Tokyo Museum of Photography

After staying in the Manga Café and getting only a couple hours of sleep, I planned on visiting the Photography Museum in Ebisu. The museum had a few exhibits – all of which interested me quite a lot. One exhibit was the first in what will be a 3 part series on portraiture. This instalment was on the earlier developments on photographic portraits in Japan. Even though there was a lot of scepticism towards the technology leading into the 20th century – it was a common belief that taking a photograph was a means to stealing one’s soul, it grew in popularity because it was much cheaper than having a portrait drawn or painted. In fact, several samurai had their portraits taken in full samurai garb for the preservation of their cultural identities. There were a few samurai who actually travelled abroad and had their portraits taken in San Francisco. These portraits are nothing short of amazing. After showing a friend the book I bought from the exhibition, he commented that there was something almost jarring about seeing actual representations of real samurai in photographic form. The katana and the camera, both presented according to their inceptive purposes, just don’t seem to be technologies that fit together in the same particular frame.

Another exhibition was the 10th instalment of the World Press Photo. I think that this was/is something of a contest where an organization chooses the most relevant documentary photos from the previous year. They were arranged according to categories such as, ‘confict,’ ‘personal lives, ‘sports,’ etc. There were too many great photos to try to mention here.

The third exhibit was a collection of photographs from the memoirs of Seiichi Furuya. Furuya is a Japanese photographer who moved to Austria at a young age and married a European woman. The exhibition was mostly a documentation of his relationship with his wife who eventually committed suicide in 1985.

The series begins with photos of his wife (there are no self portraits, so we never actually get to see Furuya) in the late 70’s in Austria, probably early on in their relationship. We see them in their apartment, which sets a voyeuristic scene of the microcosm of their lives. Very quickly a child enters the picture and almost every frame contains both his wife and his son. In her arms the boy looks happy – and very uninterested in photography as he rarely looks at the camera. Instead he can be seen looking off to the side of the frame, or head down in a pillow, or looking through keyholes. The woman, from how she directs her eyes, seems to have only two interests, the person behind the camera, and her son. With her son, she seems always warm and caring, inquisitive, and often a bit goofy. In front of the camera, she is someone who is comfortable in front of the lens – either willing to exhibit herself and her personal life, or able to look at the photographer through the lens.

As the child begins to age, we can see the wife begin to lose weight and bags begin to form under her eyes; seems to lose a lot of the humour in her expression that she had when she was younger. Eventually, she appears with a shaved head, and there are a few frames taken in rapid succession after each other where she is standing over her child – her child in his own infantile world, and her face is filled with tears and anguish.

In 1985, the wife disappears from the frames and we see the son begin to grow up without his mother. One of the first frames where the child is alone, he is lying on his stomach beneath a window. He probably has chicken pox or the measles because small white dabs of ointment are dotted across his back, which beneath the light of the window, look like they’ve been applied with ethereal care. Another frame shows the boy, maybe a couple of years older, sitting on the floor in the living room with a few toys and a book on the coffee table; in the background is a large framed black and white print of his mother. Eventually, we see the boy at his graduation. He is standing alone in the shade and even though his visage has distinct resemblance to a Japanese father, his piercing look into the camera is a clear reminiscence to his mother.

This graduation photo is the chronological culmination of this memoir, but from here, we revisit new photos that take us back in time to when the wife was much younger – probably back to when they first met. We initially see her at her worst, lying in a bed beneath white sheets eating an apple, but then her hair comes back and the bags under her eyes disappear, and eventually she smiles again. One of the more iconic images from the collection is a photo of her standing with a camera around her neck and a stick in her hand, standing in front of a great body of water with a brilliant youthful smile on her face – it is also one of the last photos from the collection, leaving us with what seems also to be the most quintessential to her personality.

Throughout these photos, I remember searching for some tangible vein of personality, or character-trait that could be present in each photo – traceable within this small window of her life, possibly linking her to the circumstances of her eventual death. I wanted to see if there was some indication, some visual proof of a quality that was always inherent to her person that could demonstrate or foreshadow what was to happen. I wanted to see some element that could tie her life together. I think such an expectation was unrealistic given the diverseness of any person’s character.

What was interesting though, was that after following the progression leading to the wife’s death, and then continuing through the series back towards her youth, there was very late in the collection an image of the young wife with what looked like her mother, and in the light of the photo, there was a large scar across her neck. In this light, the scar is very conspicuous and given that she is very young in the photo, I had to retrace back to the beginning of the exhibit to confirm that the scar was in fact there from the beginning. It wasn’t until the end of the exhibit, when she is very young for the second time, that the scar is less hidden, or more pronounced. Maybe early on in Furuya’s career, which is represented at the beginning and end of the exhibit, he wasn’t quite as savvy to the details of his compositions, or maybe he wanted to reveal more in less heavy-handed composition. After these early portraits of his wife, there is some quite deliberate covering of the scar, either with the high necks or scarves of her attire, or with lighting, where she is often lit from the right side in order to cast a shadow over the scar. I suspect also some burning/blurring effects were performed on this part of the image in the darkroom. It’s a very minute detail, but having only noticed such a conspicuous – and potentially symbolic mark, only at the tail end of the series, made me re-evaluate all of my previous interpretations of both the subject and the author of these photos. The presentation or concealment of such a scar represents such important decision of representation, and I think it draws attention to both the attention to detail of the photographer to his craft, as well as to his relationship with the subject of his photos.

There was a lot for me to think about at the museum. Something I have a new appreciation for is to see actual prints of photos – rather than print or digital representations. I’ve definitely become accustomed to looking at my photos through the glow of my computer screen – probably a trend that will only continue to grow. I look forward to going back home however, and making some ‘real-life copies’ that I can look at without plugging into the wall.

Manga Cafe

After the baseball game on Saturday, I spent most of my weekend alone in Tokyo. I figured that because I was alone, I had more options in terms of where I would sleep for the night. Having stayed in a regular hotel many times, I figured I would try sleeping in a capsule hotel or manga café. Both are much cheaper and offer very small compartments for sleeping.

Capsule hotels basically offer a small cubby, or capsule, where one can slip into for the night. I’ve heard that you can often have internet and television screens included in them as well. I think that they usually go for about $40-50 a night. I wanted to go to the photography museum the next day in Ebisu, and most of the capsule hotels that I knew of were in Ueno, so I opted for a Manga Café in Shinjuku.

Manga Café’s can be even cheaper because they’re not exactly intended as a formal means of accommodation. Still, people often spend such extended amounts of time, and often sleep there, that it’s often considered an alternative form of accommodation. I paid less than $20 for the first six hours and because I needed the extra hour, I paid another $7 or so for the last. Even though many Japanese people seem to frequent the place for several hours at a time – both men and women, for the average visitor, it’s a cheap place to crash after a night of heavy drinking. Not having had anything to drink except for a coffee earlier, however, I was in for a bit of a rough night.

The café itself was called “Popeye’s” and was recommended to me by a friend I met the night before. I also read on a few sites that this one was one of the more expensive, but more decent café’s to spend a night. It also had free showers and a soft drink bar.

The reception was on the ground level and its floor was covered in clean white tile. After booking a room, there were stairs in the back that led me down to the third basement floor where my room was. Each floor was very dimly lit except for the stairwells, which radiated funky colours that I think changed every few minutes. Each floor seemed to house about 50-60 small rooms. As I walked past bookshelves full of manga (Japanese comics) books, I could hear the tapping of keyboards and clicking of computer mouses beneath the buzzing fans in the ceiling. There was also the odd page rustle or murmuring – I think, if I read the menu correctly, the ‘floor rooms’ could fit up to 5 people.

The first basement, which is the non-smoking section was full, so I ended up in the third basement level, which smelled of beer and tobacco. The bathroom also reeked like vomit. And aside from smelling bad, the bathroom was very small and awkwardly laid out, so that anyone at the sink could see you doing you’re business at the urinal, and when someone ‘really’ had to use the toiled in the morning, there was still barely enough room for him to get by as I moved aside for him, “mid-stream.” Both of us awkwardly bumped into each other as we fought over the immediate square footage that seemed to hold the double duty of providing a place for someone like me to stand while peeing, and also serving as a swing space for the door leading to the toilet. I’m pretty sure that I didn’t get any on him, but of this I can’t be sure.

The room – if you can call it that, I opted for was a “floor room” rather than a “chair room” where the floor was covered by a soft cushion. The “rooms” themselves are not much more than cubicles, where when someone tall like me stands up, can see partially into all of the other cubicles on the floor. When I stood up on the raised floor of my cubicle, I could probably see much more. There was also a small floor chair where patrons could sit in front of the screens and then lay down on the floor when they got tired. The floor itself was a decent size; when I laid across the room diagonally, I could stretch out fully head to toe. The computer and television were on a platform over where I put my legs.

I’m usually pretty good at falling asleep anywhere, and with the jacket and towel I brought for my pillow, I was relatively comfortable, but unfortunately, I just couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the strange noises and rank smell around me, or if it was the coffee that I drank earlier, but despite feeling exhausted, I don’t think I fell asleep until about 5 in the morning. I was off to a rough start, with my clothes reeking like tobacco and beer when my alarm went off at 7:30 and I was on my way without brushing my teeth (by this time, there were clear signs of vomit in the bathroom sink).

Go Tigers!

I went to Tokyo last Saturday to watch a baseball game. The Hanshin Tigers, from the Kansai region near Osaka were playing the hometown Swallows. Despite playing as visitors in the stadium, the Tigers are apparently very popular in Tokyo, and probably had more fans than did the Swallows. The friends I went with were Tigers fans, so they came adorning yellow baseball jerseys and towels. They also carried with them plastic tubes, which they call “megafuon,” or I guess megaphones. I imagine that they are intended to amplify one’s voice by shouting in one end and then directing it from the other end. Most fans however, carry two of them and use them as clappers, which are essential for the numerous cheers that the crowds are involved in.

During Japanese baseball games, the fans always stand up when it’s their team’s turn at bat. The stadium is divided into two sides so that each team’s fans sit apart – although on Saturday, there were plenty of Tigers’ fans wearing yellow shirts amongst the Swallows’ fans. Each player who steps up to the plate also has their own personal cheer – complete with percussive clapping and hand motions, that all of the fans memorize. I think that each time the team makes a big play, or scores a run, there are separate cheers for these as well. Even though the fans all seem to know what to do, there are a sort of “cheer-leader” in each section of the stands who where uniforms, white gloves, and blow a whistle in order to direct the fans in their cheers. There is also a small brass band at the back of the stands that play accompanying music.

No matter which team is up to bat, one side of the stadium is always on their feet, performing orchestrated cheers for their team – it makes for a very lively scene.

Aside from the temperament of the crowd, most of the baseball scene is pretty much the same as in North America. The field looks the same, the rules are the same, they sell hot dogs and hamburgers (although they are of Japanese equivalents to those found at home – and you can bring your own food/alcohol into the game), and there are several girls in uniform walking up and down the aisles selling beer and snacks.

As an added bonus to the day, someone somewhere also decided that we, as participants at the event, would also try to break the word record for the largest toasting of drinks in the world. The previous world record was set at 26,564, I think by a crowd somewhere in Europe. We managed to shatter the record with 27,126 people. For our toast, we were all given a small bottle of Coca Cola and a special plastic cup made for the event. Then, an old celebrity pro-wrestler came onto the field to lead our toast. At the end of the fifth inning, we all raised our glasses and shouted “kanpai!” and then held them for about 30 seconds so that some could “count” (?) our numbers. I’m not sure if they were actually counting, or what, but we held our toast for quite a while and the results were announced a few innings later. I think the results will be in next year’s Guinness Book of World Records.

The Tiger’s ended up losing in the last few innings, so there were no songs of celebration after the game. Either way, it was a great day!

Here are a few videos as well where you can hear some of the cheers!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJGifqmRfoQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWX3IBy6CH0
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8iDc4WUy5U
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDm-dlGzDEo

ひさしぶり!

It’s been over 20 days since my last post – I think my longest hiatus yet. I’ve been pretty busy lately, and also haven’t been sure of what to write about – not necessarily because there’s nothing to write about, but more because there’s too much to write about.

Although I may have insinuated it, I don’t think I’ve made an official statement on this blog about my leaving Japan. I opted not to re-contract for a second year and will be returning to Vancouver August 20th and then attending a wedding celebration on the 21st. The biggest reason for my not re-contracting is that I’ve been living away from my girlfriend for almost a year now, and the prospect of going through another year apart is too much. There is a reason why many couples who plan on continuing a long-distance relationship end up re-evaluating themselves and each other; it’s not a practical way to build a life together. The relationship issues aside, professionally, I’m also interested in getting a job that is more long-term career oriented.

Otherwise, my year on with the JET Programme will probably always be one of the best things that I’ve ever done with my life. I hope that this blog will serve as somewhat of a testament to this. I originally set a goal of reaching 200 posts by the time that I leave, but it looks like I will fall a bit short.

I originally had very little idea of what this blog would be about when I first came to Japan. Part of the reason was I had very little idea of what to expect in Japan. In the broadest terms, this blog has been a record of my life living and working in Japan. From this point however, it will be about me getting ready to leave Japan and to return to Vancouver.

I’ve been trying to make the most of my last few weeks here in Japan. This last weekend, I spent in Tokyo. Here’s a random photo I took in Ebisu today.

Yokohama

When Sean was here during Golden Week, we spent a day in Yokohama. Janice and I stopped there on the way back from Kamakura on New Year's Day, but everything was closed and it was very dark. During Golden Week, it was sunny and beautiful.

I've been trying to manage the colour better on my photos, which involves a lot of trial and error and takes a long time. As such, I only have a few photos to share.

ESID

The other day, a teacher told me a story about an experience she had with an ALT in her past. I’ve tried to write down what she shared with me:

The JET Programme first started 20 years ago. I was 15 years old and still a junior high school student. We had an ALT come from Canada. I can’t remember her name. When she first came to our class, she asked my friend a question, but my friend would not answer. We all waited for 10 minutes, but she stayed silent. She didn’t like to speak English.

The ALT was only here for 1 year before going back to Canada. I think she was very tired. She did not like to speak with the Japanese English teacher. She had to live with him in his house. We lived in a very small town, so they lived together in his house. It was a very traditional house, so it was too much for her. My other friends spoke English very well and they would speak to her during class. The ALT would come to class with the teacher and then sit with my friends. The teacher would teach the class and the ALT would speak English with 2-3 friends for the entire class. They had learned English in their after-school study-school. I envied them. I wanted to speak with the ALT.

After living with her teacher for about 3 months, my friends helped her to find a new house. Her supervisor that she lived with would not find her a new place to live. And she did not speak any Japanese. So my friends helped her to find a new place to live. She lived with another family until she went home.

I found this story fascinating. The experience of this ALT seems so primitive compared to my experience with the JET Programme. My teacher mentioned that the town she was living in was very small and that there were no apartments that the ALT could live in on her own. I wonder if there are ALTs living in their supervisor’s houses as of today? Otherwise, the blatantly inadequate use of the ALT seemed like such a waste of resources. I’ve heard that in the 20 years of the JET Programme, the ALT’s salary has yet to increase. My salary is quite reasonable for what I’m expected to do here in Japan, and with inflation, ALTs 20 years ago must have been living very comfortably. For a school to pay so much money to have someone sit in a room and talk with 2 or three students in a day seems like a waste of everybody’s time except for the 2 students who spoke with her.

When I think back to the months leading up to my departure for Japan, I think the most useful information that I received were the stories that previous JET participants shared with us at the preparatory seminars in Vancouver. While the mantra for all of these seminars was the seemingly unhelpful “ESID,” or “Every Situation Is Different,” it seemed like every speaker was trying to shirk any responsibility of explaining what Japan would be like. I can remember people asking questions like: can I get yogurt in Japan? will the clothes fit me? can I wear a skirt to work? How big was your apartment? Having lived in this country for almost 1 year now, I feel confident in being able to answer these questions – in my case, the answers to these questions would be: yes; sometimes, but mostly not; yes; and pretty big. Now however, I can appreciate the ‘ESID’ conditioned responses from these Q and A sessions. I would hesitate to suggest that any of my answers will be representative of anyone’s experience in Japan. The country has over 130 million people, and they are as varied as anywhere else in the world.

Being able to hear of these individual experiences from ALTs who lived and worked in different parts of the country at different types of schools not only reinforced this idea that everything is different for each person, but reminded us that the most important thing was to keep an open mind. Every work situation has its challenges whether in Japan or at home. The best advice that I remember from these seminars was, “just enjoy it.”

I don’t know if I could have been able to enjoy living with my supervisor in the same house for a year, but I think that at least in today’s JET Programme, this was a very extraneous situation. For the most part, there is more to enjoy than can be taken in within a year. So, let’s enjoy Japan.

He doesn't lose rain, doesn't lose wind...

Last week, I mentioned an assignment where students wrote about their future dreams. We continued the lesson with other classes this week and this one student’s writing really stood out for me. I liked it so much that I copied into my notebook to bring to parties and such. Anyway, I should let him speak for himself:

He doesn’t lose rain, doesn’t lose wind. He doesn’t lose winter and he is hot as a summer’s day. He has a strong body, and he doesn’t have desire, never got angry, always smiles quietly. He eats some rough rice and a few vegetables every day.


I want to be a man such as he.