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 he has watched his island transform from an industrial backwater into one of the world's most significant art destinations.
Quiet. Poor. When the smelting plant closed, the young people left and the population kept thinning. Kenji's generation grew up assuming they would have to leave too. Then the Benesse Corporation began buying land in the late 1980s, and Tadao Ando built the first museum in 1992. At first the locals were baffled — an underground museum? a yellow pumpkin? what was this?
But it brought visitors. And jobs. And, eventually, pride. Kenji's daughter studied art at university because she grew up here, and she is back on the island now, working at the Chichu museum — something that would have been unthinkable in her grandfather's time.
They come for three hours, see the pumpkin, take a photo, and leave — like reading the first page of a novel and calling it finished. Naoshima rewards a full day at minimum, and ideally an overnight stay. The island after the last ferry pulls away is a different place entirely: quiet, the art sites lit up, the stars sharp over the Inland Sea.
The Art House Project in Honmura is where the art and the community actually meet. These are the island's old houses — ancestral spaces — transformed. That lingers far longer than a selfie with a pumpkin.
Ask Kenji and the answer is the Water Temple (Go'o Shrine) by Sugimoto, part of the Art House Project. It is a working Shinto shrine where he still prays — yet a glass staircase descends underground to a chamber of water. Art, spirituality, and daily life folded into one building. That is Naoshima at its truest.
Among the museums, the Monet room at Chichu. Kenji has stood in it hundreds of times, and the light is different on every visit — cloudy days, sunny days, shifting seasons. The paintings change because the light changes. That is Ando's genius.
Mixed, and honestly so. Tourism saved the island economically. The population stabilized. Young people finally have reasons to stay. But 500,000+ visitors per year on an island of 3,000 people creates real tension, and during the Setouchi Triennale it can feel overwhelming.
The Benesse Corporation has handled it with care — involving locals, hiring locals, and designing museums that enhance the landscape rather than dominate it. Ando's underground approach was a deliberate choice to preserve the island's character, and that respect shows.
The island keeps things sparse — a handful of spots near the port and one at Benesse House. For authentic local food, the small udon shop near the ferry terminal hand-cuts its noodles (500 JPY): simple, and very good. A cafe in the Art House Project area serves excellent curry rice.
Pack snacks if you are out for the full day. Naoshima is not wired for casual dining the way mainland Japan is.
Rent an electric bike — the hills up to the southern museums are steep. Come on a weekday if you can. Book Chichu tickets online well in advance. And please: do not sit on the pumpkin. It survived a typhoon. It does not need to survive Instagram.
For the full experience guide, read our 9 reasons to visit Naoshima. For the personal narrative, see our art island story. Miyajima is another Inland Sea island worth folding into a broader itinerary.
