Tomoo Gokita depicts isolation and vulnerability through subconscious explorations.

Cover photo: Installation of Tomoo Gokita: Get Down, at the Dallas Contemporary, Dallas, Texas, United States (2021). Photo by DannyWithLove.

★★★☆☆

Tomoo Gokita’s paintings are like hauntings, as if his figures are locked in a battle with the very canvas they are painted on. He depicts smudged faces and dripping details, while often obscuring facial features.

Gokita began his career as a graphic designer, working in the music industry. “Ever since I was a boy, there were Playboy magazines and lots of jazz records in my home, so I think this was a significant influence,” he explains. Gokita left graphic design in 2005 in pursuit of artistic freedom: “I became tired of client-based design and illustration work. I wanted to draw and paint what I want, the way I wanted.”

His latest body of work on view at the Dallas Contemporary, under the exhibition titled Get Down, reads like oscillating combinations of dreams, nightmares, and half-forgotten memories. Looking at one of Gokita’s paintings is like staring into the fuzzy memories of a child or an antique box of ruined heirlooms. Perhaps that’s exactly what they are.

Gokita created much of this work in quarantine during this last year of the pandemic, maintaining his usual schedule. “Even during the state of emergency, I woke up at 6 a.m. as usual, had a healthy Japanese breakfast, arrived at the studio by bicycle at 8 a.m., changed into work clothes and got to work,” he notes.

This is Gokita’s first solo exhibition in North America. He explains it is “the result of painting every day without thinking about anything.” These subconscious explorations are as wonderful as they are indecipherable, both nostalgic and uncomfortable. “In magazine interviews. The questions are often like, “Who is that person?” And I’m like, “What? How do I know?” Ha ha ha,” Gokita laughs.

Perhaps these fleeting images are the product of a mind in isolation, desperate to make sense of a world drawn to a halt by an invisible threat. In that regard, these works are post-war in a very different sense... An estimated four million lives have been lost around the globe due to the novel coronavirus, first discovered in late 2019.

As vaccine production and distribution continues, humanity’s collective panic subsides. This is one of many coming exhibitions, I’m sure, that will attempt to digest this mass casualty.

In particular, Dream Bathroom speaks to a sense of loneliness and vulnerability. A ghostly woman sits naked and motionless in a nondescript bathroom. The walls are bare, with no mirror to be seen. She sits in a dense cloud of black, as if a deep depression is washing over her. Her loose form is vaguely reminiscent of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, but this character is not alarmed, only forlorn.

Among my favorites in the exhibit is Fake Hug, in which Gokita depicts two figures washed together in an embrace. The work reads as a deep longing for intimacy, as if Gokita could only imagine what a shared touch may feel like. The two are emotionless, lacking mouths or eyebrows, slowly melting away.

The exhibition is accented by paintings of hot dogs and ice cream. Such mundane objects only heighten the bizarre nature of the surrounding works.

Another piece, simply titled My Friend, features two alien-like creatures. One appears to be humanoid, wearing a dress, yet missing any recognizable facial features. Her head is oblong like a Hollywood-inspired UFO. She stands beside a pale blue beast, made of fur, with two pink pupils in a single eye. Are these imaginary friends keeping Gokita company?

Exhibition curator Peter Doroshenko argues, “Gokita’s work is more related to the cosmos than walking into an art museum.” The painterly works are all acrylic on canvas. Gokita only recently embraced color, departing from his black-and-white aesthetic.

It is fascinating to see Gokita’s work in juxtaposition to Yoshitomo Nara. In contrast to Nara’s angry girls, Gokita’s characters feels much less resilient, instead resigned to sadness. His figures exist in a state of literal and figurative distress.

Compared to the work of his Japanese contemporaries, such as Yayoi Kusama’s abstract paintings and installations, and Takashi Murakami’s kawaii Superflat icons, Gokita’s oeuvre seems truly bizarre. He explains, “I have been surrounded by European and American culture since I was born, so, in fact, it’s unnatural for me to forcibly try to incorporate Japanese elements into my work.”

Gokita’s work exists in a lineage of post-war expressionism. The distorted faces are reminiscent of Francis Bacon’s tortured figures which tormented him after military service. The rough textures recall Anselm Kiefer’s work.

“It’s true that I have held more exhibitions overseas than in Japan, but I still have my doubts as to whether I’m “international” in the true sense of the word. I’m just going with the flow and wherever it takes me.”

This exhibition certainly cements Gokita’s status as an international artist. It is a wonderful show, and a promising start for a new era of his work. The blurry, washed, paintings skew close to monotony but each painting is interesting enough to hold attention on their own.

This is a fascinating body of work, but it’s certainly not for everyone. The heavy themes of isolation and vulnerability are far more overwhelming and less digestible than that of Yoshitomo Nara. In comparison, Gokita embraces a more neutral tone.

In a 2019 interview, Gokita exclaimed, “Screw plans for the future! No one knows what may happen tomorrow. One step ahead is complete darkness! All I can do is plow ahead, naked, and into the darkness!”

Tomoo Gokita: Get Down is on view at the Dallas Contemporary June 12th through August 22nd.

Entrance is free. Registration is required. Donations encouraged. The Dallas Contemporary is open Tuesday through Saturday 11:00 AM to 6:00 PM and Sundays 12:00 PM to 5:00 PM.