Loss of a Legend: Ichikawa Danjûrô passes away

Sad news again from the kabuki world. Frankly, I’m still a little bit in shock, and finding it hard to believe.

A friend just posted on my Facebook wall a few hours ago a link to the New York Times obituary for Nakamura Kanzaburô, who passed away this past December. Looking at her post, I got to thinking about when, at some point in the future, Danjûrô would pass away as well. I never suspected it would be so soon. Not even five minutes later, I scrolled down to see a post from Kabuki scholar Matsuba Ryoko, linking to a Mainichi Shinbun article stating that Kabuki actor Ichikawa Danjûrô had succumbed to pneumonia, and died earlier today, Feb 3rd. Here is the article from the English-language version of the Mainichi.

Danjûrô was, pretty much by definition, the most prominent actor in the kabuki world. His passing, especially combined with that of Kanzaburô, marks the end of an era. I feel terribly privileged to have gotten to see them both perform, to have met Danjûrô, and to have gotten his autograph, and to think that, some years down the road, when it is a new Kabuki-za that everyone has grown familiar with, and a new Danjûrô and a new Kanzaburô who grace its stage, I’ll be able to think of myself as someone who has been a fan since the previous generation – someone who remembers the previous Kabuki-za, the previous Kanzaburô, and the previous Danjûrô.

Of course, none of this is about me, or really about the art, the theatre; though the kabuki world and its fans have of course lost a legend today, my heart goes out too to his family – his son, prominent actor Ichikawa Ebizô who has just lost his father, and all of Danjûrô’s other close and extended family and friends.

You will be dearly missed, sir.

I expect we will be seeing more from the Japanese media in coming days. This truly marks the beginning of a new era of Kabuki.

My good friend Brigid and myself, with Danjûrô, outside the Kabuki-za in January 2008.

EDIT: Additional articles and links:
*Obituary/Article at Kabuki-bito.jp, the Shôchiku official website

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Nakamura Kanzaburô dies at 57

The world of kabuki lost one of its greatest stars yesterday. Nakamura Kanzaburô, who had been fighting esophageal cancer, died in a Tokyo hospital yesterday at the age of 57.

I am not sure what I can say that wouldn’t just be a repetition or rehashing of what I have just read in the Japan Times, and in the Mainichi Shimbun. I am tempted to want to write a much longer blog post, in honor of this great man, but I suppose I will leave it to the newspapers to do what they do.

I had the pleasure, the privilege, of seeing Kanzaburô perform on a number of occasions, both in Tokyo, and once in Washington DC. The last time I saw him perform, it was back in 2008, at the old Kabuki-za. The play Ukare Shinjû, a relatively new play not in the traditional repertoire, which Kanzaburô wrote and starred in, ends with his character flying out over the audience, passing into the afterlife atop a giant mouse, shouting (something to the effect of), “This is the real chûnori!”¹ I suppose I shall always remember him in that moment.

Kanzaburô was a dedicated and masterful actor, but a creative one too, often creating new projects such as the Heisei Nakamura-za touring company, and Cocoon Kabuki, aimed at making kabuki more appealing to a younger / more modern audience; he played a role as well in creating new plays, such as Ukare Shinjû, and the zombie kabuki Ô-Edo no Living Dead. He leaves behind two sons, Nakamura Kankurô and Shichinosuke, both extremely accomplished actors in their own rights. I imagine that one of them will soon take on the Kanzaburô name.

In the meantime, today is truly a sad day for kabuki, for its fans, and of course, especially, for Kanzaburô’s family. My heart goes out to them.

—

(1) Chûnori 宙乗, lit. “riding the sky,” is the name of a special effects technique (keren) in kabuki, in which an actor flies up over the audience on wires, usually making his exit in this manner up over the audience, and out the back of the theater. The joke in Ukare Shinjû is that he is riding a mouse, which, in Japanese, rather than “squeak-squeak,” says “chû-chû” – thus, the pun of “the real chûnori/riding-the-sky” as “this is the true riding-a-mouse!”

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On the Senkaku/Diaoyu Debate

This has been much in the news lately, so I suppose it’s about time I post something about it. Incidentally, after not checking on my own site for just a few days, I came back today to find I had 46 spam messages. Wow. I’ve never seen so many at once before.

For those living under a rock the last few weeks, anti-Japanese riots have erupted in China, nominally connected to the territorial dispute over a set of tiny uninhabited islands known as Diaouyu in Chinese, and Senkaku in Japanese. Here is a recent Wall Street Journal article on the events, just one of a countless number published in the last few weeks.

I refuse to get into it here, because then I’m just inviting more debate, more wasteful flamewars (though, at the very least, it would get me to actually have some non-spam comments on this blog..). But, suffice it to say that despite the assertions of a recent NY Times editorial column by Han-Yi Shaw, and numerous rebuttals in which he is gloriously torn apart, this is not really about who truly, legally, rightfully, is in the right regarding claims to these stupid islands. The Chinese rioters, supported by their government, have seen to that. The dispute over the islands, much as they might like to pretend otherwise, was never really their primary attention. Once again, the Chinese have found an excuse to launch anti-Japanese riots, reviving a myriad of issues decades old and conflating them all with what should be a much more limited, specific, political debate, fanning the flames of hate and re-igniting the crucible of Chinese ultra-nationalist fervor & outrage against wrongs committed generations ago.

A friend suggested that we must take Chinese conceptions of nation and national territory into account, understanding Chinese attitudes about how any and all territory that was historically part of China is seen as integral to the wholeness of the Chinese nation-state, and how even the tiniest incursion is thus seen as an attack on the whole. A very interesting thought, and one I kind of enjoy, as I much prefer cultural lines of inquisition to the utterly boring realm of political theory and power politics; the Orientalist idea of China having a markedly different, separate, cultural conception of itself is a wonderfully romantic and intriguing one. I like it, and I’d be curious to know more about this. If anyone has any academic articles to recommend on Chinese conceptions of the essential nature of possession of all Chinese people & land, I’d be curious to read them.

Master wordsmith Murakami Haruki summarizes contemporary Japanese attitudes on nationalistic fervor best, I believe, saying:

“Anger-fuelled disputes of this kind are not unlike cheap liquor: Cheap liquor gets you drunk after only a few shots and makes you hysterical. It makes you speak loudly and act rudely. . . But after your drunken rampage you are left with nothing but an awful headache the next morning. We must be careful about politicians and polemicists who lavish us with this cheap liquor and fan this kind of rampage.”

With any luck, the Chinese and Koreans can learn this lesson too, and won’t have to learn it the hard way, as Japan and Germany did. (Hopefully we Americans can soon learn that lesson as well.)

You can read the entirety of Murakami’s essay, in translation into English, here.

This bullshit of Chinese & Koreans refusing to let go of age-old issues, and refusal to allow relations to become more fully friendly and peaceful has got to stop. It has got to end. What we need, in the words of Genki Sudo, is a “permanent revolution.”

Sigh. If only it were so simple. What magic words can they exchange in negotiations that will make a permanent revolution a reality?

People act as though the world they know, the world of the present, is the only way things could possibly be. Either that, or they believe that the 1890s-1940s are all there is to history. But the relationship between China, Korea, and Japan is more than a thousand years old, and it has taken many dramatically different forms over the centuries. It was different before, and it can be different again. All it takes is a willingness to put the recent past aside, and look to the future.

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Quick Links: Mainichi Shimbun

Just a couple of articles today from the Mainichi Shimbun.

*Kyoto temple hires 25-year-old painter to restore ancient art practice – I have posted before about contemporary Nihonga (neo-traditional) painters being hired to restore, or to create new works to replace, paintings at Buddhist temples. It certainly makes sense. Someone has to do it – the tradition has to continue, we can’t just stick with what we have and watch as it slowly gradually decays, not for all cases. And basically everyone who is a painter in traditional styles and/or traditional media is termed a “Nihonga” painter, so, that’s who it is.

There is something really interesting, and wonderful, about contemporary artists stepping in to a long-standing tradition; essentially, stepping across a historical threshold, from the present into the past. Or, to put it a better way – and more accurately – to think of these temples and their traditions being long threads that exist in the present, and engage with the present, but which extend back centuries into the past. I am sure that someone more well-versed than I in theoretical jargon language could articulate some really fascinating argument about the discursive implications of this connection between contemporary artists and a centuries-old tradition of the town painter commissioned by a temple, or of the painter who lives within the temple and practices Zen practice. Kennin-ji in Kyoto, and Kenchô-ji in Kamakura, roughly ten years ago, had gorgeous new ceiling paintings of dragons produced by artist Koizumi Junsaku. But Junsaku was born in 1924, making him a later generation of Nihonga artist as compared to those active in the 1880s-1920s, for sure, but still much more closely connected to the traditional past.

By contrast, 25-year-old Murabayashi Yuki, a recent graduate from a graduate program at Kyoto University of Arts &
Design, is about as young and contemporary as one can imagine. This article doesn’t say much about her work, or about her personality or character – for all we know she’s really involved in traditional culture, and not very involved at all in modern, contemporary, pop culture – but, still, the combination is very interesting. Murabayashi will be doing, essentially, something not too extremely different from what artists like Sesshû did in the 15th century, or what various town artists (machi-eshi) did in the 17th-19th centuries, living at the temple, engaging in Zen practice, and just generally immersing herself in the world of the temple, while she paints new screen paintings for them over the course of three years.

As the article says, she was at first nervous, intimidated by the weight of expectations of this long line of centuries of great temple painters before her (not to mention how her paintings will continue to be viewed, and to be present and associated with the temple for many many years into the future, becoming an integral part of the history of the institution). However, encouraged by the abbot that she does not need to adhere to the styles and expectations of the past, the article says she has regained confidence. I am curious to see what sort of works she ends up creating.

….

Meanwhile, Ôshiro Tatsuhiro, the author of “The Cocktail Party,” which I posted about some time ago, now compares the disaster-struck areas in northern Japan to Okinawa, framing the two places within a conceptualization of sacrifice for the sake of the center. What defines the success or prosperity of “Japan”? Is Tokyo the barometer? People in Tôhoku, Fukushima, and Okinawa are sacrificing, every day, continuing to sacrifice, to gaman (endure) and to ganbaru (keep trying), for the sake of the country. Yet, are they not themselves part of the country? Who is benefiting by their sacrifice? How is the health or prosperity of Japan measured? By the health and prosperity of the metaphorical Center? Or by the health and prosperity of its worst-off areas? Or by some more holistic approach, taking into account everything?

Especially after seeing his play, “The Cocktail Party,” and hearing him speak about it, I cannot help but see Ôshiro as a bitter curmudgeonly old man, kvetching and complaining, and most likely quite literally shaking his cane in the air. I would love to see him standing outside a US military base in Okinawa shouting “you damn kids, get off my lawn!” That would pretty much encapsulate his attitudes entirely. Which is not to say that he’s entirely wrong in what he says.

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March 11

It has been one year since the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster which devastated large parts of northeastern Japan. It is a day I feel I should mark in some way. I have been thinking about this for weeks, about what I would say, what I would do, on March 11. But I find I have nothing to say. I wasn’t in Japan when it happened, and I haven’t been back since. I have no real connection to these events, no firsthand heartwarming or terrifying story to share.

I keep trying to think of different things to say, but I cannot help feeling like anything I say, or anything I might do, is only to help me feel better, to help me feel involved, or to feel like I’ve done something, when in fact I haven’t really helped anyone at all. I wish I lived in Japan, and could donate my weekends to journeying up to Tôhoku and helping out in person. It’s a year later, but there’s still a ton of work to do; many many places are still very far from recovery. Of course, even that would really be more about me, my selfish desires to want to have a story to tell, to want to be able, years or decades from now, to say that I helped, to say that I was involved. My selfish desire to see people’s smiles and hear their words of thanks just for my being there.

I do hope to go to Japan soon. Maybe this summer. And if I don’t make it to Tôhoku, then I guess, at least I’m kind of helping out by spending my tourist dollars to help the Japanese economy in some miniscule way, and helping by setting an example, in a tiny tiny way, to show my friends and family that Japan is safe and a good place to go, to show Japanese people that I am not at all afraid to come visit, despite radiation fears or whatever (though I may be merely one of thousands of Americans doing the same this summer). … Between school and everything, I just don’t find myself in Japan any time soon, except for a small “vacation”, a brief week or two visit; it might not be for three or five years from now that I once again find myself spending any real significant time in Japan. But I hope that at that time, even though I know the toughest work is being done right now, and the toughest times are already past, I hope that at that time, I will still be able to lend a hand, to do something genuine to help the people of Tôhoku.

In the meantime, all I can do is to think about them, to hope and to pray, to donate a few dollars every now and then, and to support and applaud the efforts of friends who are doing more.

Michael Connolly is one such friend, who has been doing tons to help out, very actively engaging in relief and recovery efforts, both as a photojournalist, and in a more direct way, with official Volunteer organizations. If you would like to donate, or to get involved yourself, please take a look at It’s Not Just Mud and Foreign Volunteers Japan, two of the many many organizations working to help in Tôhoku.

Many many articles, essays, blog posts, and videos have been posted in the last few days leading up to 3/11, and of course many many more have been posted over the course of the year. I hope not to add to anyone’s media exhaustion; there are just a couple of links/videos I’d like to share.

First, from the New York Times today: In the Wake of Disaster (Embedding Failed)

Meanwhile, the only remaining geisha in the town of Kamaishi has recovered the treasured shamisen she thought lost in the tsunami, and is preparing for a memorial concert. Video here. I would never mean to make light of the vast losses of lives and livelihoods, which are of course the greatest element of this tragedy. However, I cannot help but wonder and fear for so many arts traditions, as well as historic sites and artistic treasures, lost in the tsunami or in danger of being lost. It is a small thing within a vast complex of difficulties and challenges – from radiation, to physical rebuildings of towns, to the relocation of families – but I hope that the geisha tradition of Kamaishi, or of the broader region, can and will survive this.

Third, a link of links. Bloggers at Shinpai Deshou have shared with us a few firsthand accounts from those remembering the disaster or engaged in recovery in a variety of different aspects, including a JET now living in Sendai, and a volunteer with an organization caring for animals who lost their homes in the disaster.

And finally, across the US and around the world, numerous organizations and institutions today are holding concerts, lectures, theatre performances, and memorial services. SHINSAI, organized by the Theatre Communications Group, is but one of these. Japan Society in New York is likewise one of countless institutions organizing such events. So far as I know, no such events are being held here in Honolulu.

My most heartfelt wishes, hopes and prayers to everyone affected by the disaster, and cheers and applause for those who, unlike myself, are pitching in first-hand to aid with the recovery.

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Quick Links: Archaeology, and some other news

It’s that time again. I have a ton of tabs open in my browser, of things I’d like to share with you, on a few different topics.

*Let’s start with the sad news that Prof. Karen Brazell passed away this past Wednesday. She was Professor Emeritus at Cornell University, and Director of GloPAC, the Global Performing Arts Consortium, an organization which maintains GloPAD (Global Performing Arts Database), an excellent resource for information on theatre and dance from Japan and around the world.

I never had the privilege of meeting Dr. Brazell, but have quite enjoyed, and made much use of, her book Traditional Japanese Theater, an excellent anthology of Noh, bunraku, kyôgen, and kabuki plays in translation (in English), which I have made much use of.

You can read more about Dr. Brazell and her career at GloPAC’s official announcement on her passing.

*The Gothamist reported yesterday on the a new “travel agency” that has opened in Brooklyn. The Bureau of Unknown Destinations will, for a price, organize a mystery journey for you (within a few hours by train from NYC) to an unknown destination. As the Gothamist (or the Bureau itself?) describes it:

You’ll be presented with a free round trip ticket for a train adventure (along with a notebook and a small, somewhat absurd, task). Begin your day by tearing open a sealed envelope and revealing the mystery of where you will find yourself by noon. Set forth, free of decisions, into the great (or perhaps, in this case, the small) unknown. Test your sense of destiny. Have lunch someplace new.

Sounds wonderfully artsy and maybe just slightly hipster, but in a good way. Seems like the kind of thing some of the professors in the Art Department here at my university would get a real kick out of. I’d be happy to give it a try when I get back to NY…

Though, how cool would it be to get to buy a mystery trip (all expenses paid) to, for example, somewhere in Europe? Assuming it’s not too expensive, I’d love to find myself in Dublin, Prague, Munich, Amsterdam, Leiden, Copenhagen, Nottingham, Edinburgh, York, Caerdydd, Venice, Florence, Rome, Pisa, Padua, Athens, Tallin, Krakow, Warsaw, Paris or Oslo, sent off on an adventure to a city I might not ever get around to going out of my way to visit otherwise. But, then, I guess that’s a whole different thing.

*In archaeology / art world news, the charges against Robert Hecht (above), an American art dealer accused of extensive involvement in the black market of stolen antiquities, have been dropped in Italian court, as the statute of limitations has, apparently, expired.

Looking through my past posts, it looks like I’ve never actually posted about this before, but Google “Robert Hecht”, “Marion True“, or “Giacomo Medici,” or even better, pick up the book “The Medici Conspiracy.” The book reads like a crime thriller, tracing the adventures of Italian Art Squad carabinieri and US authorities in tracking down a string of evidence leading them to some of the biggest black market antiquities dealers active today, and eventually launching a raid on Medici’s warehouse in Geneva’s “Freeport,” loaded with looted antiquities and extensive documentation on his network of looters, buyers, dealers, etc., a network which included Getty Museum curator Marion True, and art dealer Robert Hecht, perhaps most (in)famous for his involvement in the acquisition by the Metropolitan Museum of the Euphronios krater, which has now been returned to Italy.

I am, of course, not the only blogger writing about this development. Chasing Aphrodite is one of a number of blogs more specifically devoted to (and expert on) the subject of antiquities looting which is reporting on the end of Hecht’s trial.

(Incidentally, another excellent book, not directly talking about Hecht or Medici, if I recall, but on a very similar topic, and with equally thrilling narratives, is Stealing History. In it, Roger Atwood shares amazing stories, from crazy stings in a parking lot on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike to catch people smuggling ancient Peruvian gold to discussions of the market in stone Buddhist sculptures literally chainsawed off of monuments in Cambodia.)

*Meanwhile, in the exciting but far less scandalous/controversial world of Japanese archaeology, a few fragments of pottery have been found in Mie prefecture bearing fragments of the famous Iroha poem which contains each kana (syllabic characters such as いろは in contrast to kanji characters such as 伊呂波) exactly once.

See the original Asahi Shimbun article, in Japanese, and in English.

The fragments are believed to date to the 11th or 12th century, and are said to now be the oldest known extant example of hiragana writing the iroha poem being written in hiragana. Frankly, I find this a bit hard to believe, given that it’s been dated to the late Heian period, a period today known for its vibrant traditions of poetry, etc. Considering all the numerous examples of poetry and other writings we have from the Heian period, could it really be possible that this late Heian pottery is the earliest extant example of hiragana writing? If they said it dated to the Asuka or Nara periods (6th-8th centuries), it would seem much more amazing and believable on first impression (kneejerk reaction). But, then, what the hell do I know? If the experts say this is how it is, then, apparently, this is how it is. An important find.

Much thanks to Joseph Ryan of the Ancient Japan blog for pointing out that had I not been so lazy, and had actually read the Japanese, I would have realized/noticed that this new find is not the oldest known extant example of hiragana writing, but only the oldest known extant example of the iroha in hiragana.

*The Asahi has also reported on the discovery of a possible residence of Emperor Shômu in Shiga prefecture. Shômu (r. 724-749) is best known for having established a system of provincial temples, and commissioning the Great Buddha of Tôdai-ji, which remains today the largest bronze Buddha in the country, housed within the largest wooden building in the world. The construction of Tôdai-ji, and especially of the Buddha, was an incredible undertaking, involving a major proportion of the total resources of the Yamato State (i.e. Japan), and a major symbol to the rest of the Buddhist world of Japan’s devotion.

The Asahi article (in Japanese) includes a short video of aerial footage of the site recently uncovered in the city of Kôka (甲賀市) in Shiga prefecture, along with photos of the site, and artists’ renderings of what the buildings may have originally looked like. The remains of pillars sunk into the ground, along with other archaeological evidence, indicate a pair of buildings with the distinctive form of Nara period imperial residences; it is believed this may be the Shigaraki Palace, a set of residences constructed by Emperor Shômu, where his predecessor and aunt Empress Genshô (r. 715-724) would have resided as well.

The two newly discovered structures were found near the center of a much larger archaeological site, in an area of about 500 square meters which local experts have been surveying since September 2010. It lies directly to the north of a previously uncovered chôdô (朝堂, “[Imperial] Court Hall”), an 8th century Imperial Court governmental administrative building. Twenty-eight postholes, each about 1.3-1.5 meters in diameter, have been found, running in a grid six postholes long from north to south. As a result, experts have suggested that the original buildings were roughly 24.9 meters wide and 14.8 meters long.

Similar buildings were found to the west in 2001-02. Since those were not located to the north of the administrative buildings, they were not believed to be Imperial residences; however, these newly discovered structures are believed to be just that.

Image Credits:
*Cover of “Traditional Japanese Theater” from Amazon.jp.
*Photo of rails somewhere in upstate New York taken myself
*Photo of Robert Hecht from ChasingAphrodite.com – if you’d like me to take it down, just say the word.
*Photo of iroha pottery taken by Inoue Shôta of the Asahi Shimbun.
*Photo of Shigaraki-no-miya palace site taken by Yagi Takaharu.
*My thanks to Japanese copyright law, which considers the use of photos to be a “citation” or a “quote”, and not an intellectual property violation.

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And Six Months Ago

I was not in New York on 9/11, and neither was I in Japan on 3/11. My memories of both events will forever center not on having experienced it in any way, but on having experienced hearing about it. Of course, in the intervening time a lot changed in terms of the expansion of Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and smartphones, and so, for those of us not experiencing it directly (and even for many who did), it all played out quite differently.

My heart goes out to all of those who lost so much on 3/11, and to all who are still dealing with the aftermath. The new and changed setsuden lifestyle and aftershocks throughout much of Japan; the rebuilding for those in Tôhoku, and the difficulties of setting up new lives for those who had to leave everything behind in/around Fukushima, and who must now, one supposes, start new lives.

Many many people, of course, are posting all kinds of remembrances today.

Here is one I liked, one I found particularly well-done, personal, and touching – a video from a former JET who returned to Tôhoku quite recently, who focuses not on the destruction, but on the survival and the rebuilding.

It makes me want to go back to Japan, and to visit Tôhoku. And it makes me wish that I’d bought at least one of the “Ganbare Nippon!” charity T-shirts that so many people were selling here in Honolulu in the days and weeks after the disaster. I would love to wear such a T-shirt the next time I visit Japan, and to show, in whatever tiny ways I can, my support.

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Hiraizumi eyed to be named World Heritage Site

In the running: The Golden Hall of Chusonji Temple, a historical site in the Hiraizumi area of Iwate Prefecture, is shown in this 2005 photo. Hiraizumi and the Ogasawara Islands off Tokyo have been recommended for listing as UNESCO World Heritage sites. KYODO PHOTO

I have never been to Hiraizumi, but somehow the place captures my imagination. Located in Iwate Prefecture, about 40 miles inland from the coastal areas most heavily devastated by the March 11 earthquake & tsunami, Hiraizumi was, in the 12th century, the central base of power of the Northern Fujiwara, or Ôshû Fujiwara, clan.

The Fujiwara clan was among the most prominent and powerful in Heian era Japan, and was eclipsed to a large extent in the mid-to-late 12th century by the samurai clans Taira and Minamoto, but remained a prominent presence in Kyoto. A branch of the family split off and moved far up north to Hiraizumi at the beginning of the 12th century, and established themselves there, on the edges of the Yamato state. There, they established a new base of power, aiming to be as independent as possible from the central authorities (i.e. the Imperial Court), and to build Hiraizumi into a city rivalling Kyoto as a cultural center.

Hiraizumi may have flourished for a time, but in 1189, the forces of Minamoto no Yoritomo, newly named shogun, stormed the city, destroying it and the Ôshû Fujiwara. The gold-covered Konjikidô, today sheltered under another roof, within the Chûsonji temple complex, still stands, the chief central marvel of Hiraizumi’s brief period of prosperity; four generations of heads of the Ôshû Fujiwara are entombed within.

And now, it has been revealed that an advisory panel has recommended Hiraizumi to be named a World Heritage Site. It has not been officially inscribed onto the list yet, but this seems a major step towards that result – some sites, such as the Iwami Silver Mine, were outright rejected by the advisory committee and inscribed onto the list in the end anyway.

The blog Heritage of Japan has an excellent post on the subject, complete with gorgeous photos, and lots of links to stories on various stages of this process. Rather than copy any of his material here, I suggest you simply go and check things out on his site. And maybe poke around at some of the other articles there. It’s really an excellent blog.

To be entirely frank, sometimes it feels like anywhere and everywhere in Japan is pushing to become a World Heritage Site, and some that don’t really seem to deserve it (e.g. the majorly obscure Iwami Silver Mine, which isn’t even significant enough to show up in most “history of Japan” narratives / textbooks) get on the list, while others (e.g. anything in Kamakura) continue to be overlooked, not to mention the tons of other sites throughout the world that aren’t getting onto the list for one reason or another (how about anything in Bhutan? Or the properties of the Kingdom of Hawaii, if properties of the Kingdom of Ryukyu can get in.)

But I don’t mean for this to be a cynical or critical post. I am very glad that Hiraizumi and its treasures (and, of course, its people) survived the disaster, and that it is being (potentially) awarded this great honor. I look forward to visiting that part of the country sometime.

The Ogasawara Islands, also known as the Bonin Islands, have also been recommended to be added to the list – as a site of natural beauty, not a site of cultural heritage.

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Quick Links: Meanwhile…

The situation in Japan of course has not, and will not, go away overnight. It is still very much on my mind, especially after hearing directly (on skype video chat, rather than simply in text form via Facebook, Twitter, or email) from a friend who, though quite safe in Tokyo and quite far from the real center of the devastation, was even there in Tokyo terrified, and shaken, if you’ll pardon the pun, to the core.

I have been putting off posting about anything else for a few days, watching other bloggers put up post after post of serious, concerned, disaster-centric posts. People in Japan sharing their own photos and their own stories; people sharing images and information from the news, and lists of websites for finding and getting in touch with people, and for making donations to the relief efforts.

Here‘s just one of the many many stories being posted online right now. An op-ed piece published in the NY Times – a New Yorker reminisces about her time in Tôhoku, and how much has changed in the last few days, and writes about her relatives in Tôhoku, experiencing this tragedy firsthand. A beautiful, short, piece, entitled “Memories, Washed Away.”

Gary Leupp, history professor at Tufts University and Edo period culture/society specialist, meanwhile, shares his thoughts on the disaster, touching upon the history of the city of Sendai, its poetic beauty, and historical artifacts and sites damaged and lost, and those which have hopefully survived.

It is far too easy to simply move on and get on with our normal lives here in Hawaii… I just learned that my rabbi back home in NY asked after me, and made some kind of announcement to the whole congregation about my being okay. Given how completely out of danger I was, and how relatively normal the last few days have been, I cannot help but feel bad that anyone should be worried about me at a time like this.

But, what can I say? Of course, I cannot, I will not, “move on” completely. I will continue to think about what’s going on in Japan, to pay attention to the news, to be concerned; to keep in touch with friends over there, and to do what I can to be supportive for Japanese friends here. But in the meantime, some scattered news bits from other parts of the world:

*Neil Gaiman – the author of Neverwhere, American Gods, and the comicbook series Sandman, and easily one of my favorite writers – has been working for quite some time on a non-fiction book about The Journey to the West, the classic Chinese story from which The Monkey King is particularly famous. And now, it has been announced that Gaiman is working with others on a film of The Journey to the West. It has been done before, numerous times, in both Chinese and Japanese films and TV dramas, and I don’t want to say that I definitively predict that this one will blow those all away, I trust Gaiman with this kind of project. He’s exceptionally insightful and creative in understanding the internal logic of fantasy worlds, and amazingly skilled in bringing such worlds to life; he’s profoundly respectful of other cultures and their histories, while at the same time not as invested in the project as an expression of nationalism as a Chinese or Japanese creator might be. In short, I’m very much looking forward to it.

*UNESCO has decided not to recommend the reconstruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan, and the Afghan government has decided to go along with that recommendation. Now, admittedly, there are some pretty good reasons for them not to be reconstructed – chiefly, the argument that the millions of dollars it would cost might be better spent on alleviating poverty or any number of other humanitarian or development sort of purposes, and the argument that reconstructions would be fake. There isn’t enough material from the originals to reconstruct them properly from the original materials, and so, really, reconstructed versions would be fakes.

Still, my knee-jerk response is to say that of course they should be reconstructed. Their destruction was a heinous act of religious intolerance, and was the destruction of astonishing sites of cultural and historical value on a global scale. Monuments that, the argument goes, belong to all humanity, not just to the Afghan gov’t to do with it as it pleases.

But, then again, if indeed logistically it is not feasible to reconstruct them, if that is indeed the case, then that has to be the result, obviously.

*The Australian reports on continuing damage and threats to major tourist sites from hoards of tourists. This is, of course, nothing new, but it continues to go on, continues to be a problem, and sites continue to struggle to find solutions. As with artworks, so with sites, and so too I am sure with other cases which don’t immediately come to mind – a balance must be struck between access and conservation. Allowing people in to historical sites such as Angkor Wat, Borobudur, and the Great Wall seems only natural; denying access to these sites because they are so important, and beautiful, and impressive, essentially defeats the purpose of conserving them, just as keeping the Mona Lisa locked away in a dark storage vault to keep it safe from light and other conservation threats completely defeats the purpose. If we’re protecting something – whether it be artwork, or a site – we are presumably protecting it for people, but, the people (or display – exposure to light, air, moisture, etc.) are themselves the threat.

Never mind the graffitti, the people climbing where they shouldn’t, those stealing bits of rock. Even those who are fully obeying the rules are causing damage, as the moisture in the air they breathe out – multiplied by multitudes of people times days, weeks, months, years – encourages the growth of mold in centuries-old cave paintings in Dunhuang. As the erosion caused by footsteps, just regular ordinary footsteps, again, multiplied by thousands or even millions of people, day after day, year after year, wears down the floors of the Great Wall, of, frankly any and every building that sees visitors. You touch the walls, and you think it’s nothing. But multiply that by however many people, touching it however many times – that’s why those bronze statues at your alma mater, you know the ones, the ones that people rub for luck on exams, are so shiny and polished only in those places. Even just the lightest touch of robes brushing up against the wall as people walk by, happening time and again, wore off the wall paintings, only below a certain height, a certain point on the wall, in a famous and majorly old and important Buddhist temple in Japan (I’m blanking on which one at the moment..), and that was a site where tourists have never been let in – the damage was done by courtiers hundreds of years ago, and other religious devotees, visiting the temple and worshipping by walking around the perimeter.

Is there a definitive answer? Perhaps. I don’t know. Perhaps not. Perhaps we just need to strike a balance, keep a close eye on the sites, or make difficult decisions. Some sites are closed off; others are replaced, essentially, by reconstructions built next door and opened to the tourists. It’s a problem that is not going away any time soon; and, hopefully, if everyone does their jobs, the sites themselves won’t be going anywhere either.

*Donny George, former director of the Iraqi National Museum, has died. He collapsed in Toronto airport, and was declared deceased shortly afterwards at the hospital; he had been in Toronto to give a lecture on Mesopotamian artifacts and efforts to combat the black market illegal trade in such objects.

Dr. George had been instrumental in recovering thousands of objects looted from the Baghdad museum in the aftermath of the American invasion of Iraq, and was a real force for good in the museum world. His loss will surely be felt deeply.

*The Japanese contemporary art show “Bye Bye Kitty” which I have been eagerly awaiting for quite some time opens later this week at Japan Society in New York. A brief article today accompanies a slide show of installation shots and of staff working to figure out how to get Nawa Kohei’s life-size deer sculpture in the doors.

I quite like Gallery Director Joe Earle’s comments on having the show despite recent/current events. The article states: “Japan’s recent earthquake and tsunami will surely hang over the exhibit that opens March 18, but Joe Earle, vice president and director of the Japan Society, noted that much of the work itself had already contemplated such destruction. After all, he said, every Japanese child, from a very young age, is trained to prepare for such disasters.”

And while I don’t like to attribute too much to Murakami Takeshi, or to talk about him too much, he often speaks/writes about his own theory of the profound importance and fundamental role that the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki played – and continue to play – in shaping the collective psyche of postwar Japan. Going along with Earle’s comments, I would say that the creators of these contemporary current artworks are fully embedded in the cultural and societal issues which face Japan, including not only a culture of overworking salarymen, and extraordinary pressure placed upon high schoolers, as seen quite directly in two works from the show, but also in a society that is constantly aware of the dangers of natural disasters, and takes preparations very seriously.

*One more link for now. The New York Times has a rather interesting article today about the collection of the White House and its curator, a position started 50 years ago by Jacqueline Onassis Kennedy.

One could probably write volumes about private collections, and could take all different sides of the issue, talking about how cool it is to think of all the wonderful things that a place like the White House must have, but then also the negative side of how many similar private collections throughout the country and the world must have so many awesome artworks and other objects hidden away from public view or access.

I’m not sure I have anything really to say about it all at the moment, without getting into a pages-long stream-of-thought ramble on the subject… I shall simply say that I think it a very interesting and intriguing job to have; fun and interesting to realize that there definitely are curatorial-type jobs outside of the major museums, and just nice, and fun, to get a brief glimpse into it through this article.

That’s all for now, I suppose. Stay safe, everyone. My thoughts and prayers to those throughout Japan continuing to struggle with this crisis, and to their friends and families overseas.

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The 3/11 Earthquake & Tsunami

Not being in Japan, and not experiencing this firsthand, it has been easier for me to not post photos and updates and lengthy accounts of my experiences. But that doesn’t mean that I have not been following it, that it has not been on my mind. And, this being quite the event, I feel that for the sake of the archives, for the sake of myself going back some months or years from now wondering what I posted about the earthquake, I should post something.

I was doing my thing two nights ago, studying in the lobby of my building. I give in to distraction for just a moment, to check in on Facebook and Twitter, and I suddenly see all these posts from all over Japan talking about an earthquake. Must be a pretty strong earthquake to be felt not just in Tokyo, but all the way out in Noto and Kyoto, I thought.

I loaded up some news pages, and quickly learned that it was the largest earthquake in Japan in recorded history. Also, that about 20% of all earthquakes magnitude 6 or greater happen in Japan. It was scary enough just reading these tweets and such, about how the shaking just kept coming, wouldn’t stop, and how for most of my friends this was their first time seeing things shake off the shelves. One friend’s apartment, I heard yesterday, has been totally ruined, all kinds of things smashed and destroyed. But, overall, while quite frightening I am sure, things were thankfully milder in Tokyo, and I’m pretty sure everyone I know is alright.

Then there were the photos and videos from Sendai. I was watching videos of tsunamis sweeping inland, carrying cars and trucks and boats smashing into wooden homes and sweeping over rice fields and roads, picking up cars and tons of debris… watching these just as the sirens started to go off and people in the lobby of my dorm building started talking about what level the warning was at and what to send out to the community.

I was quite certain that we would be just fine up here – not quite “in the mountains” per se, but fairly close to it, and a good distance from the sea. With about four hours warning, they evacuated much of Waikiki and other flood zones, and I later heard that there was minimal damage.

I sent out an email to my family, letting them know, four hours before the tsunamis hit Hawaii, that I was sure I would be perfectly fine, and not to worry. Put up something on Facebook too. People don’t know what it’s like, how far from the ocean I am, what the situation is, and I don’t blame them. Woke up yesterday morning to a great many texts and Facebook posts asking after me – and a few from people in Japan reassuring me of their safety – so that’s pretty much done with.

But it still feels like one of those days. One of those days where you shouldn’t just return to your normal routine, but should stay glued to the news, and keep the current events, the disaster, in your mind. .. I am sure that as I continue to obsessively check Facebook and Twitter the rest of the day, new photos and videos and reports will come up.

Sounds terribly frightening – and the photos and videos of what’s going on further north are truly scary and saddening – but I am glad that all my friends are safe. .. It remains to be seen, I guess, what the final total cost will be, in terms of deaths and damage. I haven’t heard much about Sendai City itself, the most major urban area in that part of the country. Is it like Christchurch or New Orleans? Is it like Kobe? Or is it mostly fine outside of the rural coastal communities we saw wiped out in that tsunami?

Waiting and anxious. My heart goes out to those in Tohoku faced with the worst of this disaster.

There are of course tons of accounts online by this point, from major news outlets to personal blogs; this report from the Vancouver Sun is one of the best I’ve come across just yet; a full day or so old, but covering a wide range of aspects of the event in numerous videos from Reuters, from the effects in Tokyo to videos of the water flowing over fields in Sendai, to early versions of the news about the nuclear plant.

I hope that all of you, dear readers, are safe and sound, and I pray for the safety of those hit hardest, in Tohoku.

If you would like to give a donation to relief efforts, Japan Society in New York has set up a fund for that. This page also contains links to a number of resources to help you find and contact friends and loved ones in Japan.

Stay safe, everyone.

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