The Miho Museum: I.M. Pei’s Shangri-La

This is Shangri-La,” the architect I.M. Pei was moved to declare when he first set foot on the mountainside in Shigaraki where his latest commission, the Miho Museum, was to be constructed.  Viewing the breathtaking landscape, he recalled a favorite Chinese tale from his childhood,  “Peach Blossom Spring” by Tao Yuan-ming.  The story goes that a fisherman was rowing up a mountain stream daydreaming until he reached a grove of peach trees in full bloom, filling the air with the fragrance of peach blossom petals that were drifting in the wind. On both sides of the bank were flowering trees as far as the eye can see.  Reaching the end, he was drawn to a ray of light coming from a cave which led to a long narrow road that opened to the most splendid view:  Fine houses stood among crystal clear ponds and rich fields of mulberries, willows and bamboo.  He was in the land of the immortals. The villagers, all looking happy and content, were working the fields.  They said that their ancestors, fleeing from war a long time ago, had come to this place and lived quietly ever since.  Delighted to meet the fisherman, they graciously entertained him with food and drinks for the next few days.  When he finally went home, he told everyone about his discovery and made plans to go back to the idyllic village.  He tried to recount his trail but alas he was never able to find Shangri-La again.

Intrigued by this story, we decided to set out for this “paradise” of a museum that has won multiple awards for architecture, lighting and structural design.  After a 13-minute train ride from Kyoto station to Ishiyama followed by a 50-minute Teisan bus ride, we arrived at the welcome pavilion of Miho. A shuttle takes you to the museum proper but on a lovely sunny spring day, we said, “Why not go for a walk?”  It was a most judicious choice as the gently sloping path was lined with blooming cherry trees which was a true blessing for us, having missed the blossoms at most of the sites in Kyoto.  The walk was an absolute joy, enhanced further by the sound of birds, ending in the mouth of a gleaming silver tunnel.  As we traversed the tunnel, we noticed a pinkish hue on the metal surface, a reflection of the sakura flowers outside, giving the walk-through another dimension.  It must also be fantastic in the fall when the reflection turns orange with the maple trees.  “The journey itself would have to be part of the experience. There could be no short cuts, but rather a slowing down, a sense of leaving one world and entering another,” explained Pei regarding his design of the path to the museum.   The blossom path was Pei’s interpretation of the stream and the tunnel was the cave journey of the fisherman.  To make the approach a serene one, a way for quieting one’s mind to prepare oneself for the museum, the architect sound-proofed the tunnel by perforating the aluminum.  True enough, there were no echoes from our voices and even the shuttle car passed us by quietly. 

At the end of the tunnel, we were greeted by an arch of cables supporting a suspension bridge that linked two ridges of the mountain, the most efficient way to do so without cluttering and doing too much damage to the environment.  Not to mention that it’s a work of art in itself, framing a panoramic view of the museum set amidst the lush greenery.  It was yet another experience as the bridge carried us across a deep gorge, like walking on air as Shangri-La came into view.

The museum was very discreet, inspired by Japanese farm houses that blended harmoniously with the surroundings.  Just like the paradise in I.M. Pei’s favorite tale, the museum is practically hidden — 80 percent of it was built underground so as to preserve its natural environs and to assimilate it into the landscape.  “Japan’s architects in the past strove to bring their buildings into harmony with their environment.  Of course I don’t want to be a copycat but I do want to respect the thinking of the Japanese people and their culture and traditions,” according to Pei.  His design also takes into consideration that “the place or area has its own history and spirituality.” Shigaraki dates back to 742 AD, the 14th year of Tenpyo in the middle of the Nara Period when the Emperor Shomu built his Shigaraki palace there.  It has so many historical and cultural sites that it has been called an open-air museum.  The area where the museum stands is a nature preserve blessed with sparkling mountain streams and waterfalls.

Entering the museum, a transparent structure of glass, one is welcomed by the splendor of natural light and a panoramic view of the countryside.  Built in 1996, it has stood the test of time.  The sloped glass roof is composed of triangular space frames in steel with louvers that have a digitized finish evoking the grain and texture of cypress wood.  Warmth is further added with the use of French Magny Doré limestone for the walls and translucent Spanish alabaster for the wall sconces.  The design of Pei is based on the triangle which he believes is “the simplest and strongest geometrical construct.  Yet one can create great spatial complexity through juxtaposition and combination.  It is a lot like the music of Bach.  The music of Bach is a variation on a theme and yet what richness he was able to give it.”

Remarkable as the architecture and interiors may be, it never outshines the works of art within. The collection which now has over 2,000 pieces actually started over forty years ago when Mrs. Mihoko Koyama (after whom the museum is named) would choose exceptional Japanese tea ceremony objects that she felt had “that rare ability to touch and warm people’s hearts.”  Growing up in a household where art was deeply appreciated and her love of artistic expression was nurtured, she went on to study at the Freedom School in Tokyo known for its innovative Christian teaching approach, fostering a sense of duty in making a genuine contribution to society.  After meeting the spiritual philosopher Mokichi Okada in 1941, she found her calling, a way to both contribute to society and express her passion for art.  Mr. Okada taught that “the role of art is surely to heighten people’s emotions, to enrich their lives and to give meaning and enjoyment to their existence.”  Another of his sayings which guided Mrs. Koyama was “People should advance beauty in the environment and increase their appreciation of beauty for it is sure to have the effect of beautifying the hearts of people who live in it.”  By 1970, Koyama  established Shinji Shumeikai (Divine Light Organization), informally known as Shumei, “to create a world of truth, virtue and beauty.”  In 1993, Koyama and her daughter Hiroko decided to make their holdings available to the public by donating them to the non-profit Shumei Cultural Foundation and making plans for a memorial gallery to house the collection.  Delighted with I.M. Pei’s work like the Louvre in Paris and the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C., they contacted him to design the museum.  Pei, however, expressed one reservation:  “The museum as a shell is important but the contents should be international.”  

Shumei then began expanding their collection to include Western and Eastern antiquities. Two of their fabulous finds were the larger than life, standing Gandhara Buddha from the 2nd century AD, the largest of its kind to survive; and the Garden Scene fresco from 1st century AD Pompeii.  They comprised the cornerstone of their international collection which was followed by other art works from the ancient world.

Early pieces that span more than two millennia of Chinese art include ritual bronzes, musical instruments, lacquer, jade, ceramic tomb figures, Buddhist and secular stone sculpture, and gold and silver luxury items.  A rare Yohen Tonmeka tea bowl from the Song Dynasty is one of only four existing, with unusually exquisite crystalline patterns — each starburst displaying a prism of color. 

Aside from the garden fresco, another outstanding piece from the classical world is a Roman floor mosaic from the 3rd century AD depicting Dionysos’s discovery of Ariadne on Naxos.  Pei positioned it on the floor below a balcony from where you can have a better view from above.   

There are many treasures from Iran — some gorgeous gold goblets and zoomorphic silver vessels in repoussé; a Torque (pectoral) necklace of gold with cloisonné inlay of semi-precious stones from the mid 6th century BC, the most splendid example of Achaemid court jewelry.  A silver rhyton or drinking horn depicts the protome (forepart) of a desert lynx (caracal cat) clutching a desperate cockerel in his paws. A hole in the bird’s neck acts as the spout from which the wine flows, making it a very graphic simulation when red wine is poured. A 20 ft x 10 ft medallion and animal carpet from the late 16th century dominates a room — a fine Sanguszko,  a masterpiece among the two well-known Persian Ardabil families of carpets.  From Norheastern Iraq, (883-859 BC) is a stone relief of a winged, human-headed genius and royal attendant, part of a wall relief depicting the King of Assyria, Ashurnasirpal II, flanked by his attendants and protective, divine figures.     

Ancient Egypt is represented by limestone reliefs and statuary in wood, stone, bronze and silver.  A significant piece not to be missed is the solid silver cult figure of a seated, falcon-headed deity from the early 19th dynasty (1295-1213 BC). Said to be the only one of its kind in the world, it has all the qualities of an ancient description of a god: “bones of silver, flesh of gold and hair of real lapis lazuli.”  It has delicately molded musculature, an austere yet powerful image of the god Horus.

 â€œJust as in the tea ceremony, each object that we acquired for its beauty and brilliance of execution edified the daily lives of people,” said Mrs. Koyama about the selection process.  It was also very personal for her, how she related to each piece.  When the Gandhara Buddha arrived in Japan she welcomed it with hands together, saying: We are deeply honored to have you here . . . .  It must be inconvenient to be missing an arm.”   She was already 80 years old when she embarked on trips to collect works of art overseas but she was full of resolve to acquire based on Pei’s suggestion that she should gather “a high-caliber collection that would reward visitors who might come to visit from afar.”  She also remembered Okada’s words, “ We must overcome differences of nationality and race and become citizens of the world as one family.”   Her search, however, was done carefully — she studied each piece with her own eyes.  “Observe the finest, most beautiful things,” she once said. “They’re good for your eyes.  If you keep on looking at good things, you will recognize what is not good.  You must look at many beautiful things — nothing second or third rate, but only the finest objects and lots of them.  That way you will develop a discerning eye.”  Even with her busy life, Koyama took time out to find and enjoy beautiful things and would encourage her children to do so, taking them to her favorite art dealers.  During these occasions, when shown pieces that would catch her fancy, she would gush with the unbridled spontaneity of a child. 

Koyama was also known for her attention to detail.  When preparing for I.M. Pei’s first visit to Shigaraki in 1987, Koyama dressed up the guest hall specially for him. She placed on the wall a wood-carved plaque of a flying celestial, passed down for centuries at Kofokuji temple, and below it a ladle used to hold the sanctified water offered to the Eleven-Headed Kannon during the Omizutori ritual at Todaiji temple.  On the ladle she added a pure white camellia.  On another wall, she hung a scroll carefully chosen to appeal to what she thought was Pei’s taste, and arranged flowers in an old Shiraki jar.  It looked perfect to her assistants, but not for her:  She showed them how sprinkling water over the flowers and the vase was the final touch that made all the difference. “See? The vase and flowers even look better don’t they?,” she exclaimed then proceeded to instruct them on the best timing for sprinkling the water before the esteemed guest’s arrival. 

Her passion for the arts can also be gleaned from the cuisine served at Miho’s restaurant and tea room.  All the ingredients used for the dishes and sweets are products of the art of good farming known as the Shumei Natural Agriculture Method which grows crops using only the sun, pure water, and clean soil.  No chemical fertilizers or insecticides are used but only natural compost like dead leaves and dry grass. In consonance with Okada’s words that “the essence of health is adaptation to and respect for nature,” conscientious farmers grow clean, healthy crops which are prepared by Miho’s cooks with the greatest care.  At the tea room, we tried the assorted vegetable plate with focaccia which was excellent.  The pastries like the Bavarian cream cake and strawberry roll cake were delicious, as were the Japanese sweets like the mochi made from yomogi mugwort and bean paste. The orange juice was unbelievably sweet without sugar added.  For late lunch, we went to the Peach Valley restaurant where we had the pasta primavera with the freshest broccoli and tiny yellow blossoms, cold soba noodles with vegetarian  tempura and a tofu cake on the side.  It was probably the cleanest, healthiest food we have ever had and was a fitting finale for our delightful visit to this jewel of a museum.  Miho is truly a paradise of art that filled our senses and lingered in our memory as we made our way back to the bustle of Kyoto.  Even now that we’re home in Manila, recalling the time spent there brings a feeling of serenity and a longing for that piece of heaven on earth.

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Visit http://miho.jp  for information. Follow the authors on Facebook: Ricky Toledo Chito Vijandre; Instagram @ rickytchitov and Twitter @RickyToledo23.