ME IN COUNTING ME IN COUNTING ME IN COUNTING ME IN COUNTING ME IN COUNTING ME IN COUNTING LY N N O G AWA
Tara Anderson, host and producer of Five Things, reveals how we can discover a life story through objects. Her podcasts step into peoples lives through five objects that they hold most dear. Upon permission, my book uses this prompt to reveal to you, my reader, myself through my objects. I’ve learned things about myself just as you are about to as well.
G O L DE N C ROW N S
I wore the ring 24 hours, everyday, constantly. My prized possession that would be a cheap piece of metal for some, but a crown to me. Seeing as I wore it for three years, my grandmother hands me two new rings. Now I wear those two rings 24 hours, everyday, constantly. Now my prized possession would also be considered a prized possession to others. Pretty, gold, saphire, idealized. A crown to me nonetheless in comparison to the first.
I call these my crowns — my most prized possessions.
But am I even allowed to call this a crown when I don’t understand its story? All I know is that they were passed down from my great grandmother then my grandmother, skipped my mother (sorry mom) and now to me.
One once belonged to my great grandmother, but where did she get it? Who knows where the other came from. These two tiny pieces of jewelry hold years of family history that I am unable to dive into.
My own experiences with the rings are essentially nonexistent given the short amount of time they have been in my possession. So it is not my own experience with the rings that is precious to me, but others’. Is it valid to call others’ experiences precious to the point where it shapes your own life? I haven’t figured it out that far yet. There is a reason why I am attached to these rings. There is a reason why I call them crowns. I’m just
BURIED ANCIENTS
Truth: Where I stood in my grandparents house was once not a house but instead a bookstore. Not being an avid reader, my childhood self let that fact go in the most sub of my subconscious—my subsubconscious, if you will. Recently, I heard about it again, but this time in a much more relevant context to my current life as an aspiring graphic designer. At our bookstore, we not only sold the books, but we printed them.
Truth: I lived 20 years thinking only businesspeoples and doctors existed in my family line. As someone who went against the traditional and desired business route, you can imagine my shock when I realized that my distant relatives owned a printshop. They were artists—modern day graphic designers and printmakers—carefully fine-tuning their craft. Immediately, I searched our warehouses for machines, print blocks, letterforms, anything.
Lo and behold, I found stacks of boxes that fill up half the warehouse, each stuffed with blocks of wood with stories delicately carved in them. These were damaged, blackened blocks of wood with layers of ink that saturated every fiber. They were also the one thing that made me feel connected to my family, gone and 6500 miles away.
Noticing my obvious curiosity, my grandmother allowed for a test print with paint on these blocks of gold. It’s a handpressed and nowhere near a perfect print. My direction in life maybe isn’t too far off from the idealized and traditional. That is, idealized and traditional, for men. I come from a long line of traditional Japanese culture, where women are proud housewives. There should be no shame brought
to a housewife, but there should be shame brought upon the traditions which prevented women in my family from pursuing passion. An American concept, they would say. I asked my grandmother where she would be in life had she pursued her career goals. She would have been an architect. My great grandmother an author. My aunt an interior designer. Yet none are what they imagined themselves to be and rather stepped into the long-established role of hosuewife.
Truth: Centuries of tradition prevented women in my family to pursue creative passions. Can I genuinely claim “truth� to pursuing my creative path had these traditions not been in place?
N I KO N 3 0 0 0 This is where the experiences merge.
The film camera was my grandfather’s documentation device to capture the world around him. The latest camera for the best range and image quality. Nothing different than getting the latest Nikon DSLR D850. He documented his daily life with family—vacations, birthdays, graduations, anniversaries. With the digital age, he upgraded to the latest point-andshoot and eventually to the latest DSLR. Or so I assume about my grandfather’s story. lens that I saw my future through?
We have reached a point in our society where we are bringing back “vintage�. Film is now a trend, college major, and career field. And now we stand where I take my first official step into the creative world with the passing down of the film camera from my grandfather to myself. With the magical contraption, I produced work that I wanted to share with others. Everything I had done before was digitally taken for my own eyes and satisfaction. This was when I was to express myself to the rest of the world. My reintroduction.
My favorite film roll was exclusively images taken with long exposure, as I was inspired by Picasso’s long exposure light photography. It was an experimental roll, as I have never played with light and exposure in that way. I used my own personal metaphors in these images to express myself. Who knew there was a form of expression other than written and oral communication? Two skills in which I’ve always thought my abilities were novice. I dived into the new medium of expression. Nothing was to stop me from reintroducing myself to the world now. It represented the first time I started my experimental work that I wanted to incorporate no matter the career field I chose.
So what happened before me? What did this camera go through before it was passed into my hands by my grandfather? What kinds of images did it take? How did my grandfather see the world through the same lens that I saw my future through?
PERSPECT I V E
Harry, Hermione and Ron were my fictional friends that were as real as can be to a child living exclusively in her imagination.
Sigmund Freud once psychoanalytically theorized that fairy tales connected with people in different ways at different points in their lives. A story you read as a child has a certian meaning at that time in your life. That meaning evolves with you as you reread those stories once you’re older with new experiences. An exact match for my experience with the series from the most simpliest of ways that the movies evolved from horror to classic, to the most complex that the books gave me simple joy to life lessons.
What I find most heartwarming about Freud’s theory is that the reason why these books have such a special place in my heart is specific to myself. It’s something that I share only with myself because I interpret these books in a unique and personal way that can only be done after my specific life experiences. Just being able to relate to the char-
acters and mentally, emotionally and literally grow up with them made me feel like I had a constant group of friends that had my back. Having lots of Japanese friends, I often experienced goodbyes with a close friend that had to move back to Japan. The trio were friends I never had to let go.
The trio were friends I never had to let go
My current passion is to change someone’s perspective through my own passion, graphic design. When I look back, I can see that I got this mindset from the Harry Potter series where Harry defies any perspectives against him. He changed the world around him and that’s what I aspire to do.
LOST AND FOUND
I can literally still hear her voice. I have stacks of tapes recorded over and over again from the hundreds of lessons I took with Ms. Nancy. At the beginning of our lessons, it was ritual for me to get the recorder set up on my tripod before we started. I rewatched lessons every week so that I wouldn’t miss a single word she said.
We originally started with casette tapes. I listened over and over to try and reimagine what her fingers looked like. As I got more invested in piano, I switched to video recordings so that I could literally see her fingers to try and mimick my idol.
Ms. Nancy was the only other adult who knew me inside and out that I routinely saw at least once a week. She was the one who saw me grow up from a confused six year old to a nineteen year old with a direc-
tion in life. It has been a year since her passing, a year since I last saw her proud face giving me a wisdom-filled talk. Last fall, I remember desperately trying to figure out the “lessons” I learned from her. But there aren’t one sentenced lessons because to me, what I learned from Ms. Nancy weren’t lessons you could put into a single sentence. In fact, I see it as a way of thinking, talent, and lifestyle. Every way I think, feel, and act is because of Ms. Nancy’s teachings and impact on me as an individual.
Every materialistic object is just that— cold and materialistic. There are always questions associated with those material objects. Where is it from? Who made it? Why is it special? Do other people have the
same object? But there are no questions when it comes to what Ms. Nancy gave me. Her gift to me is undeniably special. She gave me a gift that no one can take away from me. It’s mine and mine only that I can only attempt to explain and share with others.
She gave me a gift that no one can take away from me.
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