929 (Mt. Fuji) 1986

Editor: Here we have Yoshisuke Funasaka’s "929 (Mt. Fuji)" from 1986. I'm struck by the graphic quality of the image; it’s so flat, almost like a screen print. The vibrant yellow is certainly attention-grabbing. What formal qualities jump out at you? Curator: The initial draw is indeed the stark juxtaposition of colour – the dominant yellow plane versus the playful yet rigid arrangement of vertical bars. It begs the question: is the illusion of depth diminished or heightened by this calculated tension? Observe the faint triangular shape at the upper portion of the frame, ostensibly suggestive of Mt. Fuji, and question how the artist manipulates our perception of space. Editor: That triangle *does* change things. I hadn’t consciously registered it as Mount Fuji before, but now I see how the simple geometry interacts with the squiggly lines in front. They're almost like… a visual code? Curator: Precisely. We might examine the lines not merely as representations but as structural components. How does their rhythm—the shifts in color and curvature—impact the overall harmony, or dissonance, of the composition? Semiotically speaking, each line possesses its unique identifier, which when placed together create a distinct meaning through structure. Editor: I see… so it’s less about what they *represent* and more about *how* they work together formally? Curator: Yes, indeed. The beauty of formalist study is rooted in the intrinsic understanding of art's function via line, color, form, and structure and how these intersect within a pictorial plane. Editor: So fascinating. I never thought of looking at Mt. Fuji like it was abstract code. It's really changing my perception. Curator: Indeed. And these subtle provocations in the language of art help to constantly re-define not only visual art but our relationship to how we interpret the physical world as well.