FLUX No. 8 Resilience

RESILIENCE

HAWAI‘I’S ORIGINAL INNOVATORS

BIRDS OF PARADISE

DEFINING THE HUMAN SPIRIT

TYPHOON OF STEEL

Black never goes out of style. Model Erica Miguel wears a jacket by Emilio Pucci. Available at Neiman Marcus. See the full spread on page 56.

PAYING T RI B UTE: H AWAI‘I’S O RIGINA L I NNOVATOR S | 32

BY M AR G OT S EE TO

Te five businesses profiled here capture a past, present and hopefully a future that can tell a family story in a single piece of merchandise. From musical legacies to dying industries, writer Margot Seeto pays tribute to these hard-working families, with stunning imagery by Aaron Van Bokhoven.

BIRDS O F PARADI S E | 40

Reforestation e ff orts on Hawai‘i Island begin with koa. Over three fall days, writer Sonny Ganaden and photographer A.J. Feducia explore the progress that has been made since the creation of the Hakalau National Wildlife Refuge in 1985.

D E F INING THE H UMAN SPIRIT | 46

BY A NNA HARMON

Author Ralph Blum once said, “Nothing is predestined: The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings.” Here editor Lisa Yamada presents three incredible journeys defining the human spirit in overcoming debility.

T YPHOON O F STEE L | 52

Janice Suetomi can still remember the stench of dead soldiers around her during the Battle of Okinawa. Known as the “Typhoon of Steel,” the battle was the largest amphibious assault of the Pacific War of WWII. Writers Jade Eckardt and Samson Reiny present Suetomi’s account, with artwork by Nicle Naone.

SPOT CO LOR | 56

Go beyond the CMYK spectrum and find your spot color. Photographed by senior contributing photographer John Hook. Styled by Ara Laylo and Aly Ishikuni.

B L AC K I S THE N E W B L AC K | 61

Black never goes out of fashion. Stylist Geremy Campo plays with black patterns and textures to create fresh new looks with the color that never goes out of style.

PHOTO BY JOHN HOOK

From Rocky Rivera’s recent shot at Te Loft. Read up on the pinay hip-hop emcee on page 28.

PAYING T RI B UTE

A picture can tell a thousand words. For the full set of photos by Aaron Van Bokhoven from “Paying Tribute: Hawai‘i’s Original Innovators” on page32, visit our website.

M U S HROOM

AND CHINA

“It’s kind of startling and beautiful. It costs a lot of money, but it deserves to. It’s the same with all those mushrooms. Whoever spends all that time on those mushrooms, they deserve to get paid for it.” Humorist and author David Sedaris, who we interviewed on page 80, had lots more to say. Check out the full interview online.

A C LOS ER LOOK: JOHN KOGA

In his recurring art blog, Jared Yamanuha takes a closer look at some of artist’s John Koga’s pieces, who we featured on page 24.

Tis December marks the two-year anniversary of FLUX in print. I think about our first issue, Transition, which launched in 2009, and am in awe of how much we ourselves have transitioned. People have come and gone, and yet, some remain.

Despite the stresses – emotional, mental and physical – that are inevitable in a life of publishing, the relationships that have stuck have made this crazy journey in print worth it. Many of our staff have been with us from day one. My creative director and my director of marketing are two such people. Tey signed on in 2009 and have hung on through every moment, through sweat and tears, late nights and earlier mornings, all in spite of the fact that our vision was (and still is) bigger than our bank accounts.

Understanding the importance of collaboration, we recently partnered up with Jason Cutinella, who is not just a publisher with a big vision, but also a close and trusted friend. His company, Nella Media Group, publishes innov8, the inflight magazine for go! Airlines, Chinatown Newspaper, and Room Service, the hotel in-room compendium for Castle Resorts & Hotels. In this harsh economic climate, and especially in Hawai‘i, where the ideals of ‘ohana and aloha make up our everyday, we cannot afford to build walls or burn bridges.

Despite the place we are today, and the success FLUX has achieved, we are still newcomers to this print industry. If we can march forward in the years ahead with even some of the resilience of the people featured in this issue, I think we will be just fine.

Enjoy.

Lisa Yamada Publisher/Editor

FLUX HAWAII

Lisa Yamada EDITOR / PUBLISHER

Ara Laylo CREATIVE DIRECTOR

Jason Cutinella BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT

ADVERTISING

Scott Hager

DIRECTOR OF MARKETING & ADVERTISING advertising@FLUXhawaii.com

Erika Forberg

ACCOUNT EXECUTIVE erika@FLUXhawaii.com

CONTRIBUTORS

Jade Eckardt

Erika Forberg

Sonny Ganaden

Kelli Gratz

Anna Harmon

Chris Kam

Kelsey Longo

Carolyn Mirante

Bridget Mullen

Samson Reiny

Blaise Sato

Margot Seeto

Naomi Taga

Jared Yamanuha

COPY EDITORS

Anna Harmon

Tyler Mongan

SENIOR CONTRIBUTING

PHOTOGRAPHER

John Hook

IMAGES

Shawn Andrews A .J. Feducia

Joel Gaspar

Harold Julian

Dave Miyamoto

Tad Nakamura

Nicole Naone

Photobrent/SPL

Aaron Van Bokhoven

Dallas Nagata White

CREATIVE

Ryan Jacobie Salon, Ryan Camacho

Davey Paned

Timeless Classic Beauty, Dulce Felipe & Royal Silver

Aly Ishikuni

Multimedia

Matthew McVickar

INTERNS

Geremy Campos

Joel Gaspar

Naomi Taga

COVER TYPOGRAPHY

Aaron Van Bokhoven

FLUX Hawaii, P.O. Box 30927, Honolulu, HI 96820. Contents of FLUX Hawaii are protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the publisher. FLUX Hawaii accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts and/or photographs and assumes no liability for products or services advertised herein. FLUX Hawaii reserves the right to edit, rewrite, refuse or reuse material, is not responsible for errors and omissions and may feature same on fluxhawaii.com, as well as other mediums for any and all purposes.

FLUX Hawaii is a quarterly lifestyle publication.

Have you ever thought about changing the name of the magazine to FLUFF? I think it would be a great fit for such a fluffy magazine. You have surveys that no one is a winner to & No, I’m not bitter because I know that I might have been the only person to send in a handwritten form by snail mail. Who ever got that damned ipad or sani nap would use it for hipster facesnap & twistest don’t forget porn. Tanks again for being such a in-depth of what’s happening now fluffy puffy mag o zine. Paper/ink is better than blood/ wires… –irina comas

(We welcome any comments and criticism of the magazine, in fact we absolutely encourage it. However, before you think about submitting,

“just saw the @FLUXhawaii fall issue…it looks outstanding” - @ragnarcarlson

“I got two fucks in one magazine. @ FLUXhawaii #WaterWrites” - @estria

“Inhale… Exhale… I just got an ounce in the mail!” - @iCoopuh

“You’re looking flossy in your glossy-s. Ride the mag-a-wave with @HonoluluMag & @FLUXhawaii, our readers’ choices for Best Local Mags 2011” - @ HonoluluWeekly

Dear irina,

We thank you for submitting to us your survey, and I’m sorry that out of the 250 surveys mailed back to us you did not win. I am also very sorry to hear that you think our magazine is fluff. While we know we are not perfect, we work very hard to come up with stories that we feel represent the people and culture of Hawai‘i. You might be happier reading Merriam-Webster or Encyclopedia Britannica, which might do you good anyway.

please make at least somewhat of an effort to formulate your thoughts into coherent sentences/phrases/words.)

READER PHOTOS

Pinoy Pirate

Photo by Michael Rosales, angrylocals.com

Local boy Michael Rosales plays the Pinoy Pirate on the fourth installment of Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides. Also 1/4 of the group Hawai‘i hip-hop group Te Angry Locals.

To view more Reader Photos go to: fluxhawaii.com/reader-photos.

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TABOO ISSUE

FLUFFY!

A .J. FEDUCIA

What does it mean to be resilient?

To put hope and trust in your friends knowing at some point they will let you down.

Te most resilient person I know is: My cousin Jana, who lives with dystonia and cerebral palsy.

A time when I was resilient: When I circumnavigated the Isle of Hawai‘i via bicycle.

Camping overnight in the Hakalau Forest, A .J. took with him three cameras, one pair of socks and no toothbrush. Despite this, and though A .J. has his bachelors of fine arts degree from UH Manoa, he managed to get some great shots for “Birds of Paradise,” page 40.

JOEL GASPAR

What does it mean to be resilient? Never falling asleep on a dream. It’s when we relentlessly pursue a goal, regardless of the naysayers, closed doors, missed opportunities or failures.

Te most resilient person I know is: Te sick, the hungry, the poor. Resilience is when you transform your disadvantages and manifest them into new paths, and to also see failures not as dead ends, but rather as detours.

Describe a time when you had to be resilient yourself:

I’ve been a college student for almost 10 years. Every single day I question why the hell I’m still pursuing these aspirations and dreams. Ten I constantly remind myself that dreams don’t come into fruition overnight, it’s a steady and slow progression to reach that point.

Joel has been working at FLUX as a design intern for the past year and a half. Much of his work is scattered throughout the magazine – nameless because Joel is about one of the humblest people you will ever come across. He is refining his skills at Leeward Community College as the layout director for the school newspaper Ka Mana‘o.

NAOMI TAGA

What does it mean to be resilient? Ask your Grandma.

Te most resilient person I know is: My Mom. She raised me as a first generation single mother with a mind to make it. Still laughs and loves like a kid. I see so much of myself in her.

Describe a time when you had to be resilient yourself: How about now? Te truth is we’re a most miseducated and often misunderstood youth. It calls for resilience daily. #winning!

As well versed in ethnic studies as she is in hiphop language, Naomi Taga brings a fresh voice to FLUX with her profile on Los Angeles-based emcee Rocky Rivera (page 28), who recently performed at The Loft. Be sure to visit our website where Naomi will be blogging about all things music in Hawai‘i.

AARON VAN BOKHOVEN

What does it mean to be resilient?

Pushing forward through difficult situations.

Te most resilient person I know is: I would say my grandma, who just suffered from a stroke. Despite her current situation, she’s still trying really hard and hasn’t given up. Oh, and my mom as well, because she’s been taking care of my grandma every day and has sacrificed more than anyone I know, and she still gives everything she has to her friends and family.

A time when I was resilient: When I was a kid I used to get picked on in school, guess I was pretty resilient then.

Aaron’s specialty in analog film photography seems fitting for the subjects he photographed for this issue. In “Paying Tribute,” on page 33, he pointed his lens toward some of Hawai‘i’s oldest, family-run businesses, many of whom have been operating and manufacturing locally for decades, with some even nearing centuries.

WHAT THE FLUX ?!

The Resiliency of Surfing

ONLY A SURFER KNOWS THE FEELING …

Ultimately surfing has stood the test of time because “it’s a lifestyle,” says Jun Jo, team captain representing the South Shore in this year’s Redbull Rivals. “It’s a necessity for many to live, the feeling of surfing. Being a surfer, you’re part of an unspoken thing.”

$7,220,000,000

Surfing has grown into a multi-billion dollar industry. In 2009, the surf industry posted $7.22 billion in retail sales in the United States, according to the Surf Industry Manufacturers Association. Since 2004, the surf industry has shown substantial growth of 10 percent in the last five years.

In 2010, the Vans Triple Crown of Surfing brought in nearly $21 million in revenue for Hawai‘i. The nearly three-decades old event sees more than 23,000 attendees across 12 days of competition. 2012 will mark the contest’s 30th anniversary.

PHOTO BY PHOTOBRENT/SPL

LOCAL MOCO: THE PIDGIN GUERILLA

Lee Tonouchi

TEXT BY ANNA HARMON | IMAGE BY JOHN HOOK

On an average day, Hawai‘i’s Pidgin guerilla arms himself with a loaded, black Da Kine fanny pack and a sharp wit, camouflaged in conflicting greens and aloha print. Lee Tonouchi speaks and writes only Pidgin (though he lets up on “hybolics” for non-speakers). And, as any guerilla, he has enemies, from elementary school teachers who insist on “proper English” to parents who don’t want their college kids studying Pidgin literature.

In “Da State of Pidgin Address,” Tonouchi writes about one such run-in at that happened Big City Diner, when a man handed him a note in reaction to his short story, “Ben the Betrayer.” It read: “HCE [Hawai‘i Creole English] is a badge of ignorance and illiteracy. … Grow up and have some respect for the language of Shakespeare and Milton.”

But for Tonouchi, “Just cuz you know Pidgin doesn’t mean you cannot know English. It’s like da more languages you know, da more powah to you, right?” For him, Pidgin, called Hawai‘i Creole English by linguists, is a language capable of communicating the breadth of life and emotions as successfully as any other. Its origins date back to the mid-1800s, when rapidly expanding plantations began importing labor from areas including the Philippines, China, Portugal, Japan, Okinawa, Puerto Rico and Korea, mixing new languages with already interwoven Hawaiian and English.

“I grew up wit da teachers always telling me, Lee, you write like how you talk. And I tot, eh, dat’s like a good ting, but dey said no. To me, dat made my writing more real, cuz it seemed like it existed in real life.”

It wasn’t until Tonouchi was a sophomore at UH Mānoa that he read his first creative Pidgin piece, “Tutu on the Curb” by Eric

Chock, and thought, “Oh, you gotta be smart for study Pidgin.”

Tonouchi went on to get a Master’s degree in English with an emphasis in creative writing, even scripting his 30-page thesis in Pidgin. Over the last 15 years, he has published short stories, poems and plays and taught Pidgin literature classes at KCC and HPU. Publications and performances include Da Kine Dictionary, Da Word and Gone Feeshing.

In Significant Moments in da Life of Oriental Faddah and Son, a semi-autobiographical collection of poems by Tonouchi out this month, he writes of scenarios locals and newcomers could easily relate to, from wishing as a teen he were different (in his case, Hawaiian or Haole) so girls would want to have his hapa babies to being proud of his albeit distant father.

His real-life experiences are relatable for Pidgin speakers too, including making a bet in elementary school that “bumbye” was a real word, only to not find it in the dictionary. In “Da State of Pidgin Address,” Tonouchi confronts this Pidgin stigma with a poem titled, “Dey Say if You Talk Pidgin You No Can … .” It is composed of a list he asked students to give him of the things you can’t do if you speak the local language. One stanza reads: “Dey say if you talk Pidgin you no can . . . / communicate / eat at fine dining restaurants / enter a beauty pageant (and win) / flirt / function / go to job interviews / go forward.

Tonouchi writes that after he reads this poem, people laugh. For him, it’s because they know it’s just plain not true. For Lee Tonouchi, there’s no such thing as no can. Or, as he would say, “Not, no can. No. Can.”

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Author of Da Kine Dictionary, Lee Tonouchi believes Pidgin is capable of communicating the breadth of life and emotions as successfully as

NOTABLE WORKS

Sustainable Coastlines Hawai‘i

I MAGE BY J OHN H OOK

Mission of Sustainable Coastlines Hawai‘i:

To inspire local communities to care for their coastlines through hands-on beach cleanups of the Hawaiian Islands.

Started: In March 2011 by Kahi Pacarro, an avid surfer, Punahou graduate and urban farmer (his home contains an aquaponics system, chickens, orchards, worms, dogs, soldier flies and a Jackson chameleon). Te parent organization, Sustainable Coastlines, started in 2008.

Why beach cleanups?

After traveling the world, we saw what others were doing to care for their homelands. We also saw the results of others not doing anything. We get in the ocean almost every day and it gives us so much that we felt it only right to become a steward of the place that brings us peace.

How often do you have beach cleanups?

We have one big clean up every two months, but we clean the beach every time we go to it. After each surf session, if every surfer or beachgoer just picked up a few pieces of trash it would make a difference!

Rubbish found on the beach?

Top five are microplastic, bottle caps and lids, cigarette butts, foam and glass. Also plastic bags, plastic utensils, fishing line, rope, and the list goes on.

Living on an island, why is it so important for us to keep our beaches clean?

We are a tourism-based economy. Te beaches are the number one thing tourists come here for. If they no longer find our beaches beautiful because of debris, we no longer have a tourism industry.

Sustainable Coastlines Hawai‘i will organize the largest beach cleanup on the North Shore November 19. For more information and to find upcoming cleanups visit sustainablecoastlineshawaii.org.

RESULT HIGHLIGHTS:

SHERWOODS BEACH CLEANUP

HELD SEPTEMBER 17, 2011

209 Participants

345 pounds of trash

2,223 cigarette butts

140 bottles and cans

448 bottle caps and lids

4,589 plastic pieces

79 shopping bags

227 food wrapper and containers

328 polystyrene foam items

127 utensils

103 straws

Rhandy Tambio, creative director of In4mation, one of Hawai‘i’s most popular urban lifestyle brands, shown at his newly launched store Te Human Imagination in front of walls he designed himself.

I SHALL PROCEED … AND CONTINUE

Evening Invitation

If there’s one person who knows about bouncing back from failure, it’s Rhandy Tambio. I sat down with the creative director of In4mation, a lifestyle retail brand based in Honolulu, to discuss his incredible journey from “bottom of the barrel,” as he puts it, to artist, graphic designer and successful entrepreneur. His latest store, Te Human Imagination, located on the corner of Nu‘uanu and Pauahi in Honolulu’s historic Chinatown Arts District opened its doors earlier this year.

Tambio founded In4mation back in 2002 with partners Ryan Arakaki, Todd Shimabuku and Jun Jo. Eventually they brought on a fifth partner, Keith Kanagusuku. Te group first met when Tambio was still taking classes for graphic design. Tambio’s older brother Ojay, whom he cites as a major influence and mentor in his life, had suggested Rhandy start doing art and design after taking notice of his artistic skill. “I was drawing on surfboards and skateboards at the time,” Tambio tells me. “Ojay helped me see and grow my own potential. I’m glad I did it.”

In testing the market in Hawai‘i, Tambio and his crew did their fair share of moving around. Te first In4mation shop in Mililani closed just a year after its opening in order to accommodate a more lucrative location at Ward Center. “But even after making the move, I wasn’t really feeling any [personal] growth,” he says.

In response to this stagnancy, Tambio de-

cided to move to Los Angeles to grow the In4mation brand – a trip he would end up making twice. “After my first stint, sleeping on friends’ couches, I realized things weren’t working out and I was forced to come back home,” says Tambio. But he didn’t let the setback bring him down; after being in Hawai‘i for only a few short months, Tambio was already making his way back to Los Angeles for a second try.

When things fell through a second time, Tambio had to search deep within himself for the strength to move forward. “I got a little discouraged after that second failure,” Tambio says with a laugh. “I didn’t want to go home though, you know? I think that’s probably the first thing most people would’ve done. I didn’t want to feel like a failure, so despite it all I kept pushing forward.” He decided that his next destination would be New York City.

“I worked several gigs during my time up in New York, incorporating my skills in graphic design,” says Tambio. He soon secured the position of senior graphic designer at Ecko Unlimited, and “the future began to look bright,” Tambio recalls. His job at Ecko provided much needed income to sustain himself and his dream of building In4mation in the city. He left Ecko to take an art director position for Academiks’ women’s line, and after that, for French denim company Marithé François Girbaud. In 2007,

Tambio felt it was time to make his way back to Hawai‘i to restructure the In4mation label. “Tat’s where Te Human Imagination came in,” says Tambio. “It was one of our brands at our last store and we found that people were really receptive to its message. It was also really relevant to my experiences.”

It was Winston Churchill who once advised, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” After all that he’s been through, Tambio insists that he remains optimistic. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that in life, you can’t be afraid of failure.” After a short contemplative pause, he continues, “When your efforts are seemingly met with continual failure, it’s easy to feel defeated. But once you stop there, your fate is sealed. You have to have a vision for yourself and not give in. Trough perseverance, I’ve seen the other end of the spectrum: from making nothing in Los Angeles to six figures up in New York to where I’m at now.” Tambio hopes that his story will inspire the up-and-coming entrepreneurs of tomorrow to never give up. When asked where he sees himself in five years, he replies with a mischievous smile, “Keep an eye out for us up in New York.”

Find Tambio’s designs at Te Human Imagination, located at 1154 Nu‘uanu Avenue. Visit in4mants.com for more information.

“I thought about finding a nine-to-five job just so we could live, but then I thought if we just wait it out it will pick up. If we just held tight.” – John Hook, a self-taught photographer, now makes a living shooting professionally.

HOOK, LINE, SINK ... THEN FLOAT

FLUX Senior Contributing Photographer John Hook

It’s an irresistible image: a 1 year old with a full-grown mustache pasted on. What’s even more irresistible is the spirit and character of John Hook, the photographer extraordinaire behind the photo, dedicated husband and father. Te subjects of Hook’s photographs are full of life. Relationships are captured in the pinnacle moments of existence; the power of the ocean is recorded in transition; the beauty in the simplicity of human beings is revealed. It is the perfect combination of the familiar and unfamiliar, inspired by surfing, contemporary punk rock music, Nintendo, time travel and good cinema. In simpler terms, John Hook loves photography and believes the best photographer is the one having the most fun.

Hook himself is decidedly contemporary. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1979, moved to New York for a year, Panama for three, Kansas for one until finally ending up in Hawai‘i for the remainder of his adolescence. Photography became a hobby of Hook’s while he was attending Pearl City High School in the mid-’90s. “My mom actually got me my first camera from one of her co-workers and some lenses from the swap meet,” he says. “It was an old film camera. I took it everywhere – to the mall, to the beach.”

After graduating, Hook enrolled at Leeward Community College in television production. By the time the program was almost over, John decided it wasn’t for him

and began to pursue other work. After a series of odd jobs, he got introduced to wedding photographer Dave Miyamoto and decided to pursue photography as his career.

But work did not come easy to the 20-something aspiring lensman. Living and working job to job was a struggle. “We were so broke. I remember my wife and I would be like, ‘Well you shoot with Dave two Saturdays from now, and that will be so and so bucks, then we can pay rent.’ We ended up having to go on welfare because we just didn’t have enough money to eat. I thought about looking for a nine-to-five job just so we could live, but then I thought, if we just wait it out, it will pick up. I knew we could get by if we just held tight, and before you know it, work picked up and my wife finally got to quit her job a couple years ago to take care of our 8-year-old daughter.”

On top of working alongside Dave Miyamoto, Hook shoots with L’Amour Photography and has his own freelance business. He recently got a contract with Ko Olina Resort to shoot weddings. “I’ve just been really lucky,” he says. And while luck has a lot to do with it, Hook acknowledges, “You can’t just be shitty. Someone can always give you a chance, but if you’re not good, you won’t get a call back.”

High and low influences resurface in Hook’s inspiration for his photography, where surf and punk-rock culture inter-

mingle with commercial mainstream, yet Hook doesn’t like to limit himself to anything. “Tere’s not one thing I can think of that I would want to photograph every day because photography, for me, is a creative outlet that has no limits. Whatever I find interesting, whether it’d be a pile of shit or a basic portrait, I would like other people to find it interesting as well.”

Despite the financial sacrifices it took to get him where he is today, Hook does not believe in capitalizing on customers for the benefit of his bank account. He believes in honest, hard work that is appreciated. “I’ve done a few art shows in the past year and when someone likes my stuff I almost want to just give it to them, because if people start buying my work, it will start to feel like work rather than something I do for fun.”

As shown through the lens of his life, Hook has never been a settler; however, he cites this very thing as the key to a successful business. “Tere’s a difference between settling when it comes to your dreams, and then settling once your dreams have been reached. As a young artist, if you want to survive, you have to settle. You can’t just toot your own horn all day, and say, ‘Tis is what I want to do, I don’t care what you want –this is me!’ For now, my goal is to work as hard as possible, be a positive person in the community, make the best of my time, and save money to travel with my family.”

Sculpture artist John Koga is among Hawai‘i’s modern art masters, a favorite among collectors and fellow artists alike.

GETTING TO KNOW A STAR

Artist John Koga

Google “contemporary art in Hawai‘i,” and you won’t find information on John Koga. You probably should though, since Koga is situated at the center of it all. (Trying to understand the art scene without consulting Koga is like learning about the solar system but not the sun.) He is an artist with a planetary personality, the former chief preparator at The Contemporary Museum, and, by his own admission, a string-pulling puppet master. He’s the guy behind the guy. One question artists and collectors ask me more than any other is, “Do you know John Koga?”

I meet John Koga at his childhood home in Mānoa Valley. We take a seat at a table on the lanai with iced coffees. Orbiting us are whimsical plaster pieces, sliced rock sculptures, and a bronze toilet on a towering stainless steel pedestal. I ask Koga about the origins of his work.

“A big part of me is more than my art,” says Koga, who redirects my question. “It’s a drive to make Hawai‘i known for its artists.” Tis, I discover, is Koga’s primary mandate. “We have talent that matches up with the rest of the world, and we need to get them on the map.” He is referring to Hawai‘i’s modern masters: Tadashi Sato, Satoru Abe and other local boys who moved to New York after WWII to study art. At the time, abstract expressionism eclipsed the city. Many of those NYC transplants returned

home, bringing their versions of that American art movement to the islands. Hawai‘i’s art history, without question, begins with them. “Tey set a foundation for us that is unreal,” says Koga.

While it remains undeniable that Hawai‘i has its share of talented artists, it seems universally acknowledged that the lack of an extensive cultural infrastructure - specifically collectors - makes being an artist in Hawai‘i prohibitive. Not so, says Koga. “When I first met Satoru Abe, he said, ‘All you need is three collectors, and you’ll be OK for the rest of your life,’” Koga recalls. “So there are enough collectors here.”

Still, space is crucial. With limited places to exhibit work, connecting artists with collectors is challenging. Koga, however, has found a practical, ingenious solution: onenight shows, which he stages in any space he can acquire for a single evening. “I’m throwing a one-nighter this Saturday, by the way, so please come,” Koga says. I ask where. “I’m moving out, so I’ll have an empty house. You see how that works?”

Saturday arrives. I wander into Koga’s home in Makiki Heights. Works on paper by Lawrence Seward and Jason Teraoka checker a wall in the living room. Koga’s pieces and drawings by children plaster the walls of a bedroom. I go outside, crack open a beer, and meander around Koga’s sprawling property

with a few friends. More drinking ensues. I dive into the parade of pupus: pasta salad with tuna and capers, Foodland ahi poke, La Pizza Rina pies, kalbi, chow mein noodles, mixed greens, fruit and cheese platters, chips with goat cheese dip, mini potato croquettes, shredded pork sandwiches, desserts galore. A few dogs comb the vicinity for morsels that may have fallen from paper plates above. The alcohol consumption continues.

Soon, other artists show up, and Koga’s empty shell of a home transforms into a gallery. Tae Kitakata’s cursive letter cutouts, tethered to red balloons, float across the room. Sculpted plastic flowers by Maika‘i Tubbs bloom on windowsills. Abstract works by Aaron Padilla and Marc Tomas grow from walls. Works by the Sculpture Club alter ledges into pedestals. “Sold” signs appear next to pieces, money exchanges hands, and pieces leave with new owners. I marvel at this microcosm of the art world.

Later in the night, Koga weaves through clusters of people, his trajectory shifting every few minutes. A large blue sticker, in the shape of a star, is stuck to his forehead. Te perfect metaphor, I thought: a star hurtling through a constellation of artists, collectors and museum people. So, did I get to know John Koga? Yes, as well as any one person can know a star.

Fashion designer Matt Bruening is one of Hawai‘i’s most prolific designers, consistently putting out new lines just about every season. Shown here, designs from his fall 2011 line. Shown opposite, a dress from Bruening’s Spring 2012 line.

OVER ON THE WESTSIDE

Fashion designer Matt Bruening

Seven years ago, Matt Bruening made the bold decision to become a fashion designer. Since entering the unyielding fashion industry, Matt has created multiple lines, endless pieces, and has become a full-time slave to his trade. Bruening graciously shared the details of his success and a refreshing perspective on designer survival.

Born in Mākaha, Bruening acknowledged his own tribulations about being raised in a less than perfect community. Although the 25-year-old designer is unmistakably local, his ambitions were unique and differed from the stereotypical “westside” Hawaiian. Matt’s ambition to turn his design dreams into a viable career was done solely on his own. Despite any obstacles, Bruening attests his love for his community. “It’s a strong community, I would have never, ever changed growing up there for anything,” he says.

Although signs portended a difficult path for the designer, he could always rely on his creative compass and mother, Vanessa. Growing up the youngest of three, he recalls the love and support he received from her. “I hope I can maintain her characteristics of being strong,” he says. “She is the one who motivates me.”

After pursuing art at a young age, Bruening became hypnotized by runway fashion. He became obsessed with watching runway shows on Style Network, and ultimately found his new love - fashion. Being an artist, it was natural for Bruening to sketch and create. Yet, shortly after embracing his talent, he discovered that his career choice

required a great deal of emotional strength, and above all, patience. With both feet on the ground, a steady head on his shoulders, and a sewing needle in hand, Matt stepped deeper into the path of design. Te roundthe-clock designer, stylist, couture buff and manager of Club Monaco is no stranger to hard work. Bruening admits, “I’ve been working hard my whole life.”

For the prolific designer, now is the time for what he calls “good measure.” His pieces can be found at Acid Dolls Boutique and Te Butik on a regular basis, and he is consistently putting out new lines each season. His signature bohemian-chic style concentrates on the perception of the human body. Te designer combines bold pops of color and prints to creative unique dimensions. Te oversized design element provides comfort while still maintaining an edgy, chic style. “I feel like there are a lot of ways to make yourself feel sexy without having to reveal too much.”

Putting out new lines every season can be a grueling task. Will Bruening continue to be so eager in a few years? It’s in here, no matter if I pursue this career or if I decide to leave it - it won’t go away, I feel like it’s embedded in me.”

The Fall 2011 line of MB will be available starting November at Acid Dolls Boutique in Royal Hawaiian Center and The Butik on Kapiolani Boulevard and online at mattbruening.com.

Journalist by day and Los Angelesbased hip-hop emcee,

during her show this past October at Te

Rocky Rivera spits music with a message. Shown in Chinatown,

Loft.

COMING FULL CIRCLE

Hip-Hop Artist Rocky Rivera

I

first met Rocky Rivera on paper. In a college course focusing on Filipino-American history channeled through hip-hop, I wrote a piece on women’s clutch role in the genre, and my case example being Rocky herself. Hey, I got a good grade. But that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you because this is where it starts.

In the classroom, and through Professor Roderick Labrador, stimulating thought bridging music and history, hiphop and community, came to life. The Ethnic Studies Student Association (ESSA) began to tap hip-hop artists who were not only reaching selective ears but were also providing means to critically disarm and discuss issues at hand with our generation. Such intentional action remains an arrow, directing Hawai‘i’s hip-hop movement forward. Rocky, along with fellow artists Bambu, Blue Scholars and Kiwi, have touched ground in Hawai‘i through ESSA, and true to their roots in community organizing, have picked up the mic to talk to the people, both on stage and off.

Cue: Rocky Rivera. Reflecting on her first time in Hawai‘i several years back (she was born and raised in San Francisco and now calls Los Angeles her home), Rocky explains how Hawai‘i hip-hop has exploded. From opportunities to collaborate with artists like Creed Chameleon, to getting students involved, to mainstream blogs laying

down Hawai‘i as breeding grounds for hiphop, it’s something the female emcee/journalist/proud mama can legitimately see with her all-encompassing scope. Te promise of emerging artists eager to deliver and show what Hawai‘i has to offer is undeniable.

As for Rocky, she recently dropped a new mixtape. With so much range and plenty of sass swagger, Pop Killer (2011) will take you to Frisco and back before you can figure out a “Pop Killer” in hypothetical. At first listen, Rocky is undoubtedly intimidating. At second listen, she remains relentless, which moves me to label this as that good ol’ hiphop. Over 13 tracks, Rocky raps militant bars in tune with the infectious boom bap, only that West Coast flavor can deliver and in the style she champions best: her own.

I asked Rocky what the process of creating the mixtape was like for her. “I treated it like an album, and this album is very much for the people. In the end, I wanted to create something that was true to me but everyone would be down with. Even my mixtape last year, we made it free, and so many people have been downloading it until now. At every little show we would give free mixtapes. It’s really about music for the people.”

Terein lies Rocky’s strength. While never forgetting the people, she is independent and true to self. Initially making headway in journalism, she experienced much suc-

cess in critiquing the artists whom she has schooled today. You might remember her from MTV’s reality show I’m From Rolling Stone, in which six music writers competed for a contributing editor position at Rolling Stone. She won and eventually went on to work for Rolling Stone, Source, XXL and Vapor. However, she soon realized, “I’m better than them. I’m still writing, but it’s just in a different medium. Now I’m writing musically as opposed to print.” Te girl has a lot of story to tell.

“Tere was a first generation of Pinay emcees in the industry who laid down a foundation. It’s hard because at times I feel like there’s a lot on my shoulders. Myself and a lot of other up-and-coming female emcees are getting so much more exposure with videos and internet blogs. I understand that there is a role placed on me, and at times I have to watch what I say, but really for me it’s about staying true to myself.”

Tis year Rocky will have performed at numerous Filipino-American festivals, and she’s also stomping down universities throughout the West Coast in conjunction with the fall semester. “It’s at the universities where my music is actually appreciated. It’s cool because a lot of the community folks I used to run with are now professors or doing organizing at schools.” Too cool for school? Not this circle.

Video games are now being used to fight cancer and combat PTSD. Stills from Re-Mission, launched by nonprofit HopeLab by Pam Omidyar.

VIDEO GAMES THAT HEAL

Virtual reality kicked off the couch and put to work

TEXT BY A NNA H ARMON

Puffy eyes, lost hours and high-level bragging rights? Tank late-night gaming sessions. Virtual reality has racked up a reputation for its addictiveness more than anything else. But now, the health industry is taking note of its potential to help people learn and heal.

TRIPLER ARMY MEDICAL CENTER

When Major Melba Stetz darkens the lights of the virtual reality lab in Tripler Army Medical Center’s psychology ward, game’s on. Combat soldiers are soon deep in a simulation,driving an ambushed military Humvee, bombs exploding and passengers bleeding around them. Or, they are practicing meditative breathing with a virtual tree that expands and contracts in a peaceful valley, part of relaxationtraining game “Wild Divine.” Tese virtual realities, or “stories,” as research psychologist Stetz calls them, teach soldiers how to acknowledge and cope with combat stress. Tey also offer soldiers who are used to the immediacy of war an easy and effective way to share how they are faring.

While the soldiers game, Stetz monitors their stress levels and cognitive function to investigate the role of relaxation in war and at home. More than 300 combat soldiers have taken part in Tripler’s virtual reality research. “You’re right, ma’am,” Stetz says her soldiers tell her, “when I go home I realize I wasn’t breathing completely. Tey tell me, ‘I’m so happy I’m doing this again. I’m sleeping better, I’m more relaxed.’ … Tey keep emulating that, transferring it to home and other things.”

HOPELAB RE-MISSION

If you’re a kid with cancer, much of the time all you know is that it sucks. You don’t usually research it or even want to deal with it. With Re-Mission, a video game developed by non-profit HopeLab for adolescents and young adults fighting cancer, players take a Magic School Bus-like adventure, except they’re armed with chemoblasters that zap cancerous cells into oblivion.

No, this virtual reality game doesn’t trick a cancer patient’s body into destroying its own cells – that would be too awesome. But missing just

one treatment can be detrimental to recovery, so Re-Mission instead increases the understanding, determination and adherence to treatments of those aged 13 to 29, who are among the age group lagging in survival rates despite improved cures. It gives players power over a disease that otherwise renders them helpless.

HopeLab was founded in 2001 by nowHonolulu resident Pam Omidyar who, in the late 1980s would come home from work as a research assistant in an immunology lag and play video games with her husband Pierre. Tis sparked the idea for Re-Mission, and today, more than 180,000 Re-Mission games have been distributed to more than 81 countries completely free of charge. Says one ReMission gamer, Hodgkin’s lymphoma patient Kalvin, “Fighting cancer in this game, it’s like you have control over your own destiny.”

$3.50 Martinis All Day, Every Day

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PAYING TRIBUTE, TO MADE-IN-HAWAI‘I, Family-Run

Businesses

Te living history of the island can easily be forgotten, blending into the everyday scenery. Signs of old establishments that are no longer in business, such as Wo Fat, Club Hubba Hubba and McCully Chop Sui, remind us of days past, but provide merely memories as to what used to be inside. However, a handful of old businesses that have been operating under the same families for decades – some for almost 100 years – are testaments to survival, pride, love and sometimes plain practicality. Whether it took working in the family business since childhood or tirelessly putting in 80-hour work weeks to this day, the trials and tribulations of running a small, family-owned business aren’t always a glossy, ideal experience. As Honolulu loses more of its old businesses to time, the history of the island’s culture runs the risk of being lost as well. Te five businesses profiled here capture a past, present and hopefully a future that can tell a family story in a single piece of merchandise. From musical legacies to dying industries, FLUX pays tribute to these hard-working families.

KAMAKA UKULELE

At 87 years old, Fred Kamaka Sr. is still walking and talking like a spritely young man. He usually leads the daily tours that Kamaka Ukulele provides to the public, cheerfully sharing the history of his family’s business that his father started in 1916. Aside from being nearly 100 years old, the company is also known for the invention of the pineapple-shaped ‘ukulele and innovations in ‘ukulele sounds. Fred and his brother Sam started working at Kamaka as children, with stints in the military and academia in between. Teir sons have been running the company since 2000. Marketing Kamaka ‘Ukulele globally, especially in Japan, has been one way the company has survived several economic hard times. With top-quality instruments and savvy business strategizing, this iconic instrument company is a face of Hawai‘i nei, and hopefully will be for another century to come.

“Koa wood is a beautiful wood and is native to Hawai‘i. It’s more native than we Hawaiians, ’cause we came on double canoes from elsewhere. You have to dry it for three years before you use it. My father knew he could get a bigger sound out of the guitar and thought, why not the ‘ukulele? He experimented for 10 years, making it bigger in the base and body, like a pineapple. When the economy tanked during the Depression, we did not fire anybody; we did not lower anybody’s pay. In fact, we gave the workers a raise, and they were all very happy. Tat’s how we saved our business. When someone orders a custom ‘ukulele, we say right off, five or six months. It’s only made by Kamaka and is handmade all the way.”

T EXT BY M ARGOT S EET O | MAGES BY A ARON VAN B OKHO V EN

UYEDA SHOE STORE

Claire Takashima once walked to her family’s shoe store at age 3 when she thought her mother broke a promise to bring her along that day. At age 5, Takashima asked her father if she could take over the shoe store when she grew up. True to her destiny, Takashima now runs Uyeda Shoe Store to this day, and is the third generation of her family to run the store since it opened in 1915. In just four years, the store will reach its 100th anniversary.

“Tings change in the shoe industry so quickly that what might be great today, in a couple of years, might be gone. Here, we are able to offer something that can’t be offered elsewhere; here we’re able to assess what a person’s issue is for their feet, then address it. I still don’t know what’s going to happen with the store. You want your child to follow their passion, and I know that might not the store. My dad never pressured me to continue the store, ever. I just chose to.”

HONOLULU SIGN COMPANY

Having been around since 1939, Honolulu Sign Co. has a mini museum of sorts in one of its back offices. From signage for a South Pacific governor’s race to the Jake and the Fatman television series to the one-time Hawai‘i professional football team in the 1970s, Honolulu Sign tells a visual history of almost the past century with very little need for words. Terry Rotz, whose father moved to O‘ahu from Washington in 1939 and joined Honolulu Sign Co. in 1946, is the second generation of his family to work in the business.

“I used to come down here as a child, when we were 9 or 10, and we used to just run around. Ten I got involved when I was about 13. I’d come down and work, you know, sweep the floors, pull weeds and water the plants. I got more involved at 16 and worked in the back. I think my dad wanted me to know what it was like to be around all the fumes, to know what the employees go through, versus being up in the airconditioned office all day. My hope is that someday my kids would have the desire to take over the business, but I think they shied away because they see the hours that I put in, usually 60 to 80 hours a week. To be a screen printer, you need to be an artist. Not everybody can screen print. And I say that very seriously. It’s an art.”

UYEDA SHOE STORE

KAIMUKI TYPEWRITER SERVICES

As romantic, neat-looking and neat-sounding analog typewriters might seem to a generation for whom touch screens are the norm, the reality is that typewriters, both analog and electric, face a dire future. Tere are a few typewriter services remaining on the island, but perhaps not one quite as mysterious-looking as Kaimuki Typewriter Services. Richard Sugano’s father was one of the original partners in the business, which has been in existence since 1958. Sugano joined Kaimuki Type around 1973, has been there ever since, and has mechanical and historical knowledge that illustrates it. Sugano has a no-nonsense, practical attitude toward the industry that mostly now relies on government and corporate companies as client bases now. And while he seems unattached to the fate of typewriters and other analog machines, there are hints of sentimentality and whimsy in the dim, humid space that resembles a crowded garage. Tere’s an original liquid crystal calculator, manual check writers, mail scales and even a pachinko machine. Tere are old metal-blade fans, a microwave, telephones and a television set that seem to be among the old items Sugano can repair, but are merely part of the office furniture that he and his partner use daily.

“I think typewriters gonna be dead pretty soon. All the major names you probably ever heard of, they long gone. Te oldest typewriter I have in here is from the ’20s. Te best way to keep a typewriter working is to keep it working. You don’t use it, things will dry up and get sticky. Tis electric typewriter has 3,000 moving parts. Do I want the younger generation to know about typewriter repair? No, because that would be the same thing as saying, do you want to be a computer mechanic? What you need is somebody smart enough to say, ‘Trow ’em out already, get a new one!’”

IOLANI SPORTSWEAR

As inherent as aloha shirts are to Hawai‘i’s culture, so is Iolani Sportswear to the history of aloha shirts. Started in 1953 by the Kawakami family, the company soon strayed from the traditional Kabe crepe shirts, instead opting for solid fabrics and lighter-weight material. Now run by the second generation (Lloyd Kawakami and his wife, Carla) and the third generation (Nick Kawakami), Iolani has both traditional and contemporary aloha wear for men, women, children and hula dancers. Faced with a crossroads after the passing of the first Iolani generation just a couple of years ago, the remaining Kawakamis decided to expand the company and build a retail store right on the factory grounds near Ala Moana.

“Because there were so many prints out there in the market, my dad got the idea that we really had to offer something different. Solid fabrics treated with silk screens, embroideries and appliqués, which really became the flagship of Iolani. Success can be a double-edged sword though, because when you’re successful, you can get lulled into complacency and you think the dream will last forever. Before you know it, the parade has passed you by in a flash. When Iolani first started, it was right at the beginning of statehood, right on the eve of the huge Hawai‘i tourism growth that happened in the ’60s and into the ’70s. Now, it’s become even tougher. Hawai‘i businesses are going to be impacted by what happens globally. Tat’s why the current generation has gotta be even sharper. Luckily, they’re a lot smarter than we are.”

IOLANI S P ORTSWEAR

BIRDS OF PARADISE

T EXT BY SONNY GANADEN | PHOTOS BY A.J. FEDUCIA

On Hawai‘i Island, a portion of the indigenous rainforest is making a comeback. With the aid of the federal government, plots of mountain forest are recovering from centuries of decimation by successive generations of loggers, ranchers and invasive species. Over three fall days, we had an opportunity to see the progress that has been made since the creation of the Hakalau National Wildlife Refuge in 1985. Since then, a dedicated staff and various volunteer groups have planted almost a half million koa trees, and have witnessed the slow return of the forest.

On the windward slope of Mauna Kea, the 33,000-acre refuge is one of the last functioning native Hawaiian ecosystems. Unburdened by the public requirements of the National Park System or the idiosyncratic policies of the state, the refuge is maintained by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service and alternatively, enthusiastic and goofy weekend volunteer groups. Te refuge consists of two tracts of federal property – islands within an island –surrounded by Hawaiian Home Lands and state land in varying phases of being overrun by introduced weeds, cattle and pigs.

From the aerial map, the sharply angled plots on the side of Mauna Kea could only make sense to a governmental cartographer. Over a century after Americans bent the law to took over the nation that once managed this ecosystem, it is now ironically American laws protecting and preserving it.

A B OVE TH E C L OUDS

We were picked up at the perennially sunless Hilo Airport by Steve Kendall, the refuge’s new biologist. Steve transferred three months ago from the Alaskan National Wildlife Refuge, where he spent a few decades occasionally risking death by bear or cold as the ornithologist for an area of almost 20,000 acres in temperatures that are laughable when you’re wearing shorts in Hilo town.

At Hakalau, he is replacing recently retired Jack Jeffrey as the refuge’s biologist. Jack spent a career with the birds, and if you’ve ever seen a shot of a nene goose lounging on a windswept hill, an i’iwi perched on an ‘ōhia branch, or almost any Hawaiian forest bird in a scientific magazine, it was probably taken by Jack. Te Ansel Adams of this forest, it is his images that encircle the spartan common room at the volunteer cabin. In retrospect, my favorite of his shots is of the nearly extinct Hawaiian crow, the ‘alala, a corvid with a quizzical expression and a Bu La‘ia-style afro. To imagine a Hawai‘i populated by ‘alala is to imagine an entirely different place than the one I know.

We ascended through cool, trade-wind clouds and a road-improvement project between the peaks of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea on Saddle Road. Hilo was behind us in a blink as we traveled from sleepy town to the jet-black remnants of Madame Pele’s sluggish, ancient march to the sea. Te a‘a and pāhoehoe fields of lava felt ominously recent, the craggy horizon dotted with kīpukas, hills of forest spared from burning flows that exterminated their surrounding valleys. Ten we emerged above the cloud layer, turning right onto the public road unauthorized by rental car companies. We passed miles of bumpy ex-pasture overtaken by gorse shrubs, a European native that has become a nasty invader, the latest in over a century of ornamental plants that have turned megalomaniacal.

“Is that all you brought?” Steve asked us while riding in the government-issue Chevy SUV. AJ, my photographer for this trip, and I stammered about missed emails and forgotten stuff and last minute plans and how seriously grateful we were to go on the trip.

“We can lend you guys some boots and some rain pants too. ... Did you bring sleeping bags?” A quick glance to the back seat and I realized our outfits were better suited for an afternoon skate session in Honolulu than

On the windward slope of Mauna Kea, the 33,000-acre Hakalau National Wildlife Refuge is one of the last functioning native Hawaiian ecosystems. Here, the reforestation of koa trees allow endangered, and in some cases extinct, flora and fauna to flourish.

a multi-day trek through a rainforest with a chance of snow. In retrospect, rain is in the title of the place. Our lack of preparation really set in when we exited the Chevy to take a picture of a nene couple relaxing in the tall grass. Within five steps, our stupid canvas Vans were soaked to the toes by the sodden ground. “Aw dude, did you bring an extra pair of socks?” AJ asked as he waded to the SUV. For the rest of the trip, we rationed the basics of hygiene, and I was in awe at AJ’s capacity to go feral. As for the nene, it is a pretty, cordial animal. Tere were several roaming the grounds, completely accustomed to us and thoroughly unimpressed. Tey honked lazily, and occasionally flew away when a cameraman got too close. Aside from that, they were docile as cats.

Tankfully, we were visiting the forest with the Native Plant Society of Maui, a working volunteer group that has been coming to Hakalau semi-annually since the park’s dedication. Te group consisted of a dozen local ladies with a couple husbands in tow and all the enthusiasm of folks that take scientific nomenclature, zoning regulations and NPR donor drives seriously. Tis is their Vegas. When AJ and I saw them unpack their bags from Hilo’s KTA Superstore, we knew we might be cold, but we wouldn’t be hungry. For the weekend, we had all the essentials of roughing it: homemade vegetarian quiche Lorraine, ginger cookies, pie and coffee that didn’t come out of a plastic bucket.

Tat night, the temperature dropped to 39 degrees. By the grace of Steve, we were swaddled in government-issue sleeping bags by 8 p.m. Without cell coverage, our phones were reduced to useless sub-par cameras, and going outside to see stars felt like an adventure. I thought I had seen stars before. I thought I knew moonless nights. But before this, I had never seen the Milky Way. Aside from the chattering of teeth and a goose honking in the dark, all was silent as we spun through the universe.

RE T URN OF TH E FORES T

Few know the forest as well as Baron Horiuchi, Hakalau’s resident horticulturalist from just down the mountain. A younger version

of Baron appears on a volunteer brochure in the greenhouse that is his habitat. It was Baron who planted 1,000 trees, “just to see if I could,” who would wake at 3 a.m. to check frost levels in the greenhouse. It was Baron, along with university scientists, who figured out how to remake the old forest through trial and error, and who ensured the accuracy of the University of Hawai‘i and the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service handbooks. Baron also knew how to put us to work. Within an hour of arriving at the volunteer cabin, we were tagging and sorting in the greenhouse. Te ladies couldn’t have been more delighted. When we heard a woman scream on the way back to the cabin, we rushed to the scene only to find her posing for a shot with a tree she planted in ’03.

Te reforestation plan is pretty simple. A first step is to plant koa, and lots of it. A surprisingly fast-growing tree, it creates a canopy for a variety of understory like ‘ōhelo, the Dr. Seuss-inspired Cyanea shipmanii, and the still officially extinct Hawaiian mint Phyllostegia brevidens (which smells just like citronella). After a few years, a tipping point arrives. When enough native species claim the land they evolved with, the foreigner species are crowded out. Non-native grasses and that despicable gorse have no place in an ecosystem that evolved without them. According to Baron, “A couple years ago, an i’iwi came into the greenhouse. He landed right in front of me, and checked the place out. Ten he went to the opening, hung upside down by the sign for a minute, and left.” Covering his heart, he says, “It’s something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime.”

On the uneven terrain, tree planting isn’t as peaceful an endeavor as it sounds. In two-person teams, we used gas-powered augers that corkscrewed the soil, planted, and hoped for the best. I spent much of my time untangling grass from the auger. Whereas the whole ordeal tired me to the point of napping at lunch, the plant ladies pealed with delight in the dirt, their zeal only magnified when we traveled down the trail to gather endangered berries.

Te grass is always greener under Acacia koa. Tat’s because the Hawaiian koa evolved talon-shaped leaves to catch the

mist that rolls up the mountain, regulating precipitation and temperature for the flora living under its reach. Baron even had this zinger ready for us: “Where do you run when it’s raining in the forest? … Not under a koa tree!” Horticulture humor. Some trees drop, curl, twist and double up on themselves in endless configurations. Te now-prized “curly koa” were the ones spared by the loggers, being too hard to mill at the time. Te rest of the canopy at this elevation consists of ‘ōhia, a tree that has pulled an impressive bit of adaptive radiation, filling the ecological niche of dozens of other plants. Some are dense, flowerless bushes, others are medium-sized trees with sponge-like air roots; still others are banyan-style groves, where new trees sprout on the sides of fallen giants. Tere are a few of those 1,600-yearold trees still left in Hakalau, last of the oldest flowering species in the world.

Tere are a host of animals that shouldn’t be under the canopy, but none of them matches the feral pig’s capacity to wreck shit up. Pigs gnaw and root up the understory, leaving pits and wallows ripe for mosquitoes, which carry the Avian malaria and pox now known to plague the forest’s birds. When a plant lady asked, “Isn’t it counterintuitive that the state issues licenses for pig hunting right next to the refuge?” Baron just sighed like a veteran. “We used to bring them down to town and distribute them to smokers, but that got to be too expensive. Now, we just shoot them where we find them,” he answered. “Tey take from the land, we return them to it.” During a long day of planting, it wasn’t hard to subscribe to this rough sense of justice. I pitilessly imagined a mass grave of feral pigs somewhere in the forest, the tomb of the unnamed pua‘a. Up here, the difference between state and federal land is defined by a braddah with a sniper rifle named Kawika.

At the bottom of the trail, everything felt different from the upper unit where we spent the night. Te forest was a cool, towering world, a closed system under the reach of trees, which sprouted before humans set foot on the island. Te ground consisted of rotting leaves and patches of fern over mossy boulders. Tere was little grass, and

even that looked different. All was silent but for birdsong and breezes. Our voices felt intrusive. I caught sight of an i‘iwi, the hummingbird-like cover model of all the pamphlets. Teir fist-sized bodies are as bright as an LED stoplight and just as arresting. It wasn’t a nice character though, mimicking the calls of its fellow birds, and later chasing an ‘amakihi around a shrub just for kicks.

FOR TH E B IRDS

Te next morning, we awoke to the first frost of the season, and made out before dawn for “birding.” To call a birder a bird watcher would be an insult, like calling a painter a painting maker. As AJ groggily pulled on yesterday’s socks and rain boots, I mumbled that the only thing more boring than looking for birds is talking about looking for birds. For the plant ladies however, our dawn trip to the heart of the forest was why we were there. And for Steve, his predecessor Jack, and countless others, it is a vocation.

Birding is not easy. Te experience requires patience and an awareness of surroundings. Sounds in the forest are everywhere, and the i‘iwi taunts its prospective audience as it does its fellow species. Above our heads were the high-octave sounds of bird calls, like balloons rubbing together, balls bouncing and dropping in water, hisses and cackles. I would

turn my head and focus the binoculars in the direction of pointed fingers, and see nothing but a branch in the wind.

At one point, all lenses pointed to a gap in the foliage of an ancient ‘ōhia. “Where? Where?” we whispered in hushed tones. Ten, an audible gasp. Tere it was. For 10 minutes, a pudgy yellow ‘akiapola‘au Hawaiian honeycreeper picked at invisible bugs over lehua blossoms as the sun rose behind the trees. It bounced and bobbed, noisy and alive. And then it was gone, and we were left listening for more.

On our last day, we saw glimpses of Hakalau’s logging past. We drove to a cabin built in the 1890s by a rancher named Hitchcock. Its massive, straight beams of rot-resistant koa became property of the federal government when the refuge was dedicated. I’ve seen enough B-movies to know a haunted cabin when I see one, but this place takes the quiche, if you will. It had all the hallmarks of creepiness, including slanted floors, questionable ex-guests, and a legitimate warning etched on a metal sign that may or may not have been written by a keiki ghost. If Poltergeist is right, we were pretty safe. Spirits are homebodies. As long as one doesn’t dig them up, they’re as chill as a nene. We took our group picture on the haunted patio and backed away quietly.

As I tried to convince myself I wasn’t cursed, we bumped back out to civilization.

Over the horizon, a dark silhouette made figure eights over a hill of grass and scattered, knobby koa trees. It was, unmistakably, an ‘io “riding the updraft,” Steve explained. It was a scene the first inhabitants of this place saw: a predator far above the squabble of the forest, efficiently and patiently stalking its quarry.

Te Hawaiian hawk keeps its distance. It is one of the creatures thriving in the refuge, making slight dietary adaptations to an environment that will now always include introduced species. Baron told us Jack Jeffrey recently got a shot of one swooping and decapitating a mongoose, “something that’s gotta go on a T-shirt,” one of the plant ladies suggested. Maybe local politics would have turned out differently had this predator been named state bird instead of the attractive, compliant, lawn-loving goose. Maybe Emily Dickinson was right when she said, “Hope is a thing with feathers.” But sometimes, that thing with feathers can inspire an entirely different emotion in the birders below. Te flashy i‘iwi may be the cover model for the refuge’s brochures and hiking guides, but the ‘io felt like its spirit.

Te forest is a place that stays with you. Like the indigenous culture that evolved with it, it is a thriving, contentious, multivoiced system existing in real time in the real world. It is far more beautiful than I can describe. And it deserves to be restored, and then left alone.

“When we heard a woman scream on the way back to the cabin, we rushed to the scene only to find her posing for a shot with a tree she planted in ’03.” – Planting koa seedlings at Hakalau.

Alicia Hatori’s strength of spirit is resounding. Despite being confined to a wheelchair, she paddle surfs, plays tennis, even goes on wild, crazy adventures around the world.

DEFINING THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Tree incredible journeys define the strength of the human spirit in overcoming debility

T EXT BY L ISA Y AMADA

Alicia Hatori MAGES BY J OHN H OOK

Kurt Tateishi and Daren Choi MAGES BY C HEYNE G ALLARDE

Nothing is predestined: Te obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings. - Ralph Blum

P ADD L IN G TH ROU GH ROU GH WA T ERS

When Alicia Hatori was 17, a swarm of bees flew into the truck her uncle was driving near her home in Kāne‘ohe, causing them to swerve into oncoming traffic. Tough minor, the accident dissected Alicia’s spinal cord, leaving her confined to a wheelchair. “I just closed my eyes, and I felt like I was floating,” she recalls. “So when I opened my eyes and I saw that my legs were still there, I was so scared and confused.”

Tat was 23 years ago. Right now, she’s in front of dozens of eyes, about to take her first step since that fateful day. Members of her family, who she cites as her “solid rock,” are in the front row. She lifts herself with crutches, her arms shaking slightly but still strong, and gets to her feet. Step by step, she walks across the room at Rehabilitation Hospital of the Pacific with the aid of eLEGS, a new robotics technology that imitates the movement of actual steps. “I wish there was some amaz-

ingly poetic way that I could get it across to you, but to feel my whole leg going through that motion of stepping, after 23 years of not walking, feels so incredible.”

Alicia’s strength of spirit is resounding. She paddle surfs, plays tennis, even goes on wild, crazy adventures around the world. Her very first trip after her accident, in fact, she made by herself. “I’m the oldest of seven kids, so I always had a sibling or mom to constantly just hover around me. I remember someone telling me, ‘You’re never going to be able to travel by yourself. How are you going to do that? How are you going to go to the bathroom?’” Discouraged at the thought of never being able to be free, Alicia, at 21, booked a flight to Los Angeles without telling anyone and left.

Sure enough, Alicia encountered trouble with the bathroom: “Te flight attendants had to wheel me through the plane on this little aisle chair, and I had to transfer onto the toilet with the door open, while a whole row of people sat there trying to avoid eye contact. Ten, trying to get my pants off on that disgusting bathroom toilet,” she recalls with a laugh.

“I crack up about those things now, but there were times when I just wanted to cry, to tell somebody to just come and pick me up. But on that trip, I realized that I was going to be okay and independent, that I’m going to live my life how I was going to live my life. If it’s a 12-hour flight, then I’m gonna have to

make two trips to the bathroom and everyone is just going to have to deal with that.”

Since that time, Alicia has traveled all over the United States, Mexico, Italy, Malta, Ireland and Canada. She recalls going to Waitomo in New Zealand, the dark caves illuminated by glowworms; “zorbing” down a massive hill in a huge inflated ball, worried her flaccid legs would knock her teeth out; and hiking all over Italy (“Te places where I couldn’t maneuver, my friends just threw me on their backs,” she says).

Tough she says her quality of life is amazing, she contends, “Tere is still a boundary that I can never cross. I have so much freedom, but at the same time, there’s a level of being a prisoner all the time.”

More than anything, Alicia hopes to encourage anyone going through difficulty, whether it be an obvious physical disability, emotional or mental, to keep fighting. “Te ebb and flow of life hits everybody. Some days you’re good, and some days you’re not,” she says, the pain of past days choking her up. “Don’t give up,” she continues in a whisper. “Don’t let other people dictate to you what your limits are or where you have to stop. It’s just finding the path of where you want to go. I might have to take three extra steps more than the average bear, but it’s so worth it.” She trails off. “It’s so worth it.”

So where to next for Alicia? “I think Tailand,” she says. Te possibilities, it seems, are endless.

REFIRIN G T O NEW L IFE

Kurt Tateishi’s ceramic pots are exquisite. His hands are steady as he pulls thrown clay higher and wider, the wheel rapidly spinning all the while. He concentrates intently to make sure the cylinder bowl in his hands doesn’t turn to mud. He moves to examine a newly fired pot. Shimmering wisps of glaze dance across the smooth, round bodies.

“Art is really good for the healing process,” he says. “It takes you away for that moment. It saved my life. It saved my family.” In Tanksgiving of 2005, Kurt was hit in the head with a steel beam while working at a construction jobsite. Despite suffering a skull fracture, he stood up and attempted to go down a ladder to get out of the building. While on the ladder, Kurt had a seizure and fell, hitting his head again.

Te next two years for Kurt were rough for him and his family. He was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury and struggled with memory and motor functions. His days were slow and monotonous. He would lie around the house, thinking about how he could get back to work. He suffered seizures daily, nearly every hour. “My son – he was only 9 years old at that time – he saw me go through seizures. He would go, ‘Dad, just stay like this,’ and he would put me on my side. I always going remember that.”

Kurt was in and out of hospitals during

that time and tried to run away from nearly every hospital he was in. Eventually he was sent to Casa Colina Center for Rehabilitation in California. “I tried to run away the first two days I was there. I ended up in a housing area and didn’t know where I was and walked across the freeway to try and get away from the hospital staff. I was the superintendent at my company, so if you know anything about construction, you know nobody ever used to tell me what to do. I was really high-strung, yelling at everybody. I had a reputation.”

Ten, Kurt rediscovered art. He started painting in Rehabilitation Hospital of the Pacific’s art program and eventually got back on the pottery wheel, something he had given up 15 years to ago to work construction. With clay, the process is a long one. Tere’s the molding, the drying, the firing, the glazing and then the firing again – an all-too-perfect metaphor for Kurt’s journey. “If I look at it now, I was more dysfunctional and disabled before the accident than I am now,” says the 50-year-old artist.

Kurt has made countless pots, donating them to charity auctions and giving them away to friends and family. “If my pots can make somebody happy, it’s worth everything. Art can mean a lot of different things for people, but you know what?” he asks with a big smile. “I think I get more out of art than what other artists get, because it’s money to them. It’s healing for me. It’s what my life is now.”

After falling 15 feet from a hiking trail, champion swimmer Daren Choi was left paralyzed from the neck down. He fought his way back and today, is back in the pool.

For Kurt Tateishi, art is healing.

“I was more dysfunctional and disabled before the accident than I am now. Art saved me.”

“I felt so helpless and frustrated, like someone always had to take care of me,”

G E TT IN G B ACK IN T O TH E P OO L

“I was facedown in the water, and I couldn’t move.”

After falling 15 feet from a hiking trail in Western Samoa and hitting coral in the shallow waters below, Daren Choi was left paralyzed from the neck down. “My whole body was tingling – you know the feeling, like when you fall asleep on your arm? I was yelling for help even though my face was in the water and wondering why I couldn’t just turn on my back.”

Te Pearl City High School junior, who was ranked first in backstroke in the state and top three overall at the time, was fresh off three bronze-medal finishes at his first international swim meet in Western Samoa. His friends, who had seen Daren fall, quickly scaled down the cliff and pulled him 25 yards to the shore. After spending a couple days in a hospital in Samoa, he was taken to New Zealand, where he was fitted with a halo (that Frankenstein-like head brace), which he wore for two and a half months.

When Daren finally made it home to Hawai‘i, the doctors broke the news to him: His his chances of ever walking again were 50-50, and that it wasn’t certain that he was ever going to have complete

function in his whole body. “It was really heartbreaking to hear all that,” says Daren.

Not even sure if he would ever walk again, Daren had to push through and relearn everything. Te simplest tasks, like brushing his teeth or feeding himself, took every ounce of strength Daren had. Like the scene in Kill Bill, when Uma Turman’s character commands herself, “Wiggle your big toe,” Daren had to command even the smallest of his muscles to move. Te first movement he gained back was in his right arm. Ten slowly, week by week, movement of another body part would come back. “I felt so helpless and frustrated, like someone always had to take care of me,” he says. “My first steps walking were like a baby, unsure and unbalanced.”

Five months after the accident, Daren got back in the pool. “At first, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go back in the pool,” he says. “I think I was kind of scared because of the fact that I was facedown in the water and I could’ve died right there.” Today, he is practicing again with Kamehameha Swim Club and is nearing his old times, though he isn’t sure yet if he will compete again. For now, he’s focusing on the things a normal 17 year old would, like having his driver’s license and where to go to college. “Don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t do something,” he says. “If they tell you otherwise, prove them wrong. You have nothing to lose.”

Royal household guards shown at ‘Iolani Barracks in 1890. In 1887, in a failed plot to replace Kal ā kaua with his sister Lili‘uokalani, Wilcox hid 300 conspirators in ‘Iolani Barracks.

TYPHOON OF STEEL

One survivor recalls details from the Battle of Okinawa, the largest amphibious assault and bloodiest battle of the Pacific War of WWII.

T

EXT BY J ADE E CKARDT & S AMSON R EINY | MAGES BY N ICOLE N AONE

Janice Suetomi still remembers the stench of dead soldiers as she hid with them in a cave while hiding from the Allied forces as a teen. “It was a horrible smell,” Suetomi recalls of the smell penetrating her senses while she feared for her life.

Now 82 years old, Suetomi easily recollects the horrid details of the real life-hell she, and an abundance of others, endured from April to June 1945 during the Typhoon of Steel, a World War II battle that took place in Okinawa. Historical reports point to rape, murder and suicide running rampant during the battle. Nicknamed the Typhoon of Steel due to the sheer amount of warfare and death, Suetomi is the only known survivor in Hawai‘i.“It’s not something I want to remember,” says Suetomi after 64 years of living in silence, “but it needs to be remembered and talked about.”

For those three months, the slight yet energetic Suetomi served as one of the Himeyuri, a group of teenaged high school students from northern Okinawa who served as nurses during the battle. She had been living in a dormitory, and the Japanese government told the students to say goodbye to their principal and teachers. About 300 of the teenaged students were shipped to help care for the wounded, even

though none of them had any training in medical care. “The only thing we were told to bring were pictures of our families,” she says. Offering the only window into a life free of the inhumane acts surrounding them, the photos served as inspiration and a reason to live as the number of deaths and the brutality around them escalated.

Fought on the Ryukyu Islands, the battles of Okinawa ensued when the Allied forces launched their greatest amphibious assault in the Pacific. Te Allies planned to use Okinawa, just short of 350 miles from mainland Japan, as a base for air operations for the planned invasion of the Japanese mainland. After weeks of kamikaze attacks from Japanese defenders, Allied ships and armored vehicles assaulting the island, mass suicide, and rampant killing, the battle resulted in the highest numbers of casualties in the Pacific during World War II. More than 100,000 Japanese troops were killed, and the Allies saw over 50,000 casualties. On the civilian level, tens of thousands of locals were killed, wounded, or took their own lives.

Te fight for survival drove people to become creative killers. Suetomi says there were rumors of soldiers feeding civilians milk that was laced with cyanide so they would have fewer people to feed or so they

could take their meager food rations. A memory of an infant’s life being sacrificed for the safety of others still stands out for Suetomi. As the Allied forces took the upper hand in securing the island, the Japanese army and many of the civilians retreated to caves. Te American-led forces drew dangerously close to their hideout, and, at a moment when complete silence was the only chance for survival, a baby began to cry. A soldier shoved a cloth into his mouth – he stopped breathing and died.

Suetomi and other Himeyuri witnessed the terrible effects of war every day. Te bandaged soldiers’ maggot-infested wounds. Tey helped them use the bathroom and fetched water. Tey cooked food outside the camps, a life threatening venture. Other survivors have recalled seeing students’ faces riddled with bullet holes and others who were burnt alive from napalm blasts.

While the barbarity of the Allied attacks are well known, there are still many underreported accounts of Japanese cruelty toward the Okinawans. Most notorious among atrocities were the Japanese orders that Okinawans to commit suicide rather than be captured by the Allied forces. “Tey were told they must die for the emperor,” says Jamie Oshiro, a local Okinawan his-

In total, more than 200,000 lives were lost in the Battle of Okinawa – twice the number of Japanese lost at Hiroshima.

tory enthusiast. “Tey were brainwashed.” Okinawans said the Japanese told them the Americans would rape and torture them and bring shame to their families and country. Many Okinawans were given two grenades: one to throw at the enemy and the other to blow themselves up.

Suetomi’s moment of truth came when she and other Himeyuri heard the sounds of soldiers and other civilians committing suicide. Her group only had two grenades, and they decided to kill themselves using both of them. “I was lucky I had a good teacher around that day,” Suetomi says. “He said, ‘You can die anytime, but to spend time with your family is more valuable.’” Tey desisted with their plan and the Allied forces captured them.

To Suetomi and those around her who were taken prisoner, the Japanese threats of impending rape and torture by the enemy were unfounded. Te American soldiers gave them rice to eat, time to shower, and a fresh change of clothes, an appreciated gesture given that their ragged clothes were infested with lice. Suetomi was then taken back to her home province and reunited with her family.

Today, a different battle continues, one

over truth, the outcome of which will be determined with what is printed in history books. “Only now is the Japanese government considering revising their textbooks,” Oshiro says, noting that the government has never formally acknowledged its role in the proliferation of the murder-suicides. Te Japanese Ministry of Education had been trying to delete the stories of the battles of Okinawa from their history books in an attempt to erase this part of their history. Oshiro says it’s up to the survivors to tell people what really happened. Out of the 300 young Himeyuri sent to the battlefields, only a third survived. Many were killed by American forces throughout the three months of nonstop mortar and gunfire. Others committed suicide. In total, more than 200,000 lives were lost in the 82-day struggle – twice the number of Japanese lost at Hiroshima. Te atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki caused Japan to surrender just weeks after the end of the battles at Okinawa. Suetomi says she does not want to stir up hatred toward the Japanese, but hopes that through peace and understanding, atrocities like the ones perpetuated in the Battle of Okinawa are prevented.

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CAMPOS

JAPAN AND JAKE SHIMABUKURO

C OM P ILED BY S ONNY G ANADEN | I MAGES BY T ADASHI N AKAMURA

Los Angeles-based academic, hip-hop connoisseur, and documentary filmmaker Tadashi Nakamura has been busy lately. He has completed three films since his graduation from UCLA in 2003, a “trilogy of early Asian American Movement” as he calls them. His second film, Pilgrimage, made it all the way to Sundance in 2008.

His third, the 2009 film A Song For Ourselves, won over a dozen awards in the United States and Canada including Best Documentary at the Bronx Independent Film Festival, the D.C. Asian Pacific Film Festival, and the Pomona Valley Film Festival, as well as the “Gold Kahuna Award” at the 2010 Honolulu Film Festival. A Song For Ourselves traced the life and impact of Asian American troubadour and UH Law Professor Chris Iijima through his untimely passing in 2005.

Nakamura has spent the last two years working on a documentary about ‘ukulele virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro. He is currently in the process of finishing and preparing the hour-long documentary for release in March of 2012. Here, Nakamura tells us about his documentary and his experience in Japan, where Jake Shimabukuro continued to tour even after the devastating tsunami hit back in March.

Te Japanese people are islanders, and so they gravitate towards other island cultures like Jamaica and Hawai‘i. Tere’s this long

history of access to Hawai‘i, going back generations now. With Jake, here’s a guy who has a last name that they can identify with, Shimabukuro, and he’s playing music that needs no translation. He looks like them, he feels real to them. It’s that simple.

Over a decade ago, he was signed with Sony Music in Japan. Tey really invested money into putting him front and center with the Japanese market. He’s only 34, but he’s been doing this crazy touring thing since he was 18. Folks in Hawai‘i might remember him from his days with Pure Heart, or now those insurance commercials, but he’s done so much outside of that. In terms of mainland exposure, he’s been around about five years; he’s appeared on Conan O’Brien and Jimmy Kimmel and has been featured in Rolling Stone. He played for the Queen of England last year. He tours nine months out of the year.

Since I’ve known him, he’s gotten engaged and married, but he still continues to grind. I was so impressed by how hard he works on a daily basis. When I was with him on tour, it was often a new city every day, so hours and hours on buses, checking in and out of places, always in and out of cars. We were out there filming him for a week and got super exhausted. But he’s doing that for months at a time, always on it for the next performance.

Last year I went with him on a portion of the Japan tour. We were about halfway done

with the shooting when the earthquake and tsunami disasters hit in March, so a little less than a year into the project. Jake’s family is from Fukushima, where the nuclear meltdown occurred. He’s fifth generation Japanese. His manager is actually from Sendai, though she’s lived in Hawai’i for some time now. He’s been touring in Fukushima and Sendai for the last 10 years, and we all knew this would affect the project.

It was Jake’s decision to go forward with the touring. Instead of scaling back, he actually ramped up the scheduling, doing as much as he could to help. He knew what he could do as a musician was limited. After a tour in Korea, he increased the scheduling from June to October of this year, and all through September he’s working pretty hard out there. Te images I’ve seen are just devastating. But I’ve also seen them doing an amazing job rebuilding. We went out there for the tour, and the crowd was really into it. I’m glad Jake decided to stay on course and stick it out.

When I make one of these documentaries, I know I’m representing someone’s life the way I think it is. Tat understanding is filtered through my lens. With time, and enough distance, I can see things differently, and tell the story.

A teaser for the forthcoming documentary can be found at: www.tadashinakamura.com

eled to

Filmmaker Tadashi Nakamura trav-

Japan following the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami in March to film a documentary on Jake Shimabukuro, who inspired the devastated country with his music.

Ergonomic headphones with good sound quality are a must. The AIAIAI TMA-1 is the answer to a bulky set of headphones with its lightweight body, dynamic sound range, and a long, coiled cord for ease of motion.

Traveling with a good watch, which functions well in both business and recreational settings, is important. A Rolex Submariner is a rugged yet classic first choice for its fresh daytime look and is even more stunning when out on the town. A moderately sized men’s watch on a woman’s wrist never goes out of style either.

Sitting in an enclosed cabin of recycled air while headed to a destination with a drier climate can do a number on your skin and muscles. Kiehl’s Ultimate Strength Hand Salve prevents extremely dry hands. A dab on your cheeks and forehead also help keep your face from tightening up.

A KICKS/HI Orange Label business card holder shows you care enough about your contacts to keep from shoving it next to your Costco membership card in your George Costanza monstrosity of a wallet.

In this digital age, it’s always nice to pick up a pen and jot down thoughts. Our choice is Moleskine for its timeless look and function.

SELECTS

BY CHRIS KAM + BLAISE SATO

Jet Life

Now, more than ever, it’s not unusual for a jetsetter to be under 35. These youthful travelers are paying more attention to balancing style with the function of comfort. Business trips most times require a quick transition between getting off a flight and into a meeting, which could just as likely be at a bar as it could a boardroom. Having the right travel essentials is key. This is our guide to building a proper kit for stylish, relaxing and productive travel.

S martphones are both real business and real fun. I t is imperative to have a phone that not only connects you to others, but also offers apps to keep you from going mad during long periods of travel. I t isn’t out of the question to have both an iPhone and a Blackberry

The only time it’s acceptable to wear sunglasses at night is on a plane (sorry, Corey Hart). This Cazal x Dita 902 is a limited-edition rerun of the iconic Cazal frames. Not quite vintage or the obligatory aviator, they are a good look poolside, driving or shopping.

Your feet expand on flights. A pair of fresh, comfortable socks, preferably with a playful print like this HUF Plant Life pair, works wonders so you can slip your shoes off without exposing that pinky toe you’re embarrassed about.

Portability and entertainment value win out here. An iPad 2 is a great alternative to packing your laptop for travel. Fill it with movies and TV shows, but also be sure you can finesse a spreadsheet. Dress your tablet up with a smooth cover for added protection and elegance with this Bottega Veneta woven leather cover

The capabilities of pocket-sized digital cameras rival that of high-end DSLR types. The S100 PowerShot by Canon is available at a whopping 12.1 megapixels. The ease of taking high resolution photos on a whim is great for capturing moments on a vacation or product shots at a sales meeting.

Make sure you have at least one pair of comfortable shoes. The Converse First String Straight Shooters are understated, classy and the built-in Lunarlon insole makes for the most comfortable shoe you’ve ever set your foot on.

HAWAI‘I HARLEQUINS CALENDAR TO BENEFIT BREAST CANCER RESEARCH

S HOT BY K ELLI B ULLOCK

Kelli Bullock is a photographer specializing in family portraits and maternity photography. Recently, she has expanded her portfolio by shooting the Hawai‘i Harlequins rugby team. Inspired by her mother, who is a breast cancer survivor, she was eager to assist the team in creating a semi-nude calendar for

breast cancer awareness and research. Te non-profit team hopes the nature of Bullock’s photography and subject matter will raise money for their team, as well as those affected by breast cancer. Te Hawai‘i Harlequins rugby team was established in 1964. Since then, they have been recognized internationally as a team, and continue to progress in skill.

Te calendars will cost $20, with the team donating 50 percent of calendar proceeds to breast cancer research. All sales will be entirely tax deductible. Te Harlequins plan to market the calendars with launch parties in Chinatown and Hula’s in Waikīkī. Tose interested may also purchase the calendars at rugbyhawaii.com.

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U PCOMING E XHIBITIONS

THE CONTEMPORARY MUSEUM, SPALDING HOUSE

Finger Ken Fandell

On display October 20, 2011 – January 29, 2012

Darren Waterson’s mural painting Wa‘a is making way for Finger, by Chicago artist Ken Fandell.

Ken Fandell’s Finger digitally combines and manipulates images on a grand scale. Audiences will be privy to 111 pictures of his finger captured at different angles and bends, looping around and around in a maze-like composition.“It does not follow a system and it’s all subjective – it’s more related to painting than photography, in that it involves intuitiveness.” Finger is not only a work of the body but also explicitly names elements of humor with drama, with “equal part inspirations from God’s and Adam’s fingers on the Sistine Chapel ceiling and the animations of Terry Gilliam.”

Mike Kelley

Jennifer Steinkamp

On Display October 20, 2011 – January 29, 2012

In honor of past teachers in her life, Los Angeles artist Jennifer Steinkamp creates a series of computer video projection of trees. Debuting at Hammer in 2007, the exhibition pays homage to her teacher, Mike Kelley, a progenitor within the Los Angeles contemporary art scene. While Steinkamp’s works draw from the 1960s Southern California-based light-and-space artists, such as James Turrell and Robert Irwin, she uses advanced digital technology to fully achieve the effects of her wall-size projections and room installations. Mike Kelley comprises high-definition video with 3-D animation. Tree branches move in a silent wind while they cycle from bare branches to budding shoots to blossoming flowers to green leaves, reflecting the passage of time and change of seasons. The work has a mesmerizing, fairy-tale-like effect. It establishes a dialogue between art and nature, between the exhibition and the gardens outside.

JOHN KELLY ENVIRONMENTAL AWARDS

Te O‘ahu Chapter of the Surfrider Foundation is proud to announce their ninth annual John Kelly Environmental Awards dinner and silent auction, taking place on Saturday, December 3, on the beautiful grounds of Waimea Valley. Te esteemed awards dinner is held in honor of activist, surfer and artist John Kelly for his selflessness towards environmental movements on O‘ahu. Kelly loved the ocean and lived to protect it. Te John Kelly Awards dinner give recognition to those who have dedicated endless hours toward continuing to protect the water and environment in Hawai‘i.

Kelly was the first recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award, with other past awardees including George Down-

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ing, Peter Cole and Mark Cunningham. Past recipients of the O‘ahu-Based Company Award for their commitment to environmentalism include Patagonia-Hale‘iwa, Brushfire Records and the Honolulu Weekly. Te Pro Surfer Award has recognized icons Duana DeSoto, Dave Rastavoich and Kelly Slater. Tey have all helped to protect our oceans and beaches and keep John Kelly’s legacy alive.

Proceeds from the event will benefit the Surfrider Foundation’s O‘ahu chapter and their programs and campaigns to improve water quality, beach access, coastal preservation and advocacy for our marine life. For more information visit surfrider.org/oahu.

DOWNBEAT DINER took over its little nook on Hotel Street less than a year ago, and already, it has become a Chinatown staple. Downbeat’s menu contains all your diner favorites with a few surprises thrown in (craft beers, Guinness milkshakes, snob-worthy coffee), including vegetarian and vegan options for nearly every item. So no matter what you’re in the mood for, Downbeat’s got you covered.

FEELING: Indecisive

GO WITH: Te Monte Cristo

Sure, dinnertime is just around the corner, but you just woke up, and, while a lunch entrée seems more appropriate, breakfast sounds pretty good, too. Downbeat’s got a sandwich that is as deliciously bi-curious as your appetite. Te Monte Cristo consummates your two favorite mealtimes: grilled ham and melted Swiss cheese united in sweet and savory yumminess stuffed between two thick slices of French toast. Drizzle a little syrup on top, and you’ve got a great start to your day, even though it’s 5 p.m.

PAIR IT WITH: A piping-hot mug of Downbeat’s signature coffee.

FEELING: Hongrey

GO WITH: Te Mega Moco

Maybe you just wrapped up an epic surf sesh on the South Shore. Maybe it’s your first meal after a 10-day Master Cleanse. Maybe you’re a competitive eater in training. When the only thing that can satisfy your starvation is a mound of food bigger than your face, order the Mega Moco. Te moco of all mocos, the Mega begins with two scoops of rice, two burger patties, two strips of bacon and four over-easy eggs, then gets drenched in a coat of gravy and topped with sautéed onions. Since omnivores get hungry too, Downbeat offers a vegan Mega, and never has an oxymoron tasted so delicious.

PAIR IT WITH: A just-as-rich milkshake. Te diner classic with a Downbeat twist comes in a variety of flavors, such as Chai Tea, Chunky Monkey and Guinness.

FEELING: Fat

GO WITH: Te Avo Sammy

Still recovering from that Mega Moco you ordered yesterday? Craving some light, greeny goodness, but going the salad route just feels like a cop out? Te Avo Sammy is the perfect compromise. Tis sandwich unites avocado, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, balsamic vinaigrette and mayo in a zesty yet refreshing combination that will

impress your taste buds without weighing you down. If all this good-for-you food talk sounds too guilt free, pair your Sammy with a side of crispy Cajun fries.

PAIR IT WITH: Te lychee sour cocktail. Vodka, lychee purée and freshly made sweet and sour in a thirst-quenching concoction that’s semi-sweet and fully refreshing.

FEELING: Hungover

GO WITH: Te American Burger

From what you can remember, last night was pretty rad. But when you wake up, all you have to show for it is a cold sweat, the shakes and skull-crushing pain. Sounds like you need some fat-kid food. Tere’s nothing like a little greasy glory to cure a hangover headache. Te American is a savory, Big Island beef burger topped with American cheese, lettuce, onion and Downbeat’s special house sauce. Looking for a less carnivorous cure? Order the American vegan-style.

PAIR IT WITH: Downbeat’s Bloody Mary, created using a spicy, made-from-scratch house mix and a dash of horseradish.

FEELING: Spicy

GO WITH: Te Buffalo Chicken Sandwich

If there ever were a food genre with a cult following, it would be hot and spicy. Its diverse group of devoted disciples are the people that will top just about anything with crushed red pepper and who a mini bottle of Tabasco sauce in their back pockets. Leave the mini bottle at home when you go to Downbeat, because its Buffalo Chicken Sandwich has more kick than a soccer game. Medium on the heat but extra large in flavor, this grilled chicken sandwich is topped with Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, red onion, ranch and, of course, a spicy and tangy buffalo sauce. For an animal-free buffalo experience, try it with the vegan chicken.

PAIR IT WITH: Downbeat’s homemade ginger brew. Zesty and refreshing, you can drink it plain or dress it up with a shot of Kraken Rum.

John “JJ” Niebuhr pegs the success of Chinatown favorite JJ Dolan’s on one simple concept: hot pizza and cold beer.

IN THE KITCHEN WITH...

John “JJ” Niebuhr

T EXT BY K ELSEY L ONGO | PHOTOS BY J OHN H OOK

Rushing out the kitchen doors, he quickly shakes hands with three patrons in the establishment[AH1]. By most measures, he is nondescript: a youngish man in a white chef apron, plain white T-shirt and tousled hair. He stops to talk to two more customers sitting at the bar before making his way to a table, Guinness in hand.

It’s 3:15 on a Monday afternoon, the lull period for businesses in the food and beverage industry, but at JJ Dolan’s, this slow duration appears nonexistent. For the next hour, all tables remain occupied by happy

patrons enjoying beers and pizzas.

Most would not know it, but the man in the chef apron is the co-owner of this restaurant. John Niebuhr, known as “JJ” around the streets of Chinatown, pegs the success of JJ Dolan’s on one simple concept: hot pizza and cold beer. Niebuhr, who gives himself the title of “Pizza Guy” on his business card, says he found his love for pizza back in Jersey City, where he hails from. “I was in the second grade and I went on a field trip to a local pizzeria,” Niebuhr recalls. “I was selected out of one boy and one girl in the second-

grade class to go ahead and make a pizza, and I knew right then, at that moment, that I wanted to be in the pizza business.”

Before beginning his working life in the downtown area, Niebuhr made pizzas at Kemo‘o Farms in Schofield and spent his leisure time in Chinatown. “On Friday nights, I would finish up at Kemo‘o Farms at 4:30 p.m.,” he says. “I would come down and be here in Chinatown by 5:30 p.m. and bring the guys at Murphy’s a pizza and have a beer.”

Tat’s where it all started for Niebuhr.

Don Murphy, of Murphy’s Bar & Grill, made Niebuhr’s pizza deliveries a regular Friday night occasion. Ten, in 1997, Niebuhr jumped on board Murphy’s bartending team, becoming a fulltime bartender in 2001.

Trough Niebuhr’s regularity in the downtown area, both working and playing, he was able to build relationships with the right people. One of those key individuals is his current partner, Danny Dolan, who shared the same dream as Niebuhr of opening up an establishment that would fill a void in Chinatown. “In December of 2007, I got a phone call from Danny, who just left his bartending job at O’Toole’s, looking for something to do,” he says. “From there, we got together and put together a plan of what downtown needed.”

But it wasn’t an easy road for Niebuhr and Dolan. Te two friends decided to launch their business right when the economy started to take its downturn. “We didn’t give up after three of the largest banks in Hawai‘i weren’t interested,” Niebuhr says. “But Hawaii National Bank stepped up because of a personal relationship we had built with someone there.”

Niebuhr made sure to utilize this kokua network to put together a place that benefited the community. “It was Chinatown helping Chinatown,” he says. “Everyone knew that they wanted pizza, they wanted some cold beer, and they wanted a place they could go to.” Built on that simple concept –the perfect marriage of pizza and beer – JJ Dolan’s opened its doors to Chinatown patrons in January of 2008. All the recipes are Niebuhr’s own and are an amalgamation of everything he has learned over the years of making pizzas, resulting in pies that people can’t get enough of. Still, he hasn’t let the restaurant’s success go to his head. While Niebuhr sits humbly at a tabletop with a Guinness in hand, he always makes time to welcome customers entering the doors and thank those headed out.

“You’re able to be resilient when you have a grouping and backbone of people behind you,” he says. “And Chinatown is the most resilient neighborhood in Hawai‘i. I feel so humble and so incredibly blessed.”

THE KEY TO A PERFECT PIZZA:

“To me, a great pizza is a perfect marriage between pizza dough, sauce and toppings,” says Niebuhr. “I really pride myself in using local produce, like local grape tomatoes. If you overdo the toppings, sauce or dough, it can ruin the entire pizza. My favorite pizza? I’m a simple man. I like cheese pizza. I like pepperoni, garlic, basil and sausage as an afternoon or late night pizza.”

Niebuhr’s chewy and crisp pizza crust is arguable the best on the island. Here, Niebuhr shares the key ingredients to his dough recipe, although the measurements you’ll have to figure out yourself.

High gluten flour

Sugar

Hawaiian salt

Olive oil/vegetable oil mixture

Secret Ingredient: Guinness

THE FLYOVER

David Sedaris

David Sedaris has become one of America’s preeminent humor writers. Known for cutting through cultural euphemisms and political correctness, the master of satire has become one of the most observant writers addressing the human condition today. He’s written a number of bestselling memoirs, including Me Talk Pretty One Day and Naked. His newest book, a collection of fables entitled Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary immediately hit the New York Times’ bestseller fiction list. We spoke with the humorist about bicycles, postcards and his upcoming appearance in Hawai‘i.

It looks like you’re going to be here in Hawai‘i around Tanksgiving. Anything in particular you want to do when you’re here?

I’m usually in Europe for Tanksgiving, and there it’s just Tursday, so I’m really out of the habit of celebrating Tanksgiving. But goodness, I’ll be touring 41 cities in 41 days and Honolulu will be my last stop. So really, I just want to ride a bike. I mean, I don’t have an outfit or anything, or any special sort of pants. I just want to ride a girl’s bike,

with a basket on it and no helmet. A week after that, I’ll be starting my book tour.

Do you prefer paper books or e-readers?

I just read my first couple of books on the iPad and I guess, because I travel so much, it is good for that. But there was always something about signing a book that I liked. All that’s changing so fast. I was just throwing tons of stuff away in my apartment because it all just seems like stuff from a former life. Audio books on cassette or CD that I’ve been holding on to. I don’t even know who to give that stuff to anymore. Tere aren’t even blind people that want books on tape anymore. Used to be, I’d bring stuff like that into the United States and give it away. I lug around a lot of stuff. I never go anywhere without 70 pounds on my back.

Tat’s a lot of weight!

I have 9,000 postcards to give away to people on this tour. I had a designer make these postcards for me. One of them has a bunch of owls on it, and it says, “Lets explore dia-

betes with owls.” Like, what in god’s name? What do owls know about diabetes? I’m a big collector of postcards. Postcards and mushroom models.

Mushroom models?

I just saw a mushroom and I wanted it. I have oh, about 30 plus mushrooms. I’ll see a model of a mushroom and it’ll cost like $1,300, but it’s a really beautiful sculpture so I don’t know why it would not cost a lot of money. I put that one on my Christmas list.

Have you gotten any postcards or letters regarding your openness about being gay from readers? I get letters from kids, maybe a small percentage of them are gay kids. Maybe 20 years ago, I probably would’ve, but there’s so much out there now. And I think probably they’re writing to that guy on Glee.

For the full interview, visit FLUXhawaii.com. David Sedaris appears November 22 at the Blaisdell Concert Hall.

NTER V IEW BY S ONNY G ANADEN | MAGE BY S HAWN A NDREWS