Not Exactly 2 Peas in a Pod



In Search of 'Martyrdom'
Gaza, 2002
James Nachtwey



James Nachtwey is the subject of the 2001 documentary "War Photographer" (see here), and is noted for his ability to immerse himself in the action and witness its aftermath, and to really capture what's going on. He explained the importance of his work in terms of giving a voice to people who otherwise wouldn't have one, enabling their story to be publicised to the wider world. However, this is also at the expense of normal rules of 'civility' since under no other circumstances would it be acceptable to photograph people in the deepest pits of despair. His work, being in a natural setting (i.e. that he is not influencing it), can be described as raw, and incredibly powerful - though I believe this power comes from the subject, not the picture, which only serves to illustrate.

War isn't his only focus, but he also has works attempting to highlight poverty, environmental pollution, disease and may other accounts of human suffering. For instance, he had a personal drive to capture the situation of orphanages in Romania. These resulted from a regime that 'encouraged' large familes in order to build up the workforce, yet the parents couldn't support their children so many were abandoned (for a fuller story, see here). The photo I chose for this is very minimalist and in black and white (distinctive for many of Nachtwey's photos) - empty.

An Orphan in an Institution for "Incurables"
Romania, 1990
James Nachtwey



John Lennon and Yoko Ono
New York, 1980
Annie Leibowitz

 Annie Leibovitz's life and work is also documeted in the 2006 film "Annie Leibowtz: Life Through a Lens" (see here). She is also a very highly regarded professional photographer, but of a completely different sort. Her area of expertise is celebrity portraits. Although her work is commissioned by the likes of Rolling Stone and Vanity Fair magazines and much of the time is highly stylized, she expressed how important it is that the pictures capture some ounce of the subjects' personalities. In order to achieve this, she had to spend time living with and getting to know her subjects, so that they could trust her and act naturally in front of the camera (sounds an awful lot like 'participant observation, ne?). The photo I chose to use on the left is infamous not only for being the last photo of John Lennon alive (a few hours before he was shot), but for capturing the nature of a relationship that so many people didn't seem to want to accept, perfectly.

Perhaps the only point of comparison between these two photographers is the fact that their works are both human centred. Both are striving to use their pictures toward gaining a greater understanding of the nature of people (in whatever circumstances). So what, as an anthropologist, can be learned fom them? Perhaps just that you can't enter into a situation already supposing to 'know' what to expect. The people who are to be investigated have to show you in their own way, but before they can do that they have to accept you. That's the only way to truly comprehending how another's mind works and how their world appears to them, which can then be taken and accurately reresented to others on the outside.

Lost in Transition?

"Neighbourhood": My understanding of this word essentially revolves around the idea of a community, concentrated within a particular area.


taken from Google Maps
edited using Paint

 At first, the task of commenting on our current neighbourhood seemed a little daunting, because as ryugakusei (international students) we don't exactly belong to the community. And as Bestor noted in his 1989 ethnography Neighborhood Tokyo, the ties within such a community can remain invisible to those on the 'outside'. Even in the physical sense, our exclusion is demonstrated by how I envisage the borders of Katahoko (Hirakata-shi) to be.

(The sections of contestable border include the use of the park to the north, including the local library, and also the rice fields to the east. The industrial and shopping areas over the main road to the west are certainly not part of the community. Unsuprisingly, the main shrine falls central to this area)

However, even without such immediate access to information, there are signs of how the neighbourhood operates, how it was formed and perhaps even where it is heading.

Hirakata-shi's official website explains how the city was once known as a "suburban farming village". This is seen in the vast expanse of rice fields and personal vegetable gardens intermingled between all the bleak, grey buildings. (It also makes a stark contrast to my experience living for one month in Morishita, Tokyo, which was literally like a concrete jungle). I think that even the intricate waterways running throughout the area are perhaps linked to irrigation. With it just having been winter, the fields have been inactive, so it is difficult to suggest how agricultual activities may still influence social ties.

On the east 'border' of Katahoko
- houses backing onto a rice field, with electricity pylon behind

Regardless of this, there is no arguing that Katahoko is now, with it's numerous homes and innumerable electricity poles/wires, predominantly residential. The mix in housing styles is noteable - most probably relating to the financial situations of individual residents. For instance, there are modern houses stood next to traditional ones stood next to a hybrid, all of similar sizes. Then there are the huge, traditionally designed ones made with modern materials that have spectacular walled in gardens - it's hard to believe they're houses at all. A fair few apartment blocks add some more variety. And then there are the Seminar Houses, towering above everything else.

This variety is reflected in the population; Most frequently I see elderly/retired people (who I suspect are those who primarily tend the crops). I also see a substantial number of children of all ages cycling from one place to another, belonging to young families. The apartments are most likely occupied by gaidaisei (Japanese KG students) who live too far to otherwise travel everyday. There doesn't seem to be a gap in the demographic, so why is it that Katahoko is so quiet? That the local shrine, the central feature of the neighbourhood, is deserted? I imagine the case is again similar to how Bestor described the case in Miyamoto-cho (see above link), in that there are now more people living in the neighbourhood with less ties to the community - instead, just being there for practical purposes.

Note the contrast: A traditional-looking family home with children
(indicated by the yellow flag), and nearby modern apartment block

If a new kind of community is going to develop in future, it's not too far-fetched to imagine that it could be based around the international presence. It definitely is quite distinctive, and hard to ignore. The children previously commented on are growing up with these people as part of their everyday, perhaps slowly lessening the "outsider-ness". Foreign influences can already be seen in local businesses such as the Cafe de Raffine in the local park, or the Nepalese Curry restaurant on the main road - these kinds of places aren't uncommon throughout Japan, but Hirakata may have a head start if that's what's going to be 'popular', especially with promoting its status as a university city.
What I'm suggesting is that Katahoko may be in a liminal phase right now. No longer a farming community, not really any kind of community. But what it has the potential to become is, in, effect a global neighbourhood.

Brits Abroad

If you're familiar with the stereotype used in the title (see http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/b/brits_abroad.asp for a rough idea), then it is more than a little misleading what this post is really about. Actually I'm referring to the fact that my mother is currently visiting me out here in Osaka, Japan.

Why is that significant? Well, because my first post is supposed to reflect my initial impressions of this oriental country. However I've already been here getting on for 6 months, and I can't remember quite what I thought back then. Hence I'm taking advantage of this situation I'm in, and using her perspective having just arrived.



Roofed shopping streets such as Tenmabashi are all part
of the everyday, really - even those with such
spectacular designs on the front



The day after her plane landed, I can say for definite, was not a representative day in terms of weather for this region. Snow! And lots of it! Of course, I blamed her, she brought it with her from "merry old England". Having not anticipated this, neither of us were prepared, but in the relatively short time we would have together we weren't just going to stay inside. We must have looked freezing whilst we were stood waiting for the lights to change to get to the train station - in our non-waterproof clothes and lack of umberellas - as then 2 obaasans came up to us and sheltered us with their own.

"samuidesu,ne!" "*somethingsomethingsomething* ne!" - all the while, smiling. Of course, acts of such kindness aren't exclusive to Japan, but they are rare enough to be worth commenting on.

This then reminded my mum of a few other occurences she had already witnessed in her 12 or so hours of experience. For instance, when she had to buy her ticket for the shuttlebus to bring her to Hirakata, she needed a little help with the machine. In these kinds of situations at home, if you asked someone, you'd expect just some mumbled general instructions and then be left to figure the rest out for yourself. A woman actually ended up leaving her position behind a counter to talk my mum through the process. Really above and beyond in our opinions. Also, whilst she was waiting for said bus, she saw 2 drivers greet each other, exchanging deep bows. This is clearly a sign of mutual respect, which my mum also interpreted as taking pride in themselves/what they do, even if some people could describe that job as somewhat menial.

These latter examples suggest some theme in the form of service in Japan. Of course, it makes sense that these are the main kinds of social enounters both of us would have, with her having no knowledge of the Japanese language, and myself having close to zero conversational competency (even at this point).



Just a crossing... or is it?



Having identified this as a theme, it made it easier for me to pick up on some of the comments she was making as we explored, such as the neatness of work uniforms - particularly those incuding pure white gloves, like the taxi drivers (who also keep pristine cabs, with lace over the seats!) - and the constant 'musical' ring of "irrashaimase, douzo" from shop workers. Both of these are aspects I have grown used to and don't strike me at all anymore. I realised that there are countless minor differences that I now take for granted: the look of Japanese currency, and the habit of putting in a tray at the till instead of the cashier's hand; the particular beep at the huge crossings on the road allowing you to cross (even though a few cars are still allowed to turn that corner, despite the red lights); the white masks people wear for whatever minor/major ailment; how impossible it is to find a 'normal' cup of tea, and then being served green tea or mugicha rather than just water at a restaurant.

I guess it's all part of the settling process, especially having been here so long already. But, in saying that, there will never fail to be moments that contradict what I feel I'm begining to really understand, where the only response I can give, with a slight smirk, is "oh, Japan..."

All part of the job, right?