I’ve been so busy trying to get the catalog out that I haven’t had a chance to check eBay on the progress of the auction. I was thinking on Tuesday that maybe I could actually win the auction if no one bid. But checking today I see that sadly the price has gone way out of my budget!
One more day!
In commemoration of the tenth anniversary of 9/11, the JANM-produced film “FROM 9066 TO 9/11” is available in Comcast’s cable VOD service, Cinema Asian America for the month of September.
About the film:
After the attacks of September 11, there was an instant public backlash against Arab Americans and Muslims. Anyone who looked like the “enemy” became suspect. The same thing happened to Japanese Americans after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, and the parallels were obvious. Unfortunately, the backlash against Japanese Americans during World War II resulted in the mass incarceration of 120,000 innocent people. It became the mission of many Japanese American individuals and community groups, including the Japanese American National Museum, to use our community’s history in order to protect the rights of our Arab American and Muslim brothers and sisters. As we all know, if we forget our history, we may find ourselves repeating it.
Features interviews with: Yuri Kochiyama, Rev. Art Takemoto, Jerry Kang, Dr. Art Hansen, Linda Sherif, Ban Al-Wardi, Tajuddin Shuaib, and Evelyn Yoshimura.
About the VOD service, Cinema Asian America:
Cinema Asian America is a ground-breaking new video-on-demand offering, which features Asian American films and videos in a monthly, thematically-programmed format.
For the first time, millions of viewers across the nation are able to watch a curated series of Asian American and Asian films, which will collect together award-winning films fresh from the film festival circuit and classics which beg to be revisited.
From September 1, 2011 – September 31, 2011, “FROM 9066 TO 9/11” will be available to all Comcast digital cable subscribers with On-Demand. It is available for $0.99/view.
To watch:
Through your digital cable menu, click on the “On Demand” button, and then look under the “Movies” folder. In this will be a “Movie Collections” folder and inside of this viewers will find “Cinema Asian America” and will be able to access “FROM 9066 to 9/11.”
Thank you, and please help spread the word!
p.s. For those who don’t have Comcast but are interested in watching the film, it’s available on DVD from the Museum Store.
In 2005, we opened the Big Drum: Taiko in the United States exhibition. It was the first exhibition since my joining the Web unit at JANM where we really developed a lot of cool resources online in conjunction with an exhibit. I had the opportunity to work with curator Sojin Kim, our web technologist Geoff Jost, and volunteer writers to develop & upload a lot of great historic and contemporary photos, activities, and articles on the exhibition site.
I also worked with Discover Nikkei coordinator Yoko Nishimura and staff at our Watase Media Arts Center to add many wonderful video interview clips on our Discover Nikkei website.
The other major component we developed was a database of taiko groups in the U.S., but also included some other groups outside of Japan. We set up the database using some basic info collected for the exhibition. Then, we contacted all of the groups and invited them to log in and update/add to their group info, and upload some photos & audio clips.
Although most never logged in, there were quite a few groups that did participate. The most notable was San Jose Taiko who added extensive information about their group’s history. Others included Portland Taiko, Fubuki Taiko, Somei Yoshino Taiko, and University of Tasmania Taiko Society.
It was always so interesting to look at what groups had added information because it showed the growth and popularity of taiko. There were groups all over the U.S. (even in places where there aren’t many Japanese Americans), and many in Canada, and even in Europe (there are 4 groups listed in Belgium)!
After the initial activity during the exhibition run, not many of the groups updated their info. When the redesigned Discover Nikkei site went live in July 2009, we launched it without the Taiko Database, always intending to add it back in once we had some time to work on it.
It’s been 2 years, but I’m really excited that we recently launched our new & improved Taiko Groups section! It has the old database info, photos, and audio clips, but presented in a new layout with easier accessibility, and incorporates events posted by the groups onto their taiko group pages.
San Jose Taiko has already started updating their info and we hope that other groups will join them soon.
Check out the new & improved Taiko Groups >>
P.S. If you are with or know of any taiko groups, please encourage them to update their pages! It’s a great & free way to share your group’s contact info, general info, history, photos, audio clips, videos, and upcoming events!
If you need help with your group’s login info, or if your group is not already listed and you’d like to be added, contact editor@discovernikkei.org.
By Norman Y. Mineta and Gordon Yamate
Ten years ago, the United States was shaken by the September 11th terrorist attacks upon New York City and Washington, D.C. In the immediate aftermath, the Japanese American National Museum contemplated its role in response to these unthinkable events. Clearly, more than our country’s national security was under attack. Our way of life as a democratic, open society was being challenged.
The Japanese American National Museum recognized the historic parallels between 2001 and 1941 when World War II erupted. In 1942, the United States Government implemented Executive Order 9066, violating the constitutional rights of Americans of Japanese ancestry by forcibly removing them from their homes and incarcerating more than 120,000 of them in detention camps without charge and without trial. That U.S. citizens and legal residents might be victimized because of their race or religion 60 years later was on the minds of all who were familiar with the Japanese American World War II experience.
To read the entire piece, go to:
After more than three years as President and Chief Executive Officer of the Japanese American National Museum, I have reached my last day in that position with a sense of gratitude and pride. Over the years, I have witnessed the Museum’s remarkable growth and maturity and I am confident that I am leaving it in good hands with a strong foundation.
My feeling of gratitude extends to all of the Museum’s supporters, volunteers, staff and leadership, who have built that foundation over the last quarter of a century. As the Board of Trustees continues the process to select a new CEO, I feel strongly that the Museum will not miss a beat since the Trustees appointed Nancy Araki, Director of Community Affairs, and Miyoko Oshima, Chief Operating Officer, as interim co-Executive Directors. Soon, a new head of the Museum will be chosen and a new era will begin, one that I feel holds enormous promise and possibilities.
For me personally, there are many projects that I have yearned to pursue for some time, but could not because of the demands of my former position. Most of these ideas were formed during my years as a curator and a program director at the Museum, and I feel the time to bring them to fruition is now. As such, I begin my own new era today.
I have been honored to serve the Japanese American National Museum in different capacities and to work together with a host of talented and dedicated individuals. While I am moving on to other things, there will always be a part of me here at the Japanese American National Museum.
Sincerely,
AKEMI KIKUMURA YANO
President & CEO
For more information, go to:
www.janm.org/press/release/297/
You have less than an hour to bid on Kip Fulbeck’s Labbit! It’s your chance to own a piece of original artwork by Mr. Hapa himself!
Here’s a link to the auction >>
All the proceeds from this auction will ge to the Museum as a donation from the artist.
A ten-week experience like no other has gone by in a blink (even Clement’s army of Godzillas came and left so swiftly). But I can definitely say that through this internship a la The Getty Foundation and the awesome staff at the Japanese American National Museum, my skills and awareness of so many things have been inspired. The past few weeks adding up to the Summer Festival were hectic with all the sign-making for Koji – and on top of that, the pressure of getting the Education booklet to the printers was upon me – but I finally have the time to calmly write a “bye bye” post here on the JANM blog.
Not only did this internship offered me a further awareness in the arts, it provided me an insight to my own background and identity within the society in which I live today.
One thing that I found intriguing at one point, after reading some posts from my fellow interns, was the many different and prominent backgrounds that existed under the roof of this Museum. To read and hear about their families and what kinds of activities they participated in growing up in an Asian-American community was very interesting, for mine was quite varying to their experiences. When the other interns and I attended an event in Santa Monica, I came across something that I never had before. The proctor casually instructed: “Please identify which generation you belong to.” This phrase troubled and greatly confused me, for I did know who I was. Having been born in Japan, I always grew up with the idea that I was a “Japanese resident just living in the States” and never really considered myself to be “American.” Certain times growing up in my teen years, I found it troublesome when someone considered myself an “Asian American,” as I felt I did not belong under that “category.” Unlike my fellow interns, I rarely attended the festivals here, and perhaps that is because my family and I were fortunate to make a visit to Japan every summer during my school years, and I attended the activities and events there in a yukata or kimono, back in my home country. Almost every Japanese holiday, I found myself celebrating in its country of origin. Maybe these visits led me to drift away from the country that I was residing in and even closer to my motherland. My parents, for whom I am extremely grateful, had encouraged my sister and me to continue learning the Japanese language even though we had moved to the States. The weekdays at American school and the weekends at Asahi Gakuen definitely were not pleasing at the time; numerous times, I detested having to learn kanji and always fretted to read outloud in front of the class, for I felt an intense pressure of being able to read the characters clearly and properly. And many times, my parents had to endure my whining and complaining about my weekends ruined by the classes. But it is now that I can say with pride and gratitude that without my parents and those Saturday classes (which lasted from 8:30 am to 3:30 pm), I would definitely not possess the ability to listen to, speak, and write the Japanese language. For that, words cannot describe how important language is – any language, for that matter. To be able to share and understand the experiences of one another is a very precious attribute to knowledge and attitude – to life.
And yet, I still stumble onto which generation I fall into. During the activity in which the interns had to identify their generations, I came to believe that I was 1.5 generation, but when I returned home and asked my father the very same question, I became even more confused. He spoke to me with an enthusiastic smile, “You’re not a generation. You’re Japanese.” And that has stuck with me ever since. It is true that finding your identity is an extremely long process, and I would argue that it is a never-ending one as well. And perhaps without this internship I would have never come across such search for identity, and I hope to continue my journey in finding myself and sharing my findings with the community along the way.
With that said, I must express my gratitude, appreciation and admiration for the entire staff here at the Japanese American National Museum for educating me the operations of the Museum, the arts, history, and most importantly, the inspiration to find my identity. To my fellow interns Alyctra and Alexa, I had a wonderful time sharing the internship experience with you and learning with you. I would like to believe that we are a unique team, being able to work and communicate with one another at a comfortable yet mature level – and not to mention (as Akira mentioned), we’re all about the same height! Definitely something unique, eh?
To my supervisors Clement and Mae, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for teaching me the visual and technical aspects of the Production Department. I may have been clumsy and gluttonous at times, but I appreciate your patience and care. I do not think I could list everything that I have gained from the experience that you have offered me, but I promise to cherish all that I have obtained during my time here at the Museum (including the picture frames from Target Day). And I must give a shoutout to Lynn who dealt with me in producing the Education booklet – I still have yet to see her put a piece of gum on her nose with her tongue.
I should stop writing before this post becomes an epic novel. I am sad as I bring this post to an end, but I do wish the very best to those here at the Japanese American National Museum, and I will keep my word that I will keep in touch with you all.
With fat loaded with love and appreciation,
Yuiko Sugino
P.S. Oh oh oh! One last thing. THANK YOU FOR THE ABUNDANCE OF FOOD / AWESOMENESS. I can say (with slight regret) that I have put on a few pounds ever since working here at the Museum, but food shall never be rejected. Thank you.
In true clichéd fashion, the last ten weeks have flown by. As I sit in the same desk, at the same borrowed computer, within the same borrowed space of the Frank H. Watase Media Arts Center wherein I wrote my very first blog post, I can’t believe how quickly this internship has come and gone.
In ten short weeks, I learned the ins and outs of media art construction, from working a camcorder (make sure your input mics are working, your indoor/outdoor light settings are correct, and you remember to press record) to the sometimes tedious essentials of editing on Final Cut Pro (Cross-Dissolve-Copy is one of the transition favorites among the staff) to the joys of a finished DVD and the triumph involved in pressing the PLAY button.
But more than this skill set, I feel overjoyed with the life lessons and friendships I am taking away from the experience. As I’ve mentioned many times over, I’m an English and Asian American Studies major. Living with girls majoring in Communications, Sociology, Art History, and Black Studies, the running joke for the last two years is that once we graduate, we’ll all have housing consisting of cardboard boxes with varying levels of finesse and artistic value, depending on the individual. As graduation time grows near, that joke has become less and less funny…
However, as my time as the 2011 Media Arts Intern comes to a close, I leave with my head held high. More valuable than the new skill set I’ve acquired and refined, I’m pleased with personal enlightenment I can take away. For years, I had resigned myself to the fact that if I wanted to devote my life to Japanese American history and the richness it holds, it would have to be a side hobby, hidden behind a steady, if less satisfying, “normal” job. My time at the Museum has shown me that one can find a career, and fulfillment exploring history, edifying others, and serving the community. It’s opened my eyes to the opportunities, and wonderful people available in the field.
I’ve been amazed by not only the wealth of compassion, kindness, and friendship the Museum has surrounded me in, but also the validation in knowing that there are so many others that share my passion, and have managed to make a career of it. All in all, my short time at the Museum has been life changing. As I write my final blog posting for the summer, I just want to share my extreme appreciation and thankfulness. I loved every second here at the Museum, and know it will be an experience I’ll never forget.
Thank you all, and enjoy the rest of your summer.
Best,
Alyctra Matsushita
Media Arts Getty Intern, 2011
You still have a chance to bid on this incredibly creative “hapa” Labbit! Since the opening, Kip has enhanced the piece to include ikebana kenzan to make flower arranging simpler.
Auction will be up until August 21. Bid now!
Here’s a link to the auction >>
All the proceeds from this auction will ge to the Museum as a donation from the artist. Thanks Kip!
As a child, Little Tokyo was my stomping grounds. My mom was a member of the Little Tokyo Library, and it felt like every other weekend we made the hot car ride into LA just so I could sit in the back of her meetings with my coloring books. After the meetings, my brother and I loved playing on the huge two-rock sculpture in front of the JACCC. We frequented the JANM, visiting the Children’s Courtyard so we could see our names in the stone. But as we grew older and our schedules grew busier, the family visits in to LA eventually slowed.
Even though we were no longer in Little Tokyo, my brother and I still had shreds of our heritage to cling to. As children, we both attended culture camps, but closer to home, in Gardena. We tried to learn the language; I was sent to Gardena Buddhist Church every Saturday for a few grueling hours, trying to remember my rus from my ros, while my brother tried his luck at Gardena Valley JCI. Try as we might, the language evaded us year after year. Although we may have blundered while talking to Bachan, the one thing we were really able to get behind was Japanese carnivals.
While memories of those Saturdays may be a bit sour, I still look back fondly on the weekend carnivals that only summer could bring. Almost immediately after school ended, JCI carnival came to town. I remember it as the first taste of dango for the summer, the only Saturday my basketball coach ever let us off the hook for practice, and the only place for Pachinko. Not to mention the bake sale, Jingle Board, and the nice man on the second floor whose art class let you make one free bracelet (and would only smile if you went back to make a second free bracelet on Sunday).
My other childhood tradition came towards the end of the summer. Always the last of the season, Gardena Buddhist Church’s Obon would be the final chance for dango for a good nine months. As a child, Gardena Obon was where I’d see my friends all dressed up (those who were more organized in kimonos whose obis left them breathless, while the less formal of us wore hopi coats and flip flops). We’d dance the night away to the beat of the taiko drum, shuffling our feet in the chalk lines, only stopping with a final gassho before running to the Bounce House and Dime Toss in the parking lot.
For years, these memories were forgotten, pushed aside by the seemingly more pressing matters of school: “Where did I put my copy of The Woman Warrior; I need it for my 122 paper!” “I’ve run out of money on my copy card already?” “What days am I working this week…?” But with school on hold and my current daily commute in to Little Tokyo, I can’t help but be reminded of my roots. That, and a little help from my supervisor…
For the last eight weeks, my wonderful supervisor John has been practicing the traditional Obon dances. Even though he’s been to carnival a million times over, he’s never actually danced in one. This summer, I’ve had the privilege of watching him knock it off his bucket list.
Almost every week, John told me about how his dancing was coming along. Of how many songs there were, the difficulties of synching hand motions with dance steps on top of trying not to trip over the children running around that seemed to pick it up so quick. He even set up a tutorial session with an instructional DVD one day with some other Media Arts workers. The gang stood transfixed in front of the monitor, mimicking the steps, usually only a half a second or so too slow.
But John has improved leaps and bounds. This summer, he’s gone to not one, but several Obons, all over California. He’s seen and heard the different styles of Northern and Southern California, and sampled all the dango in between.
So I’d say for us both, our summers have culminated in a throw back to our roots, a nod towards our culture. For the first time in years, I’ve returned to my stomping grounds. This summer at Obon, I was amazed at all the familiar faces I saw. While my presence had lapsed, others from my past sill managed to attend the tradition of Obon. Beyond that, I saw many unfamiliar faces, of excited children who were making their own memories about the wonder of Obon. But, most surprisingly, standing in as my symbol of where my past and present met, I saw my supervisor John, dancing in his first season of Obon, to the beat of the taiko drum.
–Alyctra
