Okay, so I admit I've been a little slow getting on this whole "blog bandwagon," but after reading the posts by the other three contributing artists, I can't tell you how excited I am with this project. I think Kizuna is going to be a unique endeavour for us all, and a great opportunity to stretch ourselves in new directions.
My contribution will be primarily musical: I'm a classically trained flutist, and in particular I perform the music of many contemporary, living composers. For this project, I will be collaborating with two people: Shizu Hayashi and Yota Kobayashi.
Shizu Hayashi is my aunt, and my primary link (since the death of my mother) to my Japanese-Canadian heritage. I think it's actually a little amusing reminiscing my childhood in an attempt to suss out what parts of it were "Japanese" -- after all, a childhood is a childhood, and one doesn't typically question these things. But there are definitely things that, upon reflection, were unique in my upbringing, and remain very vivid and dear to me: sukiyaki dinner at my grandparents', the ubiquitous manju, my grandfather playing the shakuhachi, one-eyed darumas lurking in closets, just to name a few (I recently acquired my own daruma, whose second eye will be filled in upon the completion of my Doctoral degree in music at UBC). At any rate, Shizu is, in addition to being an exceptional and generous human being, my liaison with this past, someone who can fill in the blanks, sharpen hazy memories and launch me on to creative trajectories that I would have otherwise overlooked.
Yota Kobayashi is a prize-winning composer, born in Nagoya, Japan, presently residing in Vancouver. Simply put, Yota writes stunning music. He works primarily with electronics but often incorporates live elements (like a flute, for example), resulting in soundscapes that are sensual, organic and occasionally quite eerie. Yota has agreed to compose the music for our contribution to Kizuna. My original idea was to explore aspects of the old Steveston fishing industry (both of my grandparents, as well as my Australian-born father, were very much part of this community). However, Yota had recently proposed something else: since moving to Canada, one of the things he said he missed the most about Japan were the seasons -- not so much the climate or weather so much as the sounds associated with each season: the chirping of cicadas, the temple bells, the indigenous birdsong. Yota proposed a new composition that would explore these unique sounds: essentially, a new Four Seasons, but from a Japanese perspective.
I had to admit, I was skeptical at first. The sounds of Yota's homeland would undoubtedly make an effective piece of music, but I wasn't at all sure how this would tie in with the Japanese-Canadian community that defined my personal upbringing. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what propelled Yota to make such a proposition was nostalgia -- the same sort of nostalgia that could make a room full of obasans sing along to the melody of Kojo No Tsuki when I played it for them on the flute as a child. Yota's soundworld is not at all dissimilar to that which filled the ears of my grandparents before coming to Canada -- sounds that, were they to hear them again, could and would transform them back into wide-eyed children. So I was sold, and am curious and excited to see how this project develops.
There remains one aspect of Kizuna that worries me: I work with sound, not with any sort of visible material. As a rule, I'm a very physical performer -- but my contribution to Kizuna will be a sound installation, a recording of me performing Yota's music. It has been suggested to me that there needs to be some sort of physical manifestation for my project: a separate room, a listening post, etc. I'm still mulling this about -- and I actually have an idea of how to solve this, but I'll know for sure when I visit the archives with my aunt next week....
