2011, Seigensha Art Publishing, Inc., 青幻舎 Design : Toshio Yamagata
To the island With my own eyes I saw the unimaginable power of the land; of wind, of fire, of water, of the heavens. Faced with such terrific force, it is only natural that human beings resort to prayer, seek some respite for the soul. Gazing on Miyakejima I sensed that on our planet, this is the role which humans have been assigned. Since ancient times the people of Miyake have shared their home with an erupting volcano, and with each eruption, prayed to the mountain, to appease its spirit and soothe their own. Bound inextricably to the volcano, they enjoyed the fruits of the land, and sustained life. Then came the island’s first ever full evacuation, prompted by a dangerously high concentration of toxic volcanic gas. I witnessed first hand what happens to an island from which the people have gone. Their inhabitants lost, the deserted houses seemed cruelly broken. As were the people. The Miyake islanders know only too well from their experience of the past decade how the evacuation orders taken for granted as necessary to achieve the paramount aim of preserving life, and the evacuation centers ostensibly provided with the best of intentions, can, little by little, bring about a loss of personal dignity and individual freedom of spirit; emergency accommodation morphing into detention center in all but name. Surveying the scene on Miyake I wondered if understanding the experience of the islanders might help us to ease the enormous difficulties caused by forced evacuation in the wake of the unthinkable devastation in Iwate and Miyagi, and radioactive contamination from the nuclear power plant at Fukushima. The comment of one Miyake man was truly heartrending. If the same thing happened again, he declared, he’d defy the evacuation order, preferring to risk life and limb on the run with his family. “I’ve vowed never to leave the island,” he said, “come what may.” Meaning that if leaving required the surrender of one’s spirit, then surrendering the flesh would be of no concern. And one elderly evacuee shipped out to Tokyo apparently said that if he could cross the threshold of his Miyake home just once more, he would quite happily die there and then. Painful reminders that it is the spirit that sustains the flesh. It is the flesh that evacuation centers are designed to protect; protecting the spirit is a far greater challenge. Coming to Miyakejima I sensed that these people’s lives could only be sustained by the land and homes in which they had been born and raised. Five, ten years have passed since the evacuation, and people have returned. The island’s lifeblood seems restored, the land rejoicing. I’m certain that for the island, people are a vital component of that lifeblood. Believing too much in the power of science we hurtle onward, all the while at the mercy of the power we’ve managed to acquire. To me, it seems the only logical end to it all is darkness. In focusing my gaze on Miyakejima I wanted to ponder how we relate to those dwelling places we cannot do without. Human beings have an important role to play. Photographing Miyakejima and the people who’ve returned there to live quiet lives of great resilience, it struck me forcefully that this island, needs these people.
Miyakejima – green island, isle of birdsong No banquet awaits on Miyake, but there’s raw bonito and sweet potato saké. Glimpses of faraway Miyake, in red camellias and raven-haired beauty. Come, let’s talk on the beach at Okubo About as many things as there are grains of sand.
From the folk verse Miyakejima-bushi, Intangible Folk Cultural Property
