Author: nakano

Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum

A major retrospective exhibition , "Andrew Wyeth Exhibition: Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum," which interprets Andrew Wyeth (1917-2009), a national painter representing 20th-century American figurative painting, through the theme of "boundaries," is currently being held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum. The exhibition runs until July 5, 2026 (Sunday).

*All works featured in this article are by Andrew Wyeth.

Andrew Wyeth, who was active throughout the 20th century, distanced himself from the avant-garde art movements that swept the era, such as Abstract Expressionism, Neo-Dada, and Pop Art. Based in his hometown of Pennsylvania and Maine, where he spent his summers, he continued to meticulously depict the people and landscapes around him throughout his life.

While his style is realistic, it's not merely a reproduction of the scenes he sees. What unfolds is a unique, autobiographical world of painting that reflects introspective images, yet it contains universal elements that resonate with everyone's emotions and memories. In addition, because he repeatedly confronted limited lands and human relationships, even without depicting a clear narrative, the accumulated time, the presence and memories of the people who lived there, certainly permeate the canvas. This quiet drama is also a unique charm of Wyeth's work.

This exhibition is the first large-scale retrospective of Wyeth's work in Japan in 17 years, and the first since his death. Unlike typical retrospectives that present his works chronologically from his early years to his later life, this exhibition focuses on the expression of "boundaries" that functioned as connections to a more private world, such as "windows" and "doors," which frequently appear in Wyeth's works. Of the approximately 100 works on display, more than 10 are being shown in Japan for the first time.

Chapter 1, "The Painter Wyeth," begins with his self-portrait (1945), which depicts the painter himself in his twenties walking through a desolate field with a sketchbook in his hand and a grim expression on his face.

Wyeth was born in 1917 as the youngest child in a family of artists. He was frail from a young age and unable to attend school, instead spending his days wandering his neighborhood alone, sketching and nurturing his creativity. In his late teens, he received formal instruction at the studio of his father, the renowned illustrator N.C. Wyeth, where his talent blossomed. His struggles and search for his own expression under the influence of his great father formed the foundation of his introspective style.

At the age of 20, his artistic career seemed to be going smoothly, culminating in the complete sell-out of all his works at his first solo watercolor exhibition in New York. However, in 1945, the year he painted his "Self-Portrait," at the age of 28, his father and nephew, who were both obstacles he needed to overcome and his spiritual pillars, died suddenly in a railway crossing accident. From then on, Wyeth gained the perspective that "everything is in flux," and he deepened his unique world of painting, which was fundamentally rooted in a view of life and death that emphasized the impermanence of the world.

This chapter focuses on the meticulous tempera paintings that Wyeth enthusiastically worked on, including his self-portrait.

Tempera, a classical technique that gradually fell out of favor after the rise of oil painting, involves dissolving pigments in egg yolk and water and applying thin layers repeatedly. Wyeth received his initial instruction from his brother-in-law and father's pupil, Peter Heard. For Wyeth, who disliked the glossy sheen of oil paints, tempera, with its rough, dry texture and the ability to achieve extremely detailed depictions, was an ideal medium of expression. Wyeth cherished the chic colors produced using only natural materials, considering them the colors of his homeland.

In watercolor painting, he employs the "dry brush" technique, where he applies a small amount of paint with minimal water, layering it by rubbing it across the canvas. This technique vividly portrays the rough textures of plants and walls, and even the wind-blown air, as if weaving a tapestry. The melancholic, poetic quality of his paintings is undoubtedly supported by this technique.

"Mother Archie's Church" (1945) is a tempera painting depicting a church that served as a spiritual haven for the African American community. The building is in ruins, but a white dove flies in through an open window. The composition, which also touches on the exhibition's theme of "boundaries," can be interpreted as not simply showing signs of loss, but rather a glimmer of faint hope.

Chadds Ford, the rural village where Wyeth grew up, was home to African American communities and immigrants with German roots. Even in an era of deep-seated discrimination and prejudice, Wyeth befriended these people and depicted many of them as models for his works.

Chapter 2, "Light and Shadow," focuses on one of Wyeth's characteristic features: his skillful use of contrast between light and shadow.

Many of Wyeth's works feature a coexistence of areas that are intensely lit and areas that are dimly lit. This is not a dramatic, spotlight-like effect seen in 17th-century Baroque paintings, but rather a natural representation of light as it is in reality. However, this contrast is not merely a visual technique to emphasize contrast; it sometimes quietly highlights boundaries that separate and connect these two areas, such as windows and doorways.

Wyeth's own experiences and emotions were embedded in his use of light and shadow, and it was an important element in shaping the serene drama. For example, in works such as "Bell-Ringed Rope" (1951) and "Cooling Shed" (1953), the light shining through the darkness conveys a sense of anticipation for the outside world and a premonition of liberation.

In "Laundry" (1961), laundry hanging in the garden of Wyeth's studio is blown by the wind and illuminated by bright light along with the basket. In contrast, the inside of the window is dark and gloomy, but upon closer inspection, the two are not disconnected but connected by a clothesline. There is a sense of warmth in his gaze towards his wife Betsy, who simultaneously handled the behind-the-scenes work of a capable manager and the duties of a housewife who supported the home.

Furthermore, Wyeth continued to confront the inescapable question of "life and death" through the accidental death of his father, as mentioned earlier, and the near-death experience he had five years later due to a lung disease. In "Nap" (1963), a white cat basks in the sun against the backdrop of deep darkness beyond the door of a barn. The cat is in a state of "sleep," which is associated with death, but the place where it is sleeping is the boundary between light and shadow. This can be seen as an expression of Wyeth's philosophy that "life and death" are not opposing forces, but rather a continuum and interconnected.

The section of this exhibition that takes up the most space is Chapter 3, "A New England House—Olson House."

Every summer, Wyeth would spend time in Cushing, Maine, in the New England region where the quintessential American landscape still remains. The painting "The Olson House" (1939), displayed at the beginning of this chapter, is a watercolor he painted shortly after his first visit to the Olson siblings' home, accompanied by Betsy, who would later become his wife. Immediately captivated by the building, which stood alone on a hill and had an irregular shape due to renovations and additions, Wyeth used the second floor of the house as his studio for the next 30 years, producing a vast number of works.

For Wyeth, pencil drawings were "a way to express the strong emotions I felt with the subject," and he usually sketched quickly, as if to unleash his impulses. On the other hand, with regard to the Olson House, perhaps he was looking ahead to its inevitable demise. He meticulously captured every detail, from the windows to each panel, as if finishing a portrait, leaving behind drawings that vividly record its features.

It wasn't just the buildings that captivated Wyeth. He was also deeply drawn to the character of Christina, the older sister who, despite being disabled in her legs due to a progressive illness, possessed a noble independence, and her patient younger brother, Alvaro, who gave up his beloved fishing at sea to work on the farm in order to support her. In particular, he held Christina, who possessed a mental strength that he himself lacked despite growing up in a privileged family, in high esteem, and he made her the muse for many of his works, including the masterpiece "Christina's World" (owned by the Museum of Modern Art, New York, not included in this exhibition).

Another representative portrait is "Christina Olson" (1947), which captures Christina sitting on the steps of the back doorway, bathed in the afternoon sun, after finishing her kitchen work. Wyeth said that her figure "reminded him of a wounded seagull," and this too occupies a boundary between inside and outside.

Christina, unable to easily go outside due to her physical limitations, might be considered a being belonging more to the dark, indoor world. However, she casts her gaze out through an open doorway to the sunlit outside world, and the wind blowing in from outside the frame makes her hair flutter, giving the painting a sense of life. Here, boundaries are not depicted as something that divides something, but as a passage that creates interaction between inside and outside. Next to it is a preliminary sketch of "hair not swaying in the wind," illustrating how important the depiction of wind was to Wyeth.

Maine was one of the earliest states to be settled, and the Olson siblings, who lived in an old house dating back to the early 19th century, had a father who was also an immigrant from Sweden. Wyeth may have seen in the siblings' modest yet resilient life the people who built the foundation of America. In this way, rather than focusing on easily recognizable symbols such as the Stars and Stripes or the skyscrapers of New York, Wyeth deeply embraced the primal landscapes connected to history and the dignity of the quiet people who lived there, and it was this that he became a painter who depicted America and gained the support of the public.

Alvaro died in December 1967, followed shortly after by Christina in January 1968. The following summer, Wyeth visited the empty house and created "The End of the Olson Family" (1969). The painting depicts a chimney reminiscent of Christina's kitchen work, the cove where Alvaro once fished, and a small swallow flying freely in the sky. When compared to the juxtaposed study, the "window frame," the boundary separating the foreground and background of the painting, has been removed in this work, revealing Wyeth's deep longing to continue his connection with the siblings who had already passed away.

Wyeth is known for consistently painting the same subjects over many years, including the Olson siblings, his Pennsylvania neighbor Karl Kerner (a former military officer), and Helga Testorf, who cared for Kerner. Chapter 4, "The Breadth of the Gaze," focuses on the painter's approach of constantly searching for "that moment when the switch flips" in familiar landscapes, as well as the breadth of his motifs that extended beyond just people.

In this chapter, works featuring chairs as a motif, such as "The Passenger on Board" (1982), "High Stool" (1985), and "Island Porch" (1999), are particularly striking. "Model's Chair" (1982) depicts a white chair and clothing on which a woman named Anne Cole was resting. The absence of a model was chosen because it was thought to better represent Anne's character. Here, the chair can be said to play a role in the intersection of presence and absence. Wyeth often used this technique, deliberately removing figures from the canvas, to paradoxically bring out their presence and inner feelings.

"Lighthouse" (1983) depicts a scene at a lighthouse on Southern Island, Maine. Betsy's dog, Gnome, sits politely in front of the open door, hinting at the outside world beyond the stairs. The lighthouse's light is what sustains the lives of sailors continuing their voyages. Gnome seems to be taking on the role of a lighthouse keeper, protecting their lifeline in place of his master.

In the final chapter, "Boundaries or Windows," we return to the motif of boundaries, particularly windows, and delve deeper into the underlying themes that permeate Wyeth's paintings.

"Geranium" (1960) captures Christina inside the Olson House through a window. However, Christina's figure is so faint that one might not notice her unless pointed out, and her presence is hinted at only by a single red geranium, which she was said to have loved. Sunlight streams in through the window in the background, and, like "Christina Olson," it conveys that her world is not closed off but connected to the bright outside world.

At first glance, "Thin Ice" (1969) appears to be an abstract painting, but it depicts a view of fallen leaves submerged in a waterway near Wyeth's home, seen through a thin layer of ice. This work was created during a period when Wyeth was grappling with a deep sense of loss after the death of Christina the previous year, and Wyeth himself said that the countless submerged leaves represent his experiences and the people he had met. In that context, it is possible to interpret what lies beyond this thin ice as the "world of death."

However, upon closer inspection, we notice tiny bubbles indicating the flow of water, revealing that it is not a completely still realm of death. Furthermore, the way a single leaf protrudes from the ice, casting a shadow on its surface, eloquently illustrates Wyeth's view of life and death, suggesting that life and death are not in opposition but rather a continuum.

Wyeth's paintings, while always imbued with a sense of loss, also exude a faint glimmer of hope in the light streaming through the window and the image of birds crossing a boundary. His "aesthetics of transience" resonates deeply with the Japanese aesthetic sensibility. This exhibition, the first large-scale retrospective since his death, will provide an opportunity to re-examine the serene drama of his work.

Overview of the "Andrew Wyeth Exhibition Commemorating the 100th Anniversary of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum"

*The information in this article is current as of the time of reporting. Please check the exhibition's official website for the latest information.

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Taito City Calligraphy Museum

The Taito City Calligraphy Museum, located in Negishi, Taito Ward, Tokyo, is a rare specialized museum in Japan dedicated solely to calligraphy. It boasts a collection of approximately 16,000 items of significant importance for the study of Chinese and Japanese calligraphy history. Beyond the ink writing on paper that many people imagine when they hear the word “calligraphy,” the museum’s appeal lies in its ability to trace the history of Chinese writing and characters through diverse written materials, such as “oracle bone scriptures,” the oldest existing Chinese characters inscribed on turtle shells and bones, and “stone scriptures,” Confucian classics inscribed on stone.

The Calligraphy Museum is currently holding a special exhibition, “Nakamura Fusetsu 160th Anniversary Special Feature,” to commemorate the 160th anniversary of the birth of its founder, Nakamura Fusetsu (1866-1943), who was both a Western-style painter and a calligrapher. The exhibition showcases works and materials from throughout his life. (The exhibition runs until July 12th, 2026.)

Unlike typical museum exhibits, this exhibition features a large number of oil paintings, watercolors, and newspaper illustrations, making it an accessible exhibition even for art fans who might feel that calligraphy is difficult or intimidating.

This time, we were given a tour of the exhibition by Mr. Nobuhiro Nakamura, the chief researcher at the museum.

*There will be changes to the exhibits during the exhibition period. See the list of exhibits here .
First half of the exhibition: April 4th (Sat) – May 24th (Sun)
Late exhibition: May 26th (Tuesday) – July 12th (Sunday)

*All featured works are from the collection of the Taito City Calligraphy Museum.

Nakamura Fusetsu (formerly Nakamura Sekitaro), famous for creating the sign lettering for “Shinjuku Nakamuraya,” was a figure who left a significant mark on both the Western-style painting and calligraphy worlds throughout the Meiji, Taisho, and Showa periods.

Born in Kyobashi, Edo in 1866, Fusetsu lost his job as an official of the shogunate during the turmoil of the Meiji Restoration when he was five years old. Relying on his mother’s connections, he moved to Nagano, where he spent his boyhood working as an apprentice in a kimono shop and as a confectioner, while studying Chinese classics, Nanga painting, and calligraphy in his free time. Aspiring to become a mathematician, he became an elementary school teacher at the age of 19, teaching arithmetic and drawing, but he soon realized that language proficiency was essential to learning more advanced mathematics. For Fusetsu, who had a hearing impairment, this was not an easy path, and he decided to seriously pursue his second-choice dream: painting.

“Based on these experiences, I decided to use the name ‘Fuzetsu’ (meaning ‘unwavering’ or ‘unsettled’) to express my determination that I would never be discouraged or lose heart again,” says Nakamura.

In 1887, at the age of 23, he moved to Tokyo and, relying on a relative, lodged in a vacant room at the villa of Takahashi Korekiyo, who would later become Prime Minister. He enrolled in the art school “Fudosha,” run by the Western-style painter Koyama Shotaro, and received painting instruction there for over a decade.

The exhibition room on the first floor begins with a collection of works created during his time as a student at the art school, including sketches and watercolors of landscapes using the one-point perspective technique of Western painting, and his first surviving oil painting, “Self-Portrait.” The art school’s educational policy emphasized thorough drawing, and students were only allowed to paint watercolors and then oil paintings after they had fully mastered pencil drawing. Therefore, Fusetsu and other students would travel from Sendagi, where the Fudōsha art school was located, to suburbs such as Kichijōji, spending their days sketching landscapes and receiving critiques.

 Amidst the tide of nationalism, Fusetsu struggled to make a living as a Western-style painter. A major turning point came in 1894, when he was 29 years old. He was selected to be the illustrator for the newspaper “Ko-Nippon,” edited by Masaoka Shiki, a haiku poet and journalist. This caught the attention of literary giants and haiku poets, and gradually he began to receive requests for illustrations and book designs for books and magazines.

“At the time, the Nippon Shimbun, the newspaper company to which Shiki belonged, was frequently suspended from publication for publishing articles that severely criticized the government’s diplomatic stance and Westernization policies. To mitigate the losses incurred during these suspensions, they planned to create ‘Ko-Nihon,’ an illustrated newspaper for families. Shiki asked his friend, the painter Asai Chu, to find an illustrator who was skilled in that field, and Asai Chu introduced him to Fusetsu, with whom he had a relationship at the Fudōsha publishing house. Not only was Fusetsu highly skilled at drawing, but he could also draw lines that were easy for the woodblock carvers to handle, with effective use of omission and emphasis, and he had a strong ability to compose pictures. Shiki recognized Fusetsu’s talent at a glance. Fusetsu was skilled at both drawing and writing, and he was also very reliable as he always met deadlines,” says Nakamura.

Being close in age, Shiki and Fusetsu became inseparable friends, and the following year, in 1895, they traveled to China as war correspondents (and painters) during the First Sino-Japanese War. However, when they arrived, a ceasefire was declared, leaving them without work. Fusetsu accepted Shiki’s invitation and spent about four months traveling around China and the Korean Peninsula, sketching along the way.

Upon his first encounter with continental culture, Fusetsu became deeply engrossed in the allure of calligraphy. While conducting research, he encountered valuable archaeological materials, including rubbings (copies of characters inscribed on stone monuments, etc., made with paper and ink; used as models for copying calligraphy). After returning to Japan, he spent his personal fortune collecting materials from used bookstores and antique shops, building the collection that now forms the basis of the Calligraphy Museum.

The first half of the second-floor exhibition room traces the development of Fusetsu’s career as a Western-style painter.

Seeking to further advance his career as a painter, Fusetsu went to Paris to study in 1901 (Meiji 34) at the age of 36. He studied under Raphael Collin, a French academic painter who had mentored Kuroda Seiki, and then under the historical painter Jean-Paul Laurens, honing his skills for about four years.

“Back then, studying abroad typically involved either government or zaibatsu (financial conglomerates) assistance, or selling artwork in America, where Japonism was popular, to raise funds before heading to France, the birthplace of Japonism. However, Fusetsu, who had struggled financially since childhood, was independent and frugal, so he diligently saved the income he earned from newspaper illustrations and other sources, and, very unusually for the time, managed to raise a large sum of money for his studies abroad on his own before his departure. Furthermore, the year before he left, he bought a house with an atelier outright and gave his wife and children a substantial amount of money for living expenses before he departed. In response to Fusetsu’s extraordinary determination, Ito Sachio (a tanka poet and novelist) presented him with ‘Ten Tanka Poems to Send You Off to Europe,’ filled with deep friendship and wishes for his success. Be sure to check out that ‘overwhelmingly passionate’ message,” says Nakamura.

In the exhibition held during her studies in Paris, four nude studies stand out.

Although Fusetsu had honed his sketching skills at Fudōsha, as evidenced by his early nude studies abroad, where hands and toes are vaguely depicted, it was difficult to say that he had received sufficient training in depicting the human body. Laurence saw these drawings and determined that Fusetsu had not yet reached the stage of drawing the whole body. She began rigorous instruction, starting with partial sketches of hands and feet, and within a few months, Fusetsu had mastered the precise techniques of depicting the human body.

“Around 1900, new movements such as Impressionism had already emerged, but in academic art education, traditional historical paintings dealing with religion and mythology still held the top spot in the hierarchy. To tackle historical paintings with groups of people, one had to differentiate the skeletal structure and skin texture of men and women of all ages, otherwise the painting would lack persuasiveness. Therefore, it was necessary to thoroughly study nudes as a foundation. My tireless efforts paid off, and two years later I had developed enough skill to be selected as 10th out of 200 people in a competition at the art school,” (Nakamura).

After returning to Japan in 1905 at the age of 40, Fusetsu became a leading figure in the Western-style painting world, serving as a member of the Pacific Painting Association and the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts, and as a judge for the Ministry of Education’s art exhibitions. He also dedicated himself to nurturing future generations of artists as the first principal of the Pacific Painting Association Research Institute (later the Pacific Art School). In his own work, he made historical painting, which he learned from Laurens, his life’s work, and he produced many Western-style paintings based on Oriental stories, utilizing the knowledge he had cultivated through his study of calligraphy.

His most representative work is the one created in his later years. Yi Qi’s Admonition Listen and admonish This is the image. In the center of the screen is Confucius, pointing to the “Yi Qi,” a vessel that can overturn whether empty or full, but becomes level when filled halfway with water. This piece depicts a story from the Spring and Autumn period of China, in which a wise ruler teaches his disciples not to become arrogant by seeking more than their capabilities allow, but to use moderation as a cautionary tale.

The latter half of the second-floor exhibition room focuses on calligraphy, Japanese paintings, newspaper illustrations, and interactions with literary giants.

In 1908, at the age of 43, Fusetsu suffered a nervous breakdown due to his busy schedule and was ordered by his doctor to stop all work. While staying at Isobe Onsen in Gunma Prefecture for recuperation, he worked on “Ryūminjō,” a collection of 20 poems by Su Zhe, a literati of the Northern Song dynasty. This work, written as a pastime during his recovery, unexpectedly became a turning point. The haiku poet Kawahigashi Hekigoto saw the work and strongly recommended that it be published. Following the advice that “making changes would diminish the spirit of the work,” Fusetsu published it as his debut work, leaving the mistakes as they were. As a result, the work attracted attention for its bold and free calligraphic style that was not bound by rules, and it became a sensation as the so-called “Fusetsu style.”

Compared to the weighty and powerful “Ryūmon Nijūhin” and other calligraphic works from the Nanboku-chō period that Fusetsu diligently studied, the writing style of “Ryūminjō” is quite different. Those unfamiliar with calligraphy may be puzzled, but Nakamura points out that this is “a sensibility typical of the Japanese, which places importance on form.”

“Japanese people tend to try to imitate a model when one is next to them. On the continent, form is not generally emphasized. The result is a unique style of calligraphy that comes from absorbing and exhaling the aura of the model. This is also a difference between Western and Eastern art; the West pursues realism in what is visible, while the East tries to express what is invisible. For this reason, the literati who led the political culture of ancient China valued poetry, which gives form to words that emerge from the heart, and calligraphy, which records those words in writing, above all else,” (Nakamura).

Another characteristic is that he does not fix the form of the characters within a single work, but rather embraces the mixing of various typefaces and letterforms. In fact, in the manuscript for the stone monument “Nishinomiya Sake Brewery Co., Ltd. President Ito Noriyoshi Monument Scroll,” which consists of more than 700 characters, the same characters appear many times, but almost no two are the same in form. The sheer variety of variations, such as the variant character where the “eight” part of the character “醸” is changed to “□□” or “△△,” reveals Fusetsu’s deep knowledge of calligraphy. Although expressions such as blurring and smudging are suppressed because the work is intended to be carved as a stone monument, the fact that individuality is not lost is a strength of Fusetsu’s style.

The documents illustrating his relationships with prominent Meiji-era writers are also extremely interesting. When Fusetsu, who had just returned from studying abroad, illustrated Natsume Soseki’s “I Am a Cat,” the first edition sold out in just 20 days, proving to be incredibly popular. Following the success of his debut novel, Soseki sent Fusetsu a polite letter of thanks.

“Soseki’s usual handwriting has a rather rough, textured quality, but this thank-you letter is written in beautifully crisp characters. He must have been very happy that it sold out,” (Nakamura).

Mori Ogai was deeply devoted to Fusetsu’s calligraphy. On his deathbed, Ogai left a will requesting that his tombstone be inscribed with only his real name, “Mori Ogai’s Tombstone” (森森太郎墓), in Fusetsu’s calligraphy, rather than any titles such as “Mori Ogai” or “Army Surgeon.” He passed away in 1922. The tombstone inscribed by Fusetsu, who fulfilled this request, can still be seen today at Zenrinji Temple in Mitaka City, Tokyo.

However, when plans were made to publish Ogai’s complete works after his death, a debate arose regarding the title. Opinions were divided on whether to title it “The Complete Works of Mori Ogai,” respecting Ogai’s preference for not using the pen name “Mori Ogai” in his later years, or “The Complete Works of Ogai,” considering his name recognition. A letter from Yosano Tekkan, who belonged to the latter faction, greatly influenced the decision.

“Yosano Tekkan had already asked Fusetsu, who was unaware of the situation, to write the title ‘Ogai Complete Works.’ He created a situation where, since Fusetsu had already written it, there was no choice but to proceed as planned. As a result, the difficulties Fusetsu had with the calligraphy were taken into consideration, and a compromise was reached by adding ‘Written by Mori Taro’ next to the title,” (Nakamura).

Fusetsu considered himself strictly a Western-style painter, and even said that “calligraphy is a pastime.” Perhaps it was precisely because of this that he was able to approach calligraphy as a pure expression unbound by formality, and his free-flowing calligraphic style attracted many people, including even the most discerning literary giants.

The later exhibition will focus even more deeply on the artist’s interactions with Masaoka Shiki. Please check the exibition list and be sure to visit.

■ Overview of the special exhibition “Fusetsu Nakamura: 160th Anniversary of His Birth”

Exhibition period	Saturday, April 4, 2020 – Sunday, July 12, 2020 *Exhibits will be changed during the exhibition period. First half of the exhibition: April 4th (Sat) – May 24th (Sun) Late exhibition: May 26th (Tuesday) – July 12th (Sunday)
venue	Taito City Calligraphy Museum
Opening hours	9:30 AM to 4:30 PM (Last entry at 4:00 PM)
Closed days	Monday (or the following weekday if it falls on a public holiday)
Admission fee	General admission: 500 yen; Elementary, junior high, and high school students: 250 yen. *Please check the official website for details.
Official website	https://www.taitogeibun.net/shodou/

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National Museum of Western Art

A major retrospective exhibition of the works of Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis (1875–1911), a leading Lithuanian artist, titled “Čiurlionis Exhibition: Inner Star Chart,” is currently being held at the National Museum of Western Art. This is the first major retrospective in Japan in 34 years. The exhibition runs until June 14, 2026 (Sunday).

*All exhibited works are by Mikaloyus Constantinas Čiurlionis and are from the collection of the National Museum of Art, MK Čiurlionis, Kaunas, Lithuania.

In the early 20th century, Čiurlionis demonstrated exceptional talent in both painting and music, laying the foundation for modern Lithuanian culture. During his short life of 35 years, he produced over 300 works during approximately six years of his artistic career.

His art was formed under the rule of the Russian Empire and amidst the national liberation movement, and is rooted in a unique Lithuanian identity, drawing inspiration from the country’s rich nature, history, and ancient folk tales. At the same time, he was interested in theosophy and astronomy, deepening his contemplation on the human spiritual world and the mysteries of the universe. Known for his unique expression that bridges Symbolist and Abstract painting, his innovative approach, particularly his transformation of musical forms into the structure of paintings, stemming from his sensibility as a composer, has solidified his reputation today.

Held in Lithuania to commemorate the 150th anniversary of his birth, this exhibition showcases approximately 80 representative paintings, prints, and drawings from the collection of the National Museum of Art, M. K. Čiurlionis (Kaunas).

 The exhibition is structured into three chapters, with a prologue and epilogue added, and the prologue introduces the starting point of Čiurlionis’s artistic career.

Born in 1875 into a modest family in southern Lithuania, Čiurlionis displayed musical talent from a young age under the tutelage of his organist father. In 1894, at the age of 18, he enrolled in the Warsaw Conservatory in neighboring Poland to study composition. He honed his skills there until 1901, composing musical works including his representative symphonic poem “In the Forest.” After studying at the Royal Conservatory of Leipzig in Germany, it wasn’t until around 1902 that he seriously pursued his long-held dream of becoming a painter.

His early paintings are said to have strongly exhibited Symbolist expression, but unfortunately, most of them have been lost. “Whispers in the Forest” (1904), painted in 1904 when he enrolled as a first-year student at the newly established Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts, is a valuable surviving example.

In the painting, a hand, hazy like mist, emerges before a grove of trees standing in a mysterious, dark forest. Comparing it to a postcard of the same motif created the previous year, it becomes clearer how the form of the trees is superimposed with the strings of a harp, and the soft murmur of the forest with the sound of a plucked harp. This work already strongly reflects the musical sensibility that would characterize Čiurlionis’s paintings.

Chapter 1, “The Rhythm of Nature,” traces the depiction of nature as portrayed by Čiurlionis.

While based in Warsaw, Čiurlionis’s rich natural environment remained a source of inspiration for his art. However, his paintings rarely depicted realistic landscapes; his primary focus was on the dynamic changes of nature. He abstractly, and sometimes anthropomorphically, captured the rhythms and cyclical processes inherent in nature, imbuing them with lyricism and symbolism.

These interests culminated in a series of works focusing on nature, such as the changing seasons. In his earliest series , “Flash” (1906), consisting of three pieces, a fantastical image unfolds: as night deepens, a cluster of lights emerges from gray smoke and moves in a line, eventually arriving in front of a blue gate as if guided by the wind.

At first glance, the flash of light might evoke natural phenomena like the bioluminescence of fireflies. However, for Čiurlionis, the “gate” is a crucial motif, symbolizing the boundary between reality and fantasy, the visible and the invisible, or perhaps an entrance to a spiritual dimension or a passageway for the soul. Considering these points, it can also be interpreted as suggesting a process in which something fundamental, such as spirit or soul, undergoes transformation through the gate.

Furthermore, while many of the surrounding painters focused on the tranquil and melancholic aspects of winter, Čiurlionis attempted to visualize the inherent power within it, along with its dynamism. In his eight-part series “Winter” (1907), he consistently uses trees, symbols of life, as his main theme, depicting them in various forms amidst the diverse aspects of winter nature.

The series depicts trees standing in a snowfield, encased in solid blocks of ice, sometimes presenting contrasting concepts such as life and death, hope and despair, and at other times representing a candlestick metaphor hinting at divine revelation. As the snow melts and the breath of life begins to emerge, all the motifs—trees, snowflakes, etc.—are reduced to geometric clusters of stars and rectangles, concluding the series in a way that demonstrates the very resilient energy inherent in winter.

Chapter 2, “Symphonic Painting,” finally tackles the theme of Čiurlionis’s attempt to fuse painting and music.

Čiurlionis focused on this theme intensively and systematically between 1907 and 1909. In Europe at that time, a movement to fuse painting and music was spreading among painters, influenced by the ideas of Baudelaire, Wagner, and Nietzsche. However, while many painters were interested in synesthetic musical expression through color, Čiurlionis, from his unique perspective as a composer, applied the structure of music itself to painting. This is precisely why Čiurlionis occupies a unique position in the history of modern art.

In the diptych “Prelude, Fugue” (1908), the prelude is placed as an introduction to the fugue, a form of polyphony in which multiple voices (parts) imitate and pursue a theme.

In “Prelude,” the golden ship floating in the center of the screen immediately catches the eye, but what is noteworthy is how the figure sitting with its head bowed in the lower right corner of the screen, the hand pointing upwards, and the tower-like silhouette continue into the lower part of the “Fugue.”

In the following “Fugue,” the fir tree takes center stage, in addition to the aforementioned motifs. What initially appears to be a tranquil lakeside scene is, upon closer inspection, noticing a mismatch between the image of the fir tree and its reflection on the water’s surface. Here, adhering to the structure of the fugue, each motif is repeated with subtle variations in form and color, evoking musicality through variations in scale and sparseness.

As seen in this work, Čiurlionis abandoned the traditional perspective-based representational space and constructed the image with multiple horizontally segmented layers. Then, much like counterpoint (a compositional technique such as fugue) in which multiple independent melodies are harmonized and progress simultaneously, he made each layer resonate, successfully visually representing the impression of polyphony.

Furthermore, Čiurlionis introduced the sonata form of music into painting, creating seven series of works with more grand compositions throughout his life. This exhibition features three of these works: “Sonata No. 3 (Serpent Sonata),” “Sonata No. 5 (Sea Sonata),” and “Sonata No. 6 (Star Sonata)” (all from 1908). Each chapter of the series is given a title indicating the tempo, and “Sonata No. 5 (Sea Sonata)” is composed of three chapters: “Allegro,” “Andante,” and “Finale.”

In the “Allegro,” composed of regular horizontal layers, the sea is perceived as a musical score with bouncing notes, and the waves, foam, and golden particles spreading along the shore create a lively rhythm. In the following “Andante,” the movement of the waves becomes more leisurely. In a tranquil atmosphere, the gaze sinks to an underwater kingdom where images from Lithuanian mythology overlap. And in the “Finale,” motifs such as foam and sailing ships converge with the exhilarating rhythm of rising waves, leading to a dramatic conclusion.

This work was conceived and created by Čiurlionis during a summer vacation with his fiancée, Sophia, at a resort on the Baltic Sea, and some believe its festive atmosphere is an expression of his personal happiness. Furthermore, the imagery of the great wave in the “Finale” has been noted as being influenced by Katsushika Hokusai’s “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” from his “Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji.” (※This work is currently on display in the concurrently running exhibition, “Hokusai: Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji – From the Inouchi Collection.”)

The sea is associated with images of eternity and the cycle of life, and the repetition of waves embodies musical rhythm, making it a motif that deeply resonates with Čiurlionis’s sensibility, and it was also treated as a theme in his symphonic poems and prose poems. In this chapter’s exhibition room, the symphonic poem for piano “La Mer” is played as background music, and the manuscript of the score for “La Mer” is also on display. You will be able to explore from multiple perspectives how Čiurlionis listened attentively to the presence of nature and “transcribed” its melodies into his works.

Chapter 3, “Fantasy Dedicated to Lithuania,” focuses on the Lithuanian national character while introducing works from Čiurlionis’s mature period.

Following Russia’s defeat in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 and the First Russian Revolution, the national liberation movement rapidly gained momentum in Lithuania. Čiurlionis, as one of the leading figures in the country’s art world, also dedicated himself to the movement, creating essay collections that served as a spiritual manifesto for Lithuanian culture, as well as illustrations for collections of Lithuanian folk songs. At its core was the belief that a re-evaluation of local folklore, folk songs, and crafts—all aspects of national culture—was essential for the formation of a lost national identity and the construction of a distinctly Lithuanian artistic style.

On the other hand, national culture also served as a good source of inspiration for Čiurlionis’s own work. For example, the cross that appears in “The Lithuanian Cemetery” (1909) is one of the representative motifs of the country, embodying the nation’s desire for independence.

In this work, the sky, based on the translucent blue-green characteristic of tempera painting, shines with the Big Dipper, a guiding light for the soul, while the silhouettes of crosses are rhythmically arranged on the ground. These crosses are a fusion of Lithuania’s traditions of nature worship and ancestor worship with the symbols of Christianity, which was introduced as the state religion in the 14th century, and are original designs richly adorned with decorative motifs of plants, animals, and celestial bodies.

Gradually, the cross itself became a part of folk belief, and it was erected everywhere—in cemeteries, roadsides, and on farm grounds—as a means of prayer and commemoration in a broader sense, not only for mourning the dead, but also for safe travels and bountiful harvests. For this reason, it became a target of repression under the Russian Empire’s assimilation policies.

More solemnly proclaiming national revival is “Prelude (Prelude of the Knight)” (1909). Čiurlionis, who rarely depicts specific landscapes, has sprinkled elements reminiscent of Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, into this city. The transparent knight (Vitis) bravely galloping above it is a symbol of national independence and glory, which was the national emblem of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania from the 14th to the end of the 18th century.

Furthermore, from 1907 onward, Čiurlionis established his own unique genre of painting, “fairy tales,” developing archetypal images that fused folk tales, myths, and universal narrative structures with his own vision.

The magical world, kings and princesses, knights, journeys, and roads are typical elements of this genre, and “Fairy Tale (A Fairy Tale of Kings)” (1909) is a work with kings as its theme. Set in a forest shrouded in darkness, two kings gaze upon a shining dome containing the beautiful nature and rural landscapes of Lithuania. They embody the duality of the world, while also being guardians watching over small Lithuania from outside the world.

The “king” has consistently been one of Čiurlionis’s important themes from the early stages of his artistic career. The image of the king as a transcendent being who governs the world becomes definitive in the masterpiece “Rex (King)” that appears in the epilogue of this exhibition.

On the other hand, Čiurlionis was exposed to the international intellectual trends of the time, such as theosophy and astronomy, which deepened his reflections on the human spiritual world and the mysteries of the universe.

The Altarpiece (1909), being exhibited in Japan for the first time, is a masterpiece by Čiurlionis, imbued with a sense of cosmic vision and a unique spatial representation from a bird’s-eye view. Depicted on the sides of the gigantic, stepped altar are motifs such as knights and angels, all of which hold symbolic significance for Čiurlionis. Their intricate interplay creates the appearance of a magnificent epic poem, progressing from the lower to the upper levels. At the same time, the motif of the stairs itself symbolizes the various stages of the ascending human spirit, and the number of steps is thought to correspond to the theosophical theory that divides the structure of the universe and humanity into seven stages.

The exhibition concludes with the epilogue of “Rex (King)” (1909), a masterpiece that most comprehensively demonstrates Čiurlionis’s thought and formal explorations, and is also his largest painting. In a canvas colored with beautiful monochrome light and shadow, the four elements that constitute the world—fire, water, earth, and air—are condensed. Under a multifaceted structure reminiscent of a grand symphonic poem, countless motifs such as stars, angels, and trees are repeated, while a double-layered, translucent king sits atop the earth, seemingly piercing the universe vertically.

In this still largely mysterious work, Čiurlionis integrated the diverse ideas he had absorbed—including indigenous Lithuanian nature worship, Hinduism, Egyptian mythology, theosophy, astronomy, and natural science—into a single narrative system, creating a new story distinct from the Christian God. The two kings, while demonstrating dualistic principles, are depicted not merely as rulers of the world, but as pantheistic beings integrated with nature and the universe.

This work was painted during a period when Čiurlionis, seeking further advancement as a painter, expanded his activities to Saint Petersburg, and as he had hoped, it was highly praised by Alexander Benois, a leading figure in the Russian art world. However, Čiurlionis was unaware of this, and due to the grueling nature of his work and the mental stress, his physical and mental health gradually deteriorated. He passed away on April 10, 1911, at the young age of 35, from pneumonia.

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Čiurlionis was a unique artist who fantastically depicted music and painting, Lithuanian national identity, and contemplations on the human psyche and the mysteries of the universe. Since 2000, exhibitions of his work have been held throughout Europe, and there is a growing momentum for re-evaluation of his original world. Please come and enjoy it at the venue.

Summary of the “Ciurlionis Exhibition: The Inner Star Chart”

*The information in this article is current as of the time of reporting. Please check the exhibition’s official website for the latest information.

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National Museum of Nature and Science

In recent years, so-called “battle encyclopedias,” which introduce and discuss the strengths of animals, dinosaurs, and mythical creatures in a battle format, have become very popular. “What is the strongest animal in the world?” “It’s the African elephant, obviously.” “No, after all, the hippo is strong.” Such discussions are a fun topic that can get both curious children and adults excited.

Immense power, sharp fangs, deadly venom, electric shocks. The astonishing abilities of dangerous creatures that humans cannot match. These are abilities that can be called “ultimate techniques” that they have acquired through evolution to hunt prey and defend themselves.

Focusing on such deadly techniques, the special exhibition “Super Dangerous Creatures Exhibition: Science Takes on the True Power of Living Things,” which explores everything from the astonishing ecology of dangerous creatures to the hidden dangers of familiar organisms from a scientific perspective, is currently being held at the National Museum of Nature and Science in Ueno, Tokyo. It may offer a new perspective on the debate surrounding “the strongest.” (The exhibition runs until June 14, 2026)

The venue’s design concept is a “forbidden laboratory exploring the astonishing abilities of dangerous creatures.” Instead of using existing taxonomic groups, dangerous creatures are classified into eight types based on their signature moves. They are presented using a variety of methods, including valuable specimens, sophisticated CGI, educational models, and impressive documentary footage.

■Exhibition composition
Area A: “Dangerous creatures that use melee attacks”
Lab 1. Power Fighter Type
Lab 2. Killer bite type
Lab 3. Armed Type
Lab 4. Large Swarm Type

Area B: “Dangerous creatures with special attack capabilities”
Lab 5. Highly venomous type
Lab 6. Chemical Attack Type
Lab 7. Electric Shock Type
Lab 8. Vampire type

Basically, each exhibit showcases one special move for each species, and apparently, the names of each move were created specifically for this exhibition by the curators in charge of each field. From cool move names that you’ll want to say out loud, to puns, and even some that are just too straightforward, the individuality of the curators shines through.

Also noteworthy are the exhibits that will appeal to children, such as “Animal Newspaper: The Case Files of Extremely Dangerous Creatures,” which presents real-life incidents involving dangerous creatures both domestically and internationally in a newspaper-style format, and card game-style icons categorized by type.

The “Power Fighter” exhibits are particularly impressive. Featuring African elephants, as well as green anacondas and cassowaries, these creatures possess overwhelming size and power that poses a formidable threat without needing any tricks.

For example, African elephants can deliver a devastating blow with a simple yet powerful move called the “nose powerbomb,” which involves simply flicking their trunk. The trunk, which is key to this move, can reach 2 meters in length and weigh 150 kg, and is unique in that it has no bones and is composed entirely of muscle. It is made up of bundles of approximately 90,000 muscle fibers, equivalent to the number of fibers in a human body, which allows for complex contractions and extensions. Furthermore, it is said that the hardness and shape of the trunk can be freely changed by adjusting the pressure by changing the amount of fluid inside, similar to a hydraulic system. Therefore, they possess not only brute strength but also dexterity, such as being able to pick up a chicken egg.

The next exhibit features a massive stuffed southern elephant seal, comparable in size to an African elephant. While many people may picture seals as laid-back, round, and calming animals, male southern elephant seals boast an impressive size of 5 meters in length and weigh 3 tons.

Even when bitten by sharks or orcas, elephant seals can sometimes survive by using a thick layer of subcutaneous fat up to 10 cm thick to block the teeth and regenerate their skin, demonstrating their remarkable survival abilities. Here, they show documentary footage of a southern elephant seal that wandered into the city and tried to crush a car with its deadly “body press” move while crawling, giving you a real sense of the threat they pose.

Another appealing aspect of this exhibition is that, starting with the theme “Orca vs. Great White Shark: Who is the strongest in the ocean?”, the columns displayed throughout the venue offer various pieces of information to help you make informed decisions about the topic of strength .

For example, in the “Killer Bite” exhibit, which features dangerous creatures that excel at biting, we explain not only the structure of teeth, which are covered with enamel, the hardest tissue in living organisms, but also the force of biting, or “occlusal force.”

When comparing the Bite Force Quotient (BFQ), a metric used to compare relative bite force independent of body size, among carnivores, an interesting result was found: the least weasel (164), a small species of weasel weighing around 100g, significantly surpasses the lion (123) and spotted hyena (99.6). Furthermore, the giant panda (151), a carnivore that is also a herbivore, also ranks highly, demonstrating that small size or herbivorous diets should not be underestimated.

The weasel family is comprised of extremely ferocious hunters, known for using their sharp canine teeth to take down prey larger than themselves, such as least weasels and wolverines. In particular, the honey badger, the largest species of weasel found on the African continent, is said to fearlessly confront lions that weigh more than 10 times its own weight, and its fierce fighting spirit is truly remarkable.

The honey badger’s signature move (ability) isn’t biting, but rather an “impenetrable body and anti-poison.” Surprisingly, its thick, flexible skin makes it resistant to damage from animal bites, porcupine stings, and bee stings, and it’s even resistant to the blows of venomous snakes like cobras. It can be said to be a well-balanced fighter with high levels of attack, defense, and survival ability.

Furthermore, the “Killer Bite” exhibit features the first-ever public display in Japan of a life-size replica of the world’s largest saltwater crocodile, nicknamed “Roron,” which measures over 6 meters in length .

Saltwater crocodiles, sometimes called “man-eating crocodiles” due to the numerous reported fatalities, are a popular subject of interest. Among them, Lolong holds the Guinness World Record for the “largest crocodile in captivity,” with an astonishing length of 6.17m and a weight of 1,075kg. A life-size replica of Lolong, faithfully reproduced from scans of its data taken in the Philippines, is on display at the venue. Its impressive size makes the story of how it took 100 people to pull it out of the sea quite believable. Another highlight is the video explanation of the “death roll,” where the crocodile bites its prey and twists its massive body underwater to tear it apart.

Among the exhibits featuring “swarming” creatures that pose a threat in groups, such as grasshoppers and piranhas, the army ant section is a must-see.

The army ant, which inhabits Southeast Asia and Africa, is known for its ecology of swarming in the tens of millions of individuals, devouring surrounding prey before moving on. It’s not just small lizards and grasshoppers that are attacked and killed; there have been reports of attacks on baby goats and even elderly people who are unable to move due to illness. The sheer power of their predatory abilities is enough to send chills down your spine.

The queen ant, the center of the colony, has long been considered an elusive and almost mythical creature, difficult to even confirm despite years of research by researchers both in Japan and abroad. However, Munetoshi Maruyama, associate professor at the Kyushu University Museum and one of the exhibition’s supervisors, and Taku Shimada, an insect explorer and photographer, conducted research in the Republic of Kenya. During filming for the TBS program “Crazy Journey,” they successfully encountered and photographed a queen ant. One of these precious queen ant specimens is on display in Japan for the first time at the venue.

Area B in the second half, “Special Attack Dangerous Creatures,” is exciting because of the variety of tricky special moves.

The exhibition begins with a “highly venomous” section analyzing the toxins of diverse creatures such as wasps, baby monitor lizards, and blue-ringed octopuses. This is followed by a “chemical attack” section featuring bizarre special moves such as the striped skunk’s powerful stinging liquid, 100°C high-temperature gas, and self-destructive defenses. The “electric shock” section explores the power generation mechanisms of creatures like electric eels, which can generate voltages of up to 850 volts. Finally, the “blood-sucking” section focuses on blood-sucking creatures such as vampire bats and ticks, and also touches upon the dangers of infectious diseases.

Area B features many creatures with visuals that may evoke a sense of physiological revulsion, such as tarantulas and giant centipedes, so those who are squeamish should be cautious. If you’re okay with that, please do take the time to observe their appearances in detail.

In the section dedicated to scorpions, a prime example of “highly venomous” scorpions, you’ll find the Deathstalker (meaning “the one that creeps towards death”), a medium-sized, slender scorpion with one of the most potent neurotoxins in the scorpion world, alongside the Emperor Scorpion, whose venom is surprisingly weak despite its imposing appearance, often resulting in pain comparable to a bee sting. An interesting point about scorpion venom is the tendency that “the smaller the claws, the stronger the venom, and conversely, the larger the claws, the weaker the venom,” which clearly demonstrates the fact that “the level of danger is not always what it seems.”

Speaking of creatures that are all show and no substance, the “highly venomous” sun spider, described as “one of the most frightening in the arthropod kingdom based on first impressions alone,” is a prime example. Its enormous chelicerae are impressive, but it poses no real threat beyond that. Although it may appear to charge towards humans, it is actually just seeking shade to escape the sun, which it dislikes, and is quite timid. It possesses neither venom nor a venomous stinger, so it’s a mystery why it was included in this exhibition, but that’s part of its charm. Its “dangerousness” based on its appearance is certainly on par with the main attraction.

Another highlight is the use of transparent specimens created with the latest technology for the “electric shock” type of electric eel, electric catfish, and electric ray.

Transparent specimens are a method of making biological specimens transparent through chemical treatment, allowing observation of internal structures without dissection. Conventional methods involved dissolving muscles and internal organs with strong chemicals, making it difficult to observe structures other than bone. However, in recent years, clearing techniques that allow observation of cells and genes within specimens without using strong chemicals have been developed one after another. This exhibition also uses an improved version of the CUBIC method, one of these techniques, making it possible to observe the structure of power-generating organs, which were previously difficult to visualize, in three dimensions.

This exhibition focuses on the deadly techniques of living creatures, aiming to unravel their amazing ecology and the hidden dangers of familiar organisms from a scientific perspective. However, reading the comments made by Shinichiro Kawada of the Department of Zoology at the National Museum of Nature and Science, who serves as the overall supervisor of the exhibition, it seems that behind the planning is a desire to convey the importance of “fearing correctly” based on scientific understanding.

Kawada warns against the mass media that sensationalizes the uncertain dangers of dangerous creatures, and against modern society surrounded by the internet overflowing with fake images and videos. Humans are creatures that feel not only fear but also admiration for those who possess abilities they lack, and they want to know more about them, imitate them, and surpass them. This thirst for knowledge has greatly driven the development of science, from anatomy to cutting-edge biochemistry and genetics. Furthermore, he emphasizes that the abilities of dangerous creatures are a “treasure trove of scientific knowledge,” and that much of it can be used for materials and technologies necessary for our lives.

As you explore this exhibition, you will come to realize that the knowledge needed to “fear appropriately” is a survival strategy for humanity that will lead to a better tomorrow.

At the press preview held prior to the exhibition, Akira Kawashima of the comedy duo Kirin, who serves as the exhibition’s ambassador and audio guide narrator, made an appearance.

Regarding his impressions of the exhibition, he commented, “There are many globally valuable materials, and the exhibition unfolds in a laboratory-like world in each area, so it felt like an attraction. As I went further in, I became more immersed, and I felt like I was part of the research team.” He said that the most noteworthy dangerous animal was the giraffe, and he said, “They are herbivores, and judging from their eyes, I thought they were gentle and cute, but when I saw the video, I learned that they can fight with necking, which is powerful enough to kill a person with their own neck. I felt bad for casually saying, ‘It’s a giraffe’,” which drew laughter from the audience.

Finally, they promoted the exhibition as follows:
“There was an exhibit showing that the weaker the scorpion’s venom, the larger its claws. It’s a lesson in how the weaker you are, the more likely you are to put on a brave face and pick a fight—a trait common to humans. After seeing the exhibit, you can reconsider what your own strengths are. You might find that it’s a compassionate heart, or the kindness to prioritize others—a strength unique to humans. I think it’s an exhibition where you can make such wonderful discoveries.”

The special exhibition “Exhibition of Extremely Dangerous Creatures: Science Takes on the Serious Challenges of Living Things” will run until June 14, 2026.

Special Exhibition “Exhibition of Extremely Dangerous Creatures: Science Takes on the Serious Challenges of Living Things” Overview

venue	National Museum of Nature and Science
Exhibition period	March 14th (Sat) – June 14th (Sun), 2026
Opening hours	9:00 AM – 5:00 PM (Last entry at 4:30 PM)
Open at night	From April 25th (Sat) to May 6th (Wed, holiday), the museum will be open until 6:00 PM (last entry at 5:30 PM).
Closed days	Monday, May 7th (Thursday) *However, the museum will be open on April 27th (Monday), May 4th (Monday/National Holiday), and June 8th (Monday).
Price (tax included)	General admission/University students: 2,300 yen; Elementary/Junior high/High school students: 600 yen (Tickets available on the day)
Organizer	National Museum of Nature and Science, TBS, TBS Growdia, Asahi Shimbun
inquiry	050-5541-8600 (Hello Dial), 03-5814-9898 (FAX)
Official website of the operator	https://chokikenseibutsuten.jp/

*Please note that the exhibition period, opening hours, and closing days may be subject to change.
*Please note that this information may not be up-to-date. For details, please check the exhibition’s official website.

 

Article provided by: Cocosil Ueno

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