Photography of Annie Leibovitz and James Nachtwey

           I know people who vehemently oppose posed photography because they think it’s fake. Annie Leibovitz would disagree. To Annie Leibovitz, I believe posing a photo is an art form about trying catch a glimpse into the person one is photographing. The most interesting thing that stood out to me about her is that she denies having brilliant ideas, she says they are stupid, very simple ideas. Regardless, she has the confidence to carry through with these ideas, and an amazing eye.

          The first photo of Annie Leibovitz I want to show is a portrait that despite its simplicity, stands out to me as beautiful and insightful. One characteristic of her style is that it’s often very flashy or dramatic, and always posed. The second photo I chose exemplifies this. It’s beautiful and fun to look at and to try find or create hidden meaning.

              James Nachtwey is famous for his poignant war photos. These are photos of what’s really happening in this world, and he is tries to make points about the importance of peace. I chose the above photo because of the impact it had on me, and likely has had on others as well. When I was studying journalism in high school, his quote, “If it’s not good enough, you’re not close enough” had a large impact on me. I took it literally as well as figuratively. Instead of relying on my camera’s zoom function, I always got right into the middle of the action. By doing this, I was able to understand the people’s feelings who I was photographing. I never went as far as James Nachtwey though. I must admit, even though James Nachtwey has the best intentions, I think he may be a little too insensitive to the people he’s photographing at times. He tries to be respectful, but because he makes his living photographing other people’s suffering, I imagine it’s hard on him and those being photographed. I understand people want their story told, but I know how it feels to be photographed in a miserable situation (I was infinitely frustrated by the photographer at the scene of the car accident that disabled my mother).

           The type of things Annie Leibovitz and James Nachtwey photograph are opposites, but their photos are both dramatic and inspiring with the ability to make an impact on the observer.

Sources for photos, from top to bottom:

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=annie+leibovitz&um=1&hl=en&biw=1090&bih=698&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=wjnCZrgZ1B1tWM:&imgrefurl=http://behindblondiepark.com/2009/09/08/photographer-leibovitz-could-lose-portfolio-due-to-debt/&imgurl=http://behindblondiepark.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/annie_leibovitz_jude_law.jpg&ei=CPaCTdL2JIPEvQO_k9HUCA&zoom=1&w=1200&h=813&iact=rc&oei=5vWCTfy-DITEcMTbgYQD&page=4&tbnh=117&tbnw=169&start=67&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:4,s:67

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=annie+leibovitz+best&um=1&hl=en&biw=1090&bih=698&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=Y3ejROOaZ61FBM:&imgrefurl=http://www.fashion-lifestyle.net/photography_en_broi15&imgurl=http://www.fashion-lifestyle.net/images/broi15/2_Valchitsata.jpg&ei=i_WCTdnXIIHcvwOUtezaCA&zoom=1&w=500&h=333&iact=rc&oei=L_WCTabnBYe8cLrTyJ0D&page=4&tbnh=103&tbnw=154&start=67&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:7,s:67

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=James+Nachtwey&um=1&hl=en&sa=N&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=q3gHgnH_f-Kj5M:&imgrefurl=http://whatstheuse.tumblr.com/page/15&imgurl=http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lb19sm81Q01qc21cto1_500.jpg&ei=8_aCTfuCK4m3cOak2J0D&zoom=1&w=420&h=283&iact=hc&oei=8_aCTfuCK4m3cOak2J0D&page=1&tbnh=124&tbnw=211&start=0&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:9,s:0&biw=1090&bih=698

A Glimpse into Natsumi Hamai

Kind and agreeable, my host sister Natsumi Hamai laughed when I asked to interview her for this blog. “Ii yo,” she said, settling down by the coffee table across from me, having served me strawberry milk and a donut. At 24, she’s already an exceptional hostess, but I suspect this is only the beginning. My host mother and father describe her as bright and easy going, a “my pace” girl. I wonder if this comes from working at the bakery where she’s custom to welcoming consumers with a smile and non-intrusive greeting. Although her gentle disposition might suggest otherwise, Natsumi is not your ordinary Japanese girl.

Natsumi has one passion in particular that has been shaping her life, and that’s travel. Indeed, the reason I know Natsumi today is because of this hobby. In high school, her year spent studying abroad in Australia opened her up to a world of new experiences. Since then she has been to Thailand, Canada, Korea, and Seattle creating a global army of friends. Upon asking Natsumi what she learned abroad, she thought carefully before answering, “I learned to thank family.” She went on to explain her humble answer: until you leave your house, you don’t realize all the little things your family does for you and what a big difference they make in your daily life. Because of her experience abroad and because of her easy-going nature, I consider Natsumi to be noticeably more open-minded and understanding than other Japanese women in her age-range.

Towa, Natsumi’s beloved pooch loyally sits by her side, eyeing her plate piteously. She pats him mindlessly while watching for my non-verbal cues politely. She has an uncanny ability to read into my posture and expressions and intuitively predict what I’m thinking. As we nibbled our donuts and sipped our milk, Natsumi and I went on to discuss deeper and more personal questions. Natsumi’s favorite saying is “ichigoichi” which roughly translates to “a once in a life time chance.” This goes hand in hand with her most important belief, to try everything. Her mind set that you may only get one opening to do something, so try it while you can, is admirable and courageous. Natsumi patiently takes the opportunities that become available to her without complaining during the stretches of unwavering monotony. To emphasize her relaxed nature further, Natsumi’s only wish is for good health to her and those around her, while insisting that how and when she dies is of no concern as long as it’s painless. She does mention, however, that as much as possible, she’d like to travel before her end.

I honestly mean this when I say it, Natsumi is hard not to like. As angelic as she seems, she still has her human pet-peeves. Natsumi values sincerity and those who follow through with their promises. She’s frustrated by people will frivolously cancel their appointments with her last minute. As someone who places significance on choosing occasions wisely, she hopes people will respect her time.

Natsumi looked into her glass of strawberry milk and blushed as I pressed her for any last words. I leaned forward, my pencil in hand. At long last she says sheepishly, “What’s this assignment for again…?”

Moriguchi, Where I'll be Straying the Next Few Months

Moriguchi, precipitating. Something it's been doing too much of recently.

What do I know about Moriguchi? I know how to get there by train. I know how to get to my house. And I know how to get back to the train station, which is very important, because everything I do is beyond here. I know that Moriguchi is a suburb of Osaka, just a stop from Kyobashi. The limited express doesn’t stop at this poor overlooked city with few attractions.

Despite the three weeks I’ve been here, the things I know about Moriguchi are essentially what I can gather by staring out my window. I’m on the fourth floor, so I recon my view is first-class compared to other Moriguchians, though admittedly, today is the first time I’ve actually parted my white lace curtains to observe the view.

There are streets and streets of tall narrow houses, gardenless, with just balconies littered with drying underwear and towels. They’re all very similar, with often the only distinguishing feature being a door decoration. Indeed, this is how I learned to recognize my home. My house is wedged neatly between two other houses. Only emaciated cats can pass through the six inch wide corridor that runs between them, though it’s not something I’ve seen at my house yet. The neighbor’s house is lined with old water-filled pet bottles, which I vaguely remember to be some sort of superstition said to ward off cats- ominous, stigmatized, strays. The city is full of them. Toms patrol their blocks, and queens call out to them like cheap prostitutes. It’s one of the more obnoxious sounds that fill the night. Otherwise, it’s the typical droning siren, buzzing motorcycle, barking dog…  Oh, that’s just my family’s mutt, Towa, who for some inexplicable reason barks at the rain. But it’s all slowly becoming white noise to me anyway.

Maybe I’m just an uncultured dolt with bad eye for distinguishing city from city and little appreciation for the surely complicated social connections between the people of this town, but… this sure seems like the living space for busy people who commute to Osaka every day. I get the sense that with the exception of the elementary school children who enjoy each other’s company on the playground, Moriguchians keep their life at their work place, and come home Moriguchi because living is more affordable here. It’s not like I have nothing to compare it to. I was fortunate to live in Heisenji, a small community in Katsuyama-shi, of the sparsely populated Fukui-ken for five months. Heisenji’s small coffee shop, conveniently owned and run by my host mother, was the gathering place for all sorts of odd community members who came to her for the most recent update on the Tanaka family, or the collapsed wall just down the hill, or Fujima’s boy- did he pass his entrance exam?  I was in the loop. Living in Moriguchi, I don’t get that feeling anymore, not even in the slightest, but can you blame me? I’m at school from nine to six almost every day.

The one interesting thing I’ve picked up on is an event I call “unicorn racing”. Tuesdays and Thursdays when I’m briskly striding along the darkening streets back to my home, anticipating another great feast fashioned by my host mother, I look for the man and his herd of children that are often practicing some sort of exquisite night time sport involving lighted cones in a large grass field. The first time I saw them, they came bursting out of the park, thundering down the street like a herd of wildebeests. Bewildered, I stopped to witness this man being followed by at least twenty children of all ages, much in the same way Ceasar Milan’s pack of dogs might follow him. Into the field they sprinted, and then with great agility, began darting in and out of these mini multicolored cones that light up the field like faeries. It was magical, yet startling. I took a somewhat less magical picture, but it doesn’t do the event much justice.