another early challenge was learning how to give a natural sense of movement to clouds and make them seem to drift naturally in the sky. At first she tended simply to apply big dollops of white paint to the wall in simple shapes. Nakajima was scornful of these early efforts. “That’s not a cloud,” he would say. By painting the subtle gradations and variations of color day after day, Tanaka steadily improved her skills.