Why would any serious scholar be interested in home movies? We’ve all seen them. The kids in Cousin Shirley’s backyard pool splashing the puppy. Your best friend’s shots of himself gawking at the camera in front of every monument in Europe.
Yet there is something important about home movies, as there is with any attempt to capture the present and preserve it for the future. Before the Internet, photo albums, diaries, scrapbooks and home movies represented the only ways that one person or one family could make order of their world and share it with others.
Karen Ishizuka’s life has been the personification of Soren Kierkegaard’s maxim that “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” Whether working as a movie producer, museum curator, script writer, fund-raiser or book author, she has reminded us that those who shape our understanding of the past determine our view of the present and future.
Thanks to Ishizuka’s efforts, we have seen how Little Tokyo photographer Toyo Miyatake smuggled a lens and film holder into one of the Japanese American internment camps, and captured life behind barbed wire with a homemade camera made of scrap wood. In another film written by Ishizuka, we have seen the ironies and dangers faced by 18 APA soldiers who fought for the United States against Asian foes during World War II and the Korean and Vietnam wars.
Karen’s most recent efforts have been the publication of two books, Mining the Home Movie: Excavations in Histories and Memories (co-edited with Patricia Zimmerman) and Lost & Found: Reclaiming the Japanese American Incarceration.
In Mining the Home Movie, Ishizuka introduces us to a global movement of scholars, artists and social change activists who are using the home movie as the starting place for a re-examination of the histories of those of us who may not have had our fifteen minutes of fame. For Asian Americanists, two chapters provide new and fascinating insights. One focuses on the making of Something Strong Within, a very lightly edited collection of home movies made in the Japanese American World War II internment camps. The other details how Dave Tatsuno’s movie Topaz was only the second home movie voted into the National Film Registry — after the Zapruder film of the assassination of President Kennedy.
In Lost & Found, Ishizuka describes her work at the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles, as the senior curator of the multimedia exhibit, America’s Concentration Camps: Remembering the Japanese American Experience. Moving beyond a typical exhibit where the focus is on pictures, objects and some text, her exhibit became a way for the Japanese American community to both rediscover and recover from this traumatic moment in their history.
Even as her new career as an author is unfolding, Karen has taken on another role: supporter and sounding board for her son, Tadashi Nakamura, who himself is emerging as an award-winning filmmaker. His film Yellow Brotherhood, an homage to his parents and other APAs in Los Angeles who built the Asian American movement while addressing the war, drugs and other scourges in their community, was awarded Best Documentary Short at the San Diego Asian Film Festival.
His latest film, Pilgrimage, is an uplifting re-examination of the Japanese American camp experience through the lens of community members who chose to remember and address the ghosts of the past through a pilgrimage to the site of their incarceration. Combining archival footage and current footage into a community’s “home movie,” Tad clearly learned from the master.
Ishizuka’s work allows us to see a multi-hued and multifaceted history that serves as a bulwark against those who would gloss over or forget its many nuances. Taking that laudable lifetime project to a higher plane, Mining the Home Movie shows that people with similar visions are working in Mexico, India, the Netherlands, New Zealand and other countries to do the same.
With their help, maybe we can do better than simply wait for history to repeat itself.