I was recently tempted to term the handsome old Bridgestone Museum as "the last of a dying breed." But that hardly seems appropriate any more, considering the Nihonbashi art space's ongoing evolution. Instead, the Bridgestone might be better described as "a survivor" -- and one of the best -- from a bygone era.
Opened in 1952, the Bridgestone presaged the rash of department store and corporate "museums" that mushroomed throughout Japan in the bubbly 1980s. Then, as those players one by one dropped out of the art game during the belt-tightening '90s, it seemed only a matter of time before the Bridgestone Corporation would pull the plug on its central Tokyo art space. So when the museum closed in 2002, "for extensive repairs," it seemed we'd maybe seen the last of the place. But, just as promised, the Bridgestone reopened early in 2003, looking better than ever.
Unlike most of the so-called museums that sprang up during the '80s -- and more than a few "museums" operating in Japan right now -- the Bridgestone has its own collection, and so it does fit the classical definition of that term. I think this is the key to the Bridgestone's enduring appeal: It has not radically changed its format over the years, rather it has survived on the strength of the collection it shares with its sister institution, the Ishibashi Museum of Art in Kurume, near Fukuoka.