SOME THOUGHTS ON GRAPHIC DESIGNAND HOW WE ENDED UP IN FUKUSHIMA ANYWAY     I forget the exact conversation but at one point M said the phrase graphic“manufacturer” (instead of designer) and I realized it was the most accurate
description of the activity I had been trying to understand for the last six years.
     I also think most graphic designers working today would be offended by
the term precisely because it describes what they fear most – that their jobs
are insignificant and meaningless. I think a lot of these people (who describe
themselves as graphic designers) feel like they are in a somewhat of a creative1 position. That somehow, their job is better than the normal salary-man
because it’s closer to Art (with a capital A). I’d counter that in this era where
nearly everything is commodified, privatized, and part of a system that exists
by manipulation and exploitation for the benefit of the rich, there’s no realdifference.
     It’s much easier to to describe them as manufacturers because it’s moretruthful and straightforward; on demand, they produce and assemble specific things that serve a simple purpose (more often than not, to sell a productor idea). A designer of graphics on the other hand seems to imply there’s
some actual creative visual expression going on, or if not, at the very least, it
muddles a lot of what should be a simple explanation. Try it – ask a self proclaimed graphic designer to describe what they do in a simple sentence andyou’ll find it’s nearly impossible.
     Personally, this kind of manufacturing holds no interest to me whatsoever. If anything, the profession as a whole actually represents a lot of what I
feel dedicated to oppose in this world. However, I’m still not able to abandon
it completely. It is, after all, the way in which M and I are currently supporting
ourselves. Moving to the countryside and continuing to work as graphic designers has been informative, and in some ways enlightening. On a small andlocal scale, I’ve come to think that working with graphic design (or as one of
our former professors used to infamously call “mark making”) can actually
have tangible, positive impacts on the community and lives of those within it.
It’s within this domain that I feel interested and inspired to continue.

① The word creative, especially when being used as a noun to describe what

one does is also frustratingly difficult to unravel, but let’s save the semantics for another time.

1     Unfortunately, to more accurately describe what I’m trying to say I’m
afraid a bit of background information is needed to contextualize how we got
here in the first place.
A BRIEF AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL DIGRESSION
     Our story began in that big stinky metropolis of metropolises… NewYork City. Me and M met as students at a university called the Fashion Institute of Technology.2 Whenever explaining this we always have to follow up
and clarify that we did not study fashion design or have any connection whatsoever to that side of the school. We were actually relegated to the chronicallyunderfunded art department in the graphic design program.
     By the senior year of our program, (when me and M first became reallyacquainted) the only thing clear to me about graphic design was that I didn’t
want to do it the way we were being taught. All of our classes and professors
operated within the context of “preparing us for the real world”, a euphemismthat just meant learning how to take orders from a boss and produce pretty,
sellable, trendy, consumable, soulless design using the latest Adobe software.
     After graduating, M had similar reservations about entering the “profession”, i.e. getting a job. By taking a huge leap of faith (mostly on M’s part,she had only a year extension on her student visa) we decided to (1) move in
together at her basement apartment in Sunset Park Brooklyn and (2) turn ourapartment into a studio for our own graphic design company. The idea was towork for ourselves from the start and choose the projects we wanted to work
on. The name was chosen over coffee and a half eaten blueberry muffin inchinatown.3② When people think of art universities in New York City the names are al-ways SVA, Pratt, Parsons, etc… these schools are incredibly expensive. FIT isactually a SUNY (state university school) which means that tuition rates areincomparably lower, and for long time New York state residents like myself,
more than affordable. In this era of blatant corporate money machines thatlike to pass themselves off as higher education, I feel lucky to have beenspared the massive debt.
③ As in,

W: “So what should we call ourselves?”
M: “Hmm, I think we’re still thinking...”
W: “That’s good!”23     For one year we tried really hard. We both held on to our part time jobs
as we floated by on rent from paycheck to paycheck. Still, we were privileged
enough to have the opportunity to even try something so selfish as working
for ourselves so we were happy, grateful, and exhausted. Finally with the visa
running out we had the long overdue epiphany that nothing/nobody was forcing us to stay in New York. With a limited portfolio of our collaborations andschool projects we then applied for residencies all over the world. Somehow
we were accepted by two programs (a month in Wassiac New York followedby three months in Kortrijk, Belgium4).
     While traveling, we had no home. We moved out of the Brooklyn apartment and kept most of our stuff at my mom’s place. It was fun to call ourselves nomadic but it’s not really something either of us are comfortable withfor long periods of time. So after the residencies we regrouped at M’s home inJapan. We had a vague idea we would continue to try and work together but
we had no idea how.5     In the early Spring of 2016 we stumbled on an open call for a placecalled the NishiAizu International Art Village (here on NIAV) in Nishiaizu,
Fukushima. They were looking for a designer to help as a chiikiokoshikyouryokutai.6 It was the first time we had ever heard the phrase and the concept
sounded intriguing to us so despite knowing nothing about Nishiaizu and theopen call only looking for one person, something compelled us to apply.
     Our application out of the pile7 and we were saved. Invited for an in person interview, together with M’s parents we drove the eight hours to Fukushima and back.
④ I intend to write more about our residency experience somewhere in the

future, but for now, if you ever have the means and the time, apply for anddo residencies! Good or bad, (perhaps especially bad) the experience of goingsomewhere totally new and working out of your usual element is so incredibly
humbling and educational.
⑤ At this point I have to mention M’s parents, who were so incredibly
generous and understanding as we shared their home in Saitama while we desperately looked.
⑥ 地域おこし協力隊 Roughly, “Local revitalization staff”. The position exists

almost everywhere in Japan, mostly in depopulated areas. Hired for three
years at a time, the specifics of the actual job vary a huge amount dependingon what the town needs. As it turns out, not getting this position was theabsolute best scenario for us as we later learned what it would have entailed.
That is, a close relation to the town hall (i.e. bureaucracy) and an ability
to take orders from authority which is, for us, problematic to say the least.

⑦ Thank you Kobo-chan!

4     A few days later in a ramen shop in Ikebukuro I can clearly remember
getting the phone call from Yabe-san8 telling us we didn’t get the job. Whatwould have been woe turned to excitement when he struck a deal with us. Instead of the job we applied for, we’d come to Nishiaizu as artists in residents
and help Yabe-san as staff for a non-profits art organization in Fukushima.
     So that’s the long story of how we first arrived in Aizu. Our year of living as residents was a huge learning experience. The fact we lived for free
(no rent) was no small factor either. We had a crash course of what living andworking in the countryside of Japan is like; at the same time we had space towork on our own projects and think about what we wanted to concentrate on
going forward.
     We never had/have a long term plan. But when our year was winding
down we didn’t need to have a big conversation about what we would do or
where we would go next. It felt obvious and right to both of us that we had tostay. We soon found a vacant house in a small village near NIAV and decided
this would be our home base. This house would become the Institute of Barbarian Books.
AND NOW, A “GRAPHIC DESIGN” EXAMPLE:
     We designed a package for a burger9 made by a group of local women.
It’s one of my favorite projects we’ve ever worked on.
     The women run a small kitchen in a small village called Okugawa in
Nishiaizu. Together they make a few food products using local ingredients
but they usually don’t have time to think about the packaging too carefully.
By chance, there happened to be some room in the budget for designing andprinting so we were recommended by Yabe-san.

⑧ NIAV director, among many other things. The importance of Yabe-san in ourlives here is Nishiaizu can’t really be overstated. Suffice to say that if it
wasn’t for him, Nishiaizu would be a very different town. The way I always
like to describe it is that he’s a gardener who is planting a lot of seeds.
We just happened to be one of them.
⑨ In Japan, a burger (バーグ) is really just a piece of meat. It’s not necessarily paired with buns and french fries like Americans tend to picture the
word.

5

     What followed was about three months of an extremely collaborativeand fair exchange of ideas and skills. We had periodic meetings over this time
to talk about the package, find out what they wanted and how we could help
them. These meetings were in the same kitchen they cook everything in over
hot tea, snacks, and the warmth of a makeshift kotatsu table.
     On our end, instead of a simple box or bag, we offered to try and introduce a little more of their story. We were limited by costs but the solution was
simple and appropriate. An A3 printed sheet would be printed via risographin one color. It would be styled like a newspaper telling the story of what thehamburger is and a bit about the kitchen and the women who make it together.
Each page would be folded down to wrap the burger as the package that way
the newspaper would be a kind of secret surprise when opened.10     Honestly, I don’t really want to support or encourage the consumptionof meat. Environmentally and ecologically it doesn’t make sense to me. But
at the same time, keeping an open mind proved to be incredibly important.
As it happened, the hamburgers were already being produced by the time wewere involved. We could have declined from the start but there’s a significant
trade-off; if they aren’t able to sell their products they cannot continue tosupport themselves and therefore another healthy part of the community ends
and is lost. In the long term, for our town, I still believe it’s better to help themthe most useful way we knew how. This time it happened to be with graphic
design.
     Of course, more than the package, becoming friends was more rewarding. We see them quite regularly; at the store, at festivals, at the restaurant, ina small town we all share a lot. While it’s possible to avoid everyone if one
wishes, finding ways to work collaboratively is a constant reminder of how
little the differences between each other can matter and how great it can be toshare a community together.

⑩ Everyone, including ourselves is very happy by the way it turned out andI’m even happy to say we’ve had to order more sheets to be printed already.
6IN CONCLUSION (KIND OF)
     I’m uncomfortable when people describe what they do with their lives ina single term. For me, calling ourselves graphic designers still sounds lifelessand uninteresting but I’m equally aware that it’s a big part of what we do on adaily level to support ourselves. As a compromise, I think I’d rather be a person who uses graphic design (e.g. using tools like general knowledge about
typography, composition, and printing) to make something interesting andmeaningful as opposed to just being a graphic designer as an end in itself.11⑪ I realize this is still not such a clear way to put it. Maybe I’m justembarrassed to be called a graphic designer because of all the negative (atleast to me) connotations it entails. I want to distance myself from thoseconnotations but still explore the ways in which graphic design can be aserious and useful (and hopefully subversive) instrument in society today.
Needless to say, it’s an ongoing process. Living in Nishiaizu has given us
the time as we continue to figure it out.
7    Did you see that movie called “Kimi No Na Wa ”? It was a really big deal here in Japan.
It was probably the biggest anime hit of 2016. Actually, it definitely was. You couldn’t turnon the television or walk into a store and not hear about the film or the stupid theme song.
   I saw it on the airplane which is maybe my least favorite place to watch a movie. Despite this, I still thought it was great and interesting. Right up until the final act when it
proved to be just another piece of mass entertainment rubbish.
   To get there, I’ll give the synopsis; teenage girl lives in unnamed countryside, teenage
boy lives in Tokyo. Due to mysterious circumstances, they switch bodies and experienceeach others’ lives. But there’s a twist! It turns out the girl’s home village was actually destroyed by an asteroid and she died some years ago. They were switching between time
too, apparently. Anyway, because it’s a feel good movie, the boy somehow maneuvers his
way into saving the girl, and at the end they meet.
    Here’s why I thought it was interesting: I took decimation of the girl’s village as a metaphor for the destruction following 3.11’s earthquake and subsequent nuclear meltdown. In
both cases, towns were literally wiped off the surface completely by factors unexplainable.
In one instant, memories, histories and families were erased, lost forever – a poignant
reminder of how fragile and limited our existence is. As a highly marketed and profitableproduct, (I would say the equivalent of a summer blockbuster in the U.S.) the film has alarge reach – a statement like this has potential, if anything to just serve as a reminder. On
multiple viewings however, I’m certain that this was not Makoto Shinkai’s intent.
8    The previously mentioned final act goes something like this: the boy, acting in the pastin the girl’s body, is able to warn the residents and evacuate the town. It’s suggested
everyone survives despite the asteroid destroying the town physically. It’s after the boy
grows up, as his life in Tokyo is seemingly, utterly “normal”, i.e. he’s a kaishain/salaryman,that he reunites with the girl after seeing her on his train commute.
    If this seems innocent enough allow me to point a few things out. First of all, the focus
on over-sentimentality as the lovers reunite completely shifts attention away from what
was a legitimate disaster; the destruction and loss of community, history, and environment.
Instead of exploring what the consequences of losing an entire town could be, or perhaps
what cleanup and rescue efforts could look like, the disaster is brushed aside to makeroom for the emotional and unsurprising climax. The entire inaka (countryside) segmentsof the film seem at this point to serve as little more than a pretty and quaint reminder ofsomething that was, not something that is. What I mean is, just because we’re no longer inthe countryside does not mean that it no longer exists. As much as politicians and corporate leaders would like to try, just because time has passed since 3.11 does not mean thatthe situation is under control. It doesn’t even necessarily mean that we’ve made progressor things are respectively better.
   Secondly, it’s implied that after the girl and her friends survived, they moved to Tokyo
since their homes were destroyed. This parallels a lot of what happens on an everyday
scale in reality. Young people, with a lack of job options or desire to stay in the countryside
move to the cities and start families. Meanwhile their hometowns continue to depopulate
and decay as no one is able to take the older generations’ place. From a first hand experience, I can say this is a vicious cycle, one that’s hard to break.
    However to break the cycle, it must start with asking why moving to the city is such aneasy solution? With that comes the question of is it necessarily the best solution? By theend of the film both of the characters seem to have matured into young adults. They’retaking part in the morning commute, they wear the appropriate work attire – by all visualevidence they’re “productive members of society”. But why is this presented as normal?
Why is this necessary to have a happy ending? In my opinion, having to live such a life
is the definition of a living hell; a meaningless, trite existence that has no benefit beyond
immediate financial satisfaction.
   Furthermore, my qualm is that this is a film that is more or less marketed to young
adults and teenagers, in other words, the very people who are at once extremely impressionable and significant in terms of the near future. They’re also about to make some very
important decisions about what to do with their lives. The “happy” ending here reads to me
as little more than propaganda for the Capitalist machine.
   Kimi No Na Wa treats inaka as something defiantly in the past. Perhaps it’s nostalgic
and pleasant, but only for short visits. The people and customs of inaka are fading, andit may be a shame, but in the end, real life and all the important stuff happens in Tokyo
anyway.
   I live in inaka. I live with people that have spent generations building their lives andcommunities together. It’s true – it’s slowly deteriorating and there are less and less young
9people every year, but it doesn’t change the fact that we exist here, now, together. It
doesn’t change the fact that we actually like living here too – given the choice I could neverchoose to live in a city again.
    There are endless problems here in Fukushima. Closer to the nuclear plant it becomesmuch more understandable why families want to live elsewhere. I don’t want to put any
blame on them. It really belongs to the lawmakers, to Shinzo Abe, to TEPCO executives
and the Tokyo Olympic committees; all the people who want to pretend the disaster wasa freak accident and is better to leave in the past instead of fixing the problems now. Like
Shinkai’s Kimi No Na Wa they want to pretend the happy endings lie in Tokyo and in sellingyour life at an hourly rate. Meanwhile, in inaka, life continues.

きみの田舎
あなたは「君の名は。」という映画を観たことがありますか？日本だけでなく世界中で大ヒットしたこの映画は、おそらく2016年のトップを飾るアニメーションだったと言えるでしょう。
いえ、間違いなくそうでした。外出するにしても自宅でテレビをつけるにしても、何をするにしてもこの映画の退屈な主題歌から逃れることはできなかったはずです。
私がこの映画を見たのは飛行機の中でした。最悪の鑑賞環境だったにもかかわらず、私は素晴らしく面白い映画だったと感じました。最後の最後に、結局はどこにでもある大衆向けエンター
テインメントのごみくずだと判明するまでは。
私の話をする前に、まずは映画の大まかなあらすじを紹介します。無名の田舎(映画の中では糸守町と呼ばれる)に住む十代の少女と、東京に住む十代の少年。出会ったことのない二人がある
日、夢の中でお互いの身体が入れ替わっていることに気がつきます。戸惑いながらもお互いの生活を経験しますが、しかしそこには思わぬ展開が。なんと少女の住む町は数年前に彗星の破片が落下したことで町ごと消滅しており、少女もその災害事故で亡くなっていたのです。身体だけでなく時空を超えて入れ替わっていた二人ですが、何とか少年が少女を事故から救い出し、ついに二人は実際に出会いクライマックス…という、それはもう気分が良くなる映画です。
10

私がこの映画を面白いと思った理由、それは少女の故郷糸守町の消滅が隠喩するのは3.11の東
日本大震災と原子量発電所のメルトダウンではないかと捉えたからです。東日本大震災被災地
も、映画の中の糸守町も、説明しようのない要因によってそこにあった多くのものを拭い取られてしまいました。ほんの一瞬で思い出も歴史も家族も消え去り、永遠に失われてしまった―私たち人間の存在がどれほどもろく、制限されているのかを改めて思い知らされます。実際に起きた忘れてはいけない出来事のリマインドという点だけでも、多くの観客にリーチできる市場
性・収益性の高い映画(米国の大ヒット映画に相当するかもしれません)としては価値があったかもしれませんが、どうやら新海監督のインタビューをいくつか読むところそのような意図はなかったようで、残念でなりません。
はじめの方にも書きましたが、映画の最後の方は次のような展開になります。過去の時間を生きる少女の身体に入っていた少年は、災害事故が起きる前に町全体に警告を出し町民を避難させました。これは隕石落下によって町は物理的に破壊されましたが、町民は生き残ることができたということになります。その後月日は流れ、少年は東京で「普通」の人生、つまり会社員
としての人生を送っています。彼は通勤時に偶然並走する別の電車の中に少女の姿を見つけ、ついに二人は再会するのです。
ここでいくつかのことを指摘させてください。まず第一に、想い会う二人が感動の再会を果た
すという展開に過度の焦点を当てることは、それまで追ってきた正真正銘の大規模災害から完全に目をそらしている気がしてなりません。感情的なクライマックスに十分な余裕を作るた
め、災害―コミュニティ、歴史、環境の破壊と喪失は突然脇に寄せられました。この時点で、この映画にとっての田舎という要素は、過去に存在していた古風で美しいものという捉え方でしかないように感じます。私が言いたいのは、田舎は今も確実に存在してるということです。
東日本大震災以降時間が経過したからといって、状況が前進しているわけでも、改善している
わけでもないのです。政治家や企業の指導者はそう願うのかもしれませんが。
第二に、故郷の町が失われた少女はその後東京に移住したように見られますが、これは田舎と都市の間で実際に日常的に起こっていることです。仕事の選択肢の欠如などを理由に田舎に残りたいという欲求を持てず都市に移動し家族を築く若者はとても多く、一方彼らの故郷は世代から世代への引き継ぎができずに過疎化と衰退を続けていきます。私自身現在田舎に住んでいますが、これは断ち切るのが大変難しい悪循環なのだと感じました。
なぜ都市への移住が最善の解決策なのか。この悪循環を崩すためにはその問いかけが必要なのではないでしょうか。映画の終盤、成人した若い二人はスーツを着て「生産的で適切な社会の一員」として朝の通勤電車に乗っています。しかしこの状況があたかも普通のことのように提示されるのはなぜでしょうか？この選択肢が必ずしも幸せだと言えるのでしょうか？あくまで私個人の意見ですが、目下の経済的な充足のために無意味でありふれた存在として同じ毎日を送ることは生きた地獄のように思えます。
さらに私が懸念しているのは、この映画は大体10代から若年成人つまり近い将来を形作っていく非常に重要な世代をターゲットにしているということです。自分たちがこれから何をするべ
きか、人生の方向性を決めていく大切な段階にいる年齢です。この映画が描写する「幸せ」な結末というのは、彼らに対する資本主義社会の宣伝に過ぎないように私は感じました。
11

「君の名は。」は、田舎を過去のものとして扱っています。おそらく彼らにとってそれはノスタルジックで心地の良いものですが、時間をかけて向き合うものではないのでしょう。田舎の人々の暮らしや習慣、文化は確実に失われつつありますが、結局のところ、東京で起きていることが「現実」であり「重要」なのだと。
私は田舎に住んでいます。世代を超えて受け継がれてきた生活とコミュニティの中で、それを築いてきたたくさんの住民と共に暮らしています。確かに町からは毎年たくさんの若者が出ていき、少子高齢化に人口減少によって地域は確実に衰退への道を歩んでいます。ですが、今こ
こに、私たちが共に存在しているという事実は変わりません。私たちはここでの暮らしに代え難い魅力を感じています。都市に住みたいと思うことは、この先一生ないでしょう。
ここ福島は果てしない問題を抱えています。原子力発電所に近づけば近づくほど、なぜ周辺地
域に住む家族が他県へと移り住みたがるのかその理由がはっきりと分かるでしょう。彼らには何の責任もありません。全責任が国会議員、安倍晋三、東京電力の役員、そして東京オリンピッ
ク委員会にあることは明白です。目前にある問題を修復することに全力を尽くす代わりに、彼らは全てを予測不能な災害の結果だったとして過去に葬ることに力を注いでいます。新海監督
が「君の名は。」で描いたように、東京にはいつでも「ハッピーエンド」があるかのように装いながら。
そうしている間にも、田舎で暮らしは続いています。

12

ALTERNATIVE ANIMATEDFEATURE FILM RELEASED IN
2016 RECOMMENDATION:
Kubo and the Two Strings

Despite studio Laika’s questionable corporate ties (the director of Kubo, Travis Knight is theson of Nike founder and billionaire Phil Knight’s son plus Nike owns the studio) the animation studio is responsible for some of my favorite animated films in recent years. Kubo is agood film too. Besides the craftsmanship, story, and visuals, it’s one of the few films basedin Japan that seems to have done a good job translating Japanese culture (to a Western
audience) and not just using it via stereotypes.
13

14

15

16

17

18

19

“That’s not a star, ” he continued toprotest.

The sun was behind the mountains,the last of its rays outlining thetrees in oranges and pinks. In this direction, almost due west, the brightspot did seem a bit out of place.
“There are no other stars in the sky, yousee? ” he tried to reason.
“Because it’s not dark enough!” K
yelled back at him.
We were all laughing. The charcoal crackled at a pleasant rhythm.
The first barbecue of the season andit felt nice to be outside without ajacket. He lit another cigarette andcontinued.
“I’ve been seeing this light everyday for
years. It’s part of an antenna or something. But
it’s definitely not a star. ”

He exhaled as we thought about
this.

20

“And in a few hours, by 10, it will be gone! ”
K couldn’t keep quiet. “That’s
because it’s a star and it moves
behind the mountains!”
His wife rolled her eyes as if tosay, not this again. We laughed somemore. When asked what the light was for(if it wasn’t a star) he had no answer.
The important part was that it was artificial. But it looked too high for
one, to be an antenna, and by now theother stars came out. In comparison, it
looked quite similar.
Still, nothing anyone could saywould convince him otherwise. There’s aterm in Japanese we heard used to describe him a few times; maipesu, as inliterally, my pace. It was really quite
accurate. When we would join them fordinner he would often butt in mid-conversation about something totally different and off topic, as if he justremembered something incredibly important. It wasn’t like he didn’t careabout us or our conversations, he just
lived, quite simply, at his own pace.
Marched to his own drums. I always
liked him.
It was dark now. We finishedcleaning up and started gathering ourthings. The light was still there, but
it seemed to have shifted. He was, ofcourse, adamant that it had not.
21

“Just wait until 10. It will disappear! ”“Next time!” we promised.
“Well, come again soon, ” he said witha smile as he stubbed out another cigarette and went inside.
K and her mom gave us some of
the un-grilled freshly cut asparagus
from earlier to take home. I promised
to make more bread again on our next
visit. The summer was just beginningand the air smelled fresh and green.
Driving home I tried to find the lightbut couldn’t see it in the sky anymore.
Or perhaps it just passed behind themountains.
That ended up being the last time
we saw him before he died.
A few months later, he had a heart
attack early one morning while cleaning the roads. He fell into a coma in
the hospital and hung on for a few moredays but never regained consciousness.
It was a shock to all of us. He had
always seemed so healthy and energetic.
It was a weird impulse at the time but
I immediately thought of all the unfinished farming work he still had to do.
I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t bearound to complete his work and takein the harvest. I also couldn’t imagine
how K and her mom were feeling.
22

A few days later we came back to
the house to light incense and say
goodbye. The house was full of friends
and relatives when we arrived andpeople were smiling and talking. Laying
on the tatami, he looked like he hadjust dozed off for an afternoon nap. If
it wasn’t for the towel under his neckpropping his head up I would have been
convinced he was sleeping.
In the next moment he would wakeand say, “Hello! Don’t worry about me, I’mfine. It was nothing. By the way, have you
looked at the sky recently? ”

Was it the cigarettes? The
pachinko? Nothing else seemed to remotely account for how such a healthy
man could pass so suddenly. But maybe
searching for logic and answers is
pointless. Sometimes, these things canand do happen. There doesn’t always
have to be a reason.
K seemed okay but we knew it wasa lot to process. Additionally, there
was the funeral ceremonies to organize, the farms to be maintained, andChibi, the new kitten, to be cared for.
We wished we could help more. Before weleft she wanted to show us a video sheplanned to show to relatives during thefuneral.
By chance, a few days before hisheart attack, K filmed her dad in the
new komugi field. The video is simple:

23

he’s walking in the field surroundedby tall, golden stalks and examining
a handful of stems. In the background,the mountains cut a deep silhouette in
the bright, cloudless, blue sky. He
seems to be in his element; a sense ofpeace and happiness embodies his every
movement. Maipesu.
At the time, K never expected touse the video in this way. But everyone was thankful that she happened tocapture this beautiful, small, wordless
moment.
The moments we all have are likethis too, if we are mindful enough. In
fact, our entire short lives are justa moment too. One that we often forget
is not infinite. I think of the nightwith the stars often. The smokey grill
slowly dying, bits of grilled cornstuck in my teeth, Chibi chasing birds
away from the potatoes, smiling, laughing, and feeling grateful to be alive
as K’s dad looks up and says for thehundredth time,“that’s not a star! ”
24