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Twirling in the Intermediatheque / 4 September 2013

At 37C, but feeling hotter, the atmosphere is quite oppressive and staying in a temperature controlled environment sounds like a rather good idea. Taking the metro into Tokyo station and then strolling underground to Kitte - billed as the place to broaden your horizons on the shopping front - does mean minimum exposure to the biting heat of the sun. The underground walkways are lined with adverts - one that seems to be for washing powder consists of an oversize piece of actual white fabric sewn with buttons, to resemble a shirt-front - it flaps lazily like washing on a line.
Kitte is a playful name derived from the word for stamp: kitte, and alluding to 'kite' which means 'come on over!'

This new building, JP Tower, incorporates part of the old Central Post Office with seven floors devoted to food, shopping and dining and a joint venture by the University of Tokyo and the Japan Post Co. Ltd. The 'Intermediatheque'  (IMT) is a free to access facility 'dedicated to interdisciplinary experimentation venturing into cultural creation of a new kind based on the fusion of every means of expression '.

Special exhibitions and events based on scientific research and artistic expression will run alongside the permanent exhibition as well as a comprehensive education program.
I am fascinated and entertained by skeletons of every sort, snakes and whales, birds and humans, prehistoric and comparatively modern; by gem samples, designer clothes and patterns, fossils and Curiosity Rover (NASA) photographs of Mars; by original door handles and the hands of the old post office clock.
There are photographs of the original post office construction in 1930 alongside digital images of the rebuild, finished in March this year. There are scientific instruments and stunningly beautiful 'trees' of rare black coral, IMT aims to cover everything and inspire everyone:

I turn my back on minke whale, 
on red deer and emu. I inch bemused
from butterflies and rough diamonds;
roll my way past stone carved gods and
an old Damien Hurst style 
teaching aid of cow divided,
side exposing entrails.
I glide from crystal balls, oil portraits,
cabinets of minerals
and mannequins in white
exotic tailoring, with space
to turn and twirl, I stroll to
contemplate the crocodilian
skeleton pinned climbing
the entrance wall.