Life on an Art Island: A Naoshima Resident Shares the Reality
Kenji Tanaka is 52, born and raised on Naoshima. His father was a fisherman. His grandfather worked at the Mitsubishi smelting plant that once dominated the island. He now runs a small guesthouse near Honmura village and has watched his island transform from an industrial backwater into one of the world's most significant art destinations.
Q: What was Naoshima like before the art?
Kenji: Quiet. Poor. The smelting plant closed, the young people left, the population was declining. My generation grew up thinking we'd have to leave too. The Benesse Corporation started buying land in the late 1980s, and Tadao Ando built the first museum in 1992. At first, the locals were confused. An underground museum? A yellow pumpkin? What was this?
But it brought visitors. And jobs. And eventually, pride. My daughter studied art in university because of growing up here. She's back on the island now, working at the Chichu museum. That would have been unthinkable in my father's time.
Q: What do tourists get wrong?
Kenji: They come for 3 hours, see the pumpkin, take a photo, and leave. That's like reading the first page of a novel. Naoshima needs a full day minimum. Ideally, stay overnight. The island after the last ferry leaves is completely different — quiet, the art sites lit up, the stars clear over the Inland Sea.
Also, the Art House Project in Honmura is where the art and the community actually intersect. These are our old houses, our ancestor's spaces, transformed. That matters more than a selfie with a pumpkin.
Q: Favorite art piece on the island?
Kenji: The Water Temple (Go'o Shrine) by Sugimoto in the Art House Project. It's a working Shinto shrine — I pray there. But it has a glass staircase descending underground to a chamber of water. Art and spirituality and daily life in one building. That's what Naoshima should be.
Among the museums, the Monet room at Chichu. I've been hundreds of times and the light is different every visit. Cloudy days, sunny days, different seasons — the paintings change because the light changes. That's Ando's genius.
Q: Impact on local life?
Kenji: Mixed. Tourism saved the island economically. The population stabilized. Young people have reasons to stay. But 500,000+ visitors per year on an island of 3,000 people creates tension. During the Setouchi Triennale, it can feel overwhelming.
The Benesse Corporation has been respectful — they involve locals, hire locals, and the museums are designed to enhance the landscape, not dominate it. Ando's underground approach was a deliberate choice to preserve the island's character. I appreciate that.
Q: Best local food?
Kenji: The island doesn't have much in the way of restaurants — a few near the port and one at Benesse House. For authentic local food, the small udon shop near the ferry terminal does hand-cut noodles (500 JPY). Simple but good. There's also a cafe in the Art House Project area that serves excellent curry rice.
Bring snacks if you're spending the full day. The island isn't set up for casual dining the way mainland Japan is.
Q: Advice for visitors?
Kenji: Rent an electric bike — the hills to the southern museums are steep. Come on a weekday if possible. Book Chichu tickets online well in advance. And please — don't sit on the pumpkin. It survived a typhoon. It doesn't need to survive Instagram.