Ms. Fujikasa’s “Seraphim” at the Walters Art Museum
At the end of April, I interpreted for a talk at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore. Ms. Satoko Fujikasa, an artist who creates sculptural forms with ceramic (and whose piece, “Seraphim,” is at the museum), presented at a special event for museum sponsors. Her work is in between pottery and sculptures, and defies categorization. I think it’s absolutely beautiful, especially how the ceramic material seems so light, aerial and elegant, defying gravity, even though clay is dense and heavy.
Ms. Fujikasa’s talk
In her talk, Ms. Fujikasa shared how, even though she was a ceramics student in college, she wasn’t quite satisfied making regular bowls, plates, and vessels. She found her calling when she saw a photo of the Antelope Canyon, and felt compelled to recreate its beautiful curves. She shared how she tried many different techniques until she found that coiling was the best one, and that she meticulously builds the forms from the bottom up.
Ms. Fujikasa is such a sweet and humble person, which is especially inspiring for someone who found success at such a young age. So many staff members at the museum came up to her and said that hers was their favorite work. Prior to the talk, the Deputy Director of Art (who was in charge of the museum’s Asian art collection) gave a tour of the museum and showed Ms. Fujikasa how Seraphim is displayed. She had placed it in a room by itself, set up in a lit glass case against a black wall, and surrounded by a semi-circular sofa for visitors to sit down and admire at length. Ms. Fujikasa seemed incredibly touched that her work received so much care and attention, and said that she was ready to cry. As an interpreter, I always feel very lucky to have the chance to meet artists and hear the thoughts behind their work. In this case, seeing the artist interacting with curators was even more special. The Deputy Director of Art said that she initially worried that she might not know which angle to display Seraphim in–but that once she saw it, she was pleasantly surprised to find what seemed to be the front. She asked Ms. Fujikasa if her interpretation of the “front” was correct, and seemed overjoyed when Ms. Fujikasa gave an appreciative yes. It was so cool to see this moment, when art professionals connect beyond differences in nationality and language. Seeing Ms. Fujikasa’s warm personality, it was no wonder that those around her (her husband, also an artist, helped her throughout the event and was her official photographer) were also kind.
The conversations between Ms. Fujikasa and the sponsors of the museum, some of whom had bought “Seraphim” and gifted it to the museum, were also fascinating. They were so knowledgeable about Japanese art, both in terms of artists and various movements. One of the sponsors asked Ms. Fujikasa if she’s better known in Japan or overseas, and that it was rare to see an artist succeed straight out of school in Japan. Ms. Fujikasa agreed that she is very fortunate that her work is popular overseas, and that especially in the ceramics world in Japan, traditional pieces made by experienced masters are more valued.
The beautiful ceiling at the Walters Art Museum, just a few steps from where Seraphim is displayed
Finding your niche
On a personal note, I love how she kept trying different methods until she found her calling. I have so many different interests in writing, interpretation, communications and more, that I worry if I’m too fickle or scatterbrained. I know that trial and error is the only way to find what combinations are the best fit, but I often end up comparing myself to others, feeling bad that I’m still looking for my niche.
I also spend a lot of time sitting at my desk, looking things up on the internet and assuming that success is difficult to achieve (e.g. “how could I make a living, considering so few people make it?”). Which is not only silly but dangerous, because I get discouraged and end up doing nothing. Ms. Fujikasa’s talk showed that taking action and questioning the status quo are important first steps. She asked to take sculpture classes even as a Ceramics major, and asked her professor if she could work on her passion project instead of given assignments. It’s motivated me to do the same. I plan to try more, ask more, and do more–and move forward, one step at a time.
The view from inside the booth, with Ambassador Sugiyama at the podium (I quickly took this photo when it wasn’t my turn!)
Last month, I had the opportunity to interpret at the Sasakawa Peace Foundation USA’s Security Forum. This is a big annual event that I’d attended in the past, and I was honored to be in the booth this time! This year’s forum was very timely, coming on the heels of the 2+2 talks (discussions among the U.S. Secretary of Defense and Secretary of State, and the Japanese Defense Minister and Foreign Minister). The forum looked at all angles of security, including CPTPP (TPP11) and American and Japanese policy in the Indo-Pacific; last December’s updates to Japan’s National Defense Policy Guidelines; the changing role of the Japan Self-Defense Forces; North Korea; and territorial disputes in the East China Sea and the South China Sea.
I did my best to study materials that I knew would be a part of the discussion–it was basically like an intense all-day exam. But there were topics that I wish I’d thought to review ahead of time. For example, in discussing China, an audience member brought up the concentration camps in Xinjiang; another speaker shared his thoughts on Huawei’s 5G technology and entry into the British market. I need to be much more diligent about consuming news in both languages on a daily basis! This also made me realize that China is considered a threat in every aspect: economy, technology, security, and in challenging universal human rights.
I also interpreted for a brief talk between SPFUSA staff with some of the speakers. This was held at the gorgeous Metropolitan Club. This was my first time there, but I absolutely fell in love with its library. My favorite was the glowing globe (I have a weak spot for anything that glows), which I vowed to own one day in a big, lovely library 🙂 Perhaps because it was cherry blossom season, the library had a small exhibit on Japan, which made the experience all the more special! This special day, interpreting for top scholars and experts on security and East Asian relations, followed by the chance to work in a beautiful building, reminded me how lucky I am to be in DC.
–Sake brewers and experts who are finding a global audience
The stage at the beautiful Baltimore Museum of Art, prior to the event
Last month, I had the opportunity to interpret for sake events that were held at the Freer|Sackler Gallery and the Baltimore Museum of Art. A friend, who was emceeing the events, kindly recommended me as the interpreter. While the interpretation itself was very short, I learned a lot from this experience.
These events, hosted by the Embassy of Japan, were a screening of the documentary Kampai! For the Love of Sake followed by a sake tasting. The two events, held on two consecutive days, were very similar except that they were geared towards audiences in different cities.
The film
The film follows three trailblazers in the sake industry. One is a British citizen who, upon moving to Japan, becomes so enamored with sake that he joins a sake brewery, becoming a master brewer who creates so many new types of sake that his boss stops him from coming up with new ideas. Another is an American citizen who, also falling in love with sake after moving to Japan, becomes a “sake evangelist” who promotes sake in English to a global audience by publishing several books, teaching courses, and giving lectures worldwide. Another is a fifth-generation sake brewer who has brought new techniques to his family business, and promotes his sake by traveling abroad or using new methods like social media.
Each person broke barriers, and it is pleasantly surprising that such a traditional field is welcoming innovation and globalization. It is no doubt a testament to the strength and talent of these three individuals, as well as the foresight and kindness of those around them.
Mr. Kuji
Mr. Kuji captivating the audience (Photo courtesy of the Embassy of Japan Twitter)
Mr. Kosuke Kuji, President of Nanbu Bijin Brewery in Iwate Prefecture, the fifth-generation sake brewer featured in the documentary, came to DC and Baltimore to promote the film.
His backstory is particularly compelling. During the film, he talks about how sake brewing was traditionally left to toji, or the master sake brewer, and that the head of the breweries were in charge of promotion and representing the company. But through Mr. Kuji’s own conviction, as well as a generational change among staff, he was able to bring in new ideas that he learned in agricultural college. Determined to bring his sake to a worldwide audience, he traveled to New York and visited sake pubs one by one, convincing them to try his sake. When the Great East Japan Earthquake struck in 2011, and people abstained from alcohol because of the mourning and somber mood following the disaster, Mr. Kuji took to social media to appeal to the public that consuming goods from the Tohoku region was in fact more helpful to support the local residents.
After each film screening, Mr. Kuji gave a brief speech, setting the stage for the sake tasting. It was this speech that I had the opportunity to interpret.
Mr. Kuji already seemed affable on screen, but in person, his warmth, sense of service, and hospitality came through even more clearly. I was worried about the technical vocabulary related to sake, including the process of rice milling, fermentation, etc., but when he and I met to prep before the event, he quickly assured me (even without me asking him) that he’d keep his speech simple. I was so relieved to hear that!
On stage, he said that he appeared in this film with the hopes of introducing sake to a wide audience. He mixed in a few lines in English and made everyone laugh. He enticed those in the auditorium to try his sake with a “virtual kampai,” and described in detail the aroma that would be wafting from a sake cup filled to the brim.
During the sake tasting, he stayed at the Nanbu Bijin (which was one of four sakes from around Japan being promoted at this event) booth for a while, answering questions. And for the duration of what must have felt like a long evening, he stayed at a social media photo booth with sake-related props, joking that he is now a movie star, and continuously welcoming those who wanted to take photos.
The sake-themed social media booth
Innovation in a traditional field
What I learned from this experience wasn’t simply vocabulary related to sake. I enjoyed the film because it is so much about bringing new ideas to a very traditional field. It is refreshing that younger people, as well as non-Japanese citizens, are doing that. (The American citizen and the British citizen in the film were both of the first participants of the JET Programme, so it’s also a nice promotion of this great program.) I was doubly excited to hear from Mr. Kuji that Kampai! For the Love of Sake 2, which has recently come out in Japan, focuses on women brewers (women were traditionally forbidden from even entering the brewery).
And I’m sure that the global popularity of sake will help spur further innovation. The sake event at the Freer|Sackler required no prior registration, but I heard that around 50 people had to be turned away due to the capacity of the auditorium where the film was shown. Some of them stayed nearby until the film was over just to join the tasting, which was held in the hallways surrounding Freer’s courtyard.
I learned a lot from Mr. Kuji, with his optimism and upbeat demeanor, as well as belief in his family business as well as in sake. It was an honor to meet him, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to be involved in this event!
Interpreting in a booth at the University of Pennsylvania, 2017
A few weeks ago, I went to the Embassy of Japan to talk about interpretation. This was a really meaningful occasion for me. The way I first got into interpretation was through my first job out of college, when I worked at the Japan Information & Culture Center: the cultural arm of the Embassy that holds exhibits, lectures, events, etc. for the public. I had some very kind bosses that encouraged me to interpret for artists who spoke at our center. I enjoyed it so much that I’ve been continuing to interpret ever since!
On this day, I was at the Embassy to talk to young diplomats who were undergoing interpretation training. While the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) does hire external interpreters for some events, for formal occasions that include summits or ministerial meetings, they often employ their own diplomats. This is because diplomats have a greater understanding of the Government of Japan’s official position, as well as knowledge of exact vocabulary that must be used for negotiations and other discussions.
My understanding is that the Embassy conducts training sessions every winter. Diplomats attend sessions for four weekends, including those who work at Consulate-Generals outside of DC or attend graduate school in other regions. The diplomats already work around the clock on a wide range of subjects, from economics to politics, so I admire them for participating in weekend training sessions, too! Professional interpreters serve as instructors for the training–and since those instructors happened to know me, they kindly gave me the opportunity to serve as one of two guest speakers.
During most of the training, the diplomats practiced with videos. Us guest speakers were helping with a culminating project during the last weekend of the training, serving as live speakers that they interpreted. We were asked to talk about our own background and our career (first as individuals, and then in a dialogue). I spoke in Japanese, and the other person in English. With the dialogue portion, we were asked to go along with what’s interpreted, pretending not to understand the other language.
This was the second year I’ve had the chance to participate. The other speaker last year was an interpreter who I really admire. He’s very committed to the craft and language. I once went on a business trip with him and was surprised to see him carrying huge stacks of newspapers (he reads them cover to cover everyday). When I had the fortune of attending a get-together he hosted at his home, I saw that his bookshelves were filled with what seemed like hundreds of books in both languages!
Live Television & Simultaneous Interpretation: A Comparison
This year, the other speaker was someone who works at a major media outlet. He works on graphics on the television screen, including banners, lower-thirds that show the identity of the speaker, and over-the-shoulder graphics placed above the shoulder of news presenters. Until I heard his story, I hadn’t thought about how stressful it must be to call up and then take away graphics on live television. Working in communications and having gone to journalism school, I was fascinated by his talk.
We looked at the commonality of interpretation (especially simultaneous) and live television. He was kind enough to say that he thought interpretation sounds more stressful. But luckily, that hasn’t been the case with what I’ve done so far! When we’re stuck with words that we’re not used to interpreting, our partner(s) often help us by writing down the translation or looking it up for us. Because we take turns, we also learn from each other’s interpretations. I’ve also only worked with a small number of people, at most a lecture hall with less than 100 people–but millions watch everything he does on TV.
I asked him how he practices, when they probably don’t have any time to rehearse. At the nonprofit organization where I work, whenever we hold large-scale events, we do tech checks and rehearsals (albeit just hours prior to the real thing, because speakers who travel from afar are only available that day). It was hard to imagine such a stressful situation where no one is able to practice ahead of time. But he said he receives a rundown of the show, and that he’s gotten so used to the rhythm that he’s able to enjoy the movements like DDR (Dance Dance Revolution). He also said that he practices during breaks. He demonstrated on the table between us, his fingers flying as if he’s playing the piano.
Not DDR, but Taiko no Tatsujin, where players hit the drums in time with the music (at a Japanese New Year’s Festival , 2015)
He asked how we practice interpreting, and I said that we sometimes receive scripts of speeches, or have the opportunity to discuss with the speaker ahead of time. We also study their biographies, and read articles about them or materials written by them. It’s very much like studying for an exam. But I think it’s also important to look for videos of interviews and/or speeches, which show that person’s speaking habits, including speed, accents, and other patterns. It’s very tricky to interpret for someone who speaks in long-winded run-on phrases without completing sentences!
I asked about how corrections are made when there’s a mistake. He said that his organization is very strict about errors. They tend to be more forgiving of experienced personnel, because they must have a very good reason for it, but there have been new, temporary workers who made mistakes and were never called back again. Errors are corrected on air immediately by the news presenter.
This led me to ask about the recent Covington incident. The sad and scary thing was that, even after the longer video came out, people extracted different information from it. He said that with the 24-hour news cycle, media are under so much pressure to be the one to break the news that they have difficulty analyzing all aspects of the story. He also expressed his hope that after this incident, the media would be more careful about reporting.
Coming Full Circle
For me, speaking at this training meant that things had come full circle. I had heard about this interpretation training when I was working at the Embassy more than ten years ago. Since I often interpreted for events, I asked one of my bosses if I could join, even though I was local staff. He hesitated, but I pressed on, and he kindly agreed to bring it up at a meeting among diplomats. The answer was no. I was disappointed, but what made me even sadder was that one of the diplomats who was taking the lessons later chastised me for making my boss look bad.
My bosses really helped foster my passion for interpreting. After I got a certification in interpreting, they encouraged me to take time off as local staff, so that they could re-hire me during working hours as a local interpreter. When the Embassy held a reception welcoming the Heisei Nakamura-za kabuki troupe, and everyone in the troupe was assigned a diplomat to personally interpret for them, I was given the chance to interpret for the main actor, Kanzaburo Nakamura.
And yet, that young diplomat’s words had always remained in my mind–especially because I never meant to hurt the reputation of my boss, who had been so kind to me. So it meant a lot that I was able to witness the training years later, and share stories of interpreting adventures that I’ve had the chance to experience since then.
I really appreciated having this opportunity, and hope I’ll have the chance to participate again next year!
It takes a lot of courage putting out something that’s flawed. But I hope that this blog would help me become better at writing on a regular basis, rather than wasting time seeking perfection.
Facing the childhood dream
I’ve wanted to be an author (I knew that word before “writer”) since I was a child, and that dream has lived within me for decades.
I enjoyed writing stories in elementary school, and thought I was doing pretty well. In middle school, when students met one-on-one with their teachers to talk about their career goals, I brazenly said that I would be an author. “But what about your income?” my teacher asked. “It’ll be ok; I’ll write bestsellers,” I replied. (This makes me cringe every time I think back to it.)
But over time, I lost confidence as I saw true talent in others. I pursued creative writing through numerous classes in school, online, and in the community–science fiction, mystery, foodwriting, magazine writing, memoirs–but I’ve been thoroughly disappointed with what I put out. My talented classmates captured moments in photographic detail, and portrayed emotions in ways that I never could. I was still stuck in my flat elementary school stories, while others’ narratives were rich and compelling.
I once went up to one of my high school creative writing teachers, who kept giving me B+ grades. I asked what made my stories “B” level, in hopes that she would provide guidance on how to improve. She ruminated for a few minutes as I stood by her desk, and said that she couldn’t explain it. It was disappointing knowing that she wasn’t the kind of teacher I needed. And after that, she began to grade all my stories with A-s. They were the saddest A-s I’ve ever gotten, inflated for no good reason.
I also remember one of my college creative writing classes, when we reviewed stories anonymously among classmates. One of my stories came back with ugly letters scrawled at the top of the front page, “I can’t believe you want to be a writer.” It was a rude awakening. I guessed without logic who the culprit was, and secretly hated that classmate for it (it may not have been him, in which case I feel bad!). And in a masochistic way, I kept that story for years, putting it out of sight, but shuddering every time I found it as I cleaned my belongings.
As I prepared to graduate college, I began to think that writing fiction was an unrealistic career for me, and started to pursue journalism and communications instead. I went to graduate school in journalism and enjoyed interviewing experts on subjects that I would never know about otherwise. I also worked as a communications professional–and have been in that field for more than a decade now. I enjoy writing on behalf of someone. There’s a lot of fun in imagining how others think and what messages would be most effective. I’ve gotten good at finding links between concepts that are seemingly unrelated (transitions in long speeches), explaining complicated matters succinctly (press releases), or trying to persuade others (event invitations). I think I’ve gotten the hang of writing when I can hide behind brands. But with every year that passes, I think back to that childhood dream, and wonder if I’ll live my life never having pursued it.
As a minority
Writing about deeply personal issues or putting out fictional stories feels like I’m exposing myself. I’m afraid of releasing my words into the wilderness–where they could be judged, misconstrued, or just plain ignored.
In hindsight, I know why my stories have been weak. The characters were fake. As an ethnic minority, I didn’t think characters like me would appeal to others. I kept creating what I thought were quintessential Caucasian American characters that I saw in the movies. They had monosyllabic names that were easy to read. They ate cereal, toast, and spaghetti with meatballs. They were mere paper dolls, defined by their situation and what happened to them rather than what they did, and had little personality. They were generic in an attempt to appeal to everyone–and ended up being memorable to no one.
Shadow puppets at the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento, 2015
I used to think that if I wove my culture into my stories, it would overshadow everything else. But I now know that’s not the case. Increasingly more books feature stories of immigrants and ethnic minorities, where culture serves as a background but doesn’t define the entire story. Regardless of culture, nationality, or language, readers identify with universal themes like love, friendship, ambition, envy and rivalry. Gone are the days of my childhood, when American picture books rarely included Asians, and when they did, they were side characters with slanted eyes that never opened. This celebration of all cultures has been highly encouraging. And I’m beginning to see that I might be able to contribute unique perspectives based on my upbringing.
Writing efficiently
As an introvert, I’ve always preferred writing over speaking because it allows me to think carefully about my thoughts. But I realize now that I need to practice writing about different topics, including my own thoughts, quickly. I will still pursue fiction, and maintain this blog in the meantime to share aspects of real life.
I recognize that feedback would help me grow. I have much to learn from artists and writers who put their work out there, and manage to ignore the inner (or real life) critic that says “you think someone cares about that?” or “look how self-absorbed you are!”. I know I’ll become more thick-skinned as I practice.
I have a lot of fun posting for friends on social media. Writing is cathartic, turning negative thoughts into positive action, and feedback from friends cheer me even more. But I’d like to take it to the next step, exposing my words to strangers, too (this takes so much courage, I had to force myself to slowly type the word “strangers” here!).
Making it a habit
Working in communications, I enjoy putting words on the screen, but by the time I come home, I rarely want to type some more. Being free of corporate restrictions like tone and vocabulary is liberating, but it’s also exhausting to build from nothing. Oftentimes I stare at the blinking cursor and wonder if I truly love writing, or if I only love the way I sound when I say I write. I’ve held on to this dream for so long that I worry about facing the unromantic parts of it, including the endless editing, and fear that I might not like it all that much. But I have to start somewhere, and hope that this platform will hold me accountable.
Resolution
This blog was a New Year’s resolution for 2019. But I spent time doing everything but writing. I bought a shiny new laptop, replacing one that was seven (!) years old. I researched blog sites, from those that would be easy to navigate regardless of language, to those that provided more resources to potentially expand in the future. I scanned topics to write about, but became discouraged that I was passionate about a lot but an expert in none. I thought about blog titles, but nothing clicked. I also debated about how much I should reveal about myself.
Days went by. For weeks, I woke up involuntarily at 3am everyday, unable to go back to sleep. I was utterly disappointed with myself for having spent yet another evening without any action, and went through the day groggily. I couldn’t even bring myself to respond to messages because I wanted my next post or email to be about the blog, and that added to my guilt.
Then it occurred to me that, in a meta way, this internal debate could be the topic of my first post. Exposing my weaknesses is one way I can be genuine in my writing.
Vincent van Gogh apparently wrote about how scary the blank canvas is. It’s still true–that blinking cursor on a blank page is one of the scariest things around. But things have become so much easier since van Gogh’s time. We can easily edit on a screen–in the case of a blog, even after publishing! The title of this blog is an ode to the “blank slate” (without its philosophical connotations) that would hopefully become a place for clean, efficient writing (“sarasara” in Japanese).
No one might read this entire post, but writing about it has, as always, helped me. While January is gone, I am relieved to finally publish this in early February, and hope to embark on a journey full of adventure.
