Musashi Mix Inq

Nativity

Posted on April 8, 2011
nativityB1

Nativity

The Sun shall Rise again…

Awaken, sleeping giant— your friends have come to play.

Forget earthquake, tsunami and nuclear decay.

Hallowed ground shaken,

Mighty deluge fought,

Split-atoms in the æther,

And yet the Sun shall Rise.

Daruma and the Forest God

Akira Cycle

Birth

Kaneda

Please donate and help rebuild.

Thank you—

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PRINTS

Pluto-Kun, Our Reliable Friend

Posted on April 4, 2011

"In the early 1990s, Japan's Power Reactor and Nuclear Fuel Development Corporation (PNC) -- a nuclear energy research organization which is now part of the Japan Atomic Energy Agency (JAEA) -- created a pro-nuclear PR cartoon entitled "Pluto-kun, Our Reliable Friend." The aim of the animated film, which features the company mascot Pluto-kun, is to dispel some of the fears surrounding plutonium." -Source

Chicago’s 16th annual Asian American Showcase!

Posted on March 29, 2011

RAWR!!!

The Gene Siskel Film Center and the Foundation for Asian American Independent Media (FAAIM) present the 16th edition of Asian American Showcase, April 1 through 14. The festival encompasses comedies and dramas, probing documentaries, provocative shorts, and an array of special activities, all showcasing a wealth of talent on the Asian American scene.

For a full schedule, visit faaim.org.

I will be speaking on behalf of the Japanese American Service Committee (JASC) this Friday (4/1) on continued efforts to aid a nation and its people, whose culture does not know how to ask for help.

Donating to the Red Cross via JASC ensures that 100% goes directly to the Tsunami relief fund. Click here to help rebuild the Land of the Rising Sun.

Thank you—

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Manifest Identity

Posted on March 7, 2011

Manifest Identity, ©MMXI

Kaname [Ikemoto] Yamamoto: Great-grandma— 曽祖母

Born 1899, Hiroshima, Japan

Died 1985, Chicago, USA

Enemy Alien

Kaname: a picture bride who arrived in America surprised to find that she was a new mother of two boys— ages 5 and 3. Albert and Steve had recently lost their mother in the Influenza Epidemic. A picture marriage was arranged to take her place. Kaname married my Great-grandfather, Goichi, and the family started anew.

In 1942, the family was stripped of their farm outside of LA and locked-up at the Gila River Concentration Camp in Arizona. The bombing of Hiroshima meant that there was no home to return to. The only direction remaining for Kaname was forward.

The treasured paper-trail of photographs, documents, notebooks and scrap paper chart my family's American story. But this is simply the ash atop a burning stick of incense— Breathe deep…

The thick, rich smell of history: cracked leather, teriyaki, saltpeter, steaming rice, mothballs, cedar and sandalwood.

• ≈ Δ ≈ •

Itadakimasu. Let us begin…

never know best

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WRA

FLCL

Palliativity 118: Nos Omnes Mundum Creamus

Posted on February 17, 2011

We All Make the World, ©MMXI

"He who is conceived in a cage, yearns for the cage."
Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Where are we going?

The crucible that is America: a battlefield. This pound of flesh is past warranty. Face down in the trenches, we are all scared to pop-up after the covery-fire. No matter how many have fallen before, we have yet to learn self respect— defiance with due dilligence.

The American soldiers of Japanese ancestry in WWII were thrown into the European Theater ahead of the frontline. Their bodies piled up high enough that their families could climb atop their sacrifice, over the fences and wire— only to find themselves alone in the desert, forgotten.

For generations, we buried it all.

Like the bullet fired from a riffle, we couldn't warn the next immigrant group before the hammer fell on their heads. Our flight from the camps was shrouded in shame and fear. We could barely look at our selves.

Advocacy is what I see as the most important reason to have Days of Remembrance. The hate behind Executive Order 9066 lives on in the continued marginalization of those on American shores.

It's time to jump the fence.

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Palliativity 114: Hapa, Unapologetic

Posted on January 20, 2011

Hapa?

It's always our eyes that betray us. Growing up in the Midwest of America, it's hard to explain the exhilaration of seeing a face like mine. The room goes dark in the recognition of a shared lineage, diverse and entangled. We, those forged in no-one's image, embody the terror and thrill of the unknown. Our genetics reunite a world divided, a metaphor made flesh. The strange shall inherit the earth. A brief glimpse of post-humanity, a preview of the future:

Hapa, Unapologetic

In my freshman year at the college dining hall, I sat with a group of friends I didn't normally join for meal time. I was making introductions when a girl sat down who I had seen around campus:

√ wavy black hair
√ high cheekbones
√ olive skin
√ almond eyes

As the table conversation continued, the two of us subconsciously began scanning each-other. I've grown accustomed to a world where all my relationships and interactions are interracial. But how to approach and breach this silent contract of ethnicity? I mentioned the Internment and her eyes lit up, "My family was at Gila River."— "Mine TOO!"

For a time, the world around us drifted and the table-mates could only listen on in fascination, trying to decipher the language and etiquette we were inventing on the fly. Her memories of childhood and the search for identity echoed and resonated in ways that words can never capture nor tame. Our hearts fractured and broken, molded to a world scared of our existence. Stories and laughter with the somberness of history.

When all-to-soon it was time for class, the two of us parted. We never spoke again. I am still trying to figure out why. Fear? Is that what it was? The knowledge that we weren't the only one came abruptly and with a force. Like a child's first look in a mirror, when they realize that they are seeing themselves— that there exists a perspective outside of their own line of sight. We were not alone and yet we ran away from one another.

• ± •

I spent hours as a child staring into the mirror trying to understand what others saw in me. It was not until much later that I could embrace those features and know that only I can define what my face will tell the world. This is my story.

Thank you for joining me.

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