The art collective teamLab has achieved worldwide acclaim, and in the spring of 2021, they created an installation for Kairakuen, of Mito City, Ibaraki Prefecture. 

Built in the late Edo period (1842), this Chisen-Kaiyushiki style garden is one of the "Three Great Gardens of Japan", along with Kenrokuen in Kanazawa, Ishikawa Prefecture and Korakuen in Okayama Prefecture. It has long attracted visitors as a national historic site and there is no doubt that the biggest reason for its popularity is the beautiful plum grove.

Plum has a particular significance for Japanese people. The oldest surviving Japanese poetry collection, "Manyoshu", which was composed over the 7th and 8th centuries, has no fewer than 119 poems featuring plum trees. By contrast, the cherry tree - nowadays a national obsession - featured in only 45 poems.

The difference is remarkable. Though they originated in China, the plum tree is praised in many poems not only for its “Wabi” but also for their significance in many practical contexts- being used, for example, in the “Sho-chiku-bai" (pine, bamboo and plum) scale, used to rank the quality of goods. 

But why has plum fascinated the Japanese people so much? One of the secrets is its withered, scaly, "wabi" appearance. It takes decades for plum trees to attain their eventual form - which some consider beautiful and some consider discomforting - as the trees do not start to twist into their characteristic pattern until 80 years old.

However, there is no tree like plum for evoking the imagination and for delivering beauty superficially packaged in ugliness. Every march for centuries has seen the Japanese admire the contrast between the haggard plum branches and the fresh, white-or-pink plum blossom. 

Kairakuen is home to about 100 species and 3,000 individual plum trees, a central part of Japanese life and culture. Many Japanese temples and shrines limit their gardens to only one type of tree, such as cherry blossoms or willows, but the size of this plum grove in Kairakuen is exceptional. 

In 2021, teamLab - led by Toshiyuki Inoko - added a new page to the history of the Mito Plum Festival, which has been held at this spot for over 120 years. Making full use of digital technology, Kairakuen at night was given a strange, ethereal alternative life, with startling illuminations and sounds. 

"We are aiming for an experience that transcends the boundaries of cognition", says Toshiyuki.

He kicked off teamLab with his friends in 2001, and it has expanded to hold permanent exhibitions and art installations all over the world - from New York, to Paris, to Beijing. 

In a nutshell, teamLab is an art collective where artists, programmers, mathematicians, architects and other experts from various backgrounds come together to present their work and philosophy in an abstract way.

Since 2002, shortly after its founding, Inoko has been working on a concept of "Digitized Nature", the idea that "digital technology can turn nature into a living art, without destroying it."

“I think that the natural shapes created over the aeons give us an experience that exceeds the limits of cognition. People often find it hard to imagine a longer time span than their own lifetime. For example, it's hard to recognize that today is continuously connected with the Edo period, but it’s easy to internalise that today is connected to yesterday. 

In a sense, we cannot recognize the world and history without boundaries. We sadly need to be told which era it was in order to recognise the time. It’s inevitable to have such unconscious boundaries for humans, including myself. 

"But in fact, there is beauty in the continuous nature of the world. If you can see the world without boundaries, your imagination can really expand. In this Kairakuen project, I am particularly conscious of the notion of time. This vast historic garden remembers and presents back to us the centuries that have passed since it was created.

You can see the old wood express the power of time. So, it may be easier to understand our message in this natural environment, rather than the exhibitions we are doing in the city. I would be happy if visitors could experience the continuity created by nature here. "

Interactive art, in which the exhibition itself changes as the audience touches the work or enters the space, is also indispensable to teamLab's work. Such features are scattered everywhere in this exhibition, as well.  However, it seems to be a process, not a destination, for Inoko.

"I don’t exclusively stick to interactive art. I just want to create a space where I can affirm the existence of others, so the interactive style happens to be most suitable. I hope the visitors can feel they are also a part of the artwork, rather than creating a boundary between the art and them. Nothing would shine or move here if there is no one around- it would be pitch black, there would be no at (he laughs). "

Kairakuen by day shows a traditional, somewhat formal elegance. However, when the sun goes down and the teamLab-installed lights are turned on, a more vibrant side of the garden emerges. The garden feels endowed with a mysterious sense of life. Gaku Kudo, the communication director at teamLab, says, "I hope you feel a completely different atmosphere during the day versus the night." 

While guiding visits though the garden, Kudo introduces the venerable Kirishima azalea as his favourite, some of which are as much as 250 years old. "You can see the shape of the azalea, almost like a vein, if you focus on it at night, with limited lighting. It's easy to overlook it in the daytime, though. The shadows make the natural details stand out and make it feel more present. "     

The paradox that the world is made limitless by its limits is a traditional Japanese sensibility. Inoko described this sensation as "like being in a tea room" - where a sense of eternity is created by intentionally narrowing the space. The imagination is stimulated in the garden at night, and the world becomes a more unreal place.

A word that is often used in the tea ceremony, Ichi-go-ichi-e, a Japanese cultural concept of treasuring the unrepeatable nature of a moment, comes to mind while walking in teamLab’s Kairakuen. Along with the interactive, real-time art is one of the features of their work. 

Instead of playing back pre-produced movies, they use a computer program to project the images created at that very moment onto an object. The idea of observing the ever-changing nature of reality is put forward by this installation, which will never show the same image twice. Details like this highlight how teamLab have striven to synchronize with the garden itself.

Projected onto this huge and ancient cedar is the cycle of life. The digital scene is of flowers that bloom in their season and then wither and fall in the next. The tree itself has been a witness to such patterns for the past 800 years.

Also, pay attention to the unique and rather philosophical titles that reflect teamLab's views of life and death, such as "Life is continuous light - Plum Trees" and "Abstract and Concrete - Between Yin and Yang", many of them directly from Inoko and Kudo.

The heights known as Mount Ueno used to be occupied by the Kaneiji temple. Founded in 1625, this Buddhist sanctuary was modeled on the great Enryakuji monastery on Mount Hiei, in the outskirts of Kyoto. It was officially named Toeizan Kaneiji: the Kanei Temple of Eastern Mount Hiei. The temple buildings are still located around the park today. 

Utagawa Hiroshige, View of Toeizan in Ueno, from the series Famous Places of the Eastern Capital. National Diet Library Digital Collections

Ueno Park is where viewing the cherry blossoms first became part of Japanese urban culture. It all began when the high priest Tenkai, the founder of the Kaneiji, planted cherry trees from Yoshino (in present-day Nara Prefecture) on the temple precincts. By the end of the Kanei era (1624-1645), after which the temple is named, Ueno Mountain was covered in cherry trees, and the area had become a favorite place to admire the blossoms.

Ueno Park’s iconic Kaneiji Temple. Photo by Hajime Suga

Though Ueno Mountain became a battlefield during the civil war that broke out in 1868, the forest soon recovered. But then the new Meiji government decided to build a massive university hospital on the site. The Dutch physician Dr. A.F. Bauduin, who was in Japan as a university lecturer, objected. He proposed making the most of the place’s natural beauty by turning it into a park instead. Plans to build a hospital were accordingly scrapped, even though work had already begun on the foundations. And so Ueno Park, Japan’s first public park, was born.

Photo by Fumitaka Miyoshi

Ueno Park was bombed during World War II, and immediately after the war it served as an evacuation site. Then, in 1955, with the enactment of the Urban Parks Act, work began on restoring it. The streets of Ueno can be seen in the background of this photograph from 1964. That year’s Tokyo Olympics triggered a building boom in the area, according to landscape architect Michio Tase, who worked on landscaping the park.

The sculpture Green Rhythm by Takashi Shimizu, which used to be on display in Hakamagoshi Square. It has been relocated several times and can now be seen in front of Ueno Green Salon. Photo from Hajime Suga’s exhibition Ueno in the Showa Years.

In this photograph from 1960, Ueno Park has regained its status as a cherry blossom wonderland. It shows foreign tourists — still a rarity back then — admiring the blossoms as their guide delivers her spiel.

Photo from Hajime Suga’s exhibition Ueno in the Showa Years

The park received a major facelift in the 1970s, when Keisei Ueno Station underwent renovations. On that occasion the Japanese government imposed one condition: Do not reduce the amount of vegetation in the park. So recalls Michio Tase, who worked on the project as a member of the landscaping company Fuji Ueki.

Hakamagoshi Square today. Photo by Kuniko Hirano

“All the plants between the Grand Fountain and Hakamagoshi Square were transplanted one by one to the outskirts of Tokyo,” explains Mr. Tase. “Then, when the project was completed, they were transplanted back. It was a massive, five-year undertaking.” The forest around the National Museum of Nature and Science, which overlooks the plaza with the Grand Fountain, was likewise temporarily relocated during the park’s refurbishment in the 1970s.

Photo by Fumitaka Miyoshi

Ueno Park today offers a full range of amenities catering to the needs of Tokyo’s inhabitants, including many art galleries and museums, a university, and even a zoo. Each of these facilities is surrounded by plenty of open space, which Ueno Forest fills with living greenery.

Photo by Fumitaka Miyoshi

The park’s layout is still based on the Meiji-period design inspired by European models. What makes it so alluring, asserts landscape architect Michio Tase, is its “expansiveness.” Open spaces lush with trees and plants appear in succession — a layout epitomizing the ideal townscape that modern Japan has so often sought to realize in vain. “I know of nowhere but Ueno Park that has achieved that and, moreover, continues to do so today.” 

Photo by Fumitaka Miyoshi

Ueno Forest interweaves three elements: the natural, the cultural, and the historical. That’s why it continues to attract people today — and offers a vision of the ideal cityscape for the modern world.

Photo by Kuniko Hirano

A challenge for the 9th of the dynasty

Toru Hayami is the representative of Hayami Forestry, and the name that many in the industry would put forward if asked who was the driving force of current forestry trends. The company itself is located in Kihoku-cho, Mie Prefecture, adjacent to the Kumano Nada sea. As a concern, it dates back to 1790, and Hayami is the 9th generation of the family business.

Despite this most traditional of heritages, he is nowadays known as a pioneer in the industry; amongst other things, he has advanced forest management by introducing large imported machinery and wide forest roads, by developing new seedlings, and by having acquitted Japan’s first FSC – Forest Stewardship Council – certification for sustainability. Following in the footprints of his father, Tsutomu Hayami, himself a respected forestry expert, for 35 years he has been a force for change not only within his own forest, but across the entire industry in Japan.

Edo’s favourite Owase Forestry

Hayami’s mountains – on which his forestry is located – are in the centre of the Owase forest, famous for its high-quality lumber since the Edo period. The trees grow slowly, due to the inherently unfertile soil, but with time and with human help, the rings in their trunks that represent the passing of years grow numerous and dense. The Owase cypress is particularly famous because of its glossy texture due to high oil content. The convenience of being able to use water to transport the felled trees, and the supportive policies of the Kishu local government, have made this one of Japan’s main forestry areas.

Only beautiful mountains may be able to produce beautiful logs, and the Hayami Forestry certainly does not offer a counter-example to this. In Hayami’s forest, the sun shines gently in between the well-spaced trees, the ground is covered with soft ferns, and the soft, yielding soil makes for comfortable walking. This is a man-made forest, but it never feels artificial.

With this nourishing landscape fresh in my mind, I visited Hayami and see what he could teach us about the forests.

The future is shaped by decisions made now

After being introduced to one another, Hayami remarked that he had recently cut down a tree that was 233 years old. "You must be moved to have trees that were planted in the same era that your family business started", I offered, but sentimentalism is not what the forester need– "If I thought about the past in that way, I’d never be able to cut down a single tree". He continues, "Forestry workers always enjoy these tales of the old times, but it's important not to be emotional when you’re faced with a tree you have to fell. You can’t think about that particular tree; you have to think about the whole picture - the mountains themselves, and of course the market." Despite having been born into one of Japan's longest-established forestry companies, his response was very down to earth. Yet this clear-minded attitude is the reason that he is considered the driving force behind the revitalization of the Japanese forestry industry.

Bringing a modern angle to the industry

Balancing these concerns for the environment and for efficiency is Hayami’s forte. After graduating from university in 1976, the young Hayami returned to his fathers' mountains, and immediately embarked on a thorough quantification of the family forest. "I just wanted to understand the actual situation," says Hayami, his usually jovial face suddenly becoming quite serious. "I calculated everything I could find - the height and thickness of the trees, the number of trees grouped by age, etc. I put all the data into a system that I programmed. I would not have known where to apply my efficiency-improving efforts unless I objectively looked at the mountains, as numbers alone. We cannot move forward if we rely solely on human experience. "

Infrastructure as a critical ingredient

Hayami also promoted forest road maintenance and mechanization. A wide forest road is indispensable, both to carry out the felled trees without damaging them, and to allow for working sites in amongst the mountains. The total space given over to roads and clearances in Hayami Forestry is about three times higher than the national average. The creation of these forest roads – a project he has been working on since his father's generation, allowed for the introduction of larger machines from Europe’s prime forestry areas, such as Germany and Scandinavia.

As well as importing machines from abroad, Hayami localizes and tweaks them. Some of his machines have been running for more than 30 years, and - with his policy of perfectly maintaining them - some of them are now the last working vehicles of that model in the world. “It’s natural that the European machines don’t fit into our mountains perfectly, because the environments are different. That’s why we tweak them ourselves. Sometimes the maintenance process will involve having to make the necessary parts”.

Share, don’t hide

Hayami has also been engaged for many years in research on seedlings, with the aim of reducing the cost of expanding the forests. These improved saplings not only boost production, but have led to stronger forests, that have battered Japan with greater force in recent years as the world’s climate has changed. Surprisingly, he never hesitates to share these seedlings – the fruits of his own long research – with whoever asks for them. “It may not actually be possible to use them, since the conditions between different mountains are different”, Hayami says with a modest laugh.

As a result of pioneering these techniques, Hayami has been made a member of a number of government agencies, both in the local Mie prefecture government and as part of the Ministry of Agriculture, Fish and Forestries. He frequently speaks out about sustainable forestry management.

Balancing nature and efficiency

There are many in Japan who would baulk at the inclusion of the words ‘mountain’ and ‘efficiency’ in the same sentence. Whilst forestry is an industry like any other and relies on profits for its survival, to many the mountains are considered to be a place of divinity – a place of worship, where the gods dwell – as part of religious beliefs dating back to ancient times. As with any other culture, many resent the mixing of God and Mammon. This is part of the reason that Hayami’s efforts in this area – making people aware that the mountains can become a site for productivity and employment - has attracted widespread attention and discussion in Japan.

A sense of comfort speaks for the mountains

As Hayami guided me through the mountains in the clear Autumn weather, I asked him what a good mountain means to him. His answer was simple – “one with a sense of comfort”. He expanded “don’t you feel good whilst walking in the mountains here? Mountains with a good ecosystem and a real circle of life look beautiful and feel comfortable, even to children. Some people say that the forest is dark and scary, but the forest is actually very soothing if the trees are properly cut, and sunlight can find its way to the forest floor. The problem we have in Japan is not that there are not enough trees. The problem is that we have mountains that have been left unattended, where growth has not been well balanced by the felling of trees”.

“Smaller plants at the ground level are very important. If the trees are thinned out properly, and light can get to the ground, then grasses will serve as a kind of cushion for the rain, and an appropriate amount of water will drain into the soil. The soil doesn’t get pounded, and it doesn’t get so heavy that it slips or collapses. The reason that our rivers here don’t get muddy at all, even after a typhoon, is that the plants at the ground level act as a filter. If humans do their part, then nature will take care of itself".

Hayami created a picture – a collage of images from the internet – that demonstrates the forest ecosystem. It hangs outside his office, and half of the picture is above ground, half underground. The trees emerging straight and strong from the ground are supported by a profusion of intertwined roots.

“The forestry industry needs to treat the forest as a collection of living things. It’s crucial to conceptualize what goes on in an ecosystem that includes not just trees and plants, but also animals. Once we have understood this idea, we can then ask ourselves how we can increase productivity. I think this way of looking at things is the future of forestry".I was able to guess that– in this unique industry, where results are 50 to 100 years in the making – he has been through tough times, and had some friction with the agencies that oversee the industry according to his tones of speaking. Hayami laughs and simply replies “Well, I like forestry, after all”.

Hayami is chasing two goals at once: to have a forest that is productive now, and to have a forest that is productive 400 years in the future. “My hope is that some of these ancient-trees-to-be will be used in the repair work of Horyuji Temple [the oldest wooden building in the world; built in 607], long long after I’m gone”, he says. “Part of what it means to take care of the mountains now, is to think ahead about what the wood will be used for when it is harvested; what kind of object it will end up as”. This is the potential that Hayami sees; a growing closer of the users of wood, and those who produce it.

Kinpei Yokohama, an innovator and inventor, has created a product which is made of wood, but has taken the material far beyond its usual use as a building material. As Hayami introduces him, he remarks “I’m very grateful for Kinpei san’s opinions, since he is coming from the position of a wood consumer as well as creator”. Yokohama has obtained many patents for unique products that involve wood as integral and irreplaceable part of the product. He is based on Mie prefecture known as a place with a well-established reputation for education and research.

In 2020 Yokohama debuted his eponymous ‘Kinpei’ sound system. The sound system –internationally patented – was inspired by the sound that emerges from a well-aged grand piano. It plays sound by vibrating not a speaker cone, but a complete (and beautiful) slice of wood. “With a mixture of pinpoint-based speakers and a large diaphragm, I managed to create a sound system that covers almost every possible range of sound”, explains Yokohama. “The entire body of the wood resonates; it creates a sound that is so comfortable for the human body that you would not get tired of the sound. It is crystal clear, but still retains an element of natural-ness that is simply not found in conventional speaker systems”.