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FEATURE: Mt. Fuji runs out of steam at Japan's public bathhouses+
(Japan Economic Newswire Via Thomson Dialog NewsEdge)TOKYO, Jan. 3_(Kyodo) _ (EDS: ONE PHOTO ATTACHED TO THIS STORY IS AVAILABLE VIA E-MAIL. THE PHOTO ADVISORY IS TO FOLLOW.)
Morio Nakajima, a 60-year-old muralist, may not be on the list of Japan's most famous artists, but he is still probably one of the most experienced when it comes to painting Mt. Fuji.
While Japan is trying to get Mt. Fuji recognized as a World Heritage site, Nakajima, who has been obsessed with its beauty throughout his 41-year career, has just one problem on his mind these days -- his main canvas is disappearing.
Unlike the well-known ukiyo-e works of Katsushika Hokusai and Utagawa Hiroshige, who were also inspired by Japan's highest peak, Nakajima's paintings do not hang on the walls of climate-controlled museums, but cover those of steamy local bathhouses, known as sentos, where the Japanese head to get clean and have a relaxing soak.
Nakajima, who grew up in the countryside, had his first encounter with a sento mural in Tokyo at age 18, when he got a live-in position at a small factory.
"After the first day of work, I was taken to a sento right next to the factory by one of my colleagues and there it was," he said. "It just struck me -- like a hit on the head!"
Nakajima left the factory at age 19 after finding a job as an assistant to a bathhouse artist, as he had liked painting since he was a child.
"As an apprentice, I was only allowed to paint the blue sky for the first three years," he said.
"Later, I painted at two sentos a day. I was very busy," said Nakajima, who has painted well over 10,000 Mt. Fujis during his career. "But in 2005 I could only do my beloved work at about 50 places."
The declining number of sentos is the main reason he cannot paint giant images of Mt. Fuji as much as he would like to.
Another reason is that the wall behind the hot steamy bathtub -- which is on average 3 meters high and 5 meters wide -- is not being used for advertising as much nowadays.
"Back in the old days, sentos were the most effective and popular places to put up ads because they were integrated into local communities and were a part of everyday life," said Nakajima, the youngest among the three remaining sento artists.
Bathhouses did not have to pay for the murals because their costs were covered by a row of advertisements that ran beneath them.
"But there are no longer any sponsors," said Nakajima, who now makes his living as a cleaner at a fresh produce market. "Not many sento owners want to pay for repainting out of their own pockets."
As the Japanese have gotten richer, the number of sentos in Tokyo has dropped to 1,024 as of Dec. 20, compared with its peak of 2,687 in 1968, according to the Japan Public Bath Association.
As most Japanese homes now have bathtubs, about one sento has closed down every week in Tokyo over the last 30 years, Kenzo Murakami, the association's executive director, said.
The number of sentos nationwide last year stood at 5,267, down from 5,532 a year before and way off its peak of 17,642, also in 1968.
"At the height of its popularity, each sento attracted about an average of 800 bathers a day," said Murakami, 62, who is also the owner of the Konparu-yu sento in Tokyo's Shinagawa Ward. "Now the average is about 130. Our business is not easy."
The association found itself faced with the dilemma of trying to attract more customers while also having to raise admission fees.
Given that about 50 percent of sento users are still those with no bathtubs at home, raising the fees would not improve the situation, Murakami said.
Reflecting Japan's prolonged deflation, the entrance charge of 400 yen per adult in Tokyo -- which is set by the local authorities -- has remained the same since 2000.
"Once or twice a month is enough. I hope young fathers and mothers take their kids out to a sento, just like they eat out. A big bathtub is surely relaxing," Murakami said. "A sento is also a good place to teach manners and communicate with various types of people."
The first public bath mural, using industrial paints, is said to date back to 1912 at Kikai-yu in Tokyo's Kanda district.
The picture drawn to attract children was Mt. Fuji, which is still today the most popular image seen at traditional sentos in Tokyo and surrounding areas.
"Mt. Fuji stands out by itself. Everyone can easily tell what it is," said Nakajima, who usually paints a large mural within three hours.
He said the image of the huge mountain, combined with the blue sky above and the clear lake below, has a great visual impact, while it also helps bathers relax and is a symbol of happiness.
"The most difficult part of drawing Mt. Fuji is to give it the right kind of three-dimensional appearance," Nakajima said.
"Mt. Fuji has been a motif in Japanese art for more than 1,000 years," said Yoshiya Yamashita, a curator at the Shizuoka Prefectural Museum of Art, adding that the oldest in existence is a mural from Horyuji Temple in Nara Prefecture, drawn by Hata no Chitei in 1069.
Yamashita said Mt. Fuji and the scenery around it have been viewed by the Japanese as a sort of utopian landscape for a long time, noting that the mountain's "simplicity" and the snow's "brilliant whiteness" have become key elements within Japanese aesthetics.
Artists as well as viewers can have many different perceptions of Mt. Fuji as it is beautifully simple, the curator said.
To spread the wonder of the mountain across the world, the National Council on Mt. Fuji World Heritage, headed by former Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, was launched in April 2005.
It is seeking to have the U.N. Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization include the 3,776-meter-tall peak on the World Heritage site candidate list.
Speaking at a recent gathering in Tokyo, Nakasone said, "After all, I have come to the conclusion that Mt. Fuji is the most beautiful in the world."
"Mt. Fuji is a spiritual home to the Japanese," said Nakasone, who went to a high school at the foot of the mountain.
Yamashita said it is understandable that Mt. Fuji has been painted at so many sentos.
"Your body and soul are liberated when you take a bath. It is like you find yourself in a utopia," the curator said. "Mt. Fuji matches a sento very well because it itself is a utopia."
But Nakajima himself has a hard time relaxing when he bathes at a sento.
"I cannot relax at all because I have to see my old work," he said.
"I always feel alright with my work at the time when I finish it. Otherwise, I could never finish my work," he said. "But the next time I see it, I always feel that I could have done it better."
"Although I know I can never be completely satisfied with my work. My ultimate dream is to paint a Mt. Fuji that is about 200 meters wide and 100 meters high." Nakajima said. "If I could achieve this, I would have no regrets in my life."
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