Opening Remarks
Keynote Remarks
.png)
The Shape of Happiness through Keisuke Hirai's Lens:
When Survivors Smile for the Camera
By Daisuke Komatsu
Introduction
Japan, known as a disaster-prone country, welcomed the new year of 2024 with a devastating magnitude 7.6 earthquake striking the Noto Peninsula, resulting in over 200 deaths and numerous injuries. In Ishikawa Prefecture, at the earthquake's epicenter, over 40,000 buildings were damaged or destroyed, forcing many into unfamiliar and challenging living conditions amidst ongoing aftershocks. This year marks 13 years since the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake, which received immense humanitarian support from the United States. Japan has shifted its focus from physical rebuilding to the psychological care of survivors and community rebuilding. In this context, the Sasakawa Peace Foundation USA presents "Recapturing Happiness," a photo exhibition by Keisuke Hirai, a photographer from Kagawa Prefecture with no prior ties to Ishinomaki, but who has lived there for 12 years since volunteering post-disaster. The exhibition, held at the Japan Information & Culture Center, Embassy of Japan in Washington, D.C., focuses not on the devastation but on the smiles of Ishinomaki's residents, showcasing the happiness found amidst recovery.
As the interviewer for this story, I have a personal interest in Mr. Hirai’s work. Not only do I come from Kesennuma, which is located about 100 kilometers north of Ishinomaki, but I have family who were directly affected by the Great East Japan Earthquake, and was also involved in the recovery and reconstruction efforts as a Coast Guard Officer. With this connection, I was granted the opportunity to converse with Mr. Hirai. This article aims to introduce the connections between people that Mr. Hirai wants to convey through his volunteer experience and the smiles captured in his photographs.
From right to left, Keisuke Hirai and Daisuke Komatsu (interviewer)
The Dialogue
Komatsu: Could you share your thoughts behind holding this photo exhibition in Washington D.C.?
Hirai: The first spark [for this idea] came when I held the initial exhibition in Ishinomaki in 2021. The former Japanese Ambassador to the U.S., Mr. Fujisaki, visited with his wife. Because it was during the pandemic, there was a suggestion about maybe sharing it online instead of just somewhere in the U.S. However, that idea didn’t pan out.
I came to Ishinomaki to help as a volunteer, but as I met more people there, I learned so much about the importance of human connection from the locals. Before I knew it, I went from being the one providing assistance to the one being taught. That experience, which turned me from a helper to a learner, has kept me in Ishinomaki for 12 years now. We've been fighting tooth and nail together, but it's been fun living here as neighbors, and that's why I've been in Ishinomaki for this long. I really want people far away to get a feel for these experiences, which is something that grew on me as I kept taking pictures, leading up to this event. I've been kind of experimenting with how to get this across, and figuring out the best way to share it.
Komatsu: When it comes to sharing, many photos and videos from the Great East Japan Earthquake tend to focus on the extensive damage. However, the theme of this photo exhibition, "Recapturing Happiness," surprised me because the photos, taken from the perspective of reclaiming joy and happiness, aren't frightening. Instead, they're all of people with beautiful smiles. What inspired you to take these photos, and how were you able to capture such moments?
Hirai: My initial motivation for visiting the disaster-struck Ishinomaki was partly curiosity for the macabre and a desire to document firsthand how survivors from a calamity considered once-in-a-thousand-years would rebuild their lives. There was a deep-rooted interest in how individuals and towns bounce back from such profound despair. I was pretty sure that there'd be a lesson there, and that's why I wanted to capture it in photos. I figured that by showing these to people living outside the disaster area, it could somehow channel their energy into the affected area, whether through donations or volunteering. That's what I was thinking.
At the time, there was a sort of unspoken rule against photographing the faces of disaster victims, but through volunteering, I got to know the people of Ishinomaki and I built relationships with them. I gained their trust and consent to take their photos, continuing to document their stories. While the media focused on reporting the extent of the disaster’s damage, I could concentrate on capturing the people themselves. Ultimately, I believe it's crucial to do your best with whatever you’ve got, given the situation and position you're in.
This exhibit comes a decade after the disaster, and in its 11th year, I spent a year asking the people of Ishinomaki, who had been affected by the disaster, “When,” “Where,” and “Who do you want to take a picture with?” aiming to capture special commemorative photos. I felt like it's in the midst of normal, everyday life, the kind that doesn't make the news, where you can really start to ponder what happiness is.
Exhibition in D.C. [Photo Credit Keisuke Hirai]
Komatsu: When it comes to sharing, many photos and videos from the Great East Japan Earthquake tend to focus on the extensive damage. However, the theme of this photo exhibition, "Recapturing Happiness," surprised me because the photos, taken from the perspective of reclaiming joy and happiness, aren't frightening. Instead, they're all of people with beautiful smiles. What inspired you to take these photos, and how were you able to capture such moments?
Hirai: My initial motivation for visiting the disaster-struck Ishinomaki was partly curiosity for the macabre and a desire to document firsthand how survivors from a calamity considered once-in-a-thousand-years would rebuild their lives. There was a deep-rooted interest in how individuals and towns bounce back from such profound despair. I was pretty sure that there'd be a lesson there, and that's why I wanted to capture it in photos. I figured that by showing these to people living outside the disaster area, it could somehow channel their energy into the affected area, whether through donations or volunteering. That's what I was thinking.
At the time, there was a sort of unspoken rule against photographing the faces of disaster victims, but through volunteering, I got to know the people of Ishinomaki and I built relationships with them. I gained their trust and consent to take their photos, continuing to document their stories. While the media focused on reporting the extent of the disaster’s damage, I could concentrate on capturing the people themselves. Ultimately, I believe it's crucial to do your best with whatever you’ve got, given the situation and position you're in.
This exhibit comes a decade after the disaster, and in its 11th year, I spent a year asking the people of Ishinomaki, who had been affected by the disaster, “When,” “Where,” and “Who do you want to take a picture with?” aiming to capture special commemorative photos. I felt like it's in the midst of normal, everyday life, the kind that doesn't make the news, where you can really start to ponder what happiness is.
Komatsu: Could you explain your goal for exhibiting these photos in Washington D.C.?
Hirai: I was thinking, maybe there's something in these photos that could resonate with anyone, whether they're from America, Europe, Asia, or the Middle East. I'm not entirely sure, but if the people looking at them can feel the emotions captured, and if I’m able to receive the impressions or thoughts that they felt, then I could learn something too about the differences in culture, regions, and the problems they face. And from that, maybe, just maybe, a sort of mutual understanding could emerge.
So, here's a funny story: About a year after the Great East Japan Earthquake, I got the chance to join the Peace Boat and exhibit photos of the disaster in several countries we visited. We couldn't dock in Saudi Arabia, but the locals brought food to the boat and threw us a party. At the photo exhibit there, a Saudi guest saw a photo of an elderly lady from Onagawa wearing a headscarf while clearing rubble. He mentioned, surprised, "There are Muslims in Japan too? I'm worried about our Muslim brothers and sisters." This grandma isn't Muslim, but I found the way he perceived things fascinating. It's amazing how different our interpretations can be, or how we might find common ground in a photo, or even feel a sense of empathy. Even such a small misunderstanding could spark a conversation, and I thought, maybe it could be a chance to make friends with someone from Saudi Arabia.
Photo Credit Keisuke Hirai
Komatsu: Is the aim here, with the D.C. exhibit, really about using the photos as a way to bond with people in America, to help them find commonality with the folks from Ishinomaki and across Japan?
Hirai: Yeah, I really think that's a big part of it. For folks in Ishinomaki, it's like, if people in Washington D.C., who they thought lived in a completely different world, can see the photos and the stories behind them and find similar experiences or feelings, then it could create a kind of connection between people in Ishinomaki and D.C. It's like opening a door to connect people, making both sides feel closer to each other, you know? And after sharing my thoughts and what I've seen and heard about hosting this photo exhibition with the friends who helped me create the photo book in Ishinomaki and those featured in the photos, I thought, even if we haven't met, maybe they'd feel closer to someone in Washington D.C. Like, if someone hears that my photo was displayed in Washington D.C. and asks, 'What's that about?' it could spark more connections between people.
Komatsu: Viewing this Washington D.C. exhibit as a milestone, has it inspired you to want to hold similar photo exhibitions in other parts of America or in other countries?
Hirai: For this exhibition, there was a coordinator who helped me think through the English translation of the photo backgrounds and how best to present them. Hearing feedback from those who actually saw it, I've come to think anew that this format could work as an exhibition in other languages and regions as well.
Komatsu: From the photos exhibited, I sensed the "human connections" you've mentioned learning from the people of Ishinomaki. With the Noto Peninsula earthquake occurring early this year in Japan, could you share how these human connections are utilized during disasters?
Hirai: You know, it's often mentioned in disaster support, but I think it can somewhat solve the issue of mismatched aid. Of course, I believe both the national and local governments have organized the aid needed by disaster victims based on reviews of past incidents. However, there's a tendency, especially in more remote areas, for residents to hesitate in communicating their needs to authorities, out of respect or reticence, which I think is one of the causes of mismatches in the support provided. If you're a volunteer on the ground, you might notice what's needed while helping out the locals, or you could more easily ask them what they require, right? Also, if there are connections between people who've been affected by the disaster, they might be able to share and exchange whatever supplies they're lacking, helping each other get through the immediate aftermath. For example, one person might have rice but no water to cook it, while another has water but no rice. If they connect, they can share their resources and both have a warm meal that day. I'm concerned that in the metropolitan area, where connections between people are said to be weak, whether such mutual aid would be possible in the event of a disaster. For example, in apartment complexes where it's not clear who lives next door, I worry that situations could arise where an elderly person trapped under a fallen wardrobe might go unnoticed by their neighbors.
Komatsu: I see. So, it's about leveraging personal connections for gathering hard-to-reach information and supporting areas where official aid might not easily reach. I remember from my time providing relief during the Great East Japan Earthquake, it was tough to get information on what aid was truly needed by those affected. People in rural areas, even in dire need, often hesitated to communicate their needs to authorities or tried to endure without asking for help, feeling reluctant to impose. That makes a lot of sense. Building face-to-face relationships with those affected in the disaster zones as a volunteer surely makes it easier to gather such information.
From the perspective of information, the way it's conveyed is also crucial. During the Noto Peninsula Earthquake, there were intense and fiercely urgent evacuation calls made by NHK announcers. Similarly, from the administrative side, there's been a shift towards delivering life-saving information in simpler language to clearly communicate imminent dangers and making visual enhancements for better understanding. For example, the Japan Meteorological Agency now uses numbers and colors like purple and red to indicate the severity of danger. Plus, for tsunami warnings, in addition to TV, radio, cell phones, and sirens, they've started using "tsunami flags," which are checkered in red and white. Lifeguards at the beach wave these, or they're hung on tall buildings to be visible from afar. This helps those who are deaf or can’t hear well due to loud waves or wind, or when there's no power to receive broadcasted information, serving as an analog way to spread the word.
Hirai: I believe making disaster alerts clear through simple language and visual information can promote more effective evacuations. I wasn't aware of the "tsunami flag," but I think if influential people within the community spread the word through their connections, it can help extend government efforts more easily to the locals.
Photo Credit: Japan Meteorological Agency
Komatsu: It's really about the importance of human connections, isn't it? Based on your experiences and insights gained through volunteer work, what can each individual do to prepare for disasters?
Hirai: I think it's crucial to actually consider what would happen if a disaster occurred. Many people have started to buy emergency preparedness kits, but few have actually used them to familiarize themselves with their contents. Similarly, while many might know their evacuation routes, not many have walked them. Opening your emergency kit and using its contents can prevent confusion during a crisis. Walking your evacuation route could reveal challenges, like steep hills that could hinder your escape. Evacuation drills in elementary schools shouldn't just end with gathering in the schoolyard and taking attendance. They should include practicing evacuation routes to higher ground. Otherwise, in an actual emergency, both teachers and students might find themselves confused and unprepared.
Komatsu: It's exactly like the saying, "Experience is the best teacher." A month has passed since the Noto Peninsula Earthquake. Many people are still living in difficult conditions. What are your current concerns?
Hirai: What I'm most concerned about right now is disaster-related deaths. Of course, there are some aspects where the response can’t keep up. Relying solely on cold boxed meals can lead to nutritional imbalances, health deterioration, or the worsening of pre-existing conditions, especially as life while evacuated prolongs. To prevent this, I believe it's crucial to have an environment where warm meals, like hearty soups, form the base of food distributions and are continuously provided.
Komatsu: Ishikawa Prefecture, the epicenter of the Noto Peninsula Earthquake, is encouraging secondary evacuations to locations outside the disaster-affected areas in order to prevent disaster-related deaths and ensure a stable living environment in the short term. However, there have been reports that this process is not progressing as quickly as hoped.
Hirai: Just like during the Great East Japan Earthquake, even if the government provides a safe place, people don't just move, you know? They probably need some time to calm down emotionally, and I can understand the feeling of anxiety about leaving the place you're used to living and going to a location where you don't know anyone in the neighborhood. I think it's hard for them to consider evacuating to somewhere far way unless they believe they can eventually return to where they were originally. I think it's partly due to the Japanese national character, but the fact that there aren't many people around who have evacuated to another safe place as a second evacuation site also affects the current situation. Even here, by evacuating as a community, or if influential people move, or through neighbors diligently reaching out to each other, it's possible that the situation could change.
Komatsu: It really made me realize again how important connections between people are. Lastly, could you share what you'd like to say to the visitors of the photo exhibition?
Hirai: I kind of feel like it's somewhat inevitable that, with just photos, these disasters might be seen as something happening to strangers far away. But I really hope visitors take the time to read the stories too, and try to put themselves in those situations. These stories aren't exactly newsworthy, but I'd be happy if people could relate to them, and feel like “This applies to me too. We’re in this together.” I think that’d be the best outcome. After all, those affected by disasters are just regular people too. And I’d be happy if they could think of something for themselves that is their “piece of happiness” and start making even small actions. For example, perhaps it leads to someone calling their parents whom they haven’t spoken to in a while, or expressing gratitude when they usually don’t. I believe there are quite a few things you can easily do right away, close to home. I'd be glad if you could find happiness from there.
Photo Credit: Daisuke Komatsu
Reflection
Thirteen years are on the verge of passing since the Great East Japan Earthquake. With each arrival of March 11th, television screens are filled with the visages of those who lost family and loved ones, those who were stripped of their livelihoods, and those living a solitary existence in lands far from their hometowns, speaking of the tragic disaster with sorrowful expressions. One wonders, how long must those affected remain enshrouded in sadness? Surely, those who have suffered are also entitled to share moments of joy with friends, forge new familial bonds, and speak of the mundane happiness of daily life on television. Myself included, whether working in Japan or since arriving in DC, conversations invariably touch upon the hardship of the disaster, prompting me to explain the immediate, grim aftermath with a somber demeanor. Attending Mr. Hirai's photo exhibition brought the realization that such expressions of sadness are not obligatory, offering a sense of salvation.
Furthermore, the "connections between people" felt through Mr. Hirai's photographs and words highlight the critical importance of these bonds in preparing for disasters, including the development of robust transportation infrastructure. I remember, back when I was at the Minister's office of the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism and attended a local road opening ceremony where those responsible for the construction spoke of roads as pathways that "connect people, goods, and lives." The Noto Peninsula Earthquake in Ishikawa Prefecture, a region with few major arterial roads, starkly revealed the vulnerabilities in local transportation infrastructure, impeding rescue efforts, transport of relief supplies, and emergency medical services. While lessons from the Great East Japan Earthquake have been applied, mismatches between the needs of the affected areas and the provided assistance have emerged. The key to resolving these mismatches lies in the connections and exchanges between people. Such exchanges are born from meetings facilitated by well-developed transportation infrastructure. Strengthening this infrastructure is not only vital for enabling efficient relief, recovery, and support activities but is also crucial for the swift restoration of happiness to those living in these areas, reinforcing my belief in its importance as a policy.
NOTE:
Mr. Hirai's exhibition, "Recapturing Happiness" is currently featured at the Japan Information & Cultural Center (1150 18th Street, N.W., Suite100, Washington, DC, 20036) through March 13, 2024. The exhibition website is:
https://www.us.emb-japan.go.jp/jicc/exhibits/recapturing-happiness.html
BIO: Keisuke Hirai
Mr. Keisuke Hirai is a freelance photographer who strives to capture the lives of people in their entirety, believing that it is the unique contradictions of humans that make seemingly imperfect human lives perfect. Mr. Hirai credits his love of photography to a friend he met while studying abroad in Canada that urged him to take photography classes. Ever since then, he has been behind the camera.
Whether it is in Cambodia, Nepal, Inner Mongolia, South Africa, or Japan, he sets out to capture photographs that illustrate the humanity we all share. Mr. Hirai is ever curious and has been involved in activities such as demining, reforestation, community revitalization, international aid, and international exchange. After traveling to Ishinomaki in April 2011 to document and promote recovery efforts, he moved there permanently and now resides in the city. Currently you can find him taking photographs of the fisheries industry in and around Ishinomaki.
Mr. Hirai has launched several photography projects in the past. Some of his most known are the Funny!!Project, a project based on the theme “We All Laugh Together in Different Ways,” which uses photographs as a communication tool for various activities such as exhibitions, events, workshops, and talks at educational institutions around Japan. In addition, he launched the photo exhibition 10 Years of Happiness in Ishinomaki in 2021 and published the photo book 10年の幸福写真 〜 10 YEARS AFTER 3.11 (10 Years of Happiness 〜 10 YEARS AFTER 3.11) in 2022.