Swallowing The "Disney Of Japan": Osamu Tezuka's Dark Descent

Tezuka's post-Astro Boy stamp of approval. Via.

The year was 1968. Faced with the end of Astro Boy’s run and declining sales, iconic Japanese animator and manga artist Osamu Tezuka, often called the "Walt Disney of Japan," realized he had to make a change or risk fading into irrelevance.

The result was anything but Disney.

Those who know Tezuka only as the smiling figure behind the likes of Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion might be surprised to read some of his work from the late 60s and 70s, a period during which his study of the less savory and infinitely more complex side of humanity took him into a bleak realm of violence, passion, and alienation. 

Credited with establishing manga and anime as popular mediums in Japan, Osamu Tezuka (aka "God of Manga", "Godfather of Anime") established his career upon rich, largely kid-friendly stories like that of the not quite-human, not-quite-robot Astro Boy. In doing so he drew heavily upon Western sources, including Popeye, Betty Boop, and Disney’s own Bambi (Tezuka admitted to watching the film over 80 times in his youth). 

He also brought his own innovations to the medium. In Japanamerica, Roland Kelts, who appears at Japan Society this week to highlight some of Tezuka most influential works, describes Tezuka's frustration with the static nature of earlier comics, which “bore a greater resemblance to the staging of a play: one character enters stage left, exits stage right, and so on.” However, in manga such as Ayako and Swallowing the Earth, both highlights from Tezuka’s later years, we see a new and often disturbing contrast between his comic drawing style and increasingly adult themes.

Study in Black: Tezuka’s Gekiga Period

Today’s fans of Japanese manga and anime are likely to think little of commercialized violence. Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan), one of the most popular titles of 2013, shows no qualms about having its characters squashed, eaten, dismembered, and subjected to any number of physical and emotional torments. In the manga world of 1960s Japan, such graphic violence, even one of a far less extreme nature, was unheard of until artists working in a genre known a gekiga began to cater to darker tastes. Suddenly, manga went from being a childhood diversion to a mature exploration of society.

His once unshakeable base eroded by a generation of younger, edgier artists, Tezuka replied with Swallowing the Earth, a darkly comic tale excoriating the love of money that characterized postwar Japan, as well as the country’s troubled relation with the U.S.

It is telling that Tezuka’s hero in this story is a man who is able to avoid greed and temptation only through a singular pursuit of alcohol. In his essay "Dark Side of the Manga," Rob Vollmar of the University of Science and Arts of Oklahoma describes the sometimes jarring relationship between Tezuka’s style and subject matter: “Tezuka retained a strange dichotomy in his work throughout his career, characterized by the juxtaposition of round, bouncy-looking figures engaged in progressively disturbing actions.”

A boozy, dizzying panel from Tezuka's Swallowing. Via.

While not remotely graphic or disturbing, the panels depicting Zephyrus, the enigmatic temptress out for revenge in Swallowing the Earth, nonetheless exemplify the development of a new sexual element that would grow progressively twisted—ingrown might be more to the point—as Tezuka plumbed the depths of human degeneracy.

Tezuka carried the theme of beautiful, amoral women to what could be called either its creative climax or its lowest point, depending on one’s view of his work, with the inarguably disturbing Ayako.

Ayako is kept in a cellar by her in-laws for over a decade after learning their family secret. While Jiro, the protagonist, provides an early glimmer of hope as the story’s redemptive element, his position as a spy for the Americans and his collusion in Ayako’s torment make him as guilty as any. Jiro and the rest of the cast signal Tezuka’s move away from a “dualistic worldview” of right and wrong. In shifting toward far darker and more adult themes, Tezuka carries the artistic baggage of his earlier years, resulting in an often unwieldy interplay between gags and an oppressive cynicism.

In his Japan Times review of the book, David Cozy uses the word "Naturalism" to describe Tezuka’s examination of moral corruption. The official website of Tezuka Productions calls the work a “social drama.” While these terms capture certain important aspects of the book, they fall short of conveying the full weight of Tezuka’s subject matter, not because Tezuka was the first to deal with family secrets and sexual violence—Fumiko Enchi’s Masks (1958) tackles both with mesmerizing narrative efficiency—or even with the legacy of evil in the postwar era, but because in Ayako and other works of the decade we see the man responsible for creating one of Japan’s most beloved children’s characters scrape the bottom of the barrel of transgression. 

For all the darkness of Tezuka’s works during the late 60s and 70s, many view this era in the artist’s life as a stage in his development, the same way scholars place Picasso’s early 20th-century paintings under the category of the Blue Period. This is not to say that Tezuka’s thematic and stylistic experimentations amount to nothing more than a passing whim. While Kelts makes note of Miyazaki’s opinion that “Tezuka took the themes of death and loss far too lightly,” both Susanne Phillipps and Vollmar argue that Tezuka’s gekiga titles served a key role in his growth as an animator.

“Far from allowing himself to be consumed by his disappointment and disapproval of his nation,” Vollmar writes, “Tezuka’s scope expanded to a more global perspective that allowed him to conceive of these shortcomings as human rather than specifically Japanese.” Meanwhile, Phillipps cites Tezuka’s transition toward a more realistic, anatomically correct drawing style as evidence of his maturation.

“Disney of Japan” indeed. While the comparison might, at best, give the uninitiated a small idea of the scope and influence of Tezuka’s work, those hoping to delve into his work should bring a flashlight; it’s going to get dark.

--Andres Oliver 

Thumper Bumper: Tezuka's epic, eight volume Buddha begins with a woodland creature's sacrificial self-immolation. Via.

Media Watch Japan: 'Celibacy Syndrome' And The Spectre of 'Herbivore Men'

An Osamu Tezuka-drawn crowd flees the latest trend.

Every couple of years (or even mere months) the mainstream media cycles a sensationalist Japanese trend piece usually linked to population, sex, food or fashion, highlighting Japan's "bizarre extremes", or, more underhandedly, perceived corruptions of American or Western normalcy.

Top of the recent "trends" were the perennial pop-up Herbivore Men. The rash of grass feeding fellas stole the world's heart-on from about 2006 to 2011, representing, in the words of Slate, the "nexus between two of the biggest challenges facing Japanese society: the declining birth rate and anemic consumption". They shunned corporate life (Reuters), subverted manhood (NPR), and led the way in sexless love (Guardian).

Jezebel was one of the few outlets with a more balanced take on the phenomenon. They considered it "a kind of rebellion" (pointing out that "half the point of a trend piece is to record and perhaps stir up terror at the trend's inevitable destruction of society") and a means to buck stereotype and find another way to be "manly".

Sound[s] a lot like what's happening in America. The recession and dwindling job security have made certain male roles — provider, consumer, progenitor — more difficult to step into. In Japan, men are responding by rejecting those roles. Maybe rather than trying to return to a bygone era of buying and babies, Japan and America should accept a more frugal, perhaps smaller population and new definitions of success.

But the groundwork the boys of ambivalence laid towards sexless love gave them a cameo in Japan's latest "looming national catastrophe": Celibacy Syndrome.

"Young people in Japan stopped having sex," blared the Observer headline a couple of weeks ago. "Japan's under-40s appear to be losing interest in conventional relationships. Millions aren't even dating, and increasing numbers can't be bothered with sex."

The 2500+ word exposé leads with commentary from a sex worker-turned-therapist and weaves in testimony from disaffected locals, as well as pretty much every alarmist birthrate/demographic data point and relationship/intimacy study from the last few years.

As usual the media pickup/reuse/recycle came immediately and with gusto. TIME précised the more shocking figures and examples--the only original contribution an East v. West platitude: "with all our millennial whining about casual hookups and online dating, we might not have it so bad". The Washington Post goes so far as to say the trend is "endangering the global economy" (hm, just like hipster beards?) The BBC dredged up Japan's dreaded virtual girlfriends, asking if perhaps the whole lack of shebang is Japan's inimitable way of dealing with global overpopulation, or (there's often an "or" in these stories) "is it just time for Japanese men to grow up, have more sex and make more babies?" In one of the strangest spins, New York magazine posits that Japan's new "national crisis" stems from romantic trips to a parasite museum.

Though spotlighting the "bizarre demographic chill [that] has stolen over the Land of the Rising Sun", Slate's reaction added a little nuance to the story, touching on the inherent singlehood bashing:

Maybe Japanese young people are pioneering a deeply satisfying lifestyle in which love and sex have receded into the background—and the trade-off makes them perfectly happy. … Rates of psychological illness in Japan and the United States are comparable: 24 percent of Japanese adults and 25 percent of American adults have suffered some sort of mental health problem. So could a collective bias against singlehood be warping the way we see celibacy syndrome? Is it really a syndrome, or just an alternate (convenient, culturally exigent) mode of being? I find the notion of an intimacy-starved society as depressing as anyone, but maybe those are my reactionary, Jane Austen–informed values talking. At the very least, Japan’s new status quo might remove some of the stigma from living alone."

In a separate article, Slate was one of the first major outlets to directly say "no, Japanese people haven’t given up on sex", showing the spin tide had turned to balance itself. Bloomberg took the second wave further, noting that much of the data for these types of stories is "cherry picked" and the result of foreign journalists "traipsing into 'exotic Japan' and getting lost in a forest of stereotypes, fuzzy data and tarted-up headlines", but then they recontextualize the population problem as stemming from Japan's "exorbitant living costs, elevated stress and diminished confidence".

Finally, a full week after the Observer article, the UK Independent nailed the bigger issue: "These stories gain traction because they support a view of east Asia which is at best patronising and at worst overtly racist…"

as if to remind us what a disturbingly odd place Japan is, an alarming Japanese news story explodes online. Western media outlets clamber over each other in their haste to cover the story, with every report of bagel heads, snail facials or ritual head shaving [see also elder crime, cat cafés, monkey waiters, 'crazy' foods and flavors (esp. Kit Kats), virtual girlfriend/boyfriends, pillow paramours, odor-eating underpants, etc. --ed.] being used as further evidence of a unique Japanese weirdness. A lack of understanding (and, sometimes, basic fact-checking) means that entire stories are lifted, often without critique, and churned into dubious clickbait. Earlier this year, widespread coverage of a supposed eyeball-licking epidemic among Japanese teens that turned out to be a hoax left more than a few editors red-faced.

More urgent problems in Japan that don't get as robust coverage as sexcapades (or lack thereof): shut-ins, tragically high suicide rates, a nuclear crisis two and a half years ongoing,  flaring tensions in Southeast Asia.

Of course, there are broader (and more real) issues with Japan's population, from sex and fertility rates to demographic disparity. But while trends consistently point downward, a point only briefly touched on in the recent media maelstrom is that there is as much too much population as there is too little space.

Japan and the U.S are among the world's top 10 most populous countries, with some 320 million people in the U.S. and 128 million in Japan. In terms of pure landmass, it's well known that Japan would fit into Montana, or about 90% of California. But when comparing the difference in densities (Japan's 873 people per square mile to America's 90) to understand Japan's situation, the entire U.S. population would need to be squeezed into the states of California, Arizona and Nevada. Or, looked at another way, the U.S. would need grow nearly three hundred times to 900 million.

Given the island nation's land lack, a little population leveling may be natural. But how much, what's the precedence, are there ways to expand without zapping limited resources? These are stories that could be written with some depth (the Indepdent points out that the World Bank lists 15 countries that have fertility rates equal to or below that of Japan, including economic powerhouse Germany). And what about a non-faith based celibacy positive article or a 2500+ word exposé on the thrills and tribulations of choosing to be single?

Until then, the fear of sexlessness sells as much as sex, it seems, and we'll have to wait to see the headline:

Japanese People Have Sex, And If They Don't That's Okay Too

--Shannon Jowett

Vessel Across Time: Mariko Mori's Jōmon Jump

Sister Cisterns: Mori's Flatstone (right) mirrors a kaen-doki from 3,500–2,500 BCE.

She wears all white and a calm smile. Somewhere in her artistic wanderings, she’s traveled the universe. Seen black holes and white holes. Watched stars be born and die, spilling their insides onto the canvas of space.

Not what you’d expect from someone reaching back sixteen millennia in her art.

In her recently opened solo exhibition Rebirth, Mariko Mori combines a range of styles and beliefs: New Age spirituality, technological futurism, a little Buddhism, Shinto influences. Some will have no trouble tapping into the show’s meditative wavelength and sense of renewal. Others might get lost in the exhaust of complexity and primal energies. What no one can deny is the presence of the ancient, brought to light in 2013 from the memory of Jōmon.

Best known for their stone circles and intricate pottery, the people of Jōmon Japan lived roughly between 14,000 and 300 B.C.E. They were, as far as we can tell, the first to “[master] the technology of transforming pliable clay into hard and durable containers,” with contemporary scholarly debate centered on the practical and artistic relevance of these artifacts, according to Junko Habu's Ancient Jomon of Japan.

Mori began her study of the period with fieldwork at Jōmon archaeological sites like Ōyu, Sannai Maruyama, and Miwayama, home to several of the stone circles and spherical stones that have remained intact through the millennia. From this fieldwork, in addition to collaboration with Chief Curator at Aomori Museum of Art, Iida Takayo, came the initial exhibition, Mariko Mori Jōmon: The Fossil of Light “Transcircle” Exhibition, that prepared the way for the artist's current Rebirth.

Mori's Flatstone leads to Transcircle 1.1.

Merely viewing the separate pieces in Mori’s exhibit may puzzle some visitors. After all, a 5,000-year-old Jōmon vase and the LED-powered monoliths of Transcircle 1.1 don’t exactly seem like bedfellows. It’s only after reading more about the people of prehistoric Japan that the connection is made.

The fact that the Jōmon era is named after the cord markings adorning the pottery gives one an idea of how much these artifacts have come to represent the beliefs, lifestyles, and history of an enigmatic people. All can agree to their importance, but this is where the consensus ends. Whether the pots were used in religious ritual as an embodiment of animistic belief, or they are the tools of a society of hunter-gatherers is a matter of great debate. If the latter—and recent studies suggest the pots may have been used to store fish—it would upend the idea that clay pottery was impractical for a people constantly on the move. Then again, it takes no great effort of the imagination to see the designs as the “ripples and eddies on the surfaces of the salmon-rich river,” as Iida Takayo describes them, rather than the flames from which the pots, or kaen-doki, take their name.

Jōmon stone figurines and monoliths have proven equally difficult to explain. While some dogū, or figurines, call to mind the famous “Venus” figurines of Paleolithic Europe and Asia—both types emphasize the hips and breasts, suggesting ties to fertility—others defy classification. These oddities feature a combination of human and animal features, such as dogū with horns or a cat head. Some hold a secret inside; one figure discovered in Nagashiki, Kanagawa Prefecture, contained bone particles and teeth from a child.

Writing on the topic of dogū in 1974, Johannes Maringer traced a connection between the figurines and the Jōmon peoples’ belief in animals as “epiphanies of higher beings.” Other artifacts help us approach an idea of the Jōmon religious worldview. For example, Simon Kaner argues that the arrangement of bodies in burial grounds at Sannai Maruyama, one of the largest Jōmon settlements ever unearthed, suggests both a belief in the afterlife and a kind of ancestor worship.

While some have theorized that Jōmon peoples’ overdependence on ritual contributed to their downfall against the rice-based Yayoi civilization, Kaner contends it was these very rituals that allowed their successful assimilation. After all, he says, at the core of Jōmon religious practice is a belief in the power of the individual to transform.

By combining Jōmon art styles with modern techniques—one of Mori’s pieces, Flatstone, features an acrylic recreation of an ancient Jōmon vase at its center—Mori sets to capture the fluidity of life, death, and inspiration. Those people of millennia past are not so much an interesting historical subject as a living pulse. “My body contains genes inherited from our earliest ancestors,” Mori says in the catalogue accompanying the exhibition, “and those genes can produce a strong reaction when they try to arouse that special consciousness which slumbers deep within me.”

In his essay, Kaner cites Kobayashi Tatsuo and others as setting forth the theory that the people of Jōmon Japan may have used ritual not to assimilate into the Yayoi, as he himself believes, but to resist them and the revolutionary agricultural lifestyle they represented. The idea is particularly intriguing when we consider Mori and her artistic transformation over the last decade, from pointed critic of consumerism and the super-modern to student of both prehistoric and New Age spiritualism. You almost wonder if Mori isn’t using her own ritual, her art, to mount a largely silent resistance against the strange times in which we live.

--Andres Oliver

Photos(clockwise): kaen-doki flame-ware vase, Middle Jōmon period (3,500–2,500 BCE), Earthenware, 11 5/8 inches high, 11 5/8 inches diam, collection of John C. Weber; Mariko Mori's Flatstone (2006), ceramic stones and acrylic vase; 192 x 124 x 3 ½ inches, courtesy of SCAI THE BATHHOUSE, Tokyo and Sean Kelly, New York; FOREGROUND: Flatstone, BACKGROUND: Transcircle 1.1, 2004. Stone, Corian, LED, real-time control system, 132 3/8 inches diam., each stone 43 3/8 × 22 1/4 × 13 1/2 inches, courtesy of The Mori Art Museum, Tokyo, Installation photograph by Richard Goodbody.

A Brief History of Social Media In Japan

GREE, just one cloud in Japan's perfect SNS storm. 

The social media battle in Japan has all the uncertainty, the early call-ins and punditry of an electoral race.

(Cue Wolf Blitzer-like commentary:)

“I have some numbers coming in here… One second… Let’s see—yes, I’m seeing 13 million for Facebook. Just 13 million. And that’s got to be disappointing.”

“Mixi ahead with 17 million. The young demographic proving pivotal here.”

“Twitter going strong with 30 million.”

“LINE still leading with an impressive 40 million. We’re predicting LINE will take this contest.” 
And that’s not even including GREE and DeNA, two other SNS (social networking services) that have enjoyed varying levels of success in Japan.

Just take a look at the headlines from recent years:

Mixi Skyrockets in Stock Market Debut (2006) 

Mixi Faces Challenges as Competition Grows (2009) 

In Japan, Facebook Wins the Most Users (2012) 

Facebook Users in Japan Losing Interest and Heading for the Exits (2013) 

Everyone trying to avoid being the “also-ran” in this metaphor.

Of course, services like LINE and Twitter provide a messaging/microblogging platform rather than a counterpart to Facebook’s and Mixi’s more fleshed-out, app-loaded social networks. However, in light of LINE CEO Akira Morikawa’s determination to establish LINE worldwide through the addition of new features, as well as the fact that many users view Facebook and Twitter as an either-or, rather than as a both-and, one can make a case for viewing these companies as being in direct competition with one another.

LINE may still far outstrip its rivals at the moment, but given the wild swings that have taken place in the social media landscape, it pays to take another look at the evolution of different services in the Japanese market. The timeline below picks up at 2006, the year that Mixi—Japan's perennial SNS powerhouse until recently—made its stock market debut.

2006

• September: Mixi debuts on the Mothers market at the Tokyo Stock Exchange. Thirty year old founder Kenji Masahara becomes an instant success as the bidding price more than doubles the initial public offering price of ¥1.55 million. Combining the connectivity of Facebook (it will be another year before Facebook breaks out of the college student bubble) with the intimacy of a blogging platform, the site is invitation-only and requires a Japanese mobile mailing address.

• February: DeNA comes onto the scene with Mobage Town (now Mobage), which will eventually combine mobile games with social networking features.

2007

• Yoshikazu Tanaka, founder of GREE and Japan’s youngest billionaire, brings the company into social network gaming with the launch of Tsuri-Sta (Fishing Star). Branching out from an ad-based focus, GREE starts drawing revenue from mobile gaming.

2008

• June: Mark Zuckerberg takes the stage at Tokyo’s Ayoama Diamond Hall convention center to announce the launch of Facebook Japan. The SNS faces strong competition from Mixi, which boasts over 10 million users, including more than half of all people in their twenties.

• Twitter launches a Japanese version of its service, its first non-English release, in collaboration with Digital Garage. Digital Garage CEO Joichi Ito predicts the service will appeal to Japanese accustomed to “murmur[ing], a kind of short blogging thing.”

2009

• May: Mixi CEO Kenji Kasahara announces that the company will see its first decline in growth since going public, despite the service remaining Japan’s top SNS. Kasahara goes on to publicize his plan open Mixi’s mobile and PC platforms to third-party developers.

2010

• December: Japan’s Federal Trade Commission investigates DeNA on suspicion of blocking Gree’s access to game developers.

2011

• January: Facebook Japan’s growth stalls at 2 million users, compared to over 20 million each for Mixi, Gree, and DeNA’s Mobage Town. Some blame the low numbers on Japanese user’s reluctance to disclose personal information on the Web (most Mixi users use pseudonyms).

• March 11: On the day of the Tohoku earthquake, Tweets jump to 1.8 times the average, totaling 330 million. The microblogging service allows the public to stay informed of developments and counter government misinformation. In one instance, a group of Tokyo hackers take to Twitter to post their own Geiger counter readings.

• June: NHN Japan, a branch of the Korean NHN Corporation, launches its LINE smartphone app. Developed in the wake of the 3/11 disaster as a way for NHN employees to communicate despite toppled phone lines, LINE offers both messaging and social networking and allows users to send each other “stickers.”

• July: The recently rebranded Mobage makes its worldwide debut on the heels of Isao Moriyasu’s June appointment as president.

• August: Mixi unveils public pages for companies and individuals, including Disney Japan. As with public pages on Facebook, Mixi’s allow access without login information.

• November: Gree files a lawsuit against DeNA, claiming the company interfered with its business despite an earlier order to desist from the Federal Trade Commission.

• December 9: Japanese Twitter users rack up the highest number of tweets per second ever recorded during a broadcast of Hayao Miyazaki’s classic film, Castle in the Sky. Following a tradition begun on messaging board 2chan, users tweet “balse,” a magic spell spoken by the film’s protagonists, a whopping 25,088 times per second.

2012

• February: Data from Nielsen ranks Facebook number one for growth in unique visitors among Japan’s social networking services. The company’s success is attributed partly to its convenience as a job-hunting tool for young graduates and the popularity of 2010 film The Social Network.

• October: In a direct counter to messaging service LINE, DeNA rolls out Comm, a free messaging application with stamps and other features. Users are required to use their real name and date of birth.

2013

• January: LINE tops 100 million users only nineteen months after its debut, about a third of the time it took Facebook to reach the same number. CEO Akira Morikawa states his intention to expand into the U.S.

• April: Japan’s National Diet enacts a bill allowing political candidates to campaign online for the first time in history. The party of Prime Minister Shinzo Abe hands out iPad minis to all its candidates to encourage them to promote on social media.

• April: GREE announces its first profit decline since going public in 2008. Growing numbers of smartphone subscribers—37 percent of all contracts as of March 31—and new games from Apple and Google begin to cut into GREE’s traditional social gaming base.

• September: According to a Reuters Asian markets data dump, LINE boasts 240 million users in 230 countries.

--Andres Oliver

A Star Is Reborn: Mariko Mori Expands Through Inner And Outer Space

White Hole shatters negative space and thoughts. Photo by Richard Goodbody.

When you Google Mariko Mori, you come face-to-face with images of a living doll—literally. The artist's 1994 piece Play With Me had her stationed outside a Tokyo toy store in anime-esque garb, with baby-blue pigtails and a plastic breastplate over a short, metallic dress. In another work from that year, Mori rode the subway in character as an alien visitor just arrived in Tokyo.

Today Japan Society Gallery launches Mori's first solo exhibition in New York in more than 10 years. A divergence from her work of centuries past (well, the 90s), Rebirth: Recent Work by Mariko Mori brings the focus on nature, conveying both its power and serenity.

The show “has a very urgent message about reconnecting with nature, which is not just an issue that’s being talked about by artists. It is a global concern right now,” says Dr. Miwako Tezuka, director of Japan Society Gallery, who curated the exhibition. “We’ve been experiencing such harsh weather. Everybody’s concerned about what’s going on with nature.”

Just a year ago this month, the brightest city in the world went dark for weeks when late-season Hurricane Sandy eliminated electricity from the bottom half of Manhattan. Polar bears swim for days. Mori’s home country will long feel the effects of the March 2011 tsunami.

While once Mariko Mori represented pop aesthetics and the subculture of Japan, her recent work has brought her back to basics: as in the beginning of it all.

“She’s going back to the roots," says Tezuka. "Not the cultural roots of Japan like she was doing before, but even farther back into a prehistoric period where there really were no cultural differences in the world. Where people didn’t have electricity or machines and really lived closely, intimately with nature.”

Unlike her past work, the pieces in Rebirth were born from Mori’s personal research, often from her travels to places like Egypt, Brazil, and Scotland, where so much ancient architecture still stands.

The show is full of light and shapes, a pale, shifting exhibition reminiscent of the sun rising over a young Earth again and again. Depending on one’s perspective, personal associations could range from the Book of Genesis to the opening sequence of Star Wars to whatever Terrence Malick’s been up to. Rare will be the attendee who doesn't spot Stonehenge.

The centerpiece of the show is an installation called White Hole (pictured above): the opposite of space's terrifying black holes of childhood fascination and nightmares. A domed enclosure built in the south gallery, White Hole starts as a pitch-dark space and gradually illuminates with the projection of swirling light.

Tezuka explains: “It’s based on the theory of a white hole--the antithesis of a black hole. Everything that was killed by the black hole shapes together as a renewed energy and emerges from the white hole. It’s an astrophysics theory that Mariko has been very interested in in recent years.”

Another celestial piece (though firmly fixed to the gallery floor) is Transcircle 1.1 Nine pillars made of stone and an industrial acrylic polymer synchronize with the position of the nine (yes, nine!) planets in our solar system. Their individual pastel colors pulsate at speeds reflecting the planets' orbits around the sun.

Rebirth is an ethereal picture of prehistory, astronomy, geology, ancient religion and technology, showing how they all mix in the world around us.

When asked how to sum up the show in a sentence, Tezuka said “pure” and then laughed, realizing she didn't need half a dozen more words to convey its Zen-like ambiance. “A lot of things are white”—Mori’s signature color—“and the basic concept is pure and simple: be aware of the presence of nature.”

Though the galleries proper are on the second floor, visitors will get a taste of this pure simplicity when they are greeted by Ring, hanging against the waterfall of the Society's indoor bamboo garden.

“Mariko placed it in an environment that symbolizes nature, where there’s water, earth, plants and light from above,” Tezuka says. The piece is a prototype for a large-scale version that will be hung above a Brazilian waterfall in the near future.

From sunset each evening through Sunday, Mori’s latest video work Ālaya lights up the building just above the Society’s entryway for not only gallery-goers but passersby on the busy streets outside. The title alludes to the fundamental consciousness all sentient beings share in Buddhist philosophy.

It’s worth coming in to escape the masses, as Tezuka notes: “New York life is so busy all the time. You are surrounded with noise and different crowds. Rebirth will calm you down. Instead of going to yoga, come see this exhibition!”

Rebirth: Recent Work by Mariko Mori is on view at Japan Society through January 12, 2014.

--Marisa Rindone

Mariko Mori's Ring. Photo by the author. Via.

Who Swings the Pendulum? Japan's Youth in the Pit

Once lonely at the top, Japan's elderly can expect company. Via.

Sexagenarians arrested for shoplifting. A population hardest hit by Japan's March 11 earthquake and tsunami. An August ministry report stating Japanese people aged 65 or older have surpassed 30 million for the first time. Japan is clearly experiencing a crisis among its elder demographic. But what of the youth, many of whom find themselves as vulnerable as their aging counterparts?

"Recall, for inspiration, that young people made the last Japanese Spring," a 2012 Japan Times article declares, citing youth participation in the Meiji Restoration as a counterexample to all the doom and gloom surrounding Japan's young. With Prime Minster Shinzo Abe unveiling a plan Tuesday for both a ¥5 trillion stimulus package and a 5 to 8 percent rise in the consumption tax, it is the 20-somethings as much as the elderly who must wait to see the real results of Abe's great experiment.

On the one hand, the sales tax could ultimately benefit both groups by mitigating runaway social security expenditures, a problem that a raise in the minimum age for collection of benefits to 61 earlier this year has apparently been unable to curb. On the other, the tax hike comes at a time when pensions earn "close to zero interest," with no rate increase planned for at least a few years, and when companies are reluctant to implement a much-needed increase in wages. In other words, both pensioners and younger workers stand to suffer from a rise in prices without a commensurate rise in income, whether in the form of social security or wages.

While part of Abe's plan provides ¥160 million in tax breaks to companies that raise wages by 2 percent, some in New Komeito, the junior coalition partner of Abe's LDP (Liberal Democratic Party), see this as nothing more than "wishful thinking." The results of the recent Reuters Corporate Survey seem to support the party's doubts. Of 266 companies polled as to what action they will take in response to the expected tax increase, only 13 percent planned to increase wages. Given this depressing response, Abe's call for a vaguely philosophical "virtuous circle of rising jobs, profits and wages" might prove shortsighted in the long run.

Take another part of Abe's plan: ¥110 billion in tax breaks and up to ¥300,000 in cash handouts for homebuyers. How will this affect Japan's working youth? Certainly, some kind of stimulus is needed. A 2012 government white paper showed the number of homeowners in their 30s to have dropped over 10 percent between 1983 and 2008, with a dramatic drop of over 50 percent for younger individuals. At the same time, the report blamed falling income for a rise in the burden of housing loans.

A topical look at Japan's housing development statistics paints a sunny view: increases in housing starts of 31,462 units a year for the past three years; booming business for Sekisui House Ltd., the nation's second-biggest home builder. But consider the example of Yokosuka, Kanagawa Prefecture, where a fifth of apartments stand empty, and the land ministry's grim prediction that a similar fraction of all residential areas will become ghost towns by 2050. Suddenly, the housing boom starts to look much more like a housing nightmare, reminiscent of the kind of superficial newness that Murakami writes of in A Wild Sheep Chase:

"What a view! Instead of ocean, a vast expanse of reclaimed land and housing developments met my eyes. Faceless blocks of apartments, the miserable foundations of an attempt to build a neighborhood… Everything brand new, everything unnatural." (107)

Part of the problem of vacant housing stems from years of youth migration away from rural areas to cities, where they might hope to find more opportunities for work. Though young graduates have seen their fortunes improve somewhat since 2008, employment numbers still illustrate an uneven recovery. A recent report by Japan's education ministry showed 1 in 5 university grads coming into the market in the spring unable to obtain secure employment.

Nature reclaims vacant housing in Japan. Via.

Five and a half percent of those surveyed fell under the NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) designation. Though this number represents 30,770 people, only recent graduates were included in the report. If we look at an earlier study from 2009, which tallied the total number of NEETs at 640,000, we can see the grim reality: many of those unemployed graduates won't see improvement in their fortunes moving forward.

Even those who do manage to land full-time jobs face difficulties in a market with a glut of eager workers and a scarcity of positions. Recently, the term burakku kigyo (black companies) was coined to describe companies that demand as much as 100 hours of uncompensated overtime a month from their young employees. The overworked Japanese salaryman became something of a stereotype even during the golden age of bubble Japan. However, Ayako Mie of the Japan Times believes today's abuses stand apart due to the economic climate. Citing Haruki Konno of the NPO Posse, Mie writes, "exploitative companies hire new college graduates en masse, assuming most won't be able to survive the harsh conditions and will eventually resign. Then they just hire more."

With over 45 percent of college graduates employed in the service, entertainment and education industries leaving their jobs within three years, according to a 2012 health ministry report, one wonders whether the earlier 1 in 5 number for graduates without secure employment really tells the whole story.

A revolution in youth employment will require more than stimulus, such as Abe's ¥10,000 yen cash allowance for low earners. Writing on the topic of a youth-led Japanese Spring mentioned earlier, Roger Pulvers recognizes that companies themselves are "struggling to keep up not with the Joneses but with the Wangs and the Kims," illustrating the dwindling figure of the Japanese economy next to that of neighboring China and Korea.

Even inspiring efforts like that of Yujin Wakashin, who aims to establish a self-titled NEET Corporation for business-minded, iconoclastic NEETs, seem more like standouts than the start of a movement. The real rise or fall of Japan's youth will hinge not only upon the results of Abe's economic vision, but also more broadly upon a change in thinking.

Former Prime Minister Yoshiko Noda spoke at Japan Society yesterday on topics ranging from the Senkaku Islands conflict to social security reform. Prominent throughout his speech and his responses during the question and answer session was a call for Japan to become a nation that can make decisions in the present for the generations to come. His admonishment seems particularly relevant for a society and government that must decide whether to abandon its youth, and, by extension, its children of tomorrow, or to age into oblivion. The solution Noda calls for may require less of what he called the "two types of leaders: politicians and statesmen," and more of what he deems his own goal: the political reformer.

--Andres Oliver

From LIXIL To LINE: Japanese Companies Look Outward Despite Uncertainty

LINE's Brown and Cony take on the world. Via. 

Japan's economic uncertainty seems to be provoking a domestic response not unlike that seen in the U.S of late. Just as the war-weary, financially ailing American public recently made clear its unwillingness to take on another international conflict, many Japanese are responding to the current climate by turning inward.

Earlier this year, several thousand rallied in Tokyo to protest Japan’s entry into negotiations surrounding the planned Trans-Pacific Partnership, which would bring the country into "one of the largest free trade areas in the world." In addition, Japanese companies have come under fire for insular vision, with the trade ministry’s Global Human Resource Development Committee dubbing management’s reluctance to hire foreign talent, among other shortcomings, paramount to "waiting to die."

Is Japan sounding the retreat, closing in on itself to return to the isolationist policy of centuries past?

Hardly.

The success of several Japanese companies in bringing their business, and, more importantly, their vision abroad, speaks to a continued understanding of the importance of international involvement. Most recently, LIXIL, Japan’s biggest housing material maker, with products including plumbing fixtures and toilets, secured its place in the German housing equipment market with a $4.13 billion buyout of Grohe, Europe’s premier shower and faucet maker. The move signals LIXIL’s final overseas acquisition for the time being, said LIXIL CEO Yoshiaki Fujimori at a news conference in September, and comes on the heels of two other significant acquisitions: ASD Americas Holding Corp., parent company of American toilet maker American Standard, and Italian architectural contractor Permasteelisa SpA, for a total price of over $1 billion. Fujiomori clearly intends to establish LIXIL as a household name outside of his home country, with a goal of $10.2 billion in overseas sales.

Fujimori's talk at Japan Society on October 2nd comes at a critical time in Japanese history. Already suffering from a sluggish economy that has persisted for the past two decades, Japan continues to work toward recovery from the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. Now, the country waits to see whether Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s aggressive plan to combat deflation will reestablish Japan’s place on the global stage—how long since the days of Made in Japan!—or whether it will prove to be nothing more than "voodoo" economics.

Any discussion of current expansion into the foreign market by Japanese business leaders must include Akira Morikawa, chief executive of popular messaging service LINE. Allowing users to send messages to each other on their smartphones with the addition of stickers like Brown the bear and Cony the rabbit, LINE is currently installed on 71% of iPhones in Japan. The bulk of the company’s revenue comes from its games, which are free to download but provide the option of in-game purchases. However, a 92 % rise in sales in the first quarter of 2013 and booming business in Japan are not enough for Morikawa, who seeks nothing less than to establish NHN Japan Corp., the company behind LINE, as the top Asian SNS (social networking service) provider.

If LINE’s success in expanding into areas ranging from the Middle East to Spain are any indication, the company could possibly pose a challenge to Facebook, which has long since lost its appeal as youth-only hangout. Then again, LINE’s 240 million users in 230 countries as of September is less than a quarter of Facebook’s whopping 1.15 billion, and the service may find its toughest rival not in the American behemoth, but in the South Korean SNS KakaoTalk. Providing users with a similar array of cute stickers, KakaoTalk even features its own bunny emoticon, the plump Molang.

Another company that is seeking to make further inroads into the global market is Japanese retailer UNIQLO (full disclosure: I am currently employed by the company). Founded by Tadashi Yanai, who has emerged as Japan’s richest man after transforming his father’s tailor shops into Asia’s biggest clothing retailer, UNIQLO has certainly found success abroad. The company currently boasts stores in fourteen countries, including over two hundred in China alone and a prominent location on New York’s Fifth Avenue. Perhaps even more surprising than Yanai’s personal success story is the fact that a Japanese retailer has emerged as such a challenger to ailing giant Gap, which has traditionally been known for basic, functional clothing. Yet, maybe it is precisely UNIQLO’s focus on high-quality constants, such as sweaters and shirts in basic colors and designs, along with its affordability that have so appealed to global consumers. The company seems to have learned this lesson for good after attempts at branching out into more fashion-oriented items in 2010 resulted in plunging sales. Since then UNIQLO has bounced back with plans to open ten new American stores this fall.

Back in 2008, the Japan Times wrote of Japan’s "recent trends toward isolationism—even xenophobia," citing an environment hostile to foreign investment. The nation’s minister of economic and fiscal policy, Hiroko Ota, worried that Japan was no longer a "first class" economy; sure enough, China surpassed it as the world’s second largest only two years later. This was followed, of course, by the devastation of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, with costs of up to $235 billion.

Five years later amid echoes of those "recent trends", companies like LIXIL, LINE, and UNIQLO stand as evidence of the persistence of a globally minded cohort, one that sees participation in the international market as a path to growth rather than an obstacle to it. What people must ask now is whether the next few months, during which Prime Minister Abe continues to press his economic reforms, will prove these companies to be the exceptions to, or the leaders of, Japan’s fortunes.

--Andres Oliver

[UPDATED 10/3/13]

For The Love Of Japan: Inroads To Learning Japanese

Learning Japanese? Ii desu ne! Via.

Susan Berhane follows up her report from the intermediate Japanese classes at Japan Society's language center with a peek into the beginners' classes. An international relations student at Old Dominion University, Susan was a 2013 summer intern for the Society’s Communications Department.

Manga has been an essential part of my life since age 11. For each "A" grade I received, or good report card I brought home, my mother rewarded me with a new Sailor Moon of my choice.

Although it was another way for me to hone my reading skills, Sailor Moon meant much more to me. Beyond being part of Sailor Senshi battling the evil Negaverse, it brought a whole new world of art and literature.

Manga was the gateway to anime once I found Sailor Moon episodes on television. Japanese animation allowed my mind and imagination to go places I could have never dreamed as a child. Series like Dragon Ball Z, Ruroni Kenshin, Ranma, Sakura Card Captor, and Pokémon soon followed and fed my growing love for Japan. By the time I reached high school, I was devouring anything about Japanese history, religion, and economy. Discovering Japan's influence on industry in the U.S. paved the way to a college major in U.S.-Japanese foreign relations.

My first Japanese classes were in college. I had no prior exposure to reading and writing in the language. The courses at my university were extensive, and most students in my class had taken Japanese in high school. Needless to say, my first classes were extremely difficult, but my sensei and my classmates were all very supportive and encouraging. It was exciting to learn new alphabets, hiragana and katakana, and it became even more so when we were introduced to kanji. Learning a language like Japanese may seem intimidating, but the sense of accomplishment when being able to read or write a sentence the first time is exhilarating.

The key to learning any language is study. I repeat: study, study, study! Class time alone will not enable a person to breeze through their favorite manga or watch their favorite anime with no subtitles. Also, using class time well is vital. It is as much a time for review as a time to learn new things.

Studying Japanese requires time and dedication as well as the understanding that everyone learns at a different pace. Being in a class setting teaches you the formality that anime and manga won’t teach you. It also gives you the opportunity to practice and grow with other students who may also share your interests.

Being used to classes at a collegiate level, I was anxious when I observed the intermediate class at Japan Society, but my fears were soon allayed. When I observed a first-time beginners level class, there were many similarities, such as two sensei teaching, the use of colors to help organize and teach, and the enthusiasm and participation of the students.

The number of students was slightly fewer than  the intermediate class , and I was able to ask a few why they decided to study Japanese and what their experience at Japan Society's language center was like.

Just like at the intermediate level, the reasons for studying Japanese were wide-ranging, with inroads from anime and manga, classic literature and having to know basic Japanese for their job. Everyone I talked to praised the language center and told me they were planning to take the next level.

Luis, who discovered the Society's Japanese lessons on YouTube in the process of self-teaching decided to try classes here. "The best part [of the videos] for me was watching Miyashita-sensei. I was hoping to get her but I’m just as happy with my current teacher. All the teachers are amazing at Japan Society--so attentive and caring towards students. Japan Society fit my schedule, offers good prices, and makes me feel more comfortable in learning."

Sean, a businessman who lived in Tokyo for a time and discovered the Center through Yelp, also had some trepidation at the beginning. "I was scared at first because of my own ability--or lack of--to speak and comprehend at a decent speed. But I got support from friends and took the plunge. I was already a Japan Society member and liked the other programs [as an] avid attendee, so everything just made sense. I feel very happy with my decision and feels that I've learned so much already."

Amy, a filmmaker who is working on a project with Japanese themes and actors, discovered Japan Society through the annual summer JAPAN CUTS film festival. "I took classes before, but it had been so long I was afraid I couldn't grasp the materials again and that maybe I was too old to be a student again," she said, which obviously wasn't the case. "I also already liked Japan Society and thought it to be a very cultured place. All the events I ever attended had been held in good taste and I thought they promoted Japan well."

Maggie was also persuaded by the reviews on Yelp, and decided to share her experience. "Another reason why I chose Japan Society is because it fit my schedule and had good prices. I already had some Japanese knowledge but needed to fill in some gaps. Now after being in class for a while I feel good with my decision and very satisfied with what I have learned so far. I also convinced my friend to join with me!"

Maggie brings up a good point. Studying a language can be a lot more fun if you share the experience with a friend. It's like having a built-in study buddy. Of course, as I learned from my experience, the Japan Society language center is full of friendly and helpful students, with potential study buddies aplenty. When you start classes here, be fearless and introduce yourself to everyone right away. Just be sure to do it in Japanese!

バイトがんばるぞ！

--Susan Berhane

BONUS: Too shy to ask someone out? Try it in Japanese! 

60 And Sitting Pretty: The 'Kanreki' Rebirth

Kitty in vestments. Via.

It’s been said that old age is a kind of second childhood. How about a second spring? Japanese tradition celebrates both of these ideas in the form of a kanreki, or sixtieth birthday.

The kanreki tradition stretches back to Japan’s adoption of the Chinese zodiac calendar and includes its own particular vestments for the occasion. Those lucky enough to reach 60 receive the traditional red cap, chanchanko vest, and seat cushion that mark them as having completed a full cycle of the twelve-pronged zodiac calendar. Achievements are celebrated and a lifetime’s troubles are forgotten as the celebrated individual enters a new stage of life with all the joy and possibilities of a newborn.

The red coloring of the vest and cap (available for humans and felines alike) is intended to promote a spirit of youth (the Japanese word for baby, akachan, is composed of aka, meaning “red,” and -chan, a suffix often used for children). Furthermore, many visitors to Japan can attest to the ubiquitous presence of the red-bibbed ojizosama statues, which are thought to protect the spirits of children.

In the past, reaching kanreki would have signified a person’s transition from a lifetime of gainful employment to comfortable dependence on the eldest son. In the Journal of Cross-Cultural Gerontology, Mary L. Dol describes the tradition:

The 60 year old man “retired” from active work and from the responsibilities of household representation and management. His successor, typically the oldest son, assumed control of the family enterprise and took care of his parents in their old age. The retiree’s wife… passed the rice paddle to her son’s wife to symbolize the transfer of responsibility for the internal management of household affairs.

In reality, many men and women continued to provide some degree of labor in the form of caring for children or carrying out household chores. Even today, a quick drive through the countryside of Japan and many other Asian nations will reveal a large number of spritely, aged individuals looking after gardens and crops.

Though some might think 60 years to be no more than middle aged in a country that boasts the world’s longest life expectancy, it’s important to remember that anything beyond 40 would have been considered long-lived a century ago. We can see this reality in the old Japanese concept of yakudoshi, or "calamitous ages," the most significant of which occurred at the age of 33 for women and 42 for men. The age of 60, on the other hand, was a positive yakudoshi signaling a return to the beginning of the zodiac calendar, and the other yakudoshi of age 70, 77, 87 and 99 would have involved some sort of celebration. One can only wonder how many Japanese men and women have gone on to reach the Dai Kanreki, a sort of kanreki-plus known in Buddhism as the Greater Kanreki.

Tonight Japan Society's Performing Arts Program launches its kanreki season featuring a spate of international cross-cultural collaborations, encompassing beloved encore performances, world and U.S. premieres, legendary performers and emerging artists. With the Program going strong after 60 years and over 600 productions, it looks like the Greater Kanreki is still very much within reach. Whether the caps and chanchanko vests will make an appearance remains to be seen.

-- Andres Oliver (additional research by Matt Jefferis)

Learning Japanese: Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself

Image via "Learning Japanese the Exciting Way". 

Susan Berhane, a senior at Old Dominion University studying international relations, marketing and Japanese, and a summer intern for Japan Society’s Communications Department, reports from her first Japanese language class outside academia. 

When I was asked to observe a Japan Society language class, I was beyond thrilled. I had known about the Society’s Language Center for some time, but because I live out of state it was impossible to attend. Fortunately through Japan Society’s YouTube page, I was able to take part in the unique language learning the Society offers through the online full lessons series and the less formal Waku Waku series.

My thrill dipped into terror however when I discovered my level of Japanese comprehension would be assessed before being placed in a class to observe.

Although I have been studying Japanese for three to four years now, my fear of speaking to adults in Japanese has not subsided. The idea that I would need to speak formal, polite language terrified me. For one thing, keigo--the use of honorific language when speaking Japanese--had not been taught to me. Also, no matter how much I know the vocabulary, grammar and tone to use, the minute I speak in front of a fluent adult, I freeze up. What if I forget a certain term? What if I use casual short form instead of the proper long form? These questions always persisted even though I was at a higher intermediate level.

The minute the evaluation began, my fears disappeared. I was immediately put at ease by Kamimura-sensei, the interim director of the Language Center. Her presence was the opposite of intimidating. She was easy to talk to and made me feel as if we had known each other for some time. She, accompanied with a Language Center instructor, asked me various questions about my Japanese course work and before I knew it I was placed in a class to observe: Level 7!

The day came for class. The classroom was small yet each individual student had a good amount of space. The tables were arranged in a large square, with the front open to the dry-erase board. As I took my seat I saw maybe 13 students of all different ethnicities and ages. I sat beside a young woman who was from Eastern Europe who looked to be no more than 25. She asked me if I was new and we immediately began a nice conversation in Japanese.

I was surprised to learn that she was learning Japanese in hopes to bring her family to Japan from their home country. Apparently her time spent in Japan was impacting enough to inspire total relocation.

There were so many interesting and varied reasons other students were taking classes at Japan Society. One student enjoyed reading Japanese literature and wanted to be able to read in the original Japanese. Another student wanted to watch anime and read manga without subtitles or translations. One even told me they were treated so kindly by a Japanese person that it made them want to be able to show their gratitude in Japanese. After they had learned to do that, they developed a fondness of the language and decided to continue learning.

The age range of the students in class went from 17 to mid 60s. The younger students all had some sort of interest in Japanese general culture and pop culture. The middle aged students were there for work or to further their careers. The older students said they were studying Japanese simply for the sake of learning.

The lesson of the day introduced Japanese honorifics, which is polite Japanese language especially used in business-level Japanese. This was my first real lesson on the subject, and I was slightly overwhelmed, but as the lesson progressed I was able to catch on easily. The instructor’s constant referral back to previous lessons helped connect things, and the pace gave enough time for total comprehension before moving on.

Partner work was vital in helping me understand what I was being taught. After each point the sensei would allow students to practice with each other. This way we were able to develop a rhythm and some form of familiarity with the topic. Afterwards, we would practice out loud, which helped us build confidence in our speaking, and also allowed the students to help each other. It was a very encouraging environment in which teachers and students helped build the confidence level of the class as a whole.

I think another part of what makes this program work so effectively is the nature of the teachers. The instructors at Japan Society are some of the best teachers I have come across while learning Japanese. They are extremely kind with a very nurturing and positive attitude. They allowed students to make mistakes, and then took great care to help them understand the mistake.

My sensei related to the students on many different levels. She taught with references to Japanese popular culture, connected the language with practical situations where it would be of use, and always smiled. Sensei was able to take a difficult subject and make you feel as if you could definitely learn it. “Patience and practice everyone” were her words that gave students constant strength and reassurance.

Though only a class of 13, my sensei was accompanied by an assistant sensei throughout the class. They were a good team, building off of each other and dividing their attention evenly between the students.

A great thing about having two teachers in the class is the ability to hear the current material being used between native speakers. The students were able to get a sense of the tone and speed a native speaker uses, thus giving them better immediate aural comprehension. It was refreshing to receive grammar, vocabulary and listening lessons at once.

Before I knew it class was coming to an end. Two hours had flown by in what felt like 45 minutes. All the students were actively engaged, the atmosphere was warm and friendly, and we left feeling a sense of accomplishment from learning something new.

When I went back and looked at my notes and paper work, we had covered a substantial amount of work. With this being my first class on keigo, the material, although difficult, didn’t seem impossible for me anymore.

As students were leaving, many spoke to both sensei not just about class but about their personal lives, exhibiting a certain familiarity and friendliness. Even though class had ended, the sensei listened attentively to each student on their struggles that week from previous lessons, or their accomplishment at their job. Words of encouragement flowed between student and teacher and any doubts or troubles disappeared. Everyone said their goodbyes and made vows to come back next week with the material learned and ready start anew. I was amazed at how confident everyone had become (including me!) after just one class.

This experience made me yearn to take more classes. I wondered if perhaps with the teaching and encouragement here, my fear of speaking to adults in Japanese would disappear altogether. The opportunity presented itself when sensei and I spoke soon after, and I was able to communicate with an ease I had never experienced before, and even use some things I had learned in class.

バイトがんばるぞ！

--Susan Berhane