



Tomorrow March 11th marks the 1st anniversary of the Japan's Tōhoku earthquake & the tsunami. As I wrote before, I was in Japan at that time, visiting my mother who was living in Osaka, Japan -- which was unaffected since it was located some 600 km west of the disaster area.
On the afternoon of Friday, March 11th 2011, I went to the dentist office in a neighboring town by train. At 2:30 PM, I sat on the dentist's reclining chair and opened my mouth wide so that the doctor could drill a bad cavity in my right upper mauler tooth.
The doctor was a gentle person in his 70's and used extremely gentle approach. So, I knew that I didn't need to scream for pain but still, I was furious since I haven't visited any dentists for two decades (!).
When the doctor started drilling, I closed my eyes and just hoped the time would pass fast. Then about 15 minutes into the treatment, suddenly, he stopped drilling.
"Did you feel earthquake?"
He asked the nurse who was standing right beside him. The nurse replied,
"Yes, I did, a little bit."
Then doctor asked me.
"Did you feel that too?"
I said,
"No, I didn't feel anything but numb vibration in my mouth."
Then he smiled at me and returned to the treatment.
I left the office about an hour later and went to a nearby shopping mall. At late afternoon, the supermarket in the mall was filled with customers for grocery shopping -- lively and noisy as usual.
After the shopping, I took a bus and got home around 5 PM. As soon as I opened the door, my mother ran into me. She told me that the gigantic earthquake hit the northern Japan include Tokyo around three o'clock. The quake sent a massive Tsunami, which crashed, into the Pacific coast, wiped out entire towns and villages. In Tokyo, many buildings were burning out of control. Hundreds of people died or went missing. I hurried into the living room and watched the Tsunami scenes on TV, speechless with disbelief.
That earthquake occurred at 2:46 PM – exact time when my dentist felt tremors. The quake was a magnitude 8.9, the biggest earthquake to hit Japan since late 1800s. Tokyo was recorded as a magnitude upper 5 and it shook Osaka too - a magnitude 1.
Then I remember that I was scheduled to go to Tokyo the day after. The hotel was already booked for five nights.Tokyo is roughly 500 km to the north-east of Osaka, less than 3 hours travel by bullet train.
"You have to cancel the trip. Tokyo is too dangerous now."
Mother insisted. Confused, I was not sure what to do. I was thinking of the people whom I was supposed to meet there.
"I'll call them and decide tomorrow morning."
I told mother so, and two of us kept staring at TV the rest of the evening.
Soon all regular TV programs were canceled. Instead, special programs to report on what was going on in hard hit area were broadcast live. All the regular TV commercials disappeared too. (Because their contents were seen inadequate to the terrible situation.) That way continued for the next two weeks.
My mother was diagnosed with liver cancer a year ago and undergoing chemotherapy at that time. Her spirit was normal but it was obvious that she was weaker physically day by day besides loosing her hair from the therapy. She no longer had energy to go out for grocery shopping or walking her dog. However her mind was still fully functioning. She liked to read newspapers and watch news programs daily.
On that day, I remembered that my mother was worried so much of the possible Fukushima nuclear power plant melts down. She seemed excited when she saw the Japanese military helicopters dropping seawater onto the plant's reactor for cooling down. I myself was rather depressed facing too much sadness on papers and TV screens all day long.
So I decided to escape.
Originally, I had planned to take pictures of Kyoto area during this visit. Kyoto was just half an hour away from Osaka by bullet train. So, next couple of days, I took train and walked around tourist spots in Kyoto such as famous temples & shrines and photographed people there.
Early spring in Kyoto was so peacefully beautiful and totally unaffected by the disaster right happening in the northern Japan. Looking at those happy, care-free faces of tourists as well as residents who continued with their normal lives, I felt like I was living in a different dimension away from the other half of Japan islands ---- like Heaven & Hell.
Within the same week, I went to photograph the UFJ (Universal Studios Japan) amusement park in Osaka too. That was just five days after the disaster but the place was filled with fun-loving couples and families. I went the famous shopping arcade- Dotonbori too. Dotonbori is a home of ‘Kuidaore’ with various eateries and the famous giant signs such as moving crab, puffer fish, dragon, etc.( Kuidaore - a Japanese word meaning roughly “to ruin oneself by extravagance in food.”) The streets were packed with numerous gourmet restaurants, eateries and lively young tourists.
Then two weeks later, on Mrach 25th, I finally went to Tokyo for five days and saw the reality. The capital city where I spent 8 years of my youth looked depressingly dark and empty. People seemed under great stress as they moved about in train stations and streets beneath traffic lights and advertising boards that had been switched off due to the power shortage. In station, some elevators, escalators and moving walkways also often turned off for saving energy policy.
Since many bars and restaurants cut short their business hours, many had to give up their nightlife too. Ginza – Tokyo’s answer to Champs-Elysées - the biggest and fanciest shopping area in Japan looked dark & empty too.
The people I met confessed how they were suffered from traumatic memory of a huge tremor set their buildings swaying wildly on March 11 and continuingly suffered from daily aftershock. Many people wore masks to avoid pollution, or allergy, or radiation, whatever… and their eyes seemed blank or wandering from fear, anxiety or fatigue. (I took street shots around Shinjuku stations and I couldn’t help but include those curiously masked people).
In Tokyo stores, I saw bottled waters were often sold out and vegetables produced in Fukushima prefectures were always left unsold. In station gates, there were various groups of charitable organizations holding donation boxes, standing and asking commuters for donation in aid to tsunami victims.
As I felt sorry to my people, I was scared too when I experienced a small tremor while I was staying at the hotel near Shinjuku. ( When I checked in, I made sure to ask the hotel employees for emergency evacuation plan.) The hotel was popular among foreign tourists, especially low-budget travelers. But that normally packed place looked empty too.
When I returned to Osaka five days later, I felt relieved as well as felt like that I returned to the different dimension of the Japan Island once again. In Osaka, everything seemed normal as usual.
On April 1st, I took flight to JFK from Narita. As soon as I returned to NYC, I was overwhelmed by a very warm welcome of my American friends who were sincerely worried about me. Because many people here seemed genuinely believe that entire Japan was swallowed by Tsunami, I had to explain to them that the islands of Japan is so narrow and stretched long from north to south, so that the devastation in the northern Japan did not affect to the western area – my home town.
Since I returned, I have learned so much about radiation and realize there is much more to learn. I recognized that the radiation leaks problem at the Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear power plant could not be able to solve so soon – probably would take forever. The disaster would not stay only in the Fukushima prefecture, but would might become the national (or international) disaster as the worst nuclear accident since Chernobyl.
In May 25th 2011, I returned to Japan once again to be with my mother in the terminal ward of the hospital. She passed on June 4th. After the funeral and cleaning up of her house, I visited Tokyo again.
Three months after the disaster, thousands of evacuees in northern Japan were still living in temporary houses, while the area that had been directly struck will take years to redevelop. Even in Tokyo, some signs of abnormality were still obvious such as extinguished lighting of station names or the lack of air conditioning in train stations that had been turned off for scheduled power savings. On TV many programs were focusing on how to avoid immediate danger from radiation poisoning and Geiger counters were becoming popular household items for detecting radioactivity in local neighborhoods. In stores consumers carefully avoided purchasing vegetables or dairy products produced in hard hit prefectures.
But still, under the bright sunshine of June, I found that people in Tokyo were genuinely enjoying shopping and roaming happily about just like any other time. So by now, I believes in the strength of the Japanese people who remain undaunted by the havoc nature has wrecked on their homeland as they rebuild their nation step by step.
Exhibition on view:
Saturday, September 17, 2011–Saturday, September 24, 2011
What should we be looking at? The extraordinary number of photographs taken on September 11 made it the most photographed event in history and may have signaled the birth of citizen journalism. However in our impulse to record, we have not formulated new strategies to a better understanding of today's pressing issues of a globalized world. There is no longer a "front page" to act as a societal filter through which, we can learn about important events and trends. Even the role that the physical café once played in our communities—the place we went to discuss and digest what's going on around us—has become fragmented across a myriad of virtual spaces.
Ten years post-9/11, at a time when we are more overloaded with information than ever but cannot access it in a coherent manner, Aperture will create a visual café for collective social engagement with the question: What Matter's Now? and turn it into an evolving exhibition space. During a two-week period Aperture will turn itself "inside out," letting participants engage in the editorial process of weighing questions, ideas, and images, and proposing conceptual and curatorial solutions. Both invited guests and gallery visitors will be asked to participate. The exhibition What Matters Now? Proposals for a New Front Page will combine the crowd sourcing of images and ideas with the curatorial engagement of six experienced individuals, each hosting a table and a conversation within the space, where on corresponding walls each group will present its proposals for the contents of a 'New Front Page'. Hosts include a variety of visual image specialists: Wafaa Bilal, Melissa Harris, Stephen Mayes, Joel Meyerowitz, Fred Ritchin (who conceptualized this project), and Deborah Willis.
As the exhibition opens, each of the six hosts will have a designated space, but the walls will be empty. Progressively throughout the first two weeks of the "exhibition," the walls will be filled in whatever manner each table decides. As the exhibition emerges, its contents will be posted online, daily, via a dedicated blog, as well as via Facebook and Twitter, at aperture.org/whatmattersnow and #whatmattersnow; allowing remote participants to respond and to create a seventh wall dedicated to ideas from the public.
Japan's annual commemorations of the Aug. 6, 1945 atomic bombing of Hiroshima were particularly poignant this year, with thoughts quickly turning to those living near the Fukushima Nuclear Plant left crippled by the devastating March earthquake and tsunami.http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/05/hiroshima-anniversary-fukushima-nuclear-plant_n_919529.html#s323248
As the Japan Times is reporting, many Hiroshima survivors and family members expressed solidarity with Fukushima victims during ceremonies on the eve of the 66th anniversary. "Nobody knows the fear and uncertainty Fukushima residents face over radiation levels better than the people of Hiroshima," 68-year-old Setsuko Kumazaki, who lost several relatives in Hiroshima, is quoted as saying.
As the Wall Street Journal reports, this year’s speech by Mayor Kazumi Matsui -- scheduled after a minute-long silence at 8:15 a.m., the time when the U.S. dropped a four-ton uranium bomb in the final days of World War II -- has been much anticipated because he is the city’s first mayor born after 1945, and the son of an A-bomb survivor. A U.S. representative is scheduled to attend the ceremony for the first time, the BBC reports.
Meanwhile, Japanese Prime Minister Naoto Kan has vowed to scale back the nation's reliance on nuclear power and make more use of solar energy and other renewable power sources.
Eikoh Hosoe (細江 英公, Hosoe Eikō, born 18 March 1933 in Yonezawa, Yamagata) is a Japanese photographer and filmmaker who emerged in the experimental arts movement of post-World War II Japan. He is known for his psychologically charged images, often exploring subjects such as death, erotic obsession, and irrationality. Through his friendships and artistic collaborations he is linked with the writer Yukio Mishima and 1960s avant-garde artists such the dancer Tatsumi Hijikata.
--I got Mr. Elliott Erwitt's autograph at Icp today. I knew his show has just started, and Friday night was free admission at ICP. But I didn't expect that he was sitting there for a book signing event. I didn't have enough money to purchase his new photography book ($55), but I bought his notebook ($14.95), and he was nice enough to sign it for me. He was a cool guy. His show was about his personal best selected from his life-long works since 1948. His photographs are human, humorous, sophisticated, and precise that I am truly inspired.
"This major retrospective showcases the career of photographer and filmmaker Elliott Erwitt (1928 -), the recipient of this year's ICP Infinity Award for Lifetime Achievement. Distinguished as both a documentary and commercial photographer, Erwitt has made some of the most memorable photographs of the twentieth century, including portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Jackie Kennedy, and Che Guevara, as well as astonishing scenes of everyday life, filled with poetry, wit, and special sense of humor. Born in Paris in 1928 to Russian émigrés, Erwitt grew up in Italy and France and emigrated to America with his family in 1939. An active photographer since 1948, Erwitt sought out Edward Steichen, Robert Capa, and Roy Stryker in New York in the early 1950s, and they became his mentors. With Capa's encouragement, Erwitt joined Magnum Photos in 1953. Erwitt is both an eyewitness to history and a dreamer with a camera, whose images have been widely published in the international press and in more than twenty books. On view are over 100 of his favorite images from the past sixty years, as well as some previously unseen and unpublished prints from his early work.".