It is not far-fetched to say that Tōhoku brings to mind the mystique of an impregnable land of mountains clothed in cold white more than half the year, all the while boasting some of the most scenic coastline, not only in the Japanese archipelago, but in the world. That was all but washed away during the 2011 earthquake and subsequent tidal wave off the Pacific coast of Miyagi. From Miyako in Iwate to Sōma and Ishinomaki in Miyagi, heights of the tsunami wave were said to have averaged from 8 to 10 meters (20-30 feet) high, with reports of inundations up to 30 meters (100 feet) high in Ōfunato. Notwithstanding the implications of
potential nuclear meltdown at Fukushima Plants I and II, how does one react to the 300,000 displaced people in the Tōhoku region, the shortages of food, water, shelter, medicine and fuel, the overall devastation to the millions of people who live in these rugged coastal towns? Only as of October 11, 2011 are local authorities finished building
temporary housing units for the survivorswho saw their homes and all of their possessions, from cars to clothes to photographs, destroyed in an instant. What would happen next?Jump to the frenetic aftermath of late March and April amid the countrywide shortages of water, food and electricity, with everyday people making heroic sacrifices, humanitarian organizations scrambling for relief supplies with the government vacillating on what to do about a seemingly corrupt TEPCO (Tokyo Electric Power Company). Scores of grassroots movements rose up from the confounding depths. One such, led by the enigmatic photographer Dairou Koga, owner of Tegamisha Hibari Books in Tsutsujigaoka, Tokyo, gathered several photographers to create
Tokyo Ga, a photobook showcasing images from photographers across Japan, all proceeds of which go to the
Red Cross. Doing the Tokyo-Ga charity book inspired some local Tokyo photographers to offer to take family portraits for charity. Word of mouth attracted tens of families to the cause and raised nearly two thousand dollars, donated to
Ashinaga, a charity that helps children orphaned by the tsunami.
A little more time passes and the 24-hour news cycle is inevitably distracted by other stories: the Arab Spring, Gaddafi, rioting in London, a potential double-dip recession. Much as the waters of the tsunami eventually receded, the ephemeral passage of time flowed on, but what was left behind? For most life goes on as it were. Yet not for the millions of survivors up north, many of whom were still living on cots in gymnasiums, and eating out of communal rice cookers, awaiting their temporary housing. The word permanent begins to take on differing shades of meaning. Here is where the disconnect occurs. The world outside has allowed the ravaged area to fall by the wayside and mostly picks up on stories of a nuclear bent. But what about Tokyo? Has that old love-at-first-sight mystique stepped in to cordon off the impenetrable
interior road and to dissociate the rest of Japan–mired as usual in their own humid summer–from the survivors and to focus, if on anything, on no confidence in yet another Japanese Prime Minister? Despite all this people are still full of anxious energy, searching for projects which to devote themselves. Many have the same idea–to go see the area for themselves. But how to do something special, something different, more than a book. But what exactly?
Tokyo is full of photographers, and more to the point, cameras: beyond 35mm, there is a galaxy of used medium and large format, panoramics, Hasselblad with Zeiss perfection, the German masterpiece Linhof and Japan’s own Mamiya Universal with the magical 100mm f2.8 lens, the Polaroid and the Konica Instant Press. Aha, Polaroids! Too bad they’re out of business. Fuji then. What about taking a bunch Fuji instant film and giving the photo to the people right then and there? A contact at Fujifilm had donated over 40 cases of film (20 pack / 200 photos per case) of everything they have: standard, 4×5 color, black and white, and told us there was more where that came from. How much they would love that, the kids and their parents, forging new memories on the spot? No doubt they lost their own photo albums. This would be a way to start again. Rebuild life by making new memories.
