IN-SIGHT

  Nonaka-Hill is an art gallery hemming the western fringe of Hancock Park in Los Angeles. Helmed by Rodney Nonaka (née Hill) and his husband Taka Nonaka, the gallery offers an intimate street-level view of Japan’s vast artistic output, a culture that – even in our deeply connected world – remains intriguingly opaque.

We sat down with them to learn more about their background, relationship, and gallery life during Covid-19.

What’s the mission of Nonaka-Hill?

RODNEY: Well, Japan was Taka’s “normal” until he moved to the US.  I remember when, after a while of living here, Taka observed “People kinda like Japan, don’t they?”.  We talked about this idea a lot.  I also realized that my interest in Japan was undeniable and it’s a realm that I always wanted to work in, so the agenda has been to create the classroom that I never had.  When I was in college in the 80s, art history seemed like this monolithic, one-track thing, with modernism being the highest end goal, based mostly in New York and Europe, anointing mostly white men.  That historicized work has stuck in my mind while we do this other program, getting to know Japan.  I joke that I’m monogamous with the idea of Japan, and entirely promiscuous otherwise. This last show, for instance, I had to fully immerse myself in the history of tea, which before I’d known nothing about.

How did you two meet?

RODNEY: We met in 2006 on Myspace. It was the moment where you could take a photo from your phone and place it into another person’s phone.

TAKA: I found his profile picture cute, and I read his profile, he wrote my hero is Rei Kawakubo, and I thought, who is this guy?

The circumstances under which you both met almost seem like fate, tell us a little more about that.

TAKA: I’m from the Nagasaki countryside and moved to Osaka as soon as I could, working construction jobs, and DJing at clubs and bars. Eventually I got fed up with Osaka and tried to move into Tokyo. I asked my friend if he knew anyone there, because I needed work. He knew the Mama-san of this popular gay bar who gave me a job. I was 19. I worked in nightlife for a long time, but then I wanted to see the sunlight. I got a job as an Art Director for the Japanese showroom, HP France. I worked with them for twenty years.

RODNEY: I started college in 1982 and studied Japanese language and Art History. The course in Japanese Art History ended with woodblock prints, explained to be significant because they were enjoyed by Van Gogh and his peers. Meanwhile, Japan’s fashion scene was emerging and radical, so I was like, ‘How does Japan’s art history end with woodblock prints, but now we have all this great design?’ I surmised in the 1980s that Japan’s art history was not being respectfully or thoroughly considered.  I had this desire to be a curator of Japanese Contemporary Art, but in the pre-internet era, it was an obscure pursuit.

There is often an element of humor or of "realness" to the shows at Nonaka-Hill. Everything feels very honest and human. Is this something that you look for in the artists you represent? Or do you believe that it comes in at a later stage, when you are curating/hanging the shows?

RODNEY: I think that we’ve been blessed with a lot of kismet. It’s really satisfying to make two-artist shows which hinge on some commonalities between two artists. For instance, a show featuring works by the late Pop artist Tiger Tateishi and emerging artist Takuro Tamayama showed two artists whose work proposes a future where objects and planets anthropomorphize.

Last year really put a lot of things into perspective for businesses. How has it been since COVID began?

RODNEY: In the beginning I was really worried for our survival, as I still am. Being fairly new, we’re fortunate to be a very lean and nimble operation. I feel like the gallery offers visitors respite from the world. It’s a quiet, not crowded, relatively safe space. Some people exhale as if they haven’t had that feeling in what seems like forever. We’re very lucky to be able to offer that to people, so the pandemic made me even more committed to offering the in-person experience with real physical artworks.

  With big open windows and a strip-mall locale, the space feels more like an inviting boutique than a stuffy gallery. Shows at Nonaka-Hill fall beyond the parameters of the traditional gallery model. One presentation might highlight architecture, with nothing for sale. Another might show traditional wall work. Once, between exhibitions, local artist Kaz Oshiro created a painstakingly real depiction of a paint splattered garbage dumpster prompting visitors to presume that the gallery might be between shows.

Taka wears Doublet sweater, Hed Mayner denim,  Doublet fur slippers, and hat his own.

Interview: Sam Trainer

Photography: Santi Hurtado

Photo Assist: Robert Holland

Date: February 19, 2021

What has been the most challenging show you have put on at Nonaka-Hill?

TAKA: Perhaps it was Sofu Teshigahara’s show, where we painted the gallery walls blue and covered the floors with white rocks to emulate installations which he would make in Japan between the 1950s to late 1970s. The show was cut short by COVID, but...  

What is a medium that you haven't yet introduced to the space, that you would love to?

RODNEY: Food!

What has been your most memorable meal / place to eat as of lately?

TAKA: Quite spontaneously, we set up a folding table and chairs in the gallery parking lot and had dinner with our friends and god-sons with kebabs from Ludobabs, next to the gallery. It felt like a sly work-around of the outdoor dining prohibition. Now we keep a folding table and folding chairs in the car for our on-the-go take-out meals.

Galleries often reflect what their gallerists are thinking about; Nonaka-Hill finds a loving couple in rapt conversation over their respective cultures. It serves as a little shrine of their curiosity in a strip mall on Highland, the kind of trans-Pacific partnership we could all stand to emulate.

Interview: Sam Trainer

Photography: Santi Hurtado

Photo Assist: Robert Holland

Date: February 19, 2021