C - The Art Issue #105

2021 THE ART ISSUE 2021

C - The Art Issue This issue was conceptualized as a means to display the varied talents of Japan’s international community.

They come from many different creative backgrounds and develop many others still while in Japan. Enjoy their work, and check out each contributor’s links for more.

Issue Concept and Design

Cover Photo Timon Klauser on Unsplash.com

Find Us Online Facebook Instagram Twitter ISSUU

Meg Luedtke

Editors Alice Ridley, Damien Levi, Derek Hurst, Clarissa Combe, Shannon Stocker, Cameron Peagler, Jessica Craven, Alice French, Clare Braganza, Lara Yi, Rachel Fagundes, Kayla Francis, Day Bulger, Dianne Yett, Natalie Andrews, Ashley De La Haye, Sarah Baughn, Rhema Baquero, Hoong Shao Ting

Disclaimer Neither National AJET nor AJET CONNECT magazine owns any of the work displayed here. Everything in this issue was published with the permission of each contributor and should not be used for any other purposes outside of the issue.

Contact information for each contributor has been provided at the beginning of their spread, so please address each contributor individually with inquiries.

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Graphics used for written submissions found on freepik.com

Letter From the Editor The country of Japanー—with all of its traditional customs and seemingly paradoxical modernizations—ーhas been a fascination of Westerners for centuries, inspiring authors, poets, photographers, and artists from around the world. Those of us creatives in Japan today share a kindred spirit with those who have come before us.

As CONNECT’s Art Section Editor, here I introduce to you the current international community’s perspectives of Japan, as captured in their art, photography, and creative writing. All of us who have worked on this year’s CONNECT Art Issue would like to thank all of the creatives who have submitted work this year.

Especially, we admire your adventurous spirit, creative passion, and resilience during a year when it has been especially difficult to live in a foreign country. One of the most amazing things that has come from the increased isolation of this time is an explosion of work from the creative community. We had so many great submissions, and regardless of whether or not your work was selected for publication here, I am sure that it will provide others with a renewed sense of wonder and hope during a time when we can easily lose sight of them.

This year’s issue showcases a diverse group of skilled and dedicated artists from a number of countries. Some of this issue’s works directly reference experiences of living in Japan, while others are more personal or conceptual.

Regardless, all of the artists featured here have been somehow influenced by their time living in Japan. It is very interesting and inspiring to see work from people with such a rich and genuinely multicultural worldview!

For those of you who are reading this year’s Art Issue, we at CONNECT are sure it will lift your spirits and inspire you.

We hope this issue will remind you of some of your good memories and help you reflect on your time here in Japan.

We hope it will help you relate to others and feel a little less alone as a stranger in a foreign land. Maybe it will inspire you to make some art of your own. But mostly, we hope it brings together the best of ourselves here in the JET community—ーa group of independent spirits who dare to venture to the other side of the world and find whatever is waiting for them there.

Guest Editor: Jessica Craven (Saitama) 4th Year JET

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Hamza Tariq Tō ōkyō ō

Rainy Night in Shibuya Restaurants in Shibuya Woman Holding an Umbrella Shibuya People Walking in Shibuya Ebisu During Blue Hour Izakaya in Ebisu Two People on a Smoke Break in Matsumoto Man Holding an Umbrella Shibuya Senso-ji Asakusa Sunset in Enoshima

Hamza Tariq lived in Ebisu, Tōkyō from 2019-2020 and attended a Japanese language school in Kanda. During his time in Tōkyō, he mostly took pictures of the city at night, capturing the rain soaked neon-lit streets with his Nikon D3200. He currently lives in Pakistan and works as a freelance writer.

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People Walking in Shibuya

Restaurants in Shibuya

Man Holding an Umb 6

Ebisu During Blue Hour

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Sunset in E

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Woman Holding an Umbrella Shibuya

Enoshima

Rainy Night in Shibuya

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Izakaya in Ebisu

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Two People on a Smoke Break

k in Matsumoto

Senso-ji Asakusa

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Bima Perera Tō ōkyō ō

“I’ve been waiting for you” Home Time Solace Korokke Osechi Weekly Menu Home Cooking - Lu Rou Fan Home Cooking - Melon Pan Toast Daily moments - Wild Daily moments - my skin Wedding Portraits Bima is a freelance illustrator/art instructor from sunny Brisbane, Australia.

Born and raised in Japan by loving Sri Lankan parents, she migrated to Australia in her early teens. Now back in Tōkyō with her fiance and a peach-coloured hamster.

The past year has been a lot to take, as the world was caught up in something we haven’t seen in our lifetime. She put all the energy she could master into cooking. Slowly, cooking turned into a muse for her art.

She hopes you find a comforting solace in her illustrations of the daily moments as we go through the motions of the pandemic.

I hope you find a little piece of solace in my drawings during this weird time.

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Home Time Solace

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Daily moments - my skin 15

Daily moments wild

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Weekly Menu

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“I’ve been waiting for you”

Matteo Carella Godzilla’s head Shimokita by night Akihabara rain Somewhere in Shinjuku Asaka in green A walk Kabukicho lights

Matteo is an Italian photographer that loves to capture urban Tōkyō in noir and neon. The name of his project “adjacent.future” is a tribute to Stuart A. Kauffman and his book “At Home in the Universe”. He’s now stuck in Italy due to COVID-19 restriction, waiting to return to Japan to continue his work and also exploring black and white street photography.

Twitter | Instagram | Showtime | Facebook | Etsy

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Godzilla’s head 25

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Somewhere in Shinjuku

Akiha

abara rain

Kabukicho lights

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A walk

Asaka in

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Shimokita by night

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Gwendolyn Meshberg Tō ōkyō ō

Falling Stars New Year’s Wish Angel

Gwendolyn Meshberg is a watercolor artist residing in Tōkyō, Japan. The inspiration for her pieces is derived from nature and human interaction. Through watercolor illustration she depicts life as a whimsical storybook, creating an intimate world for the viewer to escape to.

She often travels around Japan and uses nature as her reference - from purple, dreamlike wisteria in Tochigi to calming, tranquil hydrangea in Kamakura. She also has a love for fashion and culture, which also influence her works.

She has participated in exhibitions around Tōkyō and is part of an international Tōkyō-based artist community.

Art Instagram | Instagram | Website

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Angel 31

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New Year’s Wish

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Falling Stars

Ariel Montemayor Fukui Kyoto at Night

Have you seen Kyoto at night And passed down those dark alleys With only the lanterns as your guide Bidding you closer, nearer, As Chihiro to the bathhouse?

To wander among the ghosts of old And see the things they saw Paired with what they could only imagine?

Have you heard Kyoto at night When the wind dances through red leaves And the clack of wooden shoes on lonely roads Fade off towards heaven’s doors And through a thousand red gates on the way?

To hear the scream of engines roll past The tolling bells of new years?

Ariel Montemayor is an aspiring author from the Pacific Northwest of the USA and currently lives in Fukui. In school she fell in love with the works of J.R.R. Tolkien, Federico García Lorca, and Gabriel García Márquez (to name a few) and dreamed of her own works someday joining their ranks. Since coming to Japan, she’s worked on a fantasy novel, various short stories, and the occasional poem, all of which are inspired by the people and places around her.

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Have you smelled Kyoto at night As scents of supper seep out to the streets Rising up above the homes of families and brothers And sharing the bounty of this good earth?

Or breathed deep of the air where man Can stretch his arms wide and find his place in the world?

Have you tasted Kyoto at night And smacked sweet mochi between your lips, Savoring the red beans within Then washing them down with hot tea?

And known the many flavors Of well wishes and fresh hope In each careful, beautiful meal?

Have you felt Kyoto at night Just after the sun has set When the warmth of golden paradise Gives way to that dark, glittering veil Of silver starlight upon the sky’s cool crown?

Where the steam of tea rises up And kisses gently your cheek and nose?

Have you seen Kyoto’s two faces, Both one and the same, of tradition and progress together, In that city where time stopped but still runs These things, these faces wonderfully married, Looking both to the past and the future?

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Jenem Tō ōkyō ō

Androme Strands Sus4 Flower Zomm B.

Jenem is an Experimental artist residing in Tōkyō, Japan. Her art deals with physical, emotional, and spiritual transformation, and the beauty and intricacies of feeling.

Atmospheric and progressive in nature, her works hover between calm minimalism and an unsettling void of abstraction. Jenem draws inspiration from cinematography and soundscapes, a background in fashion and modeling, as well as the human experience.

Active in the Tōkyō art and nightlife scene, she has participated in live painting events and film projects. She exhibits alongside local and international artists, a community which also includes her sister, who lives in Japan as well.

Jenem works primarily in sumi, watercolor, and digital terrain.

Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Website | Email

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Sus4 Flower 37

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Zomm B.

Strands

Androme

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Alexandra Kerns Hyō ōgo

tree friends walks around the neighborhood up close and personal peaceful place glowing trees frozen layers golden hour at the greenhouse mountain top views majestic marble flowing tall

Film photography is a new hobby for Alexandra Kerns but it has quickly become one of her favorite activities. She has always been passionate about hiking, camping, and being outside and photography adds to the fun of being in nature. Her panoramic-style film camera helps her capture the beauty of Japan and she is looking forward to capturing many more beautiful moments.

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flowing tall

majestic marble

up close and personal

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walks around the neighborhood

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frozen layers

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glowing trees

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golden hour at the greenhouse peaceful place

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mountain top view

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tree friends

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Yoma Wilson Fukushima Mukashi Banished Miss you Nebuta Hikikomori Nakimushi Year of the Ox Alt Amabie Neo Dharma

Yoma Wilson, originally from Taos, New Mexico, is an ALT living in Shirakawa, Fukushima. In his third year in Japan and working mainly with digital art media, Yoma has found inspiration in his experiences of living in Fukushima during the COVID-19 pandemic. The nature, changing seasons, culture, and social climate of his environment are all themes that are important to him and reflected in his art. Yoma hopes to one day make some form of visual art practice into a lifelong career. You can find Yoma’s art on his Instagram @yo_monsta.

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Nakimushi

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Miss you Nebuta

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Mukashi Banished

Hikikomori

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Year of the Ox

Alt Amabie

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Neo Dharma

Pauline Carvalho Japanese Breathing

Living between Paris, Bordeaux and all around the world, Pauline is a passionated woman toward every moment that art can captured. She is very inspired by what the others countries or places can bring to her and she likes to transfer the human and cultural beauty through her pictures, texts, books. More open mind about the world is always a better step for what we can understand, appreciate, give and share. Embracing for a peaceful future built on our acknowledges and their consequences will help to keep on the life of our beautiful world.

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Clara Cisneros Tō ōkyō ō

Avallach Portrait Avallach Character Design Reaghan Portrait Reaghan Character Design Elf-weald Wars Sesshomaru & Rin Untitled 7 Howl Kitsune Portraits

Clara was born in San Francisco, Argentina in 1994. Having grown in a big family with much interest in the world outside their little town, and under the support and encouragement from her artistic mother, throughout her life, Clara has always been fascinated by the ways images can tell so many stories and transport us to worlds we’ve never seen. Naturally, visual storytelling was her path. The interest was cultivated during her teenage years and further developed when she was chosen by MEXT to, under the Specialized Training Scholarship, study Animation in Tōkyō, Japan.

After six years, Clara still lives and finds inspiration in the Japanese capital of Tōkyō. She nowadays works as an Illustrator/Animator for the fast-growing Japanese game industry, and keeps alive passion projects and space for further development of her skills in her free time.

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Reaghan Portrait

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Untitled 7

Kitsune

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Elf-weald Elf-wealdWars Wars

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Avallach

Reaghan Character Design 75

Portrait

Sesshomaru & Rin 76

Howl 77

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Portraits

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Chris Ward Nagano Once We Were Children

Chris Ward is from Cornwall in the UK. He has been living in Japan since 2004 and currently works as an ALT in Nagano City. In addition, he writes and publishes novels online in a variety of genres. For more information, please visit www.amillionmilesfromanywhere.net.

The following is an excerpt from Chris’s short story of the same name. The short story in it’s entirity can be found and purchased online.

Wordpress | Facebook

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Makayoshi died in the spring, just as the cherry blossoms began to fall. The eighty-fourth time his eyes looked upon the pink sakura trees of Nakajima Park was his last. Takahiro didn’t mourn his younger brother’s death. He walked to Nakajima Park, sat on a bench among the dying cherry blossoms and toasted Makayoshi with a glass of sake made from their own homegrown rice. His brother would have approved.

Takahiro didn’t want to cry. He didn’t like crying; it made him feel weak, and for as long as he could remember he had been the cornerstone of his family, the dependable one.

He wrote a letter to Ayana in Okayama, asking if she would come back for her great uncle’s funeral, and perhaps bring the children?

She didn’t reply in time.

Makayoshi was cremated on fourteenth of May. On the fifteenth, Takahiro, together with his neighbor, Tanaka, interred the remains into the family shrine on the little hill outside Matsumoto.

Ayana’s reply arrived on the seventeenth: Sorry, Grandad, I was away on business. Sorry to hear about Uncle and sorry I couldn’t make it.

I’ll try to visit during Obon. Love, Ayana.

It was a postcard, not even a sealed letter. She resented his failure to convert to the electronic generation, but he would be following Makayoshi sooner rather than later and didn’t see the point of stressing himself out on something he would never understand.

He hadn’t wanted to cry. But he had.

“Dad, look. Oh, look. It’s a girl. A beautiful girl.”

His eyes filled with tears as Kentaro held out the tiny bundle of life, pink and clammy in a hospital blanket. They had thought Hiroko couldn’t conceive, and had tried everything. When she fell pregnant after some experimental IVF treatment, the family still hadn’t dared to believe.

But here was the wonderful result, a beautiful little girl.

“She has her grandfather’s eyes, I think.”

Takahiro smiled. Maybe she did.

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Ayana had been gainfully scrubbing seed trays for five years when the phone rang one evening in May. “Hiroko has cancer,” Kentaro said. “We’re going to stay in Osaka for a while so she can have treatment.”

Takahiro didn’t cry after he put down the phone, but he frowned for a long, long time.

“Another boiled egg?” Tomoko said.

Takahiro took it, as was expected of him. The women had made eight, the usual number, but there were three spare. No one wanted to say anything, so Takahiro, Makayoshi, and Seima had an extra one each.

Kentaro had stayed down in Osaka for Hiroko’s funeral. He had transferred his job too, because he couldn’t bear to take Ayana away from Hiroko’s grieving parents. We’ll visit often, he promised.

Kentaro was true to his word, at least in part. Ayana was sent up for a visit every spring. In the little canals around the rice fields Takahiro helped her to catch tiny fish and eels which they kept in a tank in the house. Once they found a rhinoceros beetle hanging from a tree branch and put it into a plastic case because Ayana said she wanted to give it to a boy she liked at school. Takahiro had wondered about taking it on the shinkansen, but they forgot to close the case properly, and in the night it got out and flew off somewhere. For years afterwards Takahiro expected to find the shell of its armoured body down behind a bookcase or under a pile of old magazines, but he never did.

The fish, little dojo, which became harder to find as the years passed, lived. They bred. Every few months Takahiro or Yumiko would scoop out a handful of babies that were little more than swimming eyes and let them back into the little canals where they would drift away towards the river beyond the rice fields. Even though there were always too many for the tank, Takahiro hated to see them go.

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Often, sitting on the bench in Nakajima Park, with a hot sun beating down, Takahiro let his head loll back, allowed his eyes to close, and dreamed of those days.

Ayana had found a frog once, a really huge one, more like a toad, and popped it under Seima’s sweater as they sat eating their lunch one year. Seima and Kentaro were sharing a couple of beers and a joke. Seima leaned back, reaching for a rice ball, not looking. The toad bounced under his hand. Seima shrieked and rolled backwards. One leg slipped into the muddy water of the rice paddy, and only Kentaro’s quick hand stopped the rest of Seima from following it in. For a moment he looked shocked, then Ayana laughed, quickly followed by the others. The toad bounced across Seima’s chest, into the water, and away.

Seima, always the butt of jokes but a good sport with it, died in a car accident at the age of forty-one. He was still unmarried, but Makayoshi had heard talk of a girlfriend, albeit in passing. No girl came to his funeral, so they never knew for sure.

Of course he missed them, it went without saying. He missed them all, but more than anything he missed how they had been. The most tiring days of toil in the fields were adorned with a veil of romance when folded back into the arms of nostalgia.

He remembered bright sunny days and laughter, jokes and picnics, companionship, family. He remembered them all, and he missed them. He missed them so much.

After Makayoshi’s death, Takahiro made his decision. He enlisted the help of Ryosuke, his neighbor Tanaka’s son-in-law, to plough the field. It had grown dry and wild, a haven for weeds and other brush, but once the earth was broken the water would do its work. Five years had passed since he had opened the sluice gates from the little canal, and it took Takahiro a morning of toil to clear away the accumulated soil and weeds to get the water flowing again. Old Tanaka and Ryosuke tried to help, but Takahiro wanted to do this alone. His back screamed at him to give up, to quit, but he was made of solid stuff. Finally the water began to flow, and from then on things were easy.

Within two weeks, after a couple of lengthy sessions to clear the old roots of the weeds, the rice paddy looked as clear and fresh as it always had.

Takahiro wiped away a tear.

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Rachel Stivicic Akita Persimmon Man Night Sakura Artist at Nyudozaki, Oga 1 Artist at Nyudozaki, Oga 2 Artist at Nyudozaki, Oga 3

Rachel Stivicic is an Australian graphic designer and is on her last year as an ALT in Oga, Akita. She likes Japanese crafts and design, and photography. Her photographs often focus upon small, unnoticed beauties, fleeting moments, and abstracted objects. She enjoys driving adventures, playing with gouache, and sewing her own clothes. Last year, she grew a watermelon inside her apartment on her windowsill and named the fruit “Motochika’” (it was delicious).

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Night Sakura

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Artist at Nyudozaki, Oga 1

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Artist at Nyud

dozaki, Oga 3

Artist at Nyudozaki, Oga 2

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Night S 88

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Persimmon Man

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Asthrea Camilon Aomori Blooming Hayabusa Shunrai “Let’s go to the beach.”

Polyester Focus Sliced Sneaky

Asthrea (Strea) Camilon is a Southern Californian living in the mostly temperate, brutally snowy region that is Tsugaru in Aomori Prefecture. When she’s not washing dishes or eating dark chocolate Kit Kats, she’s probably listening to lo-fi while drawing. Or spacing out thinking of all the art she’ll make once she stops spacing out.

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Land and Sea Sliced 93

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Hayabusa

Sneaky

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Polyester

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Bloom

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Focus

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“Let’s go to the beach.”

Philip Walker Nagasaki Cosmos Flower Sunset at Nanatsugama Golden Skies Last Evening in Saikai Sunset Over the Creek Tsugane Waterfall Towards the Light Serenity Light in the Forest Amongst the Sakura Milky Way Above Oshima

Philip is currently living in the US, waiting for COVID-19 travel restrictions to lessen before heading back to Japan to begin work as a full-time photographer in Kyoto. His primary focuses are landscape and wildlife photography, as they best suit his love for nature and exploration. Aside from photography, Philip works as a freelance musician and composer.

He is currently publishing original piano arrangements of video game music and is working as one of the composers for an upcoming indie game alongside legendary Megaman composer Manami Matsumae.

Website | Instagram | email

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Amongst the Sakura

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Golden Skies

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Last Evening in Saikai

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Cosmos Flower Sunset at Nanatsugama

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Sunset Over the Creek

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Tsugane Waterfall

Towa

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Light in the Forest

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Serenity

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Milky Way Above Oshima

Taryn Okamoto Gunma Collection of Handmade Books (2019-2021) Secret Belgian-bound book (2021) Gather-stitched book with ribbon (2020) Coptic-bound Book (2021) Softcover book (2019) Jirachi Ghibli mashup (colored pencils, highlighters) Howl Sketch (colored pencils, highlighters) Fukushima sketch (colored pencils) Kirby Sketch (colored pencils, highlighters) Existential Crisis sketch (colored pencils, highlighters)

Taryn Okamoto is an artist from Seattle, Washington. In 2019, she graduated from Seattle University with a BA in Digital Design and a minor in Japanese. Currently, she’s been enjoying the countryside life in Gunma, Japan while teaching at elementary schools as an ALT. After coming to Japan, she has had a lot more time to develop her own art style and work on creative projects. Through Taryn’s time in Japan, she’s documented her memories within her handbound sketchbooks. They’re filled with things like drawings, writings, and pressed flowers.

She has also experimented with many different mediums, such as watercolors, digital art, photography, filming, and even felting. She is always interested in developing her art style and exploring new creative outlets. When she’s not doing art or working she can often be found listening to K-pop, playing Kirby, gardening, or gorogoro-ing.

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Collection of Handmade Books (2019-2021)

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Kirby Sketch (colored pencils, highlighters)

Secret Belgian-bound book (2021)

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Gather-stitched book with ribbon (2020)

Coptic-bound Book (2021)

Softcover book (2019)

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Jirachi Ghibli mashup (colored pencils, highlighters) 114

Howl Sketch (colored pencils, highlighters) 115

Fukushima sketch (colored pencils) 116

Existential Crisis sketch (colored pencils, highlighters) 117

RJ Eddystone Okayama Grandmother’s House Now is the Night

RJ Eddystone is a writer living in Okayama. You can see more of their work on their Wordpress.

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Now is the Night Now is the night. It’s not time for the day.

Now is the time to put troubles away: All of the tinkering, all of the tasks, All of the sweltering under the masks.

Now is the night. It’s not time for the sun.

Now is the time to give up getting done: All of the queues and the stops and the starts— Now is the time for the dance of the dark.

Now is the night. And it’s time for the moon.

Time for the stars and the field crickets’ tune.

Time for the shadows to titter and talk.

Time for the moon to swing round on its walk.

Now is the night. There’s no light for the clock.

Time for the comfy shoes, coat and warm socks.

Time to leave paths for field, forest, and shore.

Time to remember what we’re living for.

Now is the night. There’s no light for the chores, Just starlight on sand dunes and the shells on the shore.

Now is the night. Just the shadows and you— And me, if you like, and whatever we do.

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Grandmother’s House I am Spring, swinging my legs in the last Spring’s chair.

Now he’s Autumn, my father.

She is Winter, She was first Summer here with the upright piano, her mother’s hutch, her new husband.

An inventory: The trunk of Fisher Price, the thick shaggy rug flattened underneath it, the kites between it and the wall; The chandelier of frosted lilies and discolored light bulbs— she kept them stocked since years ago;

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Porcelain knobs on doors and cupboards, on a backless cabinet through to the kitchen filled with trinkets; A table so strong I can crawl across to reach the dry yellow doily that sits center always (until today); The staircase, with its too-dark landing and chipped newels but season-smoothed rail and finials; The bedrooms, So much pink and so much blue, and waiting toys loved by other Springs before my time; The stuffed couch with satin flowers stitched and shining in the dark with matching cushions and wooden paws;

The linoleum that peels in the corner of the kitchen by a sink that smells like copper and bad water.

The fire kiln, by the cellar pump, two goblins in the basement near jarred jams that knew the Great Depression.

The dusty air smells of album glue, film reels, and old power cords; outside, pale lilac guards stand tall as trees.

She is Winter.

She may bring bits of her soul that fit inside a suitcase.

The rest is left for burial, even the lilacs.

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Nathaniel Hazel Miyagi Halcyon Bandai Fleeting Castle Swirled Painting Amaranthine Zao Momentary Discarded Mistakes Field-grass Ginko in Water Introspection

Nathaniel is an Assistant Language Teacher currently living in a seaside town in Miyagi.

He primarily shoots landscape and nature photography, using lenses and equipment he repairs from the former Soviet Union and East Germany. He hopes to capture diverse compositions from throughout Japan.

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Halcyon

Bandai

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Fleeting Castle

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Momentary

Swirled Painting

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Discarded Mistakes

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Field-grass

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Ginko in Water

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Introspection

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Amaranthine Zao

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Lalah Grier Fukushima Man’s View of Feminine Virginity She’s Learning How to Surrender Mother Mary

Currently living in Fukushima, Lalah was formed in America and unleashed upon the world with questionable results. They began studying art two years ago and have been addicted since. Lalah is exploring the role the Erotic plays in the human experience, and how art can be used to connect to the hidden and repressed. Their goal is to build a community where marginalized artists and creators can gather to share their stories in a safe environment and provide opportunities to those who are chronically overlooked due to race, sex, and gender. Lover of animals.

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Man’s View of Feminine Virginity

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Mother Mary

She’s Learning How to Surrender

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Rachel Fahey Hiroshima Kake Shrine in Akiota Hiroshima Iwakuni Tsutsuga Shrine in Akiota Hiroshima Yasuno Station in Akiota Hiroshima Shrine in Yamaguchi Sandankyo Gorge in Akiota Hiroshima Sandankyo Gorge in Akiota Hiroshima Kake Shrine in Akiota Hiroshima Hiroshima Atomic Dome Iwakuni Bridge

Rachel Fahey is an English teacher living in Akiota, Hiroshima. She is passionate about dogs, photography, writing, and Korean dramas. Using only her phone, she aims to capture some of the beauty Japan has to offer. Her goal is to live and work throughout Asia, teaching English and sharing her experiences—ideally with a dog at her side.

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Kake Shrine in Akiota Hiroshima

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Iwakuni

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Tsutsuga Shrine in

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Yasuno Station in Akiota Hiroshima

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Sandankyo Gorge in Akiota Hiroshima

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Shrine in Y

Yamaguchi

Sandankyo Gorge in Akiota Hiroshima

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Kake Shrine in Akiota Hiroshima

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Hiroshima At

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Iwakuni Bridge

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Nori William Tōkyō

Enter the Brain Opposing Forces Greater Things Koinobori Mystical Forest Hidden Realms Journey Pipe Rise High Swimming Towards the Light Board of Advisors

Nori William is a Tōkyō-based artist whose love for hip hop and street culture inspired his current style. Growing up influenced by two cultures, he seeks to identify the struggles we face in this hyper-busy society, and encourage self-growth through colourful yet meaningful aesthetics. He uses digital illustration to portray his messages but his rawest form of expression is yet to be discovered through the experimentation of other mediums.

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Board of Advisors

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Opposing Forces 148

Greater

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Enter the Brain 149

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Mystical Forest

Koinob

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Hidden Realms

Rise High 152

Journe

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Swimming Towards the Light 153

Dianne Yett Gunma What Bird Looks Back?

In a magical futuristic world where humans have evolved animal traits, Lord Ora is a magical beautician with the vibrant feathers and wings of a blue and gold macaw.

Occasionally, inklings of his father’s strong snowy owl features fight to be seen, especially as Ora mourns the recent death of his best friend Jay. However, the pretty beautician can always find comfort in his equally-bereaved husband Bard, a contrastingly dour mockingbird man. Jay’s memory thereby lives on in their loving bond, sky rest his spirit.

This is an excerpt from a massive fantasy romance series that Dianne Yett, an Assistant Language Teacher from Gunma, writes purely for fun. Concept art for it can be found on her Instagram @craftiyetti.

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The day that Lord Ora had decided would be the first day to open the beauty parlor after a short bereavement period came with little notice or fanfare. It was also, unfortunately, one of those days that Ora sat before his gleaming vanity, an impressive assortment of cosmetics at his well-polished fingertips, and stared into the mirror, but knew not what kind of bird stared back. It was a perfectly normal day by all other accounts, a day by which he promised himself that he’d accept clients again, but his first client—himself—required far more than his personal capabilities could manage in that most critical of moments.

He examined the colors, hoping to suss out the defining qualities of the figure that peered back at him, hopeful and wanting of care, but not knowing what kind of care was required. Did it want to be an owl, tall and strong, confident and brave? Or did it want to be a macaw of brilliant, sleek plumage, eyes sharp and bright?

Or did it, rather, prefer to be a mix of the two? Or perhaps neither?

Owl, said the whites of his bushy brows.

Nay, cried the gaudy greens at his scalp and golds that grasped his neck.

And the feral blues billowed. ‘Like a jay,’ said his fallen friend once at the dawn of their acquaintanceship oh so many suns ago. That’s gotta be it. He’s got blue, so he’s a jay. And Ora did pine for that beautiful time when a blue bird kind of like him turned from a fair-weather schoolmate into an indelible friend. Jay “the Blue’’ was a pretty bird in his own right.

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Ora had nary a second to process the grief he’d so stubbornly pushed aside in the determination that whatever bird he should be would live on in valiant repose, never letting grief crack his sumptuous façade, which blared back white, bright and loud, demanding he mold it into something beautiful again. He froze under the pressure within and outside to make something of himself, but he couldn’t decide what that something needed to be. What it should be.

Or worse, what it will be if he does nothing but stare dumb into the cold, dead glass. His head sank and his feathers puffed awkwardly as the mounting pressure made him feel about ready to explode...

But then, a bit of gray intervened. A dreary little mockingbird slid quietly into his lap, sidling in to rest his dull gray face against the lord’s downy chest, matching heartbeats and breaths with his. Ora leaned back in surprise, glancing behind at the bed that now lay vacant under a messy mass of blankets for the first time in a while. The little bird that long resigned himself to a vacuous living death over the loss of Jay had suddenly animated just long enough to nest under his pretty bird’s wings.

Bard tucked himself in such a way that he was reduced to two black wings and a disorganized cluster of wild gray hair sinking into Ora’s plumage. Ora realized that he rather liked the muted grays and blacks, which dampened his invariably loud color palette.

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He held his little bird, finally letting his own blank white face crack under an unstoppable torrent of tears. He turned away from the bitter reflection in favor of the softer, morose one that best resembled his state of being.

Though Bard was a bird of humble merit, Ora found comfort in his dull, dead expression, his sunken eyes and sallow cheeks, his charred black lips that loosened in proximity to Ora’s powder-white face. And Ora learned that he could not give grief a deadline any more than he could give his brittle, blank reflection a name. He took cues from Bard’s playbook, for once, and allowed himself to exist in a state of abject nothingness.

All of which he was certain, at least in that moment, was that he loved Bard. And he hoped that the little gray bird’s sad spirit would somehow fill the hole in his heart that a blue bird’s once filled. Jay, a bird like no other, must have lived on somewhere in those grayish-black feathers that mulled unexpectedly into Ora’s lap after a long period of sedation, appearing just as the fallen friend had crossed the lord’s embattled mind. If Ora couldn’t love himself, he’d at least love those ordinary birds of most unordinary quality.

“Pretty Blue” with “Little Gray”: now that’s what kind of bird looked back.

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Mark Christensen Fukuoka Fushimi Inari Shrine Uminonakamichi Flowers Kitsune Guardian Tahoto Pagoda Omuta Sunset Tiger Shark Night at Toji Pagoda Grey Heron Nemophila Bloom Nara Deer

Mark Christensen is a second-year ALT from Snohomish, Washington, USA. An avid photographer, he has a strong passion for mountaineering and capturing the beauty of Japan`s natural sites. His other hobby is volunteering as a Stormtrooper with the 501st Legion. He currently resides in Omuta, Fukuoka.

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Fushimi Inari Shrine

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Uminonakamichi Flowers

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Nemophila Bloom

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Tahoto Pagoda

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Kitsune Guardian

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Omuta Sunset

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Night at Toji Pagoda

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Grey Heron

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Tiger Shark

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Shane Toomey Nagasaki INFAMOUS Custom Work Jackets for Acemark

Shane Toomey is a photographer and teaching artist from the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA. By using the cyanotype process on a variety of fabrics, Shane repurposes clothing into unique one-of-a-kind garments. The pieces draw from manga, film, music, and skateboarding culture. For the past few years, Shane has been working on building his brand, “Infamous”. Shane is currently living and working in Nagasaki, Japan.

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Philippe Rosa-Pong Tōkyō

Summer Blue Morning Passage Stroll to the Shade Southbound Tengu Abandoned Tunnel Backdrop Condensed Petal Pool Blurred Blossoms Aluminum Sea Horizon Layers Yu

Philippe is a French Canadian from Montreal, Canada and is currently residing in Tōkyō.

He studied computer science and worked in games for a few years before needing a change.

The hobbies he picks up tend to be nerdy or artistic. Often both. The most recent of which being film photography. He had been interested in it for a while and its accessibility and re-emerging popularity here in Japan made it even more appealing. Due to being rather new to this art form, his subjects tend to be varied as he likes to photograph whatever catches his eye. It is particularly fun for him to take pictures of his friends and share the captured memories that sporadically pop up on the developed rolls of film.

One day he’d like to be able to read manga in Japanese without the need for translations .

His favorite color is green.

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Morning Passage

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Stroll to the Shade

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Horizon Layers

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Yu

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Blurred Blossoms

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Abandoned Tunnel Backdrop

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Southbound Tengu

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DM Zoutis Shinmane Japan Inaka Snapshots

DM Zoutis is a teacher and farmer in Shimane and Hiroshima. He spent 3 years in the JET program in Shimane, where he now owns an old house and some land.

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Unmei. Fate. Chance. Destiny. Is how I came to own a falling-apart, over one-hundred-year-old house in a part of “lost Japan.”.I had visited the house years back on my tour of finding a falling-apart old house to buy cheaply. I couldn’t get much out of people except that the owners were gone to Osaka. On the tour, over many weekends during a year or so, I visited dozens of abandoned places, some still in good shape, some inhabited by inoshishi, wild boar. I enjoyed walking into these houses and snooping around.

At one place, dirty and falling apart, and with half the roof caved in, I picked up the receiver of the old rotary phone and was shocked to hear a dial tone even though it was covered in dust. I hurried out worrying I would be arrested for breaking and entering. I talked to a neighbor who was out in his rice fields and he told me the family members had departed to Osaka over thirty years before. But why hadn’t they disconnected the phone? He gave me a grin and said, “Might come back one day.” A countryside mystery. Anyway, I failed to find the right type of house where I could locate the remaining relatives who might be willing to sell.

Years later I gave a speech in a nearby town and after that a friendly guy came up to me and asked me to lunch. My speech had included references to foreigners helping preserve Japanese traditions that young Japanese care nothing for and I used as an example some foreigners who bought old traditional minka, restored them and brought new life to the countryside towns they lived in. This new friend asked if I was interested in old houses myself. I assured him I was and he told me his relatives, who now lived in Osaka, had an old house they might sell to me.

Things dragged on for a bit, but when I finally got around to making a plan to see it I was leaving the area. But we met and had a look. The same house I had looked at years before! The roof had some holes, but it was generally OK.

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The floors falling apart. Full of spiders and various things scurrying in the dark. No toilet, except an old benjo unused for a long time, a good thing. Oddly, a reasonably clean and intact bath. I rashly decided to buy it and told my friend to ask his relatives how much the house, land and contents would cost.

After buying the farmhouse and fields in the countryside about two hours from Hiroshima City for 500,000 yen ($5000), I tried to follow Masanobu Fukuoka’s “do-nothing” farming and let my small hatake go wild and enjoy the place.

One wild thing to enjoy is the view at night. On a completely clear night the sky is full of stars. And sometimes fireflies. It is said that humans can see about 9,000 stars with the naked eye on such clear nights. I don’t know, it seems like we can see the whole Milky Way’s 100 billion stars from just outside our house. It exhilarates us and makes us feel our own nothingness. And to know that all those billions of stars make up only 4% of the whole galaxy, and we, the earth, all life here are as nothing.

To keep us from being overwhelmed by such thoughts, my son and I devised many projects. Of course, we had to fix the place after finally buying it after about four years of “thinking it over.” My son was given the task of hammering in old floorboards we salvaged to go in half the house. The other half got new, beautiful pine boards. He slammed away, hitting his fingers a few times. He also cut boards with an old ryobanoki, a double-edged saw. This part I carefully watched in case he were to get distracted and saw off a finger or two. We used some old carpenter’s yoki, an axe/hatchet with a narrow blade, which ancient carpenters used to cut down trees. He

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helped me and a friend clear the first small field of thousands of small stones (where we found many pottery shards from the Edo era), a field we later planted with the very first crops we were to plant: carrots, cabbage, and potatoes. So now he is the continuation of many past generations of potato farmers.

The potato. From South America, to Europe, to Indonesia, to Japan. An immigrant in search of a place to stop and stay and put down roots.

He has helped me pick edible wild veggies, like fuki (butterbur) and sugina (horsetail), which grow all over our fields and which we have made into tempura. He has studied bugs and trees, and caught some small ayu in the river. He has seen baby monkeys going by along a road with their mama; and another time, a whole pack of wild boar. He has watched the giant gray heron land in the river to catch fish. He has played with a homeless puppy and ran after the homeless cats. He has done hatsumode, the first visit to a shrine (or temple) in the new year, at an old, small shrine on top of a mountain covered in snow. He has collected the water from an onsen pump that we use for our bath. He has harvested okra, countless types of beans, garlic, carrots, melons, sunflower seeds, tomatoes, and on and on. He has seen a thousand shades of green in the fields and in the trees. He has taken his telescope out and marveled at the universe.

Having him experience all of this and much more has been worth me falling off ladders, smashing my leg, having my legs swell up from the bites of buto (midges), and cutting and crushing my fingers. And for me, aside from my son, preserving this house has been the best thing in my life. And when I think of this place, this house, this town, my life in it, I always picture Marc Chagall’s The Joy of the Village, that painting filled with strange and whimsical happenings and gorgeous colors, come to life in this small piece of paradise and maddening wabi-sabi jungle in inaka.

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Brigitta Meyer Ishikawa Rocky River in Gifu Morning Mist Roadside View Cabin Rays Feels Like Home

Photography Instagram | Instagram

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Kate O’Callaghan Okinawa Coming of Age Les Trois Mousquetaires Jack Tucker Tallis Bingata pop Shuri on the beach Mainland Memories Untitled Shisa in Blue

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Meg Murphy Monkey of Arashiyama Girl at the Yatsuhashi Factory Setsubun Dance Reflection of Kyoto Tower Saikuu Gyouretsu Sunrise at Takeda-jo Umeyu View from Kiyomizu Working Hands I Working Hands II

A localization planner and freelancer living in Japan since 2011, Meg is a long-time hobbyist photographer, interested in capturing the beauty of everyday life in Japan, from the mundane to the fantastic seasonal celebrations.

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Girl at the Yatsuh

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Abbie Hocker Fukushima Fukushima Sakura Kamakura Buddha

Abbie Hocker hails from Los Angeles, California but spent her childhood living in many southern US states. Her two artworks are inspired by her time traveling and living in Japan. She had a formative trip to Japan in 2016 where among many wonders, she saw the Kamakura Buddha. After being accepted in the JET program she has been moved by the beautiful scenery and history of Japan. Upon reflecting on her time living in Japan, the Kamakura Daibutsu kept coming to mind. She has also met many wonderful people in Japan. After a favorite co-worker was transferred one April, she painted a farewell card of sakura trees. The sakura season is a reminder of the ephemeral and fleeting nature of life, and to enjoy beauty when and where we find it.

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Kamakura Buddah

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Fukushima Sakura

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