The first instalment of photographs taken by Yasukichi Murakami found during the research phase of this project was donated to the State Library of Western Australia to be archived. Many more to go, but here is a start.
You can find them 54 images here: State Library of WA Yasukichi Murakami.
Yasukichi Murakami （１８８０−１９４４）Life Story：Through the photographs sent to his mother at home, an exhibition curated by Professor Mutsumi Tsuda (Photographer / Professor, Seian University of Art and Design) at the Wakayama University’s Institute of Kishu Economic and Cultural History Library was an important milestone in the history of Japanese migration to Australia. The exhibition showcased many original prints from the Yasuko Murakami – Minami Collection, which are Yasukichi Murakami’s photographs from Australia, which he had sent to his mother in Japan.
In 1970 when his daughter Yasuko Pearl Minami Murakami moved to Tanami, Yasukichi’s hometown in Wakayama Prefecture, she gathered these photographs, which were scattered amongst their extended family, and secured them in her care until this day. This exhibition is the first time Murakami’s photographs were exhibited in Japan.
Front: Yasukichi Murakami Life Story, exhibiton curated by Mutsumi Tsuda
Back: Yasukichi Murakami Life Story, exhibiton curated by Mutsumi Tsuda
Along with the photographs were other highly personal exhibits including Murakami’s children’s school records, letters he had written to his mother and a moving art video filmed by Tsuda of Murakami’s son, Joseph Kisaburo Murakami looking at his father’s photographs, reflecting, and speaking to Tsuda, and in effect, to himself and the viewers of the video.
The opening of the exhibition was in conjunction with the 2016 Australian Studies Association Conference held at the Wakayama University. Murakami was born in Tanami, Wakayama Prefecture. Included in the program was a seminar by Dr Yuriko Nagata from University of Queensland about Yasukichi Murakami and other Nikkei Australians.
Joseph Kisaburo Murakami on video by Mutsumi Tsuda, Julie Murakami (left) and Ruruka (Reiko) Minami (right) at the exhibition opening. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Visitors at Yasukichi Murakami Life Story, exhibition curated by Mutsumi Tsuda. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Yasukichi Murakami Life Story, exhibits. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Yasukichi Murakami Life Story, exhibits. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
(Left to Right) Ruruka (Reiko) Minami, Julie Murakami and Mutsumi Tsuda. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Seminar by Dr Yuriko Nagata. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
(Left to Right) Ruruka (Reiko) Minami, Julie Murakami, Mutsumi Tsuda, and Mayu Kanamori next to a portrait of Yasukichi Murakami at the Yasukichi Murakami Life Story. Photo by Simon Wearne.
Recently I was given the opportunity to speak at the 5th Asian Australian Studies Research Network (AASRN) conference “mobilities” (26-27 Nov 2015) at the Immigration Museum, Melbourne as part of a panel entitled “Creative politics, political creations”. Chaired by fellow artist Asian Australian artist Owen Leong.
The talk was about ethics and social responsibilities of an artist, using examples from my theatre work Yasukichi Murakami – Through A Distant Lens. I would like to share it with you:
“When you have art, you have a voice. When you have a voice, you have freedom. When you have freedom, you have responsibility.”
This quote by Indigenous artist, activist and leader Richard Frankland is what inspires my talk today. Using examples from my recent work, Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens, I will discuss some of the issues that an artist may face in regards to our social responsibilities.
Here are some areas of my ethical concerns of late.
Identity, diaspora, imagined borders
I will go through each one of them.
I am a migrant artist. I was born in Japan and I’ve been telling stories about Japanese diaspora in Australia for some time. I can’t help but to wonder about the ethics of this.
Are we now not transnational / transcultural / trans everything, transcending those imaginary borders nations, heritage or ethnicity? I know it is my condition that I am of Japanese heritage, but do I need to keep making art about this? My ethics tells me to be inclusive of all people and not to draw borders between you and I, us and the other. To rise above those boundaries that keeps us separate.
Yes, my art is political…. But I actually believe that political leaders shouldn’t be divisive.
How I address this particular question is to believe – this is a belief – that I am being of service to communities; to perhaps vainly believe that I am making some sort of a contribution. Firstly to the Japanese diasporic community by giving a voice, then to the wider Asian Australian community to speak as loudly as I can. And then contributing to a even the wider community; to tell a part of little known Australian story for all. And then finally, telling the kind of story that would unite humanity in resonance instead of that which would divide us.
For those who don’t know my recent work Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens, it’s a story about a contemporary Japanese Australian photographer, Mayu, a character based on me, searching for the lost photographs of a historical Japanese Australian photographer, Yasukichi Murakami. It combines narration, documentary photographs and interviews, live music, dramatic action with actors and scripted dialogue between Mayu, Murakami’s ghost and ghost of Murakami’s first wife Eki Nishioka, who taught Murakami how to take photographs.
Murakami is not a fictional character. We know that he came to Australia in 1897, lived in Broome, then in Darwin as a photographer, inventor and entrepreneur. When WWII started, he was interned as an enemy alien, and died in the camp. And because of that, his life time worth of photographs have gone missing.
Before I made Murakami, I worried about telling stories about the war. Actually, I worried even more about not telling stories about the war. Since the year 2000, I had created several performance works to do with the Japanese diaspora in Australia… and so, then, I ask myself…. how could I keep avoiding telling stories about WWII?
When it comes to things Japanese… WWII is a major subject. A subject that cannot be ignored.
It isn’t easy for someone of Japanese diaspora, especially today with the current Japanese government and their ideas on the past – conservative, divisive and alarming.
Making Murakami was a social responsibility I had to taken on. To be of service to the world I live in, I had to engage with the war without making heroes out of soldiers. Murakami was a civilian, like you and I – his life in the hands of people who wish divide us.
I call myself a story-teller…. yet I’m increasingly suspicious of story-telling.
Story-telling has become a major force in our times. You go see a counsellor or read a self-help book or a blog on how to become happy or to be rich or whatever. They all tell you to write your story or rewrite your story. That story-telling is one the main ingredients for positive transformations to occur in our lives. Even the corporate sector now talks of story-telling through its content on social media as the key to successful brand loyalties.
But there is also problem with story-telling. Because although often stories carry moral and ethical codes that appear universal, often they also carry messages that can and should be questioned. Sometimes it carries out-dated and out-moded narratives.
As a woman of Japanese heritage… the story of Madama Butterfly for an example.
And in reality, not everything fits into the format of hero rescues damsel in distress or rags to riches. There is something wrong about trying to fit truth with a capital T into a story format, acceptable and accessible to all.
Having said that, Murakami’s story is a typical quest. Like Homer’s Odyssey, Mayu goes on a search for Murakami’s photographs, meets up with a mentor – the ghost of Murakami and Eki, encounters mysteries and struggles, then returns from her journey having found some of Murakami’s lost photographs, and in the process, learns some valuable life lessons.
All neatly fits into a quest format. But I worry about the ethics of this.
On her quest to find Murakami’s photographs, she found some in Japan. They were Murakami’s family photographs he had sent to his mother in Japan during his lifetime in Australia.
Thus one of the lessons that Mayu learns from her quest is the importance of family and that family photographs are a key to immortality of his photographs. Family photographs – its heart warming lesson….
But, well, nothing in reality is so clean cut.
What I left out in the play is that Murakami’s most important photographs – important to him – were not his family photographs, but a set of photographs he took whilst conducting experiments for his ground breaking diving suit design.
He actually had the foresight to take a photo album of his diving suit experiments with him to the internment camp. After the war, one of the family members kept the album, but was lost in Darwin in the 1970’s. Some say it was the cyclone, others tell me that it was lent to a researcher – a some what well known person in Darwin – who I won’t mention the name –never returned it to the family.
But this didn’t fit into our one hour story.
This brings me to my next point of discussion:
I worried a lot about not including what happened to Murakami’s diving suit album in the play . To me it felt unethical.
But then again, its been like this all along – from the beginning – I wrote in the script that Murakami and his family moved to Darwin circa 1935. But of course by the time we had creative development workshops everyone told me that I can’t use the word circa in a script … So in the play, Murakami’s ghost tells the audience, “… in 1935, we all moved to Darwin!”
Who cares about facts… really, I’ve got a ghost in the play!! But I worry about my social responsibility.
So… I actually saw a channeller…. To me…. It somehow felt more ethical to hear Murakami speak through a channeller than to put words in a dead man’s mouth.
So I guess it makes my feel better that I’m telling you all this today. And I’m hoping to put today’s talk up on my About Murakami process blog so its all on record.
Which brings me to my next point of discussion:
My process blog is where I write things that get sieved out of the actual artwork outcome. It includes process videos, photos and written thoughts during the entire process of the project. It also includes a full bibliography for future researchers.
I am also now preparing captions for the 200 or so photographs I found for archiving by the State Library of WA. If I don’t do this, Murakami’s photographs will be lost again.
My sense of social responsibility says I’ve got to do these things in service and contribution for the good of wider communities.
Social responsibility includes the audience. This means certain decisions need to be made which takes the audience into consideration… whether it be entertaining or inspiring or educational, I feel that audience needs to get something out of my show.
I also think that my creative collaborators need to get something out of it. As well as the Murakami Family – the descendants need to get something out of my arts practice.
So I think about what this something may be – but of course, it means for different things for different people.
The result is that best I keep good for all in mind, and that means that as long as universal values – what I believe are universal – of that which is to be human being are strong and constant enough – then the specifics should takes care of itself. And that means universals values throughout – not just in the art work itself, but in the process of creation and all other work I do, creative or other wise, that pertains to this project – and not just this project – but to live authentically in all that I do.
I know this sounds all airy fairy and unrealistic – nor am I perfect. And when conflicts arise, which inevitably it always does at some point, the only way to be is to refocus on higher ground, then let go.
As artists we have a chance to talk to the wider world with help of media, traditional or through social media. Although often the immediate reason behind this is to publicise a show, I see it as a chance express higher thoughts and ways of being for the betterment of the whole.
To advocate being in service for humanity.
I’m just an independent artist. I’m not even a scholar…. But with my tiny tiny tiny being as an artist, I’m going to be the political leader – starting with my constituency, then extending wider – I am going to be the political leader I want all our politicians to be.
Thank you!
Mayu Kanamori Nov, 2015
More info: mobilities conference: https://aai5conference.wordpress.com/
More info: AASRN https://aasrn.wordpress.com/
The day before the full moon lunar eclipse in September 2015, Melissa Murakami and I visited the Maritime Museum in Fremantle to see the Lustre exhibition. Melissa’s great great grandfather Yasukichi Murakami lived in Broome during the hey-day of the Australian pearl shell industry, and had made a quiet, yet significant contributions to the industry. Quiet, because until this exhibition, the stories of Australian pearling had not been told through the vision of curator Sarah Yu and her team Bart Pigram and Maya Shioji at Nyamba Buru Yawuru with the WA Museum team who had included individual narratives of lessor known black and yellow fellas who were part of the Australian pearling community.
Melissa Murakami and projected self-portrait of Yasukichi Murakami at the Lustre: Pearling & Australia exhibition. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Murakami and his business partner Captain A.C. Gregory started Australia’s first cultured pearl farm, although the authorities had closed it down because of the local fear of ruining the natural pearl market, which in effect had set Australia’s cultured pearl industry back by 30 years. Murakami had invented a safer diving suit, which was the forerunner for the modern-day scuba gear, and although he had patented his design, its renewal fell due whilst he was interned as an enemy alien during WWII, allowing a French inventor to patent one of a very similar design. Significant contributions dwarfed by the course of history, and the way what stories are told by whom.
I had created short audio stories for this exhibition by using oral history interviews of people who were part of the cultured pearling industry for this exhibition. They included not only pearling masters and Japanese pearl divers, but lesser known stories of Indigenous pearl shell carvers, deck hands, boat builders, and shell graders, among many others.
Although my involvement had been small compared to all the work that had gone into preparing the exhibition, being in constant communication with Sarah Yu, who had put me up in her home whilst I was researching Yasukichi Murakami’s story for Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens, gave me the opportunity to contribute some of Murakami’s story and photographs found in Tanami and Darwin for the exhibition
From the exhibition Lustre: Pearling & Australia. The photograph displayed of the boy on the left centre was taken by Yasukichi Murakami of his son Francis Yasunosuke Murakami at the Japanese Cemetery in Cossack. The x marking on the photo indicated the grave of Chiyo Araki, mother of Theresa Shigeno Murakami. The video display on the right was part of project In Repose by Wakako Asano, Satsuki Odamura, Vic McEwan and Mayu Kanamori.
Photo by Mayu Kanamori
I darted around the exhibition looking for images and stories pertaining to Murakami, making sure we did not miss any of them, pointing them out to Melissa with excitement, as if they were my own photographs on display. Melissa’s partner found the copy of a certificate exempting Murakami from a dictation test, issued by the Commonwealth of Australia as part of the Immigration Act 1901-1920. Displayed in one of the glass cabinets, the second page of the certificate was of his left palm, stamped by the customs and excise office in 1925.
There is something powerful about a hand print of someone who had once lived. Its proof of having-once-lived-ness enters our awareness vividly in rawness; much more so than a photograph of the deceased, perhaps because of our digital age and the proliferation of photographs.
Melissa studied the lines on her ancestor’s palm, then her own in comparison. It is often said in palmistry that the left hand shows traits a person was born with, and the right hand, the kind of a person they had become; and perhaps because of this, she found the shape of his palm and the lines similar to her own. She later told me of feeling a strong connection with this particular exhibit, as if “the only separation between was an ink pad, and not time.”
Melissa Murakami comparing her left palm to that of her ancestor Yasukichi Murakami. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Before we left the museum, we took photos of each other, separately and together in groups at the entrance of the exhibition. Seen from the entrance was a screen hoisted from the ceiling, its shape round, probably because it emulated the shape of a pearl. Black and white images of people who worked in the Australian pearling industry were projected on to the screen, one by one. When it was Melissa’s turn to be photographed on her own, one of Murakami’s self portraits taken at Captain Gregory’s home appeared on the screen.
That afternoon on my way back to Perth, I saw a daytime super moon, full, just above the horizon in the clear blue sky, perfectly round like a cultured pearl. Was it my own little ego that made me see Yasukichi Murakami sitting in Gregory’s cane chair, on the moon, acknowledging my small contribution for his descendants and wider world to recognise his? Perhaps it was time to return to humility, and remember that as people, we all have a part to play, a small but significant purpose to fulfil as part of the whole.
Lustre: Australian Pearling will be on at the Western Australian Maritime Museum in Fremantle from 20 June to 25 Oct 2015 travelling to other locations.
More info:
Lustre by Sarah Yu, Bart Pigram and Maya Shioji on the Griffith Review
Upon returning from photographing a wedding on Pearl Beach last weekend, I found a message from a man named Greg Leon in Melbourne:
I have just seen a news article at ABC Online… regarding Yasukichi Murakami and your biographical work on him. The article mentioned the scarcity of his photographs from his Darwin years. I have a set of 15 photographs that Mr Murakami may have taken of my parents when they were married in Darwin in May 1940. If you are interested please let me know… Regards, Greg
Interested?! This is what I’ve been doing for nearly 3 years: Looking for Yasukichi Murakami’s photographs, especially from Darwin.
I telephoned Greg immediately.
Back of the envelope found by Greg Leon.
Dear Mayu,
I was surprised and delighted to receive your call today. The timing was something of a coincidence as I was scheduled this afternoon to perform (inter alia) a song I wrote that refers to Murakami-san’s photos of my parents’ wedding in Darwin in 1940. For info, I am a part-time singer-songwriter (and a semi-retired IT Consultant, Project Manager, Business Analyst).
I have attached scans of the envelope in which I found the photos (as film negatives). I have also attached one of the images revealing the shadow of the photographer!
Imelda (nee Leahy) and Tony Leon on their wedding day in Darwin, 1940. Photo probably by Yasukichi Murakami
When I was a younger photographer working for Fairfax Media, many of my colleagues said wedding photography was not a path to pursue for a serious photojournalist. Yet I enjoyed enjoy being of service as a photographer who endeavours to leave memories of love.
Photographing a wedding gives a photographer a great chance for his / her work to serve for generations to come. In a sense, it is our best shot at immortality.
Greg added:
My parents were Imelda (nee Leahy) and Tony Leon. Both were born in Adelaide, but my father’s family were from Melbourne. I understand that they met in Darwin just three weeks prior to their wedding. I am not sure when they returned to Adelaide, but I assume it was prior to 1941. After the start of the “Pacific” war, my father enlisted and went to New Guinea, while my mother remained in Adelaide as a nurse in one of the military hospitals. After I was born in 1947, my parents moved to Melbourne where I have spent the rest of my life to date.
Looking a little more critically – and from an amateur photographer’s perspective – some questions spring to mind:
– Why would a professional photographer allow his shadow to fall within the frame?
– Wouldn’t a professional photographer retain the negatives, rather than returning them to the client?
– Looking at the photographs as a set, I cannot help thinking they are almost too casual for a pro.
So, the Big One: was Murakami-san the actual photographer, or did he just process the film as a service for the person who took the photographs? What do you think?
Looking forward to further discussion!
Best regards, Greg
Envelope found by Greg Leon. The handwriting is that of Yasukichi Murakami’s.
I do not know all the answers.
I know that when I had photographed weddings on negatives, I often gave the negatives to the bride and groom. They are best with them, and not for us to keep a hold on the work we have taken part and brought to creation.
Murakami did leave his shadow in two of his family photographs. There could be many more. John E deB Norman told me once that he has a photograph of Eki Nishioka’s shadow. Perhaps it was Eki who taught Murakami to leave his shadow in a photo every so often.
Somehow, the words love and immortality to come to mind.
Emma Dean and Joon Yang at Pearl Beach 2014 Photo by Mayu Kanamori
– Posted by Mayu Kanamori
9 & 10 September 2014 7:30pm Space Theatre, Adelaide Festival Centre
My date on Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens was beautiful Jacinta Thompson, former Artistic Director of OzAsia Festival. We met in the Space Theatre foyer with a heartfelt embrace. Many Asian Australian artists have developed their careers because of Jacinta’s vision and long-term curatorial commitment in nurturing the growth of an artist like myself. OzAsia Festival not only brings to Australian audiences art from Asia, but has actively invested in the Asian stories within Australia. The importance of their longer term curatorial vision must be congratulated and held in reverence.
Working with the professional people and facility at the Adelaide Festival Centre along with the excellent OzAsia team with current Artistic Director Joe Mitchell, our show excelled, bringing in many favourable reviews. We were blessed with great publicists throughout our Darwin, Broome and Adelaide tours, and have received much publicity, which is of course excellent for the show itself, but in the wider sense, we have been able to add to the legacy of Yasukichi Murakami and to rekindle the memory of the pre war Japanese contribution to Australia.
Reviews
Realtime: 8th OzAsia Festival 2014 Culture’s haunted houses by Ben Brooker
Realtime: 2014 Darwin Festival, Cultural syntheses: north-south, east-west by Nicola Fearn
The Advertiser: OzAsia migration lay Through a Distant Lens puts Japan in focus by Louise Nunn
In Daily: Murakami: a life lost and rediscovered by Gregg Elliott
Glamadelaide: OzAsia Theatre Review: Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens
Selected Media Links
ABC News: Japanese photographer, pearling pioneer Yasukichi Murakami honoured in Broome
-Posted by Mayu Kanamori
Yasukichi Murakami
Bain, M. (1982). Full Fathom Five. 1st ed. Perth: Artlook Books.
Caudle, R. (1979). Caudle, Rex Oral History Transcript. [Manuscript] NTRS 226 TS 26. 1979. Northern Territory Archives Service, Darwin, NT, Australia.
Hamaguchi, P. (2013). Interview with Pearl Hamaguchi. Broome.
Minami, Y. (2013). Interview with Yasuko Pearl Murakami Minami. Tanami.
Murakami Shigeno Theresa (and Yasukichi). (2014). [Manuscripts, letters, historical documents. Electronic document] A367 – c68988 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Murakami, J. (Dec 2011, Aug 2012 and Feb 2013). Interviews with Joseph Murakami. Tsunashima.
Murakami, J. (April 2012 and April 2013). Interviews with Julie Murakami. Darwin.
Murakami, K. (1979). Kathleen Murakami Oral History Transcript. [Manuscript] NTRS 226 TS 95. Northern Territory Archives Service. Darwin.
Murakami, P. (1979). Peter Murakami Oral History Transcript. [Manuscript] NTRS 226 TS 96 Northern Territory Archives Service. Darwin.
Murakami, Y. (1926). Application for Letters Patent for an invention, Improved diving dress. [Manuscript and diagrams] A627 – 4150944 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Murakami, Y. (1926). Application for Letters Patent for an invention, Improved diving dress. [Documents and diagrams. Electronic document] A267 – 1525/1926 National Archives of Australia , Canberra.
Murakami, Y. (1926). Application for Letters Patent for an invention, Improvements in diving dress. [Manuscript and diagrams] A627 – 4215206 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Murakami, Y. (1926-7). Application for Letters Patent for an invention, Improved diving dress [Manuscript and diagrams] A627 – 4216044 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Murakami, Y. (1927). Application for Letters Patent for an invention, Improvements in and relating to diving dresses. [Manuscript and diagrams] A627 – 4215757 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Murakami, Y. (circa 1988 – 1944). Handwritten text on back of original photographic prints, various. [Photographic prints, back].
No 10 of 1918, Yasukichi Murakami [bankruptcy]. (1918). [Manuscripts, transcripts, letters, ledgers. Electronic document] PP92/1 – 12038022 Australian National Archives . Perth.
Norman, J. (May 2013). Interview with John Norman. Broome.
Prisoner of War/Internee: Murakami, Yasukichi; Date of birth – 19 December 1880; Nationality – Japanese. (n.d.). [Electronic document] MP1103/1 DJ18100 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Prisoner of War/Internee; Murakami, Yasukichi; Year of birth – 1880; Nationality – Japanese. (n.d.).[Electronic document] MP1103/2 DJ18100 National Archives of Australia. Canberra.
Sack, E. (1979). Eve Sack Oral History Transcript. [Manuscript] NTRS 226 TS 114 Northern Territory Archives Service. Darwin.
Scott, T. (1979). Thomas Connor Scott Oral History Transcript. [Manuscript] NTRS 226 TS 616 Northern Territory Archives Service. Darwin.
Shigematsu, S. (2007). Research Note on Pearling and Japanese Contribution to Local Society in early 20th century Australia. The Otemon Journal of Australian Studies, 33, pp.91- 100
Photography
Barthes, R. (1981). Camera Lucida. 1st ed. New York: Hill and Wang.
McAuley, G. (2008). Photography and Live Performance: Introduction. Still / Moving: Photography and Live Performance, About Performance, No 8, pp.7-13.
Nietzsche, F. (1872). 1995. The Birth of Tragedy. New York: Dover Publications.
Ritchin, F. (2009). After Photography. 1st ed. New York: W.W. Norton.
Sontag, S. (1977). On Photography. 1979. Middlesex: Penguin Books.
Photographs used in the production of Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens are a courtesy of:
Australian War Memorial – ID 052384 & 052460 Photo by James Tait, Tatura Victoria
Bielby, Margo Photographic Archive
Broome Historical Society of Joseph Kisaburo Murakami Photographic Archives
Darwin Rondalla Archives
Gruchy, Mic Photography and Archives
Hamaguchi, Pearl Family Archives
Hang, Ted and Eunice Family Archives
Jones, Noreen Photographic Collection of Mise & Yamamoto Photographic Archives
Kanamori, Mayu Photography and Archives
Lance, Kate Photographic Collection
Murakami, Joseph Kisaburo Family Archives
Murakami, Julie Family Archives
Murakami, Yasuko Pearl Family Archives
National Archives of Australia – A446 – 7648980 Kathleen Murakami
National Museum of Australia – Book cover of Under Suspicion: Citizenship and Internment in Australia during the Second World War, ISBN 9781876944605
Northern Territory Library – Commemoration PH0200/0380 Mayse Young Collection; Cavenagh Street in the 1930’s / V. Fletcher, Harold Snell Collection; Bi-plane PH0282/0039 Unknown Collection; Rally PH0283/0012 Bill Allcorn Collection; Group PH0323/0014 D. Smith Collection; Float in street parade, Darwin circa late 1930s PH0340/0038 Jarvis Collection; Old Town Hall on Smith Street PH0386/0150 Bill Littlejohn Collection; Afternoon drink PH0444/0006 Bill & Betty Eacott Collection; Couple PH0375/0008 Marella Collection; The Residency PH0223/0005 J. Towers Collection; Serviceman PH0285/0053 Photo by Y. Murakami, Frank Blackwell Collection; and Divers on pearling lugger D36 PH0238/0174 Peter Spillett Collection
Other photographs from Northern Territory Library duplicate and supplied from Murakami family archives directly – Five men and a lady sitting in a car PH0096/0026 Fay Kilgariff Collection; Dampier Hotel PH0096/0024 Fay Kilgariff Collection; Mrs Theresa Murakami and Mr Yasukichi Murakami PH0096/0020 Fay Kilgariff Collection; Family PH0096/0019 Fay Kilgariff Collection; Man sitting in drivers seat of a car PH0096/0025 Fay Kilgariff Collection; and A Japanese woman in Japanese dress PH0096/0017 Fay Kilgariff Collection.
Tsuda, Mutsumi Photography, Photographic Collection and Archives
Puertollano / Masuda, Cauline Family Archives
Sisters of St John of God Photographic Collection of Jones, Noreen Photographic Collection of Mise & Yamamoto Photographic Archives
All appropriate documents and photographs found for the research pertaining to Yasukichi Murakami – Through a Distant Lens, used or other wise in the final production have been donated to Julie Murakami (Yasukichi’s great grand daughter / Murakami family historian) and Broome Historical Society / Museum.
– Posted by Mayu Kanamori
Even with my white cotton gloves on, as required by the NT Archives to view original documents, I feel my heart pounding with magical force when I sense that I may be touching original photographs printed by Yasukichi Murakami, the man who has been the centre of my creative work for the last 26 months.
I had taken my first step to involve myself in this project the day after the Great Tohoku Earthquake in Japan (11.03.11), when I met Dr Lorna Kaino at the Astor Theatre in Perth. Standing with a glass of wine in a noisy foyer after a piano concert by Les Ferers, I briefly chatted with her about collaborating on a project about historical Japanese photographers in Australia; thus I began my journey; that of being a contemporary Japanese born photographer working in Australia in search of Yasukichi Murakami’s life and work. Since then, the creative force has gently unfolded, step by step, from A to B, B to C, C to D, and I recently found myself yet again sifting through thousands of photographs with the help of one very dedicated and experienced archivist, librarian, and for me, a great teacher, Françoise Barr at the NT Archives. Her knowledge of research and archiving fills the gap of my lack, and her warmth of character gives me the strength to carry out this inconspicuous, and potentially, a lonely fruitless task.
I am looking for Murakami’s photographs which disappeared from official Australian history. Many of his photographs disappeared because of reasons which could be conveniently viewed through the framework of branches in Asian Australian studies, a view of Australian history through certain racialised filters, and or of those of Japanese diasporic studies, regarding unresolved aspects of Japanese involvement in WW2. It is fair to say that Murakami, having lived through racially oppressive times of the White Australia Policy, having been interned during the war, then dying whilst interned, would have contributed to the loss of his photographs. However truth never seems to fully surface when it is required of the researcher to present a coherent viewpoint and framework. Truth isn’t that clear cut. Truth is messy. And this may be one of the reasons why I am making art about Murakami, and my initial proposal to write a thesis was had not been accepted by academy.
There are many reasons a photographer’s work disappears from history. The first and foremost seem to be the photographer’s attitudes toward their own work. That is to say whether Murakami understood the importance of his documentation for posterity, and furthermore, if he had thought that signing or stamping the back of his prints before they left his studio, attributing his part in the work was important for furthering his income, status or other gains. From my research to date, it seems that he encased his photographs in a cardboard border with his name on it during his early career at the Nishioka Photographic Studio (c. 1900- 1915), but unlike popular practice of photographers in Darwin during the late 1930’s, back of his prints seem to have not been stamped with the name of his studio. It is difficult to tell for sure, and I would need to spend further days in Darwin, next time at the NT Library to view original photographs to draw this conclusion. I have already viewed well over 7000 images on-line, but the back of the photographs are not part of the NT Library’s on-line collections.
There are other factors at play, such as whether his surviving family members placed similar importance to his photographs. Murakami’s photography was a means for him to earn a living and support his family, not so much a work of art, an investment in his name as an artist. My current lack of knowledge of details of the Australian Copyright Act of 1905 prevents me from even hypothesising where Murakami stood in regards to his copyright practices. The current Australian Copyright Act 1968 which contemporary photographers may adhere to came well after Murakami’s death in 1944.
Other factors that need consideration when understanding how a photographer’s work may disappear in time include how intermediary archivists such as amateur historians and private collectors conducted their part in the archival process, and or where the focus existed in standard archiving policies of the time. An example of this is when photographic albums were not kept as albums, but were taken out of their albums and mixed with others by subject matter before being donated to the official archives, or when archivists in the field photographed the original photographs for the official archives, but not have photographed the back of the prints.
Last month I was given the opportunity by Australian Japanese Association of Northern Territory (AJANT) to give a talk at Darwin’s Museum & Art Gallery Theatre, explaining this project, and calling for assistance in finding Murakami’s photographs. This event has prompted me to give interviews to ABC Darwin local radio and the Sunday Territorian. As a result, the word is out – there is a search on for Murakami’s photographs. I would like the people of Darwin to help find them, because Yasukichi Murakamis story is part of Darwin’s story, the town’s collective memory of their pre war history, forgotten because of the violence of war, and this project may help us remember together.
In the mean time, the people who came to the talk gave me leads to follow. Each stone is being turned over – one at a time. Step by step.
– Posted by Mayu Kanamori
Every two hours a slow local train stops at Tanami station, a small seaside village near the very southern tip of Honshu Island. This is where photographer Yasukichi Murakami was born, and left at the age of 17 in 1897 to sail to Australia.
The old Tanami port where Yasukichi would have farewelled his family is only a few hundred meters away from where the Murakami family home once stood. Yasukichi would have grown up looking out to sea everyday watching the men of Tanami leave, many who sailed overseas to find work in places like Hawaii and Australia on indentured contracts.
Old Tanami port. The stone wall of the Murakami family home can be seen on the far left. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Reiko “Ruruka” Minami, Yasukichi Murakami’s grand-daughter met me at Tanami station. Ruruka is about my age, and like me, an artist, a performance maker. She performs in sign language whilst my performances use photographs to communicate.
Ruruka Minami at Tanami station. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Ruruka took me to her family home to meet her mother, Yasuko Pearl Minami (nee Murakami). Travelling to meet a 89-year-old woman whilst carrying on my iPad a photograph of young Yasukichi induces my mind to play tricks, creating an illusion as if I am meeting Yasukichi’s mother, but this woman is his daughter.
Yasukichi Murakami’s photo travelled with me to his hometown in Tanami, Wakayama, Japan. The eucalyptus bark and nuts were found at Yasukichi Murakami’s gravesite in Cowra, NSW. Self portrait photo of Yasukichi Murakami by Yasukichi Murakami, Courtesy of Murakami Family Archives. Photo by Mayu Kanamaori
Yasuko Pearl who was born in Broome, Western Australia and married a man from Tanami whilst they were both interned in Tatura, Victoria during WWII. She is the third born between Yasukichi and his wife Theresa Shigeno.
In her home, Yasuko Pearl showed me many original photographs taken by her father Yasukichi Murakami. In Australia, these photographs were lost when Yasukichi and his family were arrested in Darwin in 1941 for being an enemy alien. But Yasukichi throughout his life had sent his photographs to his mother in Japan, allowing us to see what life was like for Yasukichi during his lifetime.
Ruruka Minami and Pearl Yasuko Minami looking at old photographs. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Whilst looking through these old photographs we came across a family photograph taken in Tanami. It is the only photo I have seen of Yasukichi and his mother Yasu in Japan along with Theresa and 5 five of his 9 children. I am told that this photo was taken in Tanami when Yasukichi returned to his place of birth. I know from his immigration records that this was 1925.
Yasukichi Murakami and family in Tanami, Wakayama Prefecture. 1925.
Left to right: Yasu Murakami, Frances Yasunosuke Murakami, Theresa Shigeno Murakami, Bernadette Yoshiko Murakami (baby), Pearl Yasuko Murakami, Kathleen Masuko Murakami (standing), Richard Jukichi Murakami and Yasuichi Murakami. Photo by Yasukichi Murakami. Courtesy, Murakami Family Archives
Yasukichi’s father Jubei Murakami was a successful man. Unlike other men from Tanami, Yasukichi did not need to leave home to find work. I imagine Yasukichi left home full of youthful energy, looking forward to his adventures ahead. I too remember when I first left Tokyo to come to Australia in 1981. I too did not need to come to Australia.
His family home was on what would have been the best part of the village, along the main road in the centre of town. There is still a stone fence facing the sea today, which had belonged to the Murakami family. This block is now sub divided into three lots with houses on each end and a vacant block in the middle. This vacant block is now owned by Yasuko Pearl.
When Yasukichi returned to Japan in 1925, he found that the Murakami family had fallen on hard times and their property had been sold to others. With money he had earned in Australia, Yasukichi bought back part it and housed his mother there. This is the vacant block owned by Yasuko Pearl today.
Hearing this story made me a little teary. It was not so much that I was moved by the actions of a faithful son, but that of the diasporic condition.
It is recorded in Yasukichi’s unsuccessful Australian application for naturalization in 1939 that he had returned to Japan for “holidays” in 1925. It is our diasporic condition that touches my heart. Whilst others enjoy their holidays in exotic and fun-filled destinations, when people like Yasukichi, myself and so many of us who have crossed the seas go on our holiday, we mostly go back to where our loved ones live, and we do what we will to reconnect and rekindle that love. And then we move back to another life with other loved ones.
The day I left Tanami, Ruruka decided to perform for her grandfather Yasukichi Murakami on this vacant block of land that she would most probably inherit one day. I videoed her performance to take back to Australia and to play it back by Yasukichi’s grave in Cowra.
Ruruka Minami performing in sign on the stone wall by her family block. Still image from video by Mayu Kanamori
– Posted by Mayu Kanamori
* For Ruruka Minami’s Shuwa Nikki (Sign Language Diary), click here.
* For more on the diasporic condition via a speech transcript for the Japanese on the Move, a project by Ingrid Piller and Kimie Takahashi, click here.
Julie Murakami and I began our search for Yasukichi Murakami’s life and photographs he has left behind at the Northern Territory office of the National Archives of Australia. Thankfully the archivist who assisted us was supportive, encouraging and enthusiastic, giving us an auspicious start to our research. She helped us with clues about how to tackle the massive archives that held the records of our national heritage. A local woman of Aboriginal and Chinese descent, she was also interested in her own family history, searching for information about her Chinese grandfather. She told us that research can be addictive, and watching her navigate the massive web of our archives, continuously clicking her mouse, following one lead after another, made me think that this could indeed be a portrait of an addict. But then again, I think it may be my own delusional tendencies that needed a reality check: I was beginning to believe that it was the spirits of those buried underneath the vaults of our archives that possessed us to so passionately dig into our hidden histories.
Archival Officer Joanne Wood at National Archives, NT Office. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
At the Heritage Branch of the Northern Territory’s Department of Natural Resources, Environment, The Arts and Sport, we met a dedicated and very helpful heritage expert who had some years ago written a report about the heritage listed building in Cavanaugh Street in Darwin’s Central Business District, commonly known as the Stone Houses. In the report is the name Murakami as one of the occupants of this building in the early 1940’s. It is by coincidence that he had answered the phone when I rang to seek some help in locating where Yasukichi’s photographic studio may have been. Such coincidences make me feel that the spirits are with us, and once again, I find the need to remind myself not to be carried away.
At the Northern Territory Archives Service we met an archivist who awakened us to the broader and more meaningful implications of the search for Yasukichi Murakami’s photographs. So professional was her approach to her trade, it made clear to us her dedication to public service, beyond the servicing of Julie and I and her current array of clients / researchers, but for the generation after and the generation thereon after.
Julie Murakami at NT archives. Photo by Mayu Kanamori
Meeting with archivists and heritage experts have inspired my processes of art making to take shape in a very different way to what I had imagined. I am unsure how to put it in words just at the moment, but I do know that it will be an important part of the story I am about to tell of Yasukichi Murakami’s life and work. The current clues point towards how an individual photographer / image maker takes part in service of the collective memory of future generations, how our archival practices take part in this process, and how art making can make a difference. It all sounds very grand and perhaps very vague, but I can begin in small specific ways: by suggesting corrections when noticing an error in the records, whenever possible requesting digitization and opening of records which are yet to be opened, and to encourage wider public access to the treasures and secrets hidden in our archives.
– Posted by Mayu Kanamori
Julie Murakami shared her family album she had inherited from her great-uncle Peter Sakichi Murakami. When he passed away, Julie said to her aunty, “Please don’t throw away the photos.” And so the family photo album was entrusted to her, and Yasukichi Murakami’s photographs of his wife and children survived another generation.
Julie allowed me to copy photograph these precious family photographs for this project. There was a photograph of Yasukichi’s wife Theresa sitting on a cart with their oldest daughter Kathleen Masuko Murakami, Julie’s grandmother. As I looked through the viewfinder onto this photograph to photograph it, I intuitively knew the exact spot Yasukichi had focused on – the eyes of young Kathleen. I too focused on her eyes, and she was returning my gaze. Or was it Yasukichi’s gaze? Through the viewfinder, for a moment, I thought was Yasukichi. Or was it Yasukichi’s ghost photographing through me?
Theresa Shigeno & Kathleen Masuko Murakami in Broome, Western Australia circa 1920. Photo by Yasukichi Murakami. Courtesy of Julie Murakami.
-Posted by Mayu Kanamori
My collaborator Lorna Kaino had once lived and worked in Broome and now is a senior lecturer at Curtin University. In between an excursion to the Art Gallery of Western Australia, and over lunch and dinner at Taka’s Japanese Restaurant in Shafto Lane, Lorna and I exchanged ideas, explored possibilities, made plans for our project, and wrote down our immediate tasks.
She had already spent time researching Murakami, and presented me with a photocopy of images from the Mise Photographic Collection, donated to Norren Jones by Tamae Mise in 1999. Back in my hotel room, I began to sift through pages of our precious gift: old photographs handed down from Tamae Mise to Noreen Jones, and now for Lorna and I to pass on to people after us.
From a single moment in early days of the last century, posed in front of the camera with their eyes — eyes staring straight into the camera lens, passed through the printing process, hands of many people, finding itself out of Broome, out of Australia to Ehime Prefecture in Japan, then back to Western Australia, scanned, photocopied and now staring at me in my hotel room in Perth.
Young Tamae Mise was photographed, presumably by Murakami in his studio with Kamesaburo Mise, who may have been her young father or an uncle — perhaps a much older brother. Tamae looks aboout three years old — and Kamesaburo looks about twenty-one. The photograph is not dated.
I think Murakami had photographed this portrait because there is a printed signature on the bottom left hand corner of the mount, which reads “Y. Nishioka.” Nishioka is the family name of Takazo (Tomasi) Nishioka, who I understand was the shop owner who took young Murakami under his care whilst they were both in Cossack, ‘adopted’ Murakami and together moved to Broome, and set up a shop, which they used as part photographic studio for the Japanese community in Broome. It is part of Japanese practice to take on the surname of the ‘adopted’ family. Lorna who is more experienced and me in historical research has pointed out that a Y. Nishioka signature may not necessarily mean it was Murakami’s photography…. it may have been Nishioka’s his wife! And indeed, it may have been his wife – or is assistant – or his teacher who took the photograph.
There is another photograph of Kamesaburo Mise in the collection, this one as a baby, presumably with his mother Kikuye, taken, according to what was given to me in the bounded photocopies, circa 1905 with the same Nishioka signature on its mount. I am assuming that this date is based what was passed onto Noreen Jones by Tamae Mise, but I may be wrong. Yet in another photograph, young Kamesaburo is photographed in a Japanese junior school uniform, this time with a printed signature by H. Wada. Who is Wada? Another Japanese photographer who I did not know about about? H. Wada left many photographs behind as part of the Mise Photographic Collection. His studio backdrops and mounts differ to those of Murakami, and at least in the Mise Photographic Collection, there are many photographs taken on location, such as in front of the Japanese hospital in Broome (circa 1921-25) and Ehime Club Association’s 10th Memorial Sumo Tournament on New Year’s Day 1 January 1922.
In the photograph in front of the Japanese hospital which Wada took, Murakami is identified. He is sitting next to the central figure Doctor Masuyama.
About Murakami 