Art history lectures frequently begin with an image of the Venus of Willendorf. The ancient fertility sculpture, with its exaggerated breasts, hips, thighs, and stomach, is considered by many academics and archeologists to be one of the earliest known examples of artwork in human history. Twenty-five thousand years after it was forged from stone, we still emphatically worship idols of fertility and sexuality, albeit in different forums and theaters. Nowadays, our Venus encounters happen mostly in pixels and on platforms like Instagram, where hundreds of millions of users show their devotion to manufactured goddesses placed on digital pedestals. As of February 2024, four hundred million people follow the celebrity sex icon Kylie Jenner, making her the second most followed person on the platform.
Japanese artist Motoko Ishibashi’s paintings of exaggerated and sexualized bodies hold a mirror up to this continuum of corporal obsession, inviting us to consider how little our values, priorities, and appetites have changed throughout history. By rendering erotic, fan-made images that she discovers online in the more traditional mediums of painting and ceramic sculpture, Ishibashi invites us to ruminate on the absurdism and extremism of online behavior. Her often confrontational and sometimes shocking compositions — which depict things like a zoomed-in crop of Jennifer Lopez’s ass or the colossal, semen-covered breasts of a character from animated porn — highlight the violent ways in which we devour, objectify, and fetishize the bodies of both public and imaginary figures.
By working with images that already have viral appeal, Ishibashi’s pieces thrive within the algorithmic system that the compositions themselves investigate. Her work asks viewers to consider how hazy and subjective the boundaries are between pornography and art and the celebration and desecration of the body. Equally hazy are the politics Ishibashi works. Do they criticize the commodification of bodies in digital systems, neutrally observe them, or even perpetuate them by adding fuel to the fire? The playful provocateur Ishibashi herself doesn’t know, and that, it seems, is part of the fun.
Cassidy George: Many of the images that form the basis of your work are taken from Japanese animated pornography, which Westerners may refer to as “hentai.” Can you explain what its significance is in your life and why it has been a long-term artistic interest?
Motoko Ishibashi: Growing up in Japan, you are surrounded by metro billboards that feature colorful, animated characters with comical advertising and musical sounds. Their voices are everywhere in public. Thinking about objectification, the characters — regardless of their genders — are idolized to suit the needs of the public. When I was a kid, many places like cafes and friends’ homes had comic books, movies, and video games where comedy, fantasy, violence, and eroticism co-existed. Back then, this kind of co-existence was common, and the media felt very open in that way.
Japan’s explicit manga was always readily available, so perhaps this idea of “hentai” as a subgenre wasn’t so apparent to me because it was just always there. They sell it everywhere, even at convenience stores. My work is a direct reflection of images created by groups of fan art cultures, which can easily be found on search engines on the internet. There is an obvious difference, though, between recent fan-generated artwork and the old mangas that you could buy in the konbini – Japanese convenience store. The online images that I use as a base for my work are bombastic and absurd – they carry a lot of humor. I’m not only interested in the erotic aspect of these images but also the world that surrounds them, as well as how the characters are presented and the situations they’re in.
CG Why do you always choose to work with fan-generated art? What meaning does it carry for you?
MI I like this idea of transitory digital images — they work like words in “Dengon Gamu,” the Chinese whisper game also known as “Telephone.” The images that I’m interested in are copies of copies, which I then copy again. The image evolves and changes every time it’s reproduced by someone else. It gets distorted and becomes its own thing.
CG Do you feel that the culture — or taboo — surrounding sex, sex work, and pornography is different in Japan than in the West?
MI It’s very much a gray zone. In Japan, views of sex don’t have the same associations that you might find in more religious societies. Even though it’s still a conservative country, it has historically had a liberal view on sex and pleasure, as well as titillation and humor. Take shunga, Japanese erotic art, which has perhaps carried through to today’s views on the sexualization of the body as some sort of entertainment.
Even today, kids’ TV shows and cartoon characters wear short dresses and low-cut tops. To them, it’s nonsexual, but viewing it personally from the outside, their sexuality is clear to me. It’s hard to escape the kawaii. I even noticed this with my niece, who recently did an end-of-the-year dance performance at her kindergarten, where all the girls were dressed as casino bunnies.
On the other hand, Japanese museums are very strict. They only show certain nudes as artwork and always censor and remove sexual content, especially in contemporary art. In comparison, there is so much sex in American pop culture –– like in the lyrics of songs. While that’s become completely mainstream there, I can’t imagine anything like that happening in Japan.
I’m interested in these boundaries and whether they depend on you — as in how you individually judge or perceive things — or if they depend on culture on a wider scale. In Japan, we are expected to have more public awareness… maybe that’s why I’m fascinated by this question of what is okay and what is not.
CG Has anyone ever dismissed your work as pornography? Have you received any resistance or negative feedback?
MI Responses have been mixed, which is part of the reason that I choose to paint what I paint. I had a small solo show at 4649 Gallery in Tokyo in November. On Instagram, I saw that there was a sign put on the doors of the gallery that said: “There is explicit content inside; be mindful with your children.” But most of the images I work with can easily be found online. Sometimes, hundreds of super explicit images come up with just one Japanese word search.
CG Is your work in any way an investigation of your relationship with your own body? Has social media, mass media, and advertising ever distorted that relationship?
MI In my work and on social media, I’m just an observer. I was never particularly involved or acting in self-interest. I’m keen to separate myself from the paintings so that they remain unanchored from me as an individual. It allows me to have a more objective point of view of what I make.
CG Though you are working with very contemporary images and themes, your choice of medium — painting and ceramics — is very traditional. Do you believe that these mediums retain a special kind of power to make people stop and consider the deeper meaning, ideas, and implications of what is presented in the composition rather than, say, something mediated by a screen?
MI It’s not for me to say whether or not these mediums still retain more power than most contemporary media, but painting will always be an act of play for me – and perhaps that’s what’s most important. I see ceramics in a similar light. They are more sculptural paintings than anything else.
Choosing an image comes from my own curiosity about how something will look if I hang it versus a small photo on my phone or computer. I’m interested in turning things that are digital into real objects. I tried transferring digital images directly onto the canvas, and I do transfer them physically onto my ceramic works. But I prefer a personal touch to the material, so there’s always going to be some handwork or brushwork visible in the textures.
CG You make your ceramic works under the name Willowfuck. Why?
MI It’s my other persona as an artist, and it’s also the name I use in a collaborative practice with Robin von Einsiedel. Willowfuck came from a sex spam email account name. I like the idea of anonymity that comes with making multiple accounts on social media and the freedom that it can give you. Lately, I’ve been focusing more on painting, though, because I can make work very quickly that way.
CG I imagine you are finding less time because you just had a baby, right? How long ago was that?
MI Yes, he’s right here, just next to me! He’s five months old.
CG As someone who paints exaggerated and extreme depictions of the body, how was it to experience your own body morphing and changing during pregnancy?
MI It was quite funny because I’ve been making these paintings of characters with massive boobs. During my pregnancy, my own became engorged, but only on one side. [laughs] Now, my left breast is flat, and my right side is like a balloon. It makes me feel like my paintings!
