Week Twelve
That's it: There is no title for leaving
Tuesday, September 30, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
The sun came and visited this morning for about three hours, long enough for me to get a good shot of a grandmother friend biking with her 6 year-old grandson to kindergarten. Then it disappeared.
I am starting to have all these doubts about what I have been shooting or not shooting. I suppose you could call it shooters remorse. I am constantly thinking about what I could do better or what I should have tried. I suppose this is OK. I have been thinking about how I could have improved this project a lot. Much of it has to do with a focus. I guess that is my big learning point. I feel like I am just getting a grip on what a good focus is for this project and now it is time to go.
Today I outlined the different scenes that the grandparents are present in work, rituals, and leisure. I feel like although I have given this my all, there is not enough time to finish (though yesterday I said I thought I was in good shape). It truly is a buffet as David says, but the sad thing is that this buffet is not replenishable, at least the older ones. They will soon die leaving no traces of their lifestyle.
At 5 p.m., I decided to go jogging for the first time in a month. I had so much energy stored up that I lapped this granny on a steel bicycle. But she would have none of that and gave me a run for my money. She sprinted to catch up with me and then proceeded to ask me all these questions about whether or not I was Pilipino, where I lived, whether or not I could understand the Akita dialect (all of this in the Akita dialect) etc. No problem I am always one for conversations, but while jogging for the first time in a month I was challenged to keep up with her, and answer her questions. But that was the most fun I have had on a run here yet. I wish I had a picture.
Wednesday, October 1, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
The better part of my morning was spent in the car looking for old people harvesting rice next to a river with mountains in the background. These are all symbols of my town. I had a thought (at 6 this morning) that this might make a good opener. Then I went to a cool waterfall, and waited for the sun to come out which it never did so I left to go look for the old people cutting rice by the river again. In the meantime I tried to photograph dragonflies against this tempestuous sky and recorded the sound of the river and a gushing brook that flows through this beautiful part of this town. I had an idea for the end of the Premiere movie, to show the credits with scene setting photographs all to the slowly fading sound of the river.
Finally I found a very old couple harvesting by the river. Got some long shots of it and a few close ups though you can't see the river only this wrinkled old man's face with some kind of rice stalk hanging out of it. Then I went back to the waterfall. Why? I have no idea, but something told me I should. Again I waited for the sun. It showed its face for a few minutes, I made my frames and then said out loud "That's it!" I was tired of this scene and headed for town.
I went and checked out gate ball, a sedate sport for the elderly of the community. Many come and spend all day playing, it is a social time structured around a challenging game, but everyone supports the other. I noticed several times, that if someone was about to make a shot that wasn't the best one several would chime in and say "wait check out number 6." The game is slightly similar to our croquet, but only has three wickets, and is much more complex. Many of these folks remembered me from when I lived here before and were delighted to tell me that I should become a Japanese bride. They were shocked and pleased to hear that I did not want to go home and that I liked the country better than Tokyo. They told me to come and "play with them any time."
What has really impressed me about Japan has been the way everybody helps the other. It is definitely not an "every man out for himself" kind of country, maybe that is its secret. I do not know about the entire country, but I am intrigued.
Thursday, October 2, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
The end is getting closer. I feel like I have just started and now it is time to go. I think that my project sucks and so do all of the photographs. I think I will quit right now. Is this natural to have all these doubts and second thoughts? I have already thought of about three different ways I could have approached this.
I can't remember what I did today, other than say goodbye to old and new friends, and buy some Christmas presents. Oh and photograph the rice harvesting. I think I have enough pictures of rice harvesting.
Friday, October 3, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Today I went and talked to a group of middle-aged housewives who are struggling by themselves single handedly to change Japan from being a chauvinistic country. Best of luck ladies. Anyway it was fun. I told them about my project and what my ideas were. They in turn asked questions in difficult Japanese which I tried to answer simply, which basically means repeating what they have just said in very remedial Japanese. They then nod which is supposed to mean yes that is what I mean but usually means you are totally off base and I think that maybe I won't ask another question. But I had a good time. I ended up returning on the train with a woman who had called me to ask me to do this. When she called me to come talk at this gathering, I did not recognize her name so I lied because it can't hurt and usually when I see a face it comes back to me. Well, this time was different. I had met her seven years ago though I don't know where. She is a little jolly round woman who made no mistake in telling me that she has gained 8 kilograms in the last seven years because of middle age. I think she is really lonely because she kept trying to lure me to her home by describing all the things she would cook for me. Hmm.
Now I am in a foul mood because I think that I cannot focus a camera if I had a gun to my head. So please excuse me from any more pontificating about this darn thing.
Saturday, October 4, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Is there room in the world of photography for a simple story on a little place in a little town, a story not about famine or war, but about a bunch of older people finding joy in their days?
I finally got up the nerve and went to Kawabe So today for the last time. I didn't want to go back. I did not want to say goodbye, and I did not want to feel the place one last time. The smell does not bother me any more, nor do the people sitting alone on their bed lost in their memories and photographs. The place has become part of me, I even have my own slippers there. Not being able to go is going to leave a hole in my life. There is some thing incredibly satisfying about walking around and talking to all those people about where I ate lunch and that I am not going home just yet. It is simple but satisfying. I could spend an entire year there, though that would be difficult. I think the ideal process for shooting something is to go to a place for several days at a time and then take a break and head back there for several more days sort of like I have done with the midwife center. I wonder what nursing homes are like in the States. Do people help out each other and make friends, go shopping, get bathed, eat together, and socialize?
I pulled up in the morning and one of the care workers waved her hand out the window. Winter is coming and it is starting to get cold. Everyone smells of mothballs as they have pulled out their winter clothes. I wish I were here to photograph the drafty halls as the cold creeps in. I think the atmosphere might change.
I brought in a big bunch of flowers that I picked from the garden at my homestay. I gave them out to the people who I had contact with and a few who were sitting alone. All the old grannies and grandpas said that they thought I had left already and they were very sad. The Japanese have this word "sabishii" which embodies all the feeling that make up sad like the feeling you have when you are far away from home or someone has left you for a long while, or the empty feeling. One woman was so overjoyed for the entire day she kept telling me thank you with a big smile on her face. I, in typical Japanese fashion, became totally embarrassed and smiled saying "kochira koso" which means no Thank you.
I made a few more photos, though I am not seeing things the way I did when I first went there. In this book I am reading (still) on visual anthropology they talk about how your best observations often come when you are new to a place. I think that my best photos seem to come then as well. After I fit in and make friends, of course my confidence increases and I am able to re-shoot photos that I missed the first time, but I stop seeing as freshly as I did when I first came on to the scene.
As I was leaving I saw one woman and she gave me a big huge smile. I said “sayonara” (goodbye) and her smile fell off her face and was replaced with the most sad look. I said quickly, I will come back on the 14th with a friend. She let out a small sigh and her smile came back though not as bright, seemed relieved.
Monday, October 6, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
My grandmother said she is going to start praying to the Kamisama (the gods and ancestors of this house) for me. I told them I am nervous about going back to the States, I am nervous about being able to finish this project. They told me with the help of the Kamisama, I would be OK.
Today I go to Tokyo. I am going to either photograph the midwives for one last time or I am going to photograph this farmer who is developing an ancient technique of farming.
Monday, October 6, 1997
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