In Maebashi, the city-making is the art

Maebashi, Gunma Pref. – The Maebashi Biennale’s choice of opener is unorthodox to say the least.

Standing on a two-tiered structure built inside the atrium of Arts Maebashi is a group of carpenters dressed in haori coats and straw sandals, singing a kiyari (traditional workers’ chant) while rhythmically lifting a massive pillar.

The demonstration is presented by the Maebashi Tobi Traditional Culture Preservation Society and Dot Architects, with “tobi” referring to craftspeople in the construction industry who work in high places.

The decision to feature carpenters is symbolic: The biennale is not just an art festival but the cherry on top of a decade-long makeover for Maebashi, the capital of Gunma Prefecture.

“Ten years ago, Maebashi was known as one of the least attractive cities among prefectural capitals,” says Hitoshi Tanaka, who established the Hitoshi Tanaka Foundation in 2014 to support regional revitalization. A Gunma native and CEO of glasses retailer Jins, he is also the biennale’s executive producer.

The construction workers at the opening were all local residents who had helped construct many of the buildings that serve as venues for the biennale.

The Shiroiya Hotel, renovated from a traditional inn which closed in 2008, is one of the venues for the Maebashi Biennale 2026, alongside galleries as well as disused shops and buildings. | NATSUKI TAKATA

For the biennale, picture-book artist Mirocomachiko dotted Shiroiya Hotel with hundreds of colorful, whimsical flora and fauna cutouts. | ZORIA PETKOSKA

Toshikatsu Ienari, whose Osaka-based studio Dot Architects created the wooden installation on which the workers climbed to sing, says, “Nowadays, machinery and robotics have advanced so much that the practice of everyone singing work songs together on a construction site has completely disappeared in modern Japan.”

“Human cooperation, solidarity and things of that nature are being lost, too,” he continues. “By having everyone watch this performance today, I hope to convey — even if just a little bit — the value of cooperating to build a structure or build our own town together.”

Ienari uses the word “machizukuri” in Japanese, which literally translates to “town-building,” but has a more expansive nuance of grassroots revitalization and community-led development. This concept is also reflected in “Archigym,” a series of workshops by Dot Architects involving residents making various objects from wood and rope that are now displayed at Arts Maebashi.

The theme of the biennale is “Mebuku. Where good things grow.” Mebuku means “to sprout” or “to bud,” a metaphor for the people, ideas and connections taking root in Maebashi.

Just across the street from Arts Maebashi stands the stylish Shiroiya Hotel, designed by internationally renowned architect Sou Fujimoto. The hotel is the crown jewel of the city’s revitalization, renovated from an inn that closed in 2008. Known for his utopian style of creating bright, open spaces filled with greenery, Fujimoto envisioned the hotel as its own lush hill where people could freely sit and enjoy a coffee. For the biennale, picture-book artist Mirocomachiko dotted Shiroiya Hotel with hundreds of colorful, whimsical flora and fauna cutouts.

The Howze building, which once teemed with nightlife during the exuberant 1980s, is now abandoned. | NATSUKI TAKATA

Photographer Mika Ninagawa and her digital art team EiM brought to life a fictional cabaret club in the Howze building. | NATSUKI TAKATA

Elsewhere in Maebashi, the biennale is bringing attention to places that have fallen into disrepair.

The two most impactful transformations are in one of Maebashi’s most neglected areas: the Howze building, which once teemed with nightlife during the exuberant 1980s, and, just a few steps away, Orion shopping street, which locals refer to as “shattā dōri” — “shuttered street.”

For their “Lighting the Poem” installation, poet Tahi Saihate and designer Shun Sasaki salvaged old lightbox signs that once hung along the shopping street. The pair then reused them as surfaces for Saihate’s verses, inspired by the Greek myth of Orion. The words hang above, flickering like stars, while viewers are asked to imagine the lines between them and read the verses in different orders.

Behind the gold-colored facade of the Howze building is another exploration of beauty and sadness. “Only the Sky Wasn’t Watching,” an installation by photographer Mika Ninagawa and her digital art team EiM, brings to life “Scarlet Mirrors,” a fictional cabaret club on the fourth floor of Howze.

The space is decked out in Ninagawa’s gaudy photographic prints, sparkly plastic crystals, broken chandeliers and dresses strewn around, re-creating an atmosphere of sleazy entertainment. Audio stories conceived by EiM member Hiroaki Miyata also invite visitors backstage and into the heads and hearts of the hostesses.

Stories are narrated by disembodied voices in different rooms of the fictional cabaret club named “Scarlet Mirrors.” | VICTORIA BENNET

This is the artists’ second installation involving a cabaret club after “Breathing of Lives,” a site-specific work in the same building in 2023. Ninagawa says she wanted to work in the location again because “it has stories to tell.”

This time, those stories are narrated by disembodied voices in different rooms. It’s almost as if the walls had ears and now the whole room is speaking. One hostess gives an emotionally detached explanation about how she earns huge tips when she pretends it’s her birthday, while she spends her actual birthday alone; another explains how she dances alone on stage before the club opens.

The final room stands in sharp contrast with the rest: A simple child’s bedroom, with nothing more than a bed, a desk, a dresser and a small sofa. The voice narrating the room talks about the view from the window and how sitting on the sofa makes the buildings disappear. If you sit down, you become the exhausted hostess returning after a night out, looking at the sky. The monologue ends with “only the sky wasn’t watching” — the title of the installation.

The Maebashi Biennale shines brightest in these spaces of art built from stories and local connections, but it does not escape some of the common pitfalls of art festivals scattered around a depopulating Japan: obscure art sticking out like a sore thumb, art that plays it too safe and ends up being uninspiring, and art that’s no different from what you might see in any Tokyo gallery. (In fact, the Tokyo Martin Margiela show is repeated in Maebashi). But with the convenience of being easily accessible from Tokyo — about two hours by train — and all venues within walking distance around central Maebashi, as well as future editions to work on, it’s an art festival with a lot of potential.

Poet Tahi Saihate and designer Shun Sasaki‘s installation “Lighting the Poem” salvaged old lightbox signs that once hung above the Orion shopping street.  | VICTORIA BENNET

Ultimately, the Maebashi Biennale is not about what art is being shown but what is being built.

“Along with the art, the architecture is also a highlight of this art festival, and the cityscape will continue to change as we update (the festival) every two years,” says program director Takenori Miyamoto.

A new building is set to open in 2028, and a larger urban development is slated for 2040.

When asked how the biennale will change Maebashi, executive producer Tanaka says he doesn’t know. But for now, he wants visitors to take in the city as a whole.

“I would like everyone to see the city of Maebashi with their own eyes,” he says. “Of course, I would like you to see the artworks, but I believe that the cityscape, the back streets, the buildings and the people who live here — all of them together will complete the art festival.”

Maebashi Biennale runs through Dec. 20. For more information, visit

maebashi-biennale.com

A portion of the transportation costs for this story were covered by Maebashi Biennale. The article hasn’t been shared with any third party prior to publication.