Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 7

Week Seven
Monday-Tuesday, August 25-26, 1997
What Happens when the Flute Player Dies?
The past few days have been spent studying the culture. Monday, I went to my old friend's house today to ask a few questions about trends. He was an English teacher so I thought he could explain things in English and I would understand better what is going on here as far as older and younger people go. Most of the conversation was in Japanese, though. Then I went to the town office to ask a few more questions. Amazingly I am able to communicate quite well in Japanese. It takes some time but so far one of my friends has been in all of the different offices that I have had to go to.

Tuesday, during driving practice (Takahashi insists that I do before I drive a car), I went to my old junior high school. There I met a professor I used to know who is both a photographer and a Japanese studies teacher. I told him about my ideas (discussed below). He said that they were right on as far as discussion of Japan. I said I needed to find one thing to tie all this together. He told me about these rituals every month to pray for good harvest. My original thought was that maybe the rituals could be the bridge between the ages.

I also met with a cultural anthropologist from the Minnesota University Akita Campus which is just up the hill. He really liked the idea of photographing in the nursing home. And he gave me a few really good ideas. He also pointed out that I need to be careful about what I say about rituals. He said that he came to Japan 20 years ago and thought “oh these rituals are going to die.” And now he sees the people who were once younger, taking over the responsibility of rituals. He says he is going to introduce me to a teacher who has been studying this and has written an article that looks at the gradual disappearing of craftsmen and musicians called "What Happens When the Flute Player Dies?"

I have a shot that shows all the people cleaning their graves. It is for the most part all older people. He thinks that this is perfect to show the ages, but I also have several shots that show the younger members of the society learning different aspects of the rituals. So my thought is that although it is mostly just the very young and the older members of the society, the rituals are actually the bridge because the younger people learn them, then don't really partake until they are adults.

Anyway, below is a discussion of sorts of what I am trying to accomplish and the questions I am asking.

What are the big concerns of rural Japan right now? My thought is to try and illustrate the big changes going on here.

Problem 1. Depopulation: this is the biggie that everyone is talking about.
The young people are leaving for the city leaving the rural areas without enough people to do farming, run shops, etc. This is also means that the growing older population is being left without the traditional family to care for them. In short, I see the traditional family breaking up. John Mock says it is adapting. I like this better because there is less of an inherent negative connotation. I see this as being the most important. (Japan prides itself on the fact that they take care of their older people in their own houses.)

I am illustrating this by shooting the nursing home. When the young people go to the city, there is no one left to care for the older people. Also, their role in society is disappearing as the farming decreases. They end up in nursing homes, like Mrs. Noto. Here they have to redefine their roles and adapt their habits and customs. For the healthier ones, they take care of the weaker ones. For some who have not adapted they sit all day in bed and stare, waiting.

I am also looking for photographs as I photograph the pepper farmer, or his mother (Obaachan or Baa), doing the household duties and working in the family maintaining her roll in the society. This Friday I am going with her as she goes to visit her husband who has been in the hospital for two years. Evidently he has Alzheimer's; she goes once a week to do his laundry and spend the night.

Problem 2. The changes going on in rice farming. As I mentioned, farmers are having to take on full-time jobs, switch crops to support themselves. Rice is a part of Japan's identity. Research at the town hall and with the anthropologists proved that nearly everyone in this town is a part-time farmer.

So far every Japanese person I have talked to from cultural anthropology professor to office worker to governmental worker agrees that this is a good area to focus on here. The farming has changed. The national government decides yearly how much rice each prefecture will produce and buys it at a predetermined price that is ten times the world market value. This means inflated rice prices but at the same time there is a lot of cash exchanging hands in the economy. Whereas rice farming has been a lucrative business, enabling many families to live a wealthy lifestyle, the country has gradually been decreasing the amount of land allotted for farming rice. What this means is that those who farmed rice all their lives have either had to take on other jobs or switch crops; regardless, there an income adjustment. There are only a few full-time rice farmers left, most of the farmers have taken on part-time jobs. John Mock, the cultural anthropologist, also contributed a few other changes that will result from this change. First the families that have previously been wealthy from the rice farming will shift economic classes, becoming apart of the lower or middle class unless another job is taken on to subsidize income. Also, the green space that acted as a huge water filter will disappear (and has started disappearing) into a huge urban sprawl. He notes that Japan’s sewage system is primitive at best, hence there will be a dramatic increase in pollution. And the family structure will continue to adapt. Currently, the older members of the family's (grandmother, grandfather) main purpose is to tend to the fields and family vegetable garden, (and younger children (if there are any)). At harvest time, the father, mother, and older children take vacation days from work to harvest the rice along with the grandparents. As the green space disappears, the older members of the family's purpose will also disappear. What this means is that basically once their family role is gone they will just be sitting around waiting to die.

As I mentioned, I am photographing a full-time farmer who farmed rice until 10 years ago when he switched to peppers and cows. He and his wife farm, his mother tends to the house (she is 75) while his three boys go to school, work part-time jobs, and sleep. He says his boys don't want to farm. He says he does not know a farmer in their 30s. He sees this as the country’s biggest problem. A country that cannot feed itself faces starvation, he says. To understand why this is perceived as such a huge problem, you need to have studied Japanese history. The Japanese have long prided themselves on self-sufficiency. Since the beginning of their history, they have worked very hard to achieve this. Gradually, the farmer is under siege. Not only from a government that is slowly tightening the noose by mandating less rice production, but also from its younger populations who do not want to assume farming duties because the lifestyle is so hard and the pay is unpromising. I think that the hard work is what really scares the younger people. They do not like to work. Is it because they are burned out from studying? I don't think so because I never see any of them studying. I do see a lack of discipline in the home. The kids get away with murder. There is no form of punishment, that I can see. Kids can stay out all hours of the night. I think what has happened here is that the parents were products of WW2 and had harsh lives with no food or luxuries. Now they are trying to give to their children what they did not have. The discipline thing is something that I am amazed at. Parents have no idea where there kids are and they live in the same house. It feels so disconnected. It feel like the ages of this society are totally disconnected. The 20's and the 40's are miles apart. Same for the 30's and the 50's. Not all parents are like this of course. I am trying to figure out how to do this. It seems like in the nursing home there is a bridge between the ages.

Problem 3: Not many babies are being born, although this affects the country on a national basis; rural areas are hard hit because they do not have the population base to begin with. Tied in with this is the fact that many young Japanese women do not want to get married, especially to farmers. I think this is a common problem all over the world. This to me seems like a subset of Problem 1.

Need help with this one. I have photographed a bunch of young folks doing what they do best, partying and playing. I want to find a young woman and do some photographs of her. But this seems boring. I am trying to see about photographing a Filipino bride. Evidently Filipinos are the fastest growing group in Akita Prefecture. I am not sure there are any Filipinos in Kawabe Town. I think there is one in the neighboring town which is also a part of the Kawabe region.

Wednesday-Thursday, August 27-28, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Hidoi ne? (It's terrible)
Did some more work this morning. I am continuing to investigate the Filipino house wife thing. I have been invited to meet a bunch of them at the end of September. And if I make some friends, then maybe I will have something to photograph. I am not sure that I need another thing to photograph. I am starting to think that the themes that I am interested in can be found in the two places that I am shooting, the nursing home and the pepper farming family. I think that in order to do a good job with these things, I will need to stick with them. Also, harvest is coming up and there will be some good images.

In the afternoon, my life moved from being "a graduate student in Japan" to a "one-eyed graduate student in Japan." I touched a friend's cat, Hana (which means flower in Japanese). Then I touched my eye. For all my friends who were with me during New Years, it happened again. My eye blew up the size of a golf ball. I quickly figured out that this was happening and told my friend that I needed to go to a hospital right away. I learned a new phrase "pin to kita" which means essentially ding and it came, I get it. I go to the hospital and all the nurses freak out running around to get the doctor like ET has just walking in. Once they had me lying down and a needle in my arm, a small round nurse in blue short dress came in and sat down. She looked over at me and in a whisper under her breath she said "hidoi ne" and sighed. I said is it that bad (they wouldn't give me a mirror), and she sighed again. I finally looked in a mirror, I could only see out of one eye. It was huge and very puffy. So Wednesday and Thursday have been spent lying with ice on my eye and sleeping. I have been to two doctors. I told them the last time it went away right after I got the shot in the US. The doctor said to me what is your hurry. Well I tried to explain to him, I am trying to finish a master's project. He told me to do that tomorrow and to go home and put ice on my eye and sleep. If it is not better tomorrow, then he will give me the shot that I got when I was in America. Goodnight.

Friday, August 29, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Room 810
Went to the hospital with the grandmother of the pepper farming family today. Her husband has been in the hospital since July of 1995. Miyo is about 3'7" tall with a slight hunched back from years of doing farm work and sitting on the floor, like so many Japanese grandmothers. For the first year and a half, Miyo lived at the hospital, spending every night there, curling up on a small futon on the floor between his bed and the wall. The garbage can and a huge box of diapers blocked the light from the hall. Eventually her health was affected and the doctor told her she needed to go home. Now she comes to do his laundry and spends the night once a week on Friday, as before, curling up on the floor near the wall. She arrives in the morning, sits until lunch talking with the woman who is in the same room and who also is caring for her mother. After lunch, she starts with the laundry. Her husband does not understand anything. He lies on his back or side hunched up in a stiff fetal position playing with his sheets. Miyo speaks proudly about how her husband was never sick much and how hard he worked on the farm all his life. She smiles a little bit and looks at him saying "Isn't that so Ojiichan" (old man or grandpa). Sometimes he turns his head toward her voice in recognition, but not often.

The day was long and at times hard to deal with. The scenery hardly changed. All day Miyo sat next to the bed except for occasional trips to the washing machine or the boiler room where the towels and white undershirts were drying. At first, I didn't think she was too psyched to have me there, but as the day went on I changed my mind. I think I was probably a welcome change in her routine. Someone to have tea with and a chat. And definitely a conversation piece for the nurses. I was also around to help her reach the high drying lines in the boiler room. In the morning, the youngest brother of her husband came by to say hello. He was visibly shaken by his brother's condition. Miyo said that only occasionally does anyone from her house come with her because they are all so busy.

While I sat eating a cold bento lunch, the nurse used a special suction contraption that consisted of a glass jar connected to a small tube which was inserted into his mouth to clear the saliva and phlegm (can't remember how to spell). Twice a day the nurses would come and empty this jar. Occasionally her husband would raise his hand a little and moan. Or she would go over to his bed and gaze at him and tell him to be quiet, shaking her head saying that he does not understand anything. What really struck me was the strong sense of commitment and deep love that she had for him, I saw it when she would lean over the bed. I photographed all of this. I took a break mid-afternoon to go to a cafe and write a letter. Basically I needed a break from the monotony of sitting.

I photographed all of this sitting and I kept trying to get shots of the emotions, however small, as she would go to his bed and look at her husband. To me this is an important part of the family life. There were a few nurses that came and went. And once a doctor came, but he asked her to leave the room. I looked for interaction between the young and the old, but there was very little. A friend of mine told me that there is a shortage of nurses here, which is why so many patients have their families live at the hospital to help care for them.

I left Miyo as she was sitting on her futon ready for bed. She told me to be careful going home and I told her to sleep well.

Saturday, August 30, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Today I moved out of the apartment and into a homestay.

Sunday, August 31, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Clear Blue Rivers are for Swimming

Enough said. I spent Saturday night and Sunday with a family in the remotest part of Kawabe Machi. They own a flower farm and have two kids who are fun and rowdy and spoiled. They live next to this beautiful river in a beautiful valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. The town is out of some kind of fairy tale.

Next week:
I am going over all my film to date to see where I am. I still have not found a negative scanner.
I go to Tokyo on Thursday to go to the Foreign Press Club, have a meeting with my on site supervisor, and try to find a scanner. I think maybe I can use one at AP.

Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 6

Week Six
Tuesday, August 19, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Found Treasures
analysis
I spent the day at Akita Junior Arts College going through all of my film. For about seven hours, I pored over negatives, organizing them into category, marking ones that I liked, and noting it in my computer. Some of my notes to myself include: watch the edges of the frame, keep an eye on background foreground separation, and wait for a face. Other notes that I take include ideas of photos that I want to shoot or that I want to do better. Many of my earlier images seem like garbage. Can't figure out why I took them. Lesson number one, I guess. And I can honestly say that in the later rolls, there is more of a structure and I am looking for expressions and interactions. There are also a lot of images with people doing things nicely framed, but looking at them now they feel empty. I feel like many of these images are more of a study of the society, like the women sitting in a line with a man looking out the window. The ideal is to combine some nice light with this kind of study.

There was another student in the darkroom and she was just as frustrated as I was. After six hours of looking at photos, I kind of flipped out and started to hop up and down, and run back and forth. Several minutes after, she asked me where I was from.

Broke my 80-200 yesterday. It fell off a truck at this farmer's house. The mount is bent. But a friend of a friend loaned me his 80-200 mm. That is nice. The lens is to be sent to Tokyo to be fixed.

Wednesday, August 20, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
You don't check out
Mrs. Noto left for home today. She had her bags packed by noon. All day long she had a smile on her face and a light in her eye as she made sure she told everyone she was not going to be around for dinner. She waited outside the entrance of Kawabe So for 30 minutes before a cab came sprinting up and a middle-aged woman jumped out to help her. According to Mr. Iwaya, Mrs. Noto has had a hard time adjusting. Everyone knows that you check in but you don't check out. Mrs. Noto is one of the lucky ones. How long she will be gone I do not know. I thought I heard four days, but I will miss her bright smile and simple complaints. She also told me that her daughter was going to take her to Tokyo in the fall.

The short sprint is over and now it is time for the long haul. I am no good at distances, I am great at walking into a place, getting real good access at first. But when I have to keep going back that is when I notice the little frowns, the faces looking the other way. I am no longer a newcomer, just someone around who is here taking pictures, and pictures, and pictures. I wonder how tough your skin has to be to do this work. Too tough and no access, too soft and no pictures. Today I went to Kawabe So. I didn't take many photos. After looking at my negatives for six hours the previous day, I didn't see much that really grabbed me today. I had also forgotten one thing. Access. Access is re-negotiated by the hour as far as I am concerned. And getting access is hard work, almost as hard as the shooting, though I think some might disagree. The Obosan came and sang for about 10 minutes while they passed around incense. The store came today and people could buy fruit and crackers, and the doctor came. All the light sucked. Of course, the doctor wanted to bitch about Clinton and I had no idea what he was talking about. All the nurses became increasingly embarrassed as did I because he ranted and raved for about 15 minutes while I sat there and said I didn't understand. I got the feeling that not many people like him. When he came to do the blood pressure of Mitsu, a woman who can't talk, she lay rigid as a rail. When he walked away he tripped on a trash can and Mitsu started cracking up and quickly covered her mouth, but as soon as I would look at her she would lose it again.

I did photograph in the bath of the day center folks. There is a care worker there who I am fond of and she is fond of me. I photographed the women getting their hair washed. They put these surreal halo-like things around their heads so the soap doesn't get in their eyes. I like the feeling of just seeing the top of the head, and the arms reaching under the white halo thing. Of course my lenses fogged up to no end. I tried to photograph more from my gut than from my head. But with lame light that was kind of hard.

Today I did figure out loud and clear who I have good access with. Mr. Sato, Mitsu, Mrs. Noto, Mrs. Toita, and a few others. Several of these folks are in the home because their family lives in Tokyo. Perfect for my project on the survival of rural Japan. I guess I figured out that the people I like and who like me are who I am going to spend my time with. Not earth-shattering but limiting in its own way. I kind of have a policy that, when working on a story like this, I do not photograph people who don't want to be photographed.

Thursday, August 21, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan

Bent over and picked up a flat rock today, after my run. Someone had penned in a smiley face with a single tooth in black ink. Felt like a good omen so I picked it up.

I spent most of the day at the town government office doing research for this project “Eclipsed by The Rising Sun.” I, rather young boys and girls who work at the office scratched their heads and pored over thirty years of government documents in an effort to figure out what the trend for this town is. Underpopulation is the big concern here, all the young people leave for the city leaving the old people to fend for themselves or go to nursing homes. Also the fact that the government is allotting less and less land for rice. Naoko helped me a lot as I struggled to figure out what the social security policy is for older citizens. Next week I am going to call an English teacher friend who is retired to ask about this.

Friday, August 22, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
The Best Found Treasures Are to be Given Away
Gave away my smiley rock to Mr. Sato today. He grabbed my hand this morning in a warm welcome and kissed it. Jokingly, one of the nurses called him a skebby old man which means perverted. He got upset and I said I knew he was being my friend and gave him a wink. Later I gave him the rock which he promptly placed neatly among the tissues that he rolls every morning and keeps stuffed in his shirt. Some kind of treasure chest. Tonight I went to say goodnight and I noticed he placed it on his night stand, next to his Real Gold drink (a drink with tons of caffeine and nicotine and supposedly a few vitamins). I have a good idea who I have good access with. And I wave to them all none the less. Some times as I see them flipping through old photos, or standing by the door as their family members leaves, my eyes fill with tears. Today Kikue Itoh's son came to see her. He sat her down at the table and left, she asked him quietly are you coming again? And then got up and followed him out. He was awkward and embarrassed. I think I got a nice shot (I hope) of her from behind looking down a dark hallway as he walked out. She followed him and then he started to tell her to go back. I took her hand and led her back to the lunch room saying I would take care of her. He sighed with relief.

Tonight I am writing this from Kawabe So. As I type, Mr. Takahashi (different from the taiko Mr. Takahashi) is trying to read over my shoulder. It is raining hard and there is a dragon fly the size of a bird flying the halls. A baby bird is chirping loudly in Mrs. Toita's room, I think it is stuck in the vent. I am spending the night here. Weather permitting, the morning is when I catch the residents at their best and most active, and the light is nice. I am also told that there are deer around here that occasionally can be seen.

I spent the morning thinking about my essay. Two main themes seem to be emerging here: Family and Work and how they are changing here in this little community. Kawabe So has two different sections, the permanent residents and the day center where residents come for the day. The bulk of my work has been with the permanent residents. They have created more of a family setting. The bulk of my photos are of residents helping each other, and of the care workers helping the residents. I also like to photograph the ofuro (bath) time because the residents are happy and relaxed. Their faces shine with pleasure as they enter the bath. Also I like how the care workers gently wash the hair and bodies of the older members. I am interested in how the younger workers interact with the older residents. Next week, I want to photograph my friends, Akiko, Asami, and Yoko if they do the bath time. They are all about 20 years old and are incredible with the residents.

The weather has not been very cooperative. The light has been fairly flat. It seems like there is some kind of separation between dark and bright, and so I am trying to keep that in mind as I set my aperture and shutter speed. But I usually end up shooting at about 1/60 and f2.8.

“Naita” "Niye ta"
I cried
Mrs. Noto returned to Kawabe So today. Half undressed, wearing a see-through thin white sleeveless undershirt and a nice skirt, she sat in the dark crying and unpacking her things. There was a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes as she told me that she came here in a car by herself because her daughter was too busy to come with her. She couldn't stay at the house alone all day because she couldn't do anything by herself. Her daughter leaves for Tokyo tomorrow. We sat together on her bed and she cried. The other care workers came in and made fun of her, this is very Japanese. Emotions are OK, but deep ones should not surface. I took a few photos of her with tears in her eyes but it was dark so you probably can't tell. In the dark I helped her unpack her things and told her about what I did today. She continued to cry, and with her smiling eyes, in a faltering voice, she said even though everyone here is nice, she still wants to go home. It nearly broke my heart but the harsh reality is that she is never going home. And she is never going to Tokyo.

Saturday, August 23, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
The baby bird that was chirping non-stop in Mrs. Toita's room is dead. It was stuck in the vent, although no one seemed to notice. The daily monotony got to me today. Today was a long day. I got no sleep last night. Nothing happened, I just couldn't sleep. The night shift was boring and long. Having no car means I am reliant on kind souls to transport me and my camera about. This means that when I go to photograph it is usually for the entire day because I come with one person and leave with another.

I did photograph several women praying to their dead husbands in the morning. When someone dies, they become a kind of God that you feed rice and water too every morning. And every year you remember the day of their death, plus have a big party with the entire family during August (Obon). The (older) Japanese think that the fact that we do not have any ritual built into our day to remember the dead is horrible and strange. But what I find even more touching is that the majority of their pity lies not for the living, but for the dead. They all say to me how lonely it must be to be a dead person in the United States. Anyway this photo situation was perfect for this essay. Mrs. Noto had a picture of her husband on her night stand, but it was obscured by a small coffee cup that had Tokyo blazed in English all over it. At first I thought, damn, I can't see the picture. Then I thought, SHAZAM, I can't see the picture. I want to look at how rituals are being supplanted in the institutions into which these people are being placed.

The light was kind of flat. But the light at Kawabe So has this soft quality about it. It models the faces of people. There was some good interaction between staff and residents today. But by 1:00 p.m., I had had enough. The smell was driving me crazy and I was exhausted. I think on nights that I spend the night I will go in the afternoon so I am more refreshed. It takes a lot of energy working with all the residents. More than I realized. Much of the time I spend asking about their pictures, their family and their lives. More often than not, I walk away with small cakes and cookies that have been forcefully shoved into my fanny pack.

Sunday, August 24, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
An arm is just an arm until its wrapped around the shoulder
I have two cassette tapes to listen to here. This is a lyric from a song by Iris DeMent but it describes how I am trying to photograph, successful or not. I keep trying to think about how people interact and how precious those moments are. How people care for each other. How do people show it? Who directs the show? Who sits back and watches? Who has the best facial expression? Who lets me see that?

Searched for a four leaf clover today while the farmers were taking a break. I didn't find one, but that's ok, I still think I am lucky. I wanted to give it to Mr. Kawakami because he says to me all the time that he is unlucky. I keep telling him that he has three healthy boys, a smart wife, and a healthy mother. I gave him a penny that I found the day I left the States. He asked me if it was OK, thinking maybe I would lose the good luck it had brought me. I explained to him that if you find a penny and pick it up and then give it away to a friend, it is even more lucky. Satisfied, with a red face and a beer in one hand, he took the penny in the other and held it for a while. He has not had good luck in the past year with his peppers, and two of his cows are sick.

He is the pepper farmer that I am photographing. Many rice farmers have had to find other sources of income. Some have completely changed the crops they farm, others have taken full-time jobs which means farming is done in the morning before 7:00 a.m. or on Sundays. In every neighborhood, groups of farmers come together and do certain farming tasks. Three times during the summer this group of seven comes together and sprays chemicals on their fields. Mr. Kawakami is the president. I asked whether people pool their money and buy tractors to help each other harvest and plant. Mr. Kawakami said no because the farmers are too competitive. This is the only thing they can do together.

Today was spent trying to make good photos while seven men were spraying toxic chemicals on small green patches of land that host rice. As we rode the tractors deep into the mountains, I felt like I was in Thailand or Indonesia. It seemed ironic when we stopped at a natural spring that had a glass cup sitting neatly on a stick and all the men had a drink of the delicious water and then continued to spray. Mr. Kawakami said the water came from the mountain gods. All the men were at least 40. Mr. Kawakami said that there are no farmers that he can think of who are in their 30s.

I dodged the hose and the wind and was almost run over by the tractor, but that is lucky, at least I didn't get sprayed. The chemicals were to kill bugs. I saw no bugs, only small frogs and dragonflies fleeing the poisonous clouds. The men wore no masks and more often then not were down wind of the white cloud. With brown faces and towels wrapped around their heads, the men smoked cigarettes as they walked holding this yellow hose connected to a silver gun that blanketed the fields in a milky liquid. We passed the stream that I went fishing in last week with Mr. Kawakami's son. At the end of the day, they had a small party. It was dark. Two of the men got into a huge fight. Huge in Japan means harsh words are spoken and everyone tries to shut up the guy who has had too much to drink and is instigating the fight. I couldn't figure out what was going on, so I watched trying to string words together while sipping on beer and eating peanuts. The embarrassed men kept telling this one guy Suzuki, to shut up, saying that some people shouldn't drink because of how they change. I said it was the same in America. And there was a nodding and a general consensus that anywhere you go people are the same. People seemed comforted by that and so the revelry continued until I was rescued by Mrs. Kawakami to come in for dinner. When I left the house Mr. Kawakami was passed out on the floor, and the mother was chatting with her friend and her two children who had just consumed two beers, the grandmother was sipping Japanese tea trying to take part in the conversation, and the twelve year old was asleep in front of the TV after drinking a small glass of beer.

I am struck by how disconnected the families are. The parents have no idea what their kids are doing, where they go, who they meet, what their interests are, etc. There is a real feeling of separation.

Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 5

Week Five
Monday, August 11, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Makase(Impossible!)
Ganbare (Hold out! Don't give up!)

Learned a new word tonight. I was talking with my friend, Naoko, and she told me she was 40. I said I thought she was 30. She said in a great tone of voice "Makase!!" (impossible) pronounced mahkahseh. It is kind of a great exclamation of disbelief with a hint of cynicism folded in. I also had a new culinary experience that I hope not to duplicate, I ate cow tongue. Ohh so delicious, they said, as they squeezed lemon on the thinly sliced meat slowly cooking on the terra-cotta square barbecue sitting on the small short wooden table in a small crowded smoky room floored with straw tatami mats. Can you say fire hazard?

Anyway, today was the hardest day yet. The rain has not stopped here for six days. Every morning I wake up to rain. The weather is gray and uninviting. The air is heavy much like the feeling I have in the morning. I have not been sleeping. I had forgotten about this. When I come to Japan I turn into some kind of insomniac, maybe it is the food or maybe it is all the tea but I wear down easily. Everyone says to be careful, to take care of my body. When I was last in Japan, I weighed about 15 pounds more than I do now. Wherever I go people who I used to know look at me funny, tell me they almost didn't recognize me because I have lost so much weight, and then ask me if I have been sick. I say no, just been to graduate school.

Today I spent much time trying to get the processing of my film sorted out and I regret to say it is still being worked out. First problem is the cost, second problem is that I have Kodak color negative film. Japan is FUJI land. I have decided that I hate color neg. film. What should I do? Bag the Kodak and go buy Fuji slide film? Still thinking about this.

Spent quite a bit of time thinking about this project and how it will all come together. Naoko and I talked at length about my ideas and she made some useful suggestions, as well as headed me in a good direction. Naoko was a photographer here in Kawabe for 15 years and knows many people. She suggested that I start with this one farming family that farms peppers (Kawabe's most famous product). The family has many generations working together, grandmother, father, college student. Then integrate other aspects of the culture like childhood, festivals (taiko), rituals, rice, elderly people using different people show the way of life throughout Kawabe. This might be a good way to go because then I can show many people of Kawabe and include photos from different situations. Again I am looking for old and young integration. This is difficult to do, but I am going to try. Every where I go here people say to me "Ganbare" pronounced gahn bahrey which means hold out or don't give up.

Tuesday, August 12, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Taihen Ojama shimashita (I really interrupted you, or I really got in your way)

It's 10:30 p.m. My friend and former student, Miyuki, just left excusing herself saying "Taihen Ojama shimashita" which means I am really sorry for getting in the way. She dropped by to bring me watermelon and clean my kitchen. I was talking on the phone in my underwear and she rang my bell. I have always had an open door policy here. If I am home please come in. Well last time I was here, I had all the neighborhood children show up. This time my friends come over any time. Tonight I ate dinner with two women from Kawabe So (the nursing home) who live in the same building. They just showed up too, with food. I had just had a interesting experience trying to get take out from one of two ramen shops in the town. They looked at me kind of funny when I explained I wanted to take it home and eat it. Take out has not made it to Japan yet, and fast food is still only at Macdonalds (pronounced Macdonaldo). Then they said OK. Well about 30 minutes later, they hand me a plastic bag containing a huge ceramic bowl full of ramen covered in seran wrap. A nice bowl. I guess if I steal the bowl, they can find me. Right now I am the only westerner living in this town. That might look bad for my photo work. Front page of the local paper, Jennifer Loomis caught stealing large ceramic bowls from ramen shop. The first paragraph might go like this: Jennifer Loomis trying to save money and gather presents for friends, teachers, and family in the States was caught trying to mail more than thirty ramen bowls to the States. Loomis began stealing ramen bowls by innocently asking for take out in elementary Japanese. After a three day man hunt, she will be held without bail and will remain at the prison where she will be forced to teach English to 20 year olds (wakamono=young things).

The film problem seems to finally be sorted out. Naoko, my friend who used to be a photographer says that she know the lab to get the film processed. Kodak or Fuji, this lab can get things done. I brought her 15 rolls. She is also checking on a scanner for me so maybe I can post some of my photos. And she introduced me to the current photographer for the little paper here. Firmly but sweetly telling him to take care of me. He has a light table that I can use whenever I want which will be good.

Picked up some more film. Still hate color neg. I think I will be OK if I don't see the prints but only the negatives.

Spent the morning visiting the day care center and the temple spreading the word that I want to photograph a farming family.

analysis
Had a rough few days but Naoko has helped me a lot. I taught her how to hug like I like to do with friends. She is so bony that it was almost painful at first, but she is getting the hang of it. I think I may just stick with color neg. Naoko also is introducing me to a pepper farmer. Pepper’s are this towns claim to fame.

Wednesday, August 13, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Big Day
Today is Ohakamaeri. This basically means that the entire family and extended family, if possible, trek to the family grave stones. All over Japan people are on the move driving, flying, taking trains, biking back to what is translated as their birth place. There they gather. Rain, sleet, snow, and typhoon, they go to visit the graves bringing flowers, incense, candles, and food. Of course today it is raining and gray. ASA1000 speed film isn't even good enough.

Spent the morning at the Akita Municipal Junior College. In the middle of Akita is this amazing two-year college of art, design and traditional Japanese crafts. Amazing. Mrs. Mito who used to be the nurse at a school where I taught, hooked me up with her younger brother who works here. They have more computers than they know what to do with, more than 200 Macintoshes 8100, 8500, scanners (though flat bed), video editing, 3D animation, etc. They even have two SGI's that they don't even use because they haven't had time to learn yet. The strange thing is that there are only 300 students. I was floored.

My friendly host, trying every English word he could muster, gave me a first class tour. Brave man, most Japanese who are fluent will not even venture a try at English even though the language that has permeated the culture to such an extent that Japan has developed its own English. For example, Pocarri Sweat is a drink that is like Gatorade. Anyway the tour continued on to a complete dark room for both color and black and white, and a complete studio with brand new everything. Mr. Nagai made a point of saying that none of the studio equipment had even been used and the college has been open two years. Then on to all the textile rooms, the pottery, the metal shop and on and on it goes. They converted a two-hundred-year old train station into the crafts studios. This in Japan is very RARE. Modern Japan is obsessed with the new. Antiques and anything that does not reek of modernity usually becomes garbage or is torn down. Right around the corner from Kawabe is this huge suburban sprawl of two story houses. Everybody wants to live in NEW TOWN pronounced nuuuu towwwnnoo. The place is kind of like a Leave-it-to- Beaver-like neighborhood, but homogenous Japanese style with small trees, small dogs, and monochromatic houses (though I did see a pink one).

Back to the college. After the tour, I found myself face to face with the head honcho of the college. In typical Japanese style, a small nymph-like white-faced young girl walks in with a tray carrying, no not tea (that was six years ago, this is now modern Japan), three cups of coffee in shiny dainty white cups sitting on paper thin saucers. Again in typical Japanese style, we talked for about an hour about nothing relating to my visit other than the fact that I was a foreigner and the Head Honcho had been to Sweden (a foreign country). Finally I heard Mr. Nagai say that I really wanted to live in Japan (???), he also gave him the total run down on my project and said that he hoped it would be OK for me to use the dark room. I also heard him say "Pro" after the word Internet. Basically I wowed him by checking how much RAM the computer I was using had. Too bad my master’s defense won't be so easy.

So everything is a go. I just have to buy my own paper and chemicals and I can use their dark room. They introduced me to a fairly tall dark haired guy wearing Khaki shorts, Teva shoes, and a striped polo shirt, Mr. Katsuaki. He teaches industrial design and basically is at my service. He said the students would also be around to help me. They all seemed to talk a lot about the Internet. I showed them the MU page and a few other interesting ones and explained my purpose of integrating sound and photographs. I forgot to add that they have a digital camera at this school as well, but no one uses it. Sugoi (oh my God!) pronounced su goy emphasis on the last syllable.

Naoko came over at lunch and brought my film. I glanced at it, afraid of what I might see. Wasn't that bad. Tomorrow I am going to go the Yakuba (town office) and use their light table to have a good look. I gave her the rest of my film. Film is film is film. I want to look at the negatives and see how my shooting is, how the content is. Color can be "fixed." She also was delighted to tell me that she found me a scanner to use at the local telephone company office. I just have to figure out a way to get there. God bless Naoko. I hugged her and again taught her to hug me back which she did. She is getting better.

P.M.
Anno Yo ( a drunk man's way of getting your attention) when pronounce with a slur it means Uhm, you, look over here.

My name is Jeffehni when being pronounced for the first time(or second or third time) by drunk Japanese men, young and old. I just tell them Jen will work. I will answer or listen (or ignore if the person is too drunk, which tends to happen after 10:00 p.m.).

Went to Ohakamaeri at 3:00 p.m. today. Of course it was raining. Gross. I was carrying too much gear. I spent two hours photographing people I didn't know, doing what they do best on this day of the year, lighting candles, hitting the gong, and rubbing their hands together in remembrance of people who have died, and rubbing Buddah's belly and then their own to make them well (I rubbed Buddah's eyes and head, and then my own. What the hell right?). I found myself explaining that in the US once someone dies you have a funeral a few months after and that's it as far a ceremony goes. You may keep a picture on your dresser and visit the grave periodically but that is it. The Japanese I spoke with were shocked. Honestly shocked that that was it. In Japan, at least one person in the house, remembers the dead person every day usually with offerings of rice and water to the family Butsudan (a little or big altar with the dead person's picture) which is in the living room. And at Obon, all the family members come together and go to the grave with candles and special treats like rice, vegetables, and candy all presented on a lotus leaf. The crows get real fat at Obon.

I met a family of three, a mother and two daughters at their grave. They said it was fine to shoot them and then they invited me to dinner. I next photographed inside the Temple. In the main room is a huge altar with a big bell and a big cauldron thing that you hit and it makes a nice mellow gong sound (on tape). There was this real cool menorah-looking candle thing. No one could tell me what it was for. Or maybe the Japanese was difficult. But Takahashi said he would explain tomorrow. There was also an altar for all the people who had died since the last Obon. There was also this room full of small altars where I think they kept the ashes of the dead people. I am not sure. But it was dark. I saw the family that I spent Sunday with at a party for this guy who died 33 years ago.

Then I went to the Sasaki's house. The plan was all to go to Ohakamaeri together. There are three kids at the Sasaki's, a mom, dad, grandmother, and grandfather and a nice dog whose name is ChiChi. Unfortunately, much to the delight of the younger kids, I kept calling him ChinChin which means penis penis. Oops. Six years ago these three kids were part of the clan that used to come and play at my apartment. They are all grown up now, wearing frosty nail polish, lipstick and dyeing their hair yellow (the oldest boy). But they are still great kids. By the time we went it was dark and raining (no surprise). Whatever. The girls insisted on carrying my tripod. So no picture there. Sure a natural photo of a cute Japanese girl in a Duke's of Hazard T-shirt carrying a tripod, in the dark. The mother was reluctant to be photographed. She works at Kawabe So. I got the feeling that all was not well within the family. This could have been one of the reasons for her hesitation to be photographed. The father reeked of alcohol when I showed up at 5:00 p.m. He had buck teeth and was kind of slimy. And as the night progressed, his face got redder and redder. The Sasaki family is one of the wealthier families in this town or so I am told by all the gossipy young and old women who I talk with me. They have a huge house carpeted with tatami mats and a huge butsudan (alter to the dead ancestors located in the living room). The back yard is long and wide with many varieties of vegetables and Chi(n)Chi(n) on a short metal chain.

The grandmother was as genki (healthy) as ever. Typical Japanese house, she asked her 17-year old granddaughter to help her prepare the offerings for the grave and the daughter said no way. The grandmother then said with a big smile "Wagamama" which means selfish, and then proceeded to whine about what a big problem this is as her granddaughter is calling her friend on her personal cell phone (paid for by grandmom and granddad).

Left the house stuffed full of sushi, tea, and sake. The entire house came to the genkan (doorway) to see me off. Of course I had too much stuff because of the rain, and I wore tennis shoes which means about three minutes of silence after saying my final goodbye because I had to bend over, untie them, insert my foot, and retied them. The future in Japan is in Velcro. Invest now. Oh, and then another minute of unlocking my bike.

But I still had one more house to go to. I told the family that I met at the grave that I would come for dinner. And I knew they would expect me. Plus they were friendly and on my way home.
I arrive and as I expected the table is all set and they have already eaten, thank god because I was late. The mother scurries to the back kitchen and comes running back with a cold bottle of beer like the house is on fire and she is carrying the only bucket of water. Then as soon as I had a sip she would pick up the bottle and fill my glass. Well in Japan if someone is pouring for you, you had better pick up your glass, or it is rude. So the game continued, as soon as I would put down the glass after a sip to take a bite to eat she would start pouring. Needless to say I didn't get to eat much. But I managed to finish the beer. The daughter, Hirome, is actually an acquaintance that I met six years ago.

The family had been drinking wine and the father had a red face and as the evening progressed (I was only there for an hour) he became harder and harder to understand. Typical in Japan the women become embarrassed by the drunken behavior of the man of the household and kind of ignore him. That is when the "Ano Yo" started. He kept telling me that he was head of the fire station. And said that I should come by any time for tea. I said sure. Then he said he knew someone at Fuji and maybe he could get me some free film. I am not holding my breath because he kept repeating himself over and over. He also said that anytime there is a major accident or fire he would call me. OK I said, here is my number.

Just before I was going to leave before I started the process of putting on my shoes, the grandmother upon hearing that I liked pictures disappeared for about 15 minutes to reappear with a book of pictures from her trip to Disneyland. She is 83. She rode all the rides and absolutely loved the roller coasters. Amazing. She also told me to come back anytime when she is farming to take pictures.

analysis

Photos from the Ohakamaeri I think were good. The Sasaki's photos weren't that great because we got a late start and it was dark. I am still thinking about how I can tie all this together. I do find myself when I am in these people's houses for dinner chilling and not taking photographs. The light is usually overhead fluorescent and there isn't anything particularly amazing. I think I will try and take a few photographs but it is difficult to shoot a "documentary" situation if you are actually a large reason for the situation. I have found two farming families, Mr. Kawakami a pepper farmer, and Mr. Seki (same Seki that showed me around the apartment when I first got here) a kangyo noka which means part-time farmer. Most Japanese farmers are part-time farmers. They only farm on the weekend. I also told them that I want to photograph their usual life. They both have grandparents who live with them and help with the farming. And they both agreed to the shooting.

Thursday, August 14, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Clear Skies
Sky was clear today when I woke up at 4:50 a.m. This time it was not insomnia, but I went to photograph the town men and women cleaning the shrine (different from the temple that is used during Obon). The shrine is 230 years old according to one guy. It is used for festivals. Men and women are assigned work duties. Takahashi, my Taiko friend, is in charge of preparing the shrine for the festival. This entails cleaning and purification.

Off of this main road, Highway 12, there is a pebble drive. At the back of the drive sits a white Tori gate that indicates the entrance to a shrine. Walking under the gates and up this long and winding stairway that sits under a canopy of thick foliage, I passed people, all older, cleaning and mowing. At the top of the stairway is another Tori gate, and then one more before you come to the trees. The people were busy bees. Men mowing and women squatting down in their little covens chatting as they weeded or washed dishes. Women are definitely separate from the men and it is rare that the two interact. I have several photographs that point to this.

In no time, the overgrown jungle was mowed, weeded and trimmed in preparation for the upcoming ceremonies. They hung a flag to announce that there would be a festival at this shrine. And then everyone went home for breakfast. As I started packing up my stuff, one of the older guys, Mr. Sato and his grandson, Kooki, started playing catch underneath the white Tori gate. This image kind of symbolizes what I have been thinking about as I have been photographing the ceremonies and rituals during the past few days. How rituals used to be kind of a bridge between the old and young.

As I was leaving a reporter for the Akita newspaper, Sakigakishinbun, pulled me aside and asked if he could ask me a few questions and take some pictures for the paper. How he heard about me being here I have no idea. But and a hour and a half later after he took a bunch of gross pictures of me, and I told him why I was here, he left with a bunch of my film saying he could process it for free at the newspaper. I was shocked and told him he didn't have to do this as best I could in the proper Japanese to refuse something. He took the film.

Red fire trucks at noon.
Mrs. Oishii told me to come by and that she would let me lay on the electric mat to re-energize my ki. I took a nap lying under old photographs of someone who must have died a while ago and of Mrs. Oishii dancing the samba as volts of electricity pulsed through my body. I did feel better, but it was strange to think about.

Energized, I went to explore last night’s offer of tea at the firehouse. Mr. Takahashi (different person than taiko) ushered me into his office and a tall gangly looking guy (Shirado Shun) who looked vaguely familiar brought in two cups of coffee. Obviously not adept at playing office lady, he forgot the saucer, milk, and sugar, and had to go back into the belly of the fire department three times. The third time he came back bringing the sugar, someone said that he was my student six years ago and that I used to play soccer with him. Bingo!

With electricity and coffee pumping through my veins, the next thing I know the fire chief is pulling out all of the fire trucks into the middle of the road and putting up the search lights, turning on the sirens, and telling me to climb in. We didn't go for a ride, but he kept saying here take a picture. I have about 5 shots of red fire trucks at noon with men standing by them. Oh and one of me in the fireman's jacket and hat, that is way to long so I end up looking like a flasher with a rain hat on.

P.M.
Ohairai
Before every festival in Japan that is affiliated with a shrine, which includes most of them. They have a purification. The Kumnaojinja had two purifications. One for those who worked getting the shrine prepared and one for the "erai hito" pronounced er ai shto which basically means important people. At 7:00 the people started to gather. The sound of the cicadas made was deafening and mosquitoes the size of sparrows were feasting on everyone. The sound of swatting continued until someone brought in the bug incense that a coil burned which releases a smoke that kills mosquitoes, never mind that it can't be too good to breath. There was one light and it was dark. Mr. Sakaki is the master of the Shrine. He did some drumming, and chanting (all on tape) and then waved this stick with a bunch of white paper on it. Basically that was it. I got a few cool pictures. It was a very male thing and I was kind of intimidated. I had my monopod which helped in the low light.

analysis
I am enjoying myself, really. I really like the way I have no idea where I am going to eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dinner, and dinner. Just looked at some film on a light box the size of a post card. Better than nothing. Amongst the rolls were some frames with which I am pleased. Better than nothing. Kawabe So, the nursing home, is definitely my strongest stuff, with the grave cleaning ranking second. For today, I think I have risen above worrying that I am taking shitty pictures and just started taking them, trying to be innovative and looking for the light while keeping in mind how this all comes together. Definitely looking at the film helped me see a few things I need to keep working on. Although, I was not looking at prints and I cannot really tell about color shift. I find I am in a lot of dark places. Carrying a monopod or a tripod is difficult on a bike but I think I am going to have to try to figure something out. I wish I had a 105mm. The 80-200 is a pain in the ass because it is so big and cumbersome. I hate it, but I force myself to use it. I try to live by the “use every lens in the bag” rule. And I have started using two bodies which, after I got used to it, helps a lot.

It is also a find that I have this lab processing my film and not a Mom and Pop shop. May have gotten a connection into the main newspaper here from that reporter who interviewed me. I may be able to process film there after all. He said he could do it, about three rolls a day. Free. Well I gave him a few rolls to test out his offer.

Now the big question is starting to take shape. Why should anyone care that I am here? Why should anyone care about this project. A friend emailed me with this poignant piece of prose, challenging me to think. As I go from event, to practice, to event, to house, to fire station, to and fro on my bike, I wonder about this.

These festival and Obon rituals are an important part of the life of this village. Although I am not totally sure how to integrate them into the final project, I am thinking about these photos as more of an anthropological study of this culture. I have been trying to photograph with the idea that these festivals and rituals are a bridge between the ages. I am wondering in hind-sight how to have done this better. Possibly find one family that was going through all these things. Time was a problem as well as finding someone willing.

Friday, August 14, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Mercy Clean (Japanese English written on the handy wipe given out with lunch at the Shinto Purification Ceremony)
Rituals, rights, purifications, chanting, silence, dancing, fires burning, stirring the boiling cauldron with rice stalks, men dressed in pastel skirts wearing black hats that looked like something you strain your spaghetti in, white, red, yellow, green, blue papers strung up in the rafters at noon. Today was the Ohairai (purification) for the important people of the town. All the biggies were there and four Shinto priests and one woman wearing a hat that had gold leaves dangling from it to authenticate the ceremony. She kept cracking me up because she was dressed in ritual wear looking so serious and then you noticed that she was holding a pink fly swatter. Every few minutes, she would flip into a frenzy, and you would hear a swatting sound above the low voices of the men hob nobbing.

When the ceremony got started, it was intimidating. I think I made some good pictures though. I kept wondering about getting in the middle of it, but a) I am not brave enough for that, and b) I really didn't want to be disrespectful. Maybe this will be what separates me from some awesome photographer but I couldn't do it. I did go around the back and photograph as the men bowed and did their thing at the shrine. One man who was drunk said that I should have gotten right in the faces of everyone. I guess that is just not me.

Earlier that morning they had the Omikoshi, which is where all the elementary students carry a small shrine through the streets to the main shrine. The kids were less than psyched, and the adults were doing all in their power to get them to start chanting, blowing whistles and such. To no avail. It wasn't even hot, but I guess the kids would rather be playing computer games. They were all following a truck that played festival music and the truck kept getting lost or going down dead end streets which I found kind of funny. The older men were kind of moaning a little about this. I started photographing sequences as the group passed, using the same lens just shooting at intervals. Then the kids gathered for sumo wrestling, a sport that is associated with Shintoism. I was told by a friend that before the war, Shinto was used as a way to garner nationalism among the Japanese people. In its most extreme form, the Kamikaze pilots were Shintoist. Also, fundamental Shinto believes that the Japanese are the divine people, and that their emperor comes from the Gods. Most people don't believe that any more, and now it has been translated into a religion that brings villages together at certain times of the year.

analysis
This was an interesting past few days. I kept looking for old and young working together and saw very little of it which is telling unto itself. At certain points during this week, I have sat down and contemplated the structure of this project. I am no longer thinking about the film. Color neg. can be fixed or converted into black and white. I am more concerned with learning how to think through this type of project. David called it a buffet that will be there for a long time and I need to select from the buffet and make a coherent essay. This is good advice. But as I look at the buffet, I am thinking about what will not be there for a long time. What I find myself thinking when I go into these situations is "how is this (whatever) being done?" and am trying to photograph interaction, though I find a lot of my images very quiet. I also try to stay on top of good light, though I am by no means a master of this. I make a point of staying aware of what catches my attention and move to that. For example, all the Shinto priests were changing clothes. I was fascinated by the pastel colors, the flowing gowns, and the funky hats. I started thinking about this on a different level. Changing clothes. What else does this say that can be factored into the essay? My next task is to sit down and construct some kind of paragraph-like outline whereby I can take a look at this project as an essay.

Monday, August 18, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
I ran into a dragon fly while riding on my bike this morning coming back from the pepper farm. I spent Sunday photographing one of the few remaining full-time farmers in this area. The family consists of a grandmother, grandfather who is in the hospital, three kids, mom and dad. They have 17 cows and six houses of peppers which combines to bring in about $70,000 a year on a good year. Last year wasn't a good year though and I think he only made half of this. The kids aren't into farming. The father and the mother are the ones that hold it all together. The grandmother does the housework because everyone else is so busy or too self-absorbed. The youngest boy Mitsuoshi was the most fun. His buoyancy was quite wonderful. I took some photos of him chasing a butterfly and catching it, running around and fishing.

The rest of Monday was spent trying to find a scanner and trying to make some color contact sheets, but I ended up proofreading this design teacher's presentation that he was going to make in Finland at the end of the week.

Didn't find a scanner and I decided to bag making color contact sheets. Too much money, and negatives will work for the time being. I have started thinking about the final presentation. I am leaning more and more towards my original title Eclipsed by the Rising Sun: Rural Japan Struggles to Survive. This seems to embody a lot of what I have been shooting and place everything in a context of preserving rituals, children moving to the city so their parents have to go to nursing homes, teaching younger children about the older customs, older people trying to preserve their lives while younger ones try to soak in the Western culture (this is harder to photograph and I don't feel that I have a good grasp of this yet).

Plan for Tuesday.
Go over all my film, organize it by category and see what I have and what I need.

Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 4

Week Four
Monday, August 4, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Tskaretah (tired)

Tired. Today was another long day at Kawabe So, the nursing home. Mrs Nakamura died last night and was taken home. The rumor around here is that her ghost is going to come back Tuesday night, the night I chose to sleep over. Coincidence or Japanese joke? I don't know. But I am less scared of Mrs. Nakamura than of the poltergeist that was tormenting me in Kansas City. They all had a smile when they said this, but that doesn't mean much. One of the men who works there asked me if I had any pictures of her. I am not sure because I didn't know her. But I probably did because she was in room 5 with Mrs. Noto.

I never feel like I am taking pictures that are good enough, and I continually see pictures that I missed, but I am used to that feeling by now. My major achievement today was getting to know the residents better. I think their trust of me just tripled today. I also went in and visited a few residents who I hadn't previously spoken with because they are bedridden or seem in their own world. I guess I was kind of scared or felt awkward, but they are all so grateful to have a visitor. I wave to everyone if they are looking at me as I pass. Many have started to wave back if they can or if they didn't already. I have a few favorites. One woman who is totally deaf just cracks up laughing when I come to her. I always open my arms like I am going to hug her and she says laughing "are you still here?" Then when it is time to leave, she asks me four or five times what time I am going to leave. She is about 3'9" with big glasses, fake teeth and a laugh that is more like the waves at the beach on a windy day. It kind of takes over.

I spent a lot of time talking with as many of the residents as I can. Or for those who can't talk, I sit and stroke their hair, and do all the talking, oh and of course I take photos. I spent my morning with the group that comes for the day. I went to pick them up in the bus. The older women are so cute. There is a big socializing network. They all come to chat, sip tea. I got sound of the hum of the obaachans (that's what old ladies are called, baah for short) talking and drinking tea. There are always a few totally genki (energetic in mind, body, and spirit) old women who just love to talk. I could sit and listen to them gossip for hours. Of course if I am around, they all want to talk to me or about me. But gradually they bore of that as more interesting topics come up like someone else who is sick, or just got married, or died. Of course they use old vocabulary words that even most normal Japanese can't understand but they are so animated. I mentioned before Japanese women outlive Japanese men by about 10 years I think. I need to check on that.

I photographed the bedridden residents getting baths today. The care workers wash them down on a special bed and then there is this machine that looks like a huge bathtub that they slide the bed on. The machine lifts a huge tub of hot water up submerging the resident. This has been the biggest challenge so far. One of the men who works at the home didn't want me to photograph this. I can understand his resistance, it definitely is sensitive situation and it is hard not to feel like I am exploiting these people in some way. Believe me I have wrestled with this. But I am here to tell a story with pictures of this place. And the love that the care workers have on their faces as they bathe the residents who can't do it themselves, or the expressions of joy, if any, when they are submerged in the water is what I am photographing. This is an important part of the week. I just try to think about how can I make this beautiful. It is hard. The women who were washing the people said it would be no problem but I made sure we asked each person if it was OK. Two said no, but about 15 said OK. One guy even gave me the peace sign and said thank you. The care workers were surprised because he has never said this before.

Access is good and keeps getting better. I am also much more comfortable getting real close. In fact, I rarely use the long lens unless I want to compact the space like this wall that has a bunch of wheel chairs lined up and before meal time all the hall becomes a traffic jam of wheel chairs and walkers as residents slowly make their way to the meal hall. The residents are delighted to have me around and have stopped staring at the camera. I think I am a nice break in their routine.

Tuesday day, Tuesday night, Wednesday, August 5-6, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Shhhh, naisho. (Shh it is a secret)

More inroads. This time with the staff as I learned how to say menstruate in Japanese. They were thrilled to talk openly about this. And got a huge laugh as I at first referred to it as the red thing that comes for women once a month.

Throughout the day I began talking to more and more people. And today I finally feel like I can move freely among the residents and staff. One care worker insists that I take a nap everyday. She thinks I am always using my ki and that I need a rest. I photographed the bath time for the permanent residents that are fairly independent. I felt strongly about making sure it was OK. I do not want to take photographs of people who don't want to be photographed. It turns out I was more shy than they were. I was asking Mrs. Noto about it after words and she said that old women don't really care who is looking at them naked, saying they have lived their life and now they don't worry about much. The final resident to take a bath was Mr. Sato. I often see Mr. Sato sitting up hunched over in his bed head down and resting in his right hand (his left hand is immobile), with the covers pulled up around him. Or I see him slowly pulling himself along the rail in a wheelchair with his right hand inching towards the Coca Cola machine where he buys his three bottles of Real Gold, an energy drink loaded with vitamin C and caffeine. He never says a word, but when I go in and say good morning he raises his head and nods. And recently he has started to wave back to me or grab my hand. He has nodded yes to photographs. Well Mr. Sato once submerged in the ofuro (bath) started singing a beautiful old Japanese song from years ago. All of the care workers stopped what they were doing and gathered to listen. I, of course, grabbed the recorder because he kept going. With the water dripping in the background in this steamy room and his haunting song telling of a disappearing time, I started photographing(and crying). (I have enclosed the clip in this email for you to listen to, it is a real audio file.)

Dinner came and went without incident. There are two residents who go at each other, one always wants to shut the window and the other always wants it open. And so the debate continues. At 6:00 p.m., the day staff leaves and goes home. It was hectic this day because two women residents went to the hospital. Reason "guwai ga warui" which basically means their condition is bad. This is the generic and elusive Japanese word for sick. I have heard it hundreds of times. One care worker, Noriko, told me that the hospital no longer accepts residents for overnight stays, there was some kind of change in the health care and now they have to leave the same day. She said that it has made it increasingly hard on the care workers.

Later that night, when it was dark I started making the rounds. I go from room to room saying hello and seeing what the residents are up to. They all have their own rituals and customs, how they fold their blankets, how they socialize, how they sleep, patterns of life that create some form of order in their final home. I am looking for nice light still and sometimes it is from a TV set that illuminates the room.

I stumbled upon Mrs. Kamada. She has sort of adopted me too. I have about 6 Japanese grandmothers who are all looking out for me and a few of them think that I came back to Japan to find a husband. I can't figure out how to say I don't date guys who have waists the size of my thigh. Illuminated only by the hall light, Mrs. Kamada ushered me over with the Japanese hand signal that at first looks like they are trying to shoo a fly away. She put her finger to her lips and said "shh naisho"(shh secret). Next thing I know she is pulling out a tray of delicious Japanese rice cakes that are filled with a sweet bean paste. Absolutely my favorite Japanese dessert. She offered me one and said that they are not allowed to have these. I remember reading about this in an anthropology book on Japan. In the nursing home that was being studied, there is an underground culture that resembles the outside, for example when you have guests you serve them tea and cakes. She insisted I have another. I said that I knew these were so special. She said tomorrow they won't be as good. How she got it I have no idea because I didn't see anyone come and visit her. Mystery.

I spent Tuesday night at Kawabe So. There was no ghost, but even had there been one I wouldn't have noticed because I was tired. I shared the room with a college girl who is volunteering. She was up all night because she was scared. Iwaya, the director, actually came and found me at 10:00 p.m. and said that I should go to bed and keep the college girl company because she was scared. I found this slightly annoying because I was contemplating staying up a little later. But all the residents had gone to bed. What was even more annoying was that instead of me going directly to the room to protect the small college student from any threatening ghosts, Mr. Iwaya wanted to talk. For an hour we sat there and talked.

At 4:30 a.m., I woke up to photograph and observe early morning life at Kawabe So. This was a good move. In the summer, many of the residents get up at 4 or 5 and are active for a few hours before going back to sleep. Mr. Yamakami, a man who has very yellow skin, a very bald head, and no teeth was sitting up writing complex kanji in a diary, the light was beautiful. He had pages and pages of thoughts. One of the care workers, Asami, said that she didn't understand much of what he wrote because it was old language. Usually I see him lying down sleeping or sitting on his mattress that he has placed neatly on two tatami mats. He has a tube that comes out of his pajamas and goes into a bag. I also tried to photograph the small women residents who pull back the curtains in their room and welcome the day.

Later that morning I went to visit Mrs. Kamada. There is are four women in her room. One of them, Mrs. Ogata who is totally blind and totally jolly, has been there for 13 years. She seems to be one of the main socialites of the place. I walk in and always say hello and she always says "what? who is that?" in thick Akita accent. She and Mrs. Kamada pulled up a wheel chair and tied a nice pillow onto the edges and offered me a seat. Then Mrs. Ogata leaned over me from behind and wrapped her arms around me so that her face was resting on my shoulder. Every time she spoke, her breath tickled me. She got a kick out of that and tickled me some more. But then she sat for ten minutes like that talking. I nearly melted. Japanese people rarely touch others and I have only recently seen someone hug another person. Even mothers who have kids sitting on their laps don't really put their arms around their kids. Mrs. Ogata eventually went and sat down on the bed opposite Mrs. Kamada but next to me. As I said she is blind. Mrs. Kamada kept saying white thing, white thing. Mrs. Ogata grunted and proceeded to flip one of her eyelids around until a white membrane that had shifted into place was invisible. Then she asked is it gone. I almost threw up.

One thing I must mention about Kawabe So in the wake of all these sweet experiences. The smell, the smell is some times overbearing. It is a combination of urine, musty clothes, institution food, and detergent. It gets in your clothes, and follows you home. Also I am over come by the waiting here, the sitting, the laying, the sleeping, the waiting. For many that is all they do all day and part of the night, wait.

3 P.M.
Went with the Taiko team to Kanto Festival. This is THE festival for Akita prefecture. The Taiko team is full of young people from 18- 30 years old. I have been having trouble with my eyes recently. They have been burning and are very sensitive to light. I think I might be allergic to my contact solutions or they may just be tired but whatever the case it made photographing a challenge. I photographed everyone getting ready big festival with many drum teams and many
analysis. I think people are getting used to having me around now, but it was awkward at first.
I got right in the midst of all of them changing and helping each other put on brightly colored hanten which are short kimonos that are their performance costumes. I also rode on the truck with all the drums to the performance spot. As they waved to the crowd and practiced the playing the drums, I photographed and recorded sound.

Shooting the performance wasn't that great. They were in the middle of a wide street with tons of wires above and crowds on either side. The light was gone, but it wasn't dark yet. Basically gross. I shot the faces of the really intense men playing. And I shot the hands drumming. I tried to get real low to just get the silhouette of the sticks and arms against the sky using a little fill but don't think it was successful. No big deal there will be other performances.

After the festival, Takahashi introduced me to a woman called Ms. Watanabe. Evidently she volunteered to have me come and stay in her home. She is a very typical Japanese woman. She is very demur and never really lets on what she wants to do. She made me nervous but I tried to talk openly. She was earnestly listening to everything I said which made me even more nervous. She said she lives with seven family members and her father is in construction. She lives at home as so many of young Japanese do. Many live at home until they are married.

I am glad that I have my 35 mm lens. It seems to be the lens that I use the most. I am working mainly with one body so far. I thought that my F3 was broken but I processed a roll of film and it seems like there is no problem. All of the light in Japan is fluorescent, but I am going to filter out the green on the computer. I haven't found a good place to process my film yet. All around me are these little Mom and Pop places that are dusty and dirty. I handed three rolls of film to a guy the other day and his hands were filthy. I think he is a mechanic or a farmer. I am trying to meet someone from the paper in Akita City who may be able to tell me of a lab, or better yet, let me use their processor. This needs to be solved right away because in Japan it is expected that you give pictures to whoever you photograph. Although I try to never promise prints, I feel like I need to produce something soon so they can see some of my work. I try to remember to bring clips and slides to show people what I have done.

Thursday, August 7, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Lesson Learned
Today is an important day in the Obon (festival welcoming dead ancestors back) festival time. It is when families go to their family grave stone and clean it and make offering for the ancestors who are returning home for Obon. I awoke at 4:30 a.m. so I could go to some place that looks like a grave yard and photograph people cleaning the grave stones and offering flowers, bringing incense and lighting candles. I wanted to photograph one family throughout Obon and thought I had found someone, but that fell through the night before. And with Kanto and everything at the nursing home, I was busy and couldn't scramble fast enough. So I set out for the grave yard tired and in a bad mood. I arrived and all around me were men and women silently cleaning their family graves. The sun hadn't come up yet but already there was smoke from burning incense left by relatives who had already come and gone. It took me a few minute to get into stride and I finally latched on to an old woman and man who were cleaning. What I was looking for was generations working together. Or a younger person cleaning. Way up on the top of the grave yard, I saw a boy in a bright red, white and blue sweat suit. He told me in English (and its on tape) that he and his grandfather always used to come here every year but his grandfather died this year so this year it is just him. I also photographed Takahashi and his two boys cleaning their family's grave stones. I think I gathered some good sound.

As I was coming down the mountain, I met an older women and two children who were wearing straw hats. The older woman was showing them what to do. She asked me what I was doing for breakfast. Of course breakfast wasn't really on my mind. She invited me to their house to eat sekihan, a celebratory red rice. Sekihan is only served during special occasions and is red because of the red beans that are added. At her house was a grandmother who was cute and curious. And as I am just about to take a bite of sekihan, out walks Itoh, one of the workers from Kawabe So. This is his house and it was his mother invited me. He was just as surprised as me. They told me all about Obon and said next week is Ohakamaeri when the entire family goes to the grave. Evidently the cemetery is alive with hundreds of people in the early evening as people come to send the ancestors back to the other world. I thought this would be great to photograph her family gathering. So I asked. In Japan there is a way to get something you need. It is a complex but simple combination of timing, sentence structure, and time spent getting to know people and endorsements from people who know you. Mr. Itoh doesn't like to be photographed. Well Mrs. Itoh is having a lot of family over that day and doesn't want me there. So that is out.

Headed back to the grave yard. An entire family was there cleaning but they were leaving as I was arriving. There was one woman, Mrs. Shindo, in a special area enclosed with a fence. She had a wide brimmed straw hat to keep the sun off her face. She was neatly arranging flowers and lighting incense. I photographed her and talked to her for a while. She carried her flowers (and she only used traditional flowers not like others, she made a point of saying) wrapped in a contraption that was made of small pieces of bamboo. She didn't even know what it was called but said that this was very old. She invited me back to her house for tea. I got some nice stuff of her saying her thanks to the ancestors.

At Mrs. Shindo's house, I met her husband who is 77 and still farms. He was in taking a break. They had a beautiful alter set up for their ancestors. It was huge. She told me all about what it was. I understood about 50 percent. My Japanese is manageable but I am challenged when it comes to complex stuff. A priest is coming to their house on the night of the 12th to do a traditional blessing. She said I could come and photograph. I want to but I am trying to figure out where all this is going, so I haven't made up my mind if I want to include that or not. I really want to photograph several generations doing these rituals. I plan on spending some time trying to locate one this weekend. I am finding that I am not totally clear about all the events that are happening around this time. I have done a bunch of reading but it does not reveal every thing.

PM
Shot Kanto Festival and Taiko again. Again it wasn't that great.

Friday, August 8, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Small Town Japan
Woke up this morning with a bit of a head ache. At 10:30 last night Asami and Yoko, two care workers from Kawabe So, came by and said asked if I wanted to go to a party with them, an enkai for people from work. As we neared the house I thought, hmm this is in the same neighborhood as Miyuki's house. Miyuki is an old student of mine. She had a lot of trouble during junior high because of bullies, and lack of motivation. She would blow off class, or not study and sleep all day, kind of like a depression. I always thought she was smart. She spoke English pretty well and most of it came from listening to John Lennon songs. We used to go for walks, or if I would notice Miyuki not in school I would stop by or call to see what was up. Her mother loved me. Well Miyuki invited me to a party at her house for last night which I declined because I was going to Kanto and I didn't think I could make it. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, her mother works at Kawabe So in the kitchen. The party that I went to was at her house. Small town. Concentric circles are being traced and retraced around me here. One face in one setting belongs to another face in another setting.

I walked in the door and complete mayhem broke loose. People were flying around getting me beer and handing me food. It was crazy. Atsuko another woman who works at Kawabe So, who was also in my adult English class six years ago was drunk and speaking near fluent English. Atsuko has a plump face which is always in a beautiful smile with bright brown dancing eyes. I was floored by her English. She is always kind of shy and asks me questions in Japanese at Kawabe So. I told her no more Japanese. I need her help me with translating.

This morning I went to take pictures of Mrs. Oishi teaching the kids the Macarena. The words to the Macarena are very suggestive (as my mother would say). It was kind of weird to see six elementary students waving pom poms and fans to words like "if you're good, I'll take you home with me." Mrs. Oishi asked me to translate which I did to her. She in turn translated it into "he loves me, but we are friends." And all the elementary students howled "EEya EEya dah" which means yuck or gross. I keep looking for the mixture of the ages pictures. As well as fun detail shots.

Went to the town government office today to see if I could get any information on upcoming events and any other holidays or festivals that may be coming up.

P.M.
Taiko practice. Takahashi wants me to play in an upcoming festival because all of the other foreigners are gone for the summer. Tonight I practiced with them

analysis
I have been in Japan two weeks now. I feel like I have my feet on the ground and it is time to think more in depth about how all these pictures are going to fit together, National Geographic or a series of smaller stories. There is a lot of overlap and I want to play on that in some way because that is really telling about Japanese culture, and small town life in general. But I also want to keep in mind a larger theme of the generations. Today I am going to rest my eyes and catch up on my work as I think about how these photos can all fit together. The big challenge is that I have no one to talk to about this project with. I don't quite feel rudderless, but it would be nice to be able to bounce ideas off of someone and be pointed in a direction should I head off course. But I guess I knew that when I started planning this entire thing.

The town office was a big help today as far as names of people who might be worth contacting and exact dates of certain activities around the holiday including preparation. I still haven't found any where to process my film, the newspaper in the big city near here has never had anyone ask to use their machine and in Japan no precedent, without knowing a person at the institution, means no way.

Saturday, August 7, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan

Kokyu Funaki, an old friend of mine, surprised me and came over this morning. About five years ago, he flew to San Francisco to ask me to marry him while we were lying under the stars at Yosemite. There we were, faces flushed from red wine, and he said the word "Oyomesan" which means bride. Of course stupid me, I couldn't remember what it meant. I got the part about how he and Takahashi thought that Kokyu should come over to America and that they were worried about me here. And I got the part about Kokyu wanted me to return with him, but I couldn't figure out what "oyomesan" meant. About 10 minutes later after I had said the he and I have different lifestyles. I realized the magnitude of his visit. Of course at that time I wasn't able to do the marriage thing, especially with some one who I hadn't even held hands with. Well we are still good friends. Now he is married and his wife is expecting a baby. This morning he explained to me the upcoming Obon festivities. The upcoming week is going to be rich with content about traditional rituals.

Another old friend, Mrs. Itoh came over. She is a bit of a radical, but she knows English and offered to help me with any research that I may need. Thank you. She started crying because she couldn't believe that I called her. She kept asking me on the phone who are you? Are you really Jennifer from six years ago. She insists that I come and spend the night at her house, this seems to be very Japanese too. Everyone wants me to come spend the night.

analysis
Listened to all the sound that I have recorded so far, making notes in a notebook so I can find things when I return. I can definitely hear my progress. Good stuff at the nursing home, and of the cleaning of the graves. Taiko is also real nice. I think I am going to have much to work with as far as sound goes.

Picked up some test rolls of film today. I hate color negative film, it flattens everything. I wish I had gotten chrome. Hindsight is 20/20, I guess. Needless to say I was a bit disappointed but these rolls were from my first day here. At least my camera is working. This processing is going to cost me a fortune, for three rolls, I spent 30 dollars. But I feel like I need to see what I have done so far so that I can figure out what is working and what is not. The weather has been grim here, dark and cloudy, rainy or with flat light.

Next week
Obon Ohakamaeri- go to the grave stones and welcome back the ancestors
Town festival
Deal with processing

Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 3

Week Three

Wednesday, July 29, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Dekiru.Dekiru. (Can do, Can do)

I arrived in Akita last night. Seven of my old friends came to the airport to meet me. I was nervous, wondering how everything would work out particularly because Takahashi, my main contact in Kawabe, called me last night wondering if I was actually in Japan.

I am staying in a one-room apartment by myself near the one supermarket, WellMahto (Wellmart). The only other westerner in this town is Tara Olmstead, an American woman who has my old job teaching English at all the elementary and junior high schools here. She lives in this apartment and is letting me stay here while she is vacationing in the States. Takahashi and another old friend, Seki, showed me how to do everything in the apartment short of blowing my own nose. I had forgotten this about the Japanese. They worry for your comfort and that means showing you where the bathroom is in a room the size of a US living room that has two doors and one of them you came in through. It is so endearing but in 1991, after a year, I remember I found it maddening. My friends also did the usual Japanese song and dance about how good my Japanese was. In Japan, all you have to say is Good Morning (Ohaiyo) with some degree of efficiency and soon people are hemming and hawing about your excellent language skills. I actually have been surprised with how quickly it has all come back. I am remembering things I didn't even know I knew.

Seki and Takahashi left saying "take a rest; you must be tired from all the travel." Mind you it was only a one-hour flight from Tokyo. This is another thing I had forgotten about Japan. They believe in resting. An inherent part of the language is "Go Kurosama Deshita," which they say after you complete a task or journey. Basically it means it was hard work; thank you for your trouble.

Later that night, Takahashi came to pick me up and we went to his house for dinner. His wife and two kids were there. I used to teach one of his kids, who is now 20. The word for old lady in Japanese is Obaaachan (make the sound like a lamb). That would be me. We had sushi, fresh and yummy. The youngest son kept glaring at me with a sullen look because Takahashi kept putting the best pieces on my plate. I can't say I wasn't grateful because, as in most families with an 18-year-old boy, delicious food can disappear pretty quickly, and Atsushi opened the sushi and started eating before anyone could even find their chopsticks. Takahashi and his wife seem to have a much better relationship than I remember. This time, she ate with us and participated as I caught up on the gossip of the town. She even volunteered a little English, which is very reassuring because it means she feels comfortable around me. I was surprised to find out that none of the women who played Taiko with me six years ago are married. They all must be close to 40. Evidently this is a Japanese trend; women are getting married at older ages, if at all.

Takahashi showed me a video advertising Kawabe as a beautiful green country place with many fun activities, and guess who is in it playing the drum? Watashi desu. Me.
After the video and dinner, Takahashi and I talked about the project. It seems like he has a clear grasp of how I need to work. I also showed him the clip from the midwife story, reinforcing this style. I asked about a possible homestay with a farmer, and was told that they can barely eat right now. Evidently times are hard for the farmers. I am going to find out more about this. He also mentioned a friend of ours whose wife is going to have a baby in October. (This is the friend who came to San Francisco and proposed to me in Yellowstone Park). And he said that next week is Haka no Soji, cleaning of the family grave stones in preparation for the Obon Festival honoring the dead whose spirits are believed to return home for this week. He says that it is early in the morning and should be interesting.

I mentioned that I would like to photograph a nursing home. As I said earlier in these notes, I read about an anthropologist who conducted a study in a nursing home in Hokkaido. Nursing care is relatively new in Japan and she was studying the structures within the home. Photographing this new phenomenon might prove interesting. Takahashi responded enthusiastically, "Dekiru, Dekiru," which means can do. He is going to introduce me to someone this week.

Wednesday, July 30, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Ageru yo. I'll give this to you.

My first day in the town of Kawabe, I went for a walk. Takahashi wanted me to reacquaint myself with the town before I started getting active and shooting. No problem. I think he is right. He knows me well enough to know that I throw myself into things.

I headed out around 10:00 am. It was hot and humid, though not as bad as I remember. I walked passed a group of construction workers. There was only one woman who was four feet tall. She must have been at least 65 and was wearing a huge white cotton bonnet. Her arms and hands were covered with big white gloves with sleeves. Most Japanese women hate the sun, and often the older ones dress themselves up to look like little country dolls.

On my way back through town, I decided to stop in a hardware store. A little old woman with dyed black hair and dentures was sitting behind an old desk. She laughed, rather cackled, at everything I said and asked me to sit down and chat because it is rare that they get western customers. About 45 minutes later, I left with a brand new knife sharpener that costs about $20. I had merely inquired if they sold them because in America I had never seen such useful tools. I thought my mother would like one. With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she said "shhhh, ageru yo," and leaned closer pushing it into my bag. Of course I protested, trying to remember the proper way to refuse a gift, which there is none, just the awkward moment when my Japanese can't come out to stop such kindness. Them shh-shing me and saying IIe Iie (it is nothing), knowing they have won because it is more rude to refuse. That is how the entire culture works. I do something nice for you and you feel uncomfortable, but are pleased by my kindness. Later, you do something nice for me or someone else such as giving vegetables, fruit, or cakes. In the country this is proper etiquette for older Japanese people.

My walk continued on to Mrs. Oiishi's house, who is a hairdresser. First of all, six years ago she dressed me as a Japanese bride in a kimono, styling my hair like a geisha. She casually timed it so that I was finished just around the time that her single son got home from work all the while discussing what an eligible bachelor he was. They videoed the entire thing. I looked hideous.

This trip, I walked in and she was wearing a batiqued halter top and skirt, waving around a red feathered fan and shaking her hips to the Macarena. Behind her are two children frantically trying to imitate her moves. After greeting me with a big smile, she informed me that they have a performance during the Obon festival. She smiled and whispered in my ear that she is trying to get them ready for the performance, but they aren't very good yet.

Mrs. Oishii lives in a traditional Japanese house with tatami mats that is connected to her beauty salon. Her house is filthy by my standards. Not only is it cluttered with junk piled high in every crack, but there is also years of food sticking to the kitchen walls, and I am not sure if she ever sweeps. I had forgotten about the clutter and filth in Japan. Many houses that I have seen are like this; the clean image that the Japanese have is not totally true. Although every morning most homes, offices, and schools do soji (cleaning), saying it cleans their heart and mind, I am not sure what that entails. Maybe they just move junk around.

After the dance practice was over, Mrs. Oishii offered me some tea and showed me this $5,000 machine that she bought to give her more ki. Basically by sitting on an electric mat, and having a current pulsing through you, you increase your ki. I tried it and I felt a little strange as if I had altered some important atoms. We ate lunch together and she insisted on having a beer in my honor, which made her even more lively and outrageous. She served up instant food taken out of the freezer and various plastic packages lying around her filthy kitchen. Another Japanese myth dispelled; they don't all eat amazing food. She then called her son, Masato, to tell him that I was here and proceeded to give herself a facial with a strange machine in her beauty parlor. She also treated me to a facial and then invited me to go on a walk with her and Pack, her dog, at 5:30 a.m. the next day.

Masato, who has a haircut mildly reminiscent of the cartoon character Nancy without the bow, told me about a group of single young men and women (mostly men) in Kawabe that get together to go camping or volunteer. Wakamono no kai, which basically means group of young things, is going camping this weekend. Masato invited me along. I know several members from when I was here before; some are my old students. Sounds like fun as well as a good opportunity to take pictures showing younger generations of the town. I asked Masato why no one was marrying. Masato says that men and women are not getting married because the men are weak and the women are strong. Hmm.

I left Mrs.Oishii's feeling a little guilty for staying so long. She just kept chatting especially after drinking that beer. I forgot that it is up to the visitor to leave; the hostess will never push you out the door. I will remember in the future.

My next stop was a visit to my old friend Mrs. Yamada. She was my next door neighbor, and once when I was extremely ill she brought me lunch and dinner for an entire week. At that time, we had not been introduced formally and I was too sick to talk. She would quietly leave the tray in the doorway and come and take the dishes away. Eventually we became great friends and would get together at least once a week and drink wine, solving all of the problems in the world. She is a Jehovah's Witness and she told me she met Tara Olmstead (the person who is loaning me her apartment) on a recent conversion excursion. She goes house to house telling people about Kurisuto (Christ).

When I walked in the door, we both almost started crying because for six years I have had the wrong address and all my mail was returned, so neither of us have been able to contact each other. We sat for an hour talking. She ran to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher with my name written in faded red magic marker. I must have given it to her before I left. Although my name had faded after six years, she said she always thinks of me when she uses it.

I told her about my project. She mentioned that now because most of the farmers are old, there is a group of young people that assist them. I think that this could be worth investigating for the project.

My fear with this project is that I am going to have too many things to photograph. But so far I am OK.

II yo. Good, no problem yo.

I also went to Taiko practice last night. The group is fun!! Everyone jokes around and makes fun of each other. They have really gotten good in the last seven years and are playing some difficult songs. The lighting was terrible, so I recorded some sound and shot a roll of film to see what the color shift is. Takahashi wants me to play in the fall festival, which is fine, but there is no way that I am going to be able to learn all the songs in two weeks.

I met a few 20-year-old girls who go to Minnesota University Akita Campus. One of them is quite large; she went to America and likes to practice her English, which I find mildly comforting. She was wearing cut off Levis and a white T-shirt. I told them why I was there and asked them to just forget about me. Ahh, ii yo. No problem. Then I asked if I could take pictures of them getting ready for the Kanto Matsuri. Again, no problem. Access seems good so far.

While I think taiko could be an interesting story, I can only see it as one aspect of the project, if that. There does not seem to be enough substance, nor am I interested in spending a huge amount of time on this group. I like the sound, and I did record sound which I can see as being the base note for the entire multi-media presentation. In that respect, taiko is important for the project.

Thursday, July 31, 1997 - Kawabe

This morning I met Mrs. Oishii at 5:45 for a walk. Wearing a straw hat with a wide rim and black bow, bright white gloves, knee-length black jeans with black-and-white striped knee socks, and a shirt that looked like a Hermez scarf, off we went with Pack, her dog, into the rice paddies. She walks for an hour every day because she wants to be strong. Also she says that she works very hard on having clean thoughts because that keeps her young. I took a few pictures, but I find it difficult to shoot action. There is much activity in this town before 9 because the air is still very cool. Mrs. Oishii told me that at 6:30 a.m. the children gather near the train station for radio taiso. Tomorrow I am going to check it out.

Mrs. Oishii also said she could introduce me to a family that has four generations living together. I thought that might be another interesting component for this story. Kind of a visual discussion pointing to the generations that have lived in this town.

After my walk, I rode my bike to Kawabe So, the nursing home. Takahashi set up a meeting between me and the director. The director, Takahito Iwaya, was very agreeable and gave me total access. I am even going to be able to stay the night once a week. This is going to be a big challenge for me though I am not sure how; I just know that it will be. The older people are hard to understand, and many of them are bed ridden. Women out number the men about 8 to 1. At this time, there are about 54 people. They have some that just come for the day, and about half stay there all the time. The staff numbers 17 with two being nurses. All of the cayah takahs (care takers) are women except for three men.

When I met with Iwaya, I had just ridden my bike in the heat of the day 20 minutes up a huge hill to get there. He kept saying "Atsui ne," which means "it is hot, isn't it." In the summer in Japan, you hear that at least 100 times a day along with other obvious observations. As we sat and talked, I was trying to explain my purpose as buckets of sweat poured down my face. There were no windows open, and a fan was sitting unplugged in the corner of the office. Finally I just got up and turned it on. He said that in addition to the three days that I asked to come, I would be welcome any time. He thinks I am a little crazy to want to spend the night because of ghosts, but said that he would put me in a room with one of the care workers.

Although we spent more than two hours talking and touring the facility, we spent only 15 minutes talking about the actual project. This is the Japanese way. The true reason happens to be secondary to getting to know someone. And by this I mean sitting down, sipping tea and talking about baseball or the weather, or just sitting there. For minutes at a time we sat and talked about baseball and Terminator, the movie. And for minutes at a time there was silence. Six years ago this made me very uncomfortable, but now I actually enjoy the mental space to think about what I need to ask. I can't help but to wonder if this is normal, or just because I am not Japanese.

Mai nichi asobi ni kitte. Every day come here to play.
I pedaled home feeling good about the nursing home and the opportunity to shoot there. The evening light was beautiful. I saw a truly amazing sight and tried to take a picture though not too successfully. Coming across the green rice fields was a hunched-over older man pulling a cart. Sitting in the cart was an old woman who I later found out is 84. Every day the two of them go into the fields. I followed them to an old-style Japanese house neatly hidden in between two brand new houses. They were cool to my advances; yes I was trying to pick them up. Maybe I can get an introduction. Everything works on introductions here. If you have one usually there is no problem.

There is a garden with neat rows of sprouting vegetables near the apartment where I am staying. An older woman was watering the vegetables, taking water from a nearby waterway. She had on the traditional white bonnet that I find so endearing. Although I was tired, I talked myself into going out. I am glad I did; she was so sweet and friendly. She told me that she was 65 years old and worked in the city. Every day she came to this garden to have fun. Tanoshimi is a word that means enjoy and have fun. This was what she enjoyed. I explained to her what I was doing in Japan and she didn't seem to get it. But I took a nice portrait of her smiling with the white bonnet on. She kept saying Mai nichi, asobi ni kitte. I don't think she would really appreciate me showing up every day to take pictures, though I told her when I had free time I would be sure to stop in and was excited that we could become friends. Last time I was here I was always waving and stopping to talk to people. This is how I met many people. Not only did I feel it important to be friendly because most of them had never met a Westerner, but it was also fun. I became known as the girl who always waves (raises her hand in direct translation).

I got an idea for my final project. To have portraits of people that I meet in the town flash on the screen to the beat of the Taiko. Starting with older people and ending with babies if I can. And then launching into the different sections of the project.

I feel like I am in a dream. Tonight I was sitting at the table of an old friend, Kasuko Matsuda. I taught her English six years ago. Kazuko invited me over for dinner saying that she was not going to fix anything very delicious. Of course I had forgotten about the Japanese way of humbleness and was expecting a little bit of fish and some soup. When I arrived the table was covered with beautiful little dishes containing colorful and delicious foods. Well not totally--Kazuko decided we should have a special treat, Cow's tongue. Couldn't do that one.

She has offered to have me stay with her next month after Tara Olmstead returns from the United States. She has a huge new house and a barn. Her old house had a cow living in the entrance way, but during a typhoon three years ago the house down and she sold the cow. As I walked in the door her husband was just getting out of the ofuro (bath). He was walking around on two tiny legs no thicker than my arm, and he was wearing the traditional cotton undies that are basically one long piece of cloth wrapped around the legs and stomach. They are white and resemble a cloth diaper. He walked out of the kitchen, looked at me unabashed, and calmly walked to get his clothes. Dressed in white cotton pajamas, during dinner he proceeded to drink himself into oblivion--four cans of beer and three bottles of hot sake. It was a vacation day. As I left he was struggling to get some noodles unstuck from his fingers while he tried to get a cigarette out of the pack.

Hisao, her husband, is a taxi driver, and Kazuko works construction. He is 56 and she is 55. Her son, Hisaki, who is 26, works for an agricultural co-op. Hisaki said he would introduce me around the coop and that I could take pictures. Yippee! I think this might be nice for the project. Agricultural co-ops are becoming more and more common. I need to find out more. I think this one might be the same one that Mrs. Yamada was telling me about. The mother of Kazuko's husband also lives in the house. Sumi is very cute, but I can barely understand her. She speaks thick Akita-ben (accent). She suggested that when I spend the night I sleep with her. I am always looking to Kazuko to translate into what I refer to as my elementary-school Japanese. Simi is 72 and takes care of all the family gardens and also helps with planting and harvesting the rice fields.

Friday, August 1, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
I am not sleeping. I am not sure if it is because of all the wonderful things to photograph here or what, but I am damn tired. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. again and stayed in bed until 6:00 a.m. when I decided to get up to go take pictures of the young kids doing radio exercises which they do Monday through Saturday. There were a few snags; the person who was supposed to bring the radio didn't come and the light sucked. I can't remember when the morning light gets good here. I think it is in the fall. Of course all the parents felt like nimrods because here I was camera in hand and no radio. So someone went and got a car and turned on that radio. But by that time the program was half over so what was supposed to be an orderly morning exercise session turned into a bunch of kids flapping their arms around and staring at me with huge toothless grins. I think I got some good sound.

I also had another idea. The guy who is the announcer is so genki and enthusiastic and funny. I am going to record him and try to use this sound in my project. On my way home I saw a couple of the neighborhood kids. I met them the day before when they said hello and squealed with laughter. I was on my bike and turned around to go talk to them. They freaked out and ran behind the house terrified that I might tie them up and make them speak English. I coaxed them out in Japanese, and asked them their names and what they were doing. Then I said come over anytime. Big mistake. I did this last time I was here and soon was running a day-care center. This morning, they had lost their fear and called me over to show me their newest pet, a beetle the size of, what? It was huge and black and had horns. It was the size of my computer mouse. No kidding. I took a picture. They wanted me to hold their cute beetle. No way, that thing looked like it would eat me for breakfast.

"Watashi wa, karitai" I want to go home so much.
Yesterday was the first day of shooting at the nursing home, Kawabe So. WOW. This is HARD CORE. Am I crazy or what? This one is going to push me beyond any limits I thought I had. There are different degrees of healthy people here. One woman I met I fell in love with. Her name is Noto Mitsu. Ms. Noto is 75. Her daughter is in Tokyo. Although she has difficulty moving around, she said to me that she is not as bad as most of the people at Kawabe So(KS). She and I talked with another lady whom I find hilarious because she is either always complaining or singing. Ms. Noto gently would talk to this other woman, explaining why she needed to eat the bad food. This other woman was complaining about how she didn't want to die before Obon (festival for the dead ancestors) because she didn't want her family to worship her just yet. Ms. Noto looked at me with a sigh and a quiet smile and said, "watashi wa karitai." She really wants to go to her home. When she said that I almost lost it. I tried to hide the tears but I am not sure I was successful. Yes, I took pictures of her. But most of all I just wanted to sit and hug her. Most, if not all, of these older people are sleeping in beds for the first time in their lives. To me this seems like it would be a shock. Some have put their beds on the floor; others just sit upright on them like they were sitting on the traditional floor covering, tatami mats. Tatami is a thick mat made from woven grass about 1 inch thick and about 4 feet by 2 feet. It is a very Japanese floor covering and most. Japanese houses have rooms with tatami mats. These rooms are usually reserved for formal occasions but it is also the room where the grandparents and the younger kids sleep together.

There is another woman here, Mrs. Toita. She has a sweet voice, an even sweeter smile, and bright shining brown eyes. She is rather fit and I often see her helping other older residents by wheeling them into meals, helping them eat, or changing clothes. In fact it seems like there are a few older people here who are not incapacitated and do a lot of work besides helping other residents, such as clearing dishes, folding bibs, passing out hot water for tea and handing out hot towels.

Oh god, I hope I can tell this tale with the beautiful endearing pictures that it deserves. I keep trying to find the light. I keep thinking how can I make this light almost kiss these people. Some times I cry and have to go into a small room and take a break. This is only my first day!

There is a mix of old and young staff members. I am a little more partial to the older staff members, maybe because they are the Japan I am used to. There are several people on the staff that I met before or whose kids I taught six years ago. I would like to think that this is VERY KEY for negotiating access. Several have asked me to stay at their house. Another lent me shorts so I could photograph bath time. Another made my lunch, and another gave me a shoulder shiatsu (massage). This is a very typical Japanese way to treat a girl friend, it seems almost like pampering but they would do it for other friends. I have always been impressed with how they help and take care of their friends.

Everyone here understands very well that I want natural photos. And natural I get. Things almost happen too fast. There is one younger girl who is just amazing with the people at KS. Her name is Yamamoto Yoko. She loves the people there and is constantly hugging them. I told her that I think she is good at what she does, and she sincerely thanked me, adding that no one has told her that. She really wants to be my friend and has invited me to her house, which is deep in the mountains. She is also good at cooking Japanese food, which is an added bonus considering I am surviving on corn flakes, yoghurt, and the kindness of strangers and friends for my daily nutrition. (My trip to the supermarket is not pertinent for these academic field notes, and is another story on small-town life Japan.) Yoko gave me a ride home yesterday. She has lots of Kermit the Frog, Star Wars and Toy Story paraphernalia hanging all over in her car. I took a picture. Yoko is 21.

Back to the shooting. When I first arrived I photographed the changing of the underpants and diaper-like things. I tried hard to be sensitive, didn't want the photographs to be voyeuristic. It is HARD not to seem or feel like a voyeur though. What I concentrated on was how the care worker dealt with the person, gently or not. And of course, I am always asking myself in these sensitive situations what is necessary to show to get meaning across. I mean, I don't need a crotch shot of an old man getting cleaned up. That seems totally unnecessary. I met one woman who was so happy to meet me she started bawling loudly. She had never met a foreigner and I was told thought she never would. Yoko, who was standing nearby, started tearing up too. It seems like many of these residents are on a hormonal roller coaster. Tears seem to come at times of frustration and times of happiness. In Japan, crying is acceptable, but any kind of emotional outburst is not really encouraged or accepted based on the social concept that your emotional outburst such as crying or anger will affect others around you. Emotions are thought best kept to one's self. If you show too much emotion it affects someone else; for example, if you are overjoyed about a success, that joy is based on someone's failure.

Here are a few other things I photographed:
Feeding the older ones who can't do it themselves; lunch; watching TV; a lady who had beautiful flowers all over her room; another man was just sitting head in hands depressed; same man buying cola from machine in wheel chair; another old lady helping feed a woman who shared her room; an old man setting a small vase of flowers on his dresser; Yoko hugging her favorite grandma; the grandmother of an old friend of mine who recognized me; a woman who slowly wheeled herself down the hall to come and look out the door; nap time for the folks who only come for the day; the staff hanging out after lunch. Oh, and here is the best one: I photographed bath time for the women. There was a man care worker who was in the ofuro (bath) helping these women wash themselves before they get into the big bath, which is bright green because of the medicine they put in it. He was so good with the women, washing their hair, joking with them, allowing them to wash their private areas, guiding them to the handrail and slowly walking them down into the bright neon green-yellow water. I actually got into the water and photographed from in the water. The women had such joyful looks on their faces. I am going to photograph it again on Monday in the morning when there is different light.

My plan is to go to KS three days a week, and on Tuesday night I am going to spend the night. This is hard work and makes me tired, but I have such a good feeling here.

Notes I took at KS:
1. Relationships: look at how the residents are cared for by staff, look at how they care for each other,
2. Staff morale and tired times,
3. Daily life: bathing, feeding, morning rounds, socializing, cleaning, going home.

Observations from my first day at KS:
The men are less accepting of me than women.
The nurses seem secluded from other staff and have given me a cool reception.
Day Care elderly seem to just sit there all day, no games. One person said that it was because they just came to socialize. Hmm.
Healthier residents help out at the home as well as help the more feeble residents.
Yoshinori Kon, the male care worker, is good with the older women.

Questions: How do I approach photographing a place such as a birth center, or a nursing home? What kinds of things do I include? What sorts of questions should I be thinking about? I feel like I can't focus on one person all the time because they get embarrassed. I suppose I could try but this place seems too interesting to focus on one person.

Saturday and Sunday, August 2-3, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Wakamono no Kai Campu (Camping with the young things)
DemoWatashi, motto motto nomitahai (But I want to drink much much more)

Oh my god, Japan is in trouble. I just got back from camping with Kawabe's Young people's club. I thought it might be interesting to add a different dimension to the project. I didn't realize when I was here before that this was the group I hung out with, different people, same club. We would fix food, drink, take walks in the dark and have fun. But these younger people of Japan are different than my friends before and different than the older people. First of all they do nothing but wait to be served by the older ones, and don't help clean up or pack or anything. I took a photo of my friend, Masato, packing the entire camp while two groups of girls and boys sit and laugh and talk. This made me angry to watch.

It all started when we arrived at a campground that was wall-to-wall tents. I was hanging out drinking a beer with some of the younger guys and the first thing they do for recreation is take out a pellet gun and start shooting at a can on a log. Mind you we are surrounded by tents and children are running everywhere. I took pictures though, thinking it might get gory. In fact, one of the guys kept missing and the pellets flew dangerously close to my head. Lovely. "How do you say I have a pellet lodged in my head, can you please remove it" in Japanese?

After we set up the camp and while we were waiting for everyone to show up, Masato (the one with the hairdo like Nancy) and I went swimming to get some kind of shell fish to roast on the fire. Masa