Working title (Article 11)
Why Deep-Sea Creatures Feel So Romantic: The Moment "No Idea What That Is" Gets a Meaning
There's something about deep-sea creatures that pulls us in.
It's not just that they're beautiful.
It's not just that they're cute, either.
If anything, they're weird.
Weird shapes.
Weird names.
Weird faces.
Weird sizes.
Weird ways of living.
You can't tell where they came from.
You can't tell what they're up to.
And yet, you want to look.
That's the real power of deep-sea creatures.
Takeshima Aquarium (in Gamagori, Aichi) makes deep-sea creatures its big draw. Its official homepage says it shows an extremely large number of deep-sea species, including rare ones depending on the season. The in-house map is packed with deep-sea highlights too, such as the Deep-Sea Water Mass tank, the Deep-Sea Little Windows, the Deep-Sea Zone and the Sawarin Pool (a hands-on touch pool).
So why is Takeshima Aquarium so good at the deep sea?
The answer lies in Gamagori's deep-sea fishing.
On the aquarium's official page about what makes it special, they explain that Gamagori has a port for boats that catch deep-sea fish, that deep-sea fishing has been done here since long ago, and that it's an unusual area where both deep-sea and nearshore fish are plentiful. They also say that their network with local fishermen lets them display many unusual deep-sea creatures.
In other words, the deep-sea exhibits aren't just an aquarium buying rare animals and lining them up.
Local fishing, the fishermen, the daily catch, research and the exhibits are all connected.
That's the interesting part.
Most of us never run into a deep-sea creature in everyday life.
So there's a blank space in the viewer's head.
"What is this?"
"Why does it look like that?"
"How does it even live?"
"Can you eat it?"
"There are things like this at the bottom of the sea?"
Those questions come up on their own.
Then the exhibits and the handwritten signs fill that blank with meaning.
That's the job of an aquarium.
If a deep-sea creature is just sitting in a tank, it might stay a "weird animal" and nothing more.
But it has a name.
It has an explanation.
It's tied to the fishing in Gamagori.
There's something you can touch.
There's a feeding time.
There are the keepers' observation logs.
Then "no idea what that is" turns into "that's fascinating."
The romance of deep-sea creatures isn't the unknown itself.
It's the moment the unknown gets a meaning.
Take the basket star (Japanese name: Tezuru-mozuru), for example. Even its name makes no sense at first glance.
Then there are Itomaki-fugu and Kisuji-itomaki-fugu (two kinds of pufferfish), where both the name and the shape make you curious.
And there are anglerfish-type animals, with their mouths, their looks and their strong deep-sea vibe.
Each one has its own "what on earth is that?" doorway.
The exhibit catches people at that doorway.
That's why deep-sea creatures are so easy to write articles about.
They fit what people search for, too.
Why does it have that shape?
Why does it have that name?
Where does it live?
Can you eat it?
Why can I see it at an aquarium?
How is it caught?
People can't leave things they don't understand alone.
That's where an article is born.
Takeshima Aquarium is strong as a machine for giving meaning to things we don't understand.
The romance of the deep sea is the mix of the unknown and an explanation.
If it were only living at the bottom of a dark sea, it might just be scary.
But it's in the tank in front of you, with a name, a sign and a keeper's words.
Only then does it become romance.
In one line
The romance of deep-sea creatures isn't in the unknown itself. It's in the moment an exhibit and an explanation give meaning to something you can't quite figure out.
Related article ideas
- Why does the Japanese spider crab feel so unreal?
- Why do we want to see giant isopods even though they're creepy?
- Where do the animals at an aquarium come from?
