The Bonin Islanders 

Shinichiro Nagasawa

The island of Chichijima is located at 27°north latitude (about the same as the Okinawa Islands) and 1,000 km far south of Tokyo. With no airport, it takes 24 hours to get there from the Takebashi wharf in Tokyo. With a subtropical climate and many endemic species found nowhere else in the world, it is also known as the "Galapagos of the East". The group of islands that includes Chichijima is listed as a natural UNESCO World Heritage site.

Chichijima used to be uninhabited. The name of the group of the islands ("Bonin Islands") is taken from Japanese word for inhabited ("無人:mujin"); the pronunciation changed from "mujin" to "bunin", and ultimately to "bonin".These extremely remote islands have a complicated history.

It goes back to the 19th century.

In 1830, five Europeans and twenty Canadians arrived at Chichijima via the Hawaian Sandwich Islands as the first settlers. The island then developed into an important harbor that provides food and fuel to whaling boats from all over the world. At various times, America, Britain and Russia attempted, in vain, to take control of the Bonin Islands. In 1873, the Bonin Islands were officially declared Japanese territory, which forced the islanders to become Japanese citizens. Many people from the main islands of Japan subsequently moved there, and the original settlers were differentiated as "Western Islanders".
By the time of World War II, the population of Chichijima grew to about four thousand. During the War, Iwo-jima and other islands became the sites of fierce land battles and were converted to forts for the Japanese army. All the islanders were forced to evacuate to mainland Japan. After the War, the Bonin Islands were occupied by GHQ until 1968. The GHQ allowed only "Western Islanders" to return, and for 23 years, every aspect of islandersʼ life, including language and education, was influenced by American culture. They were only informed of the territorial restoration to Japan right before it happened.

About forty years later, I came across an old family photograph in a travel magazine. In front of a thatch-roofed hut were two men and three children wearing kimonos, and they all looked European or American. "Is this really Japan?" The image left a deep impression on me. It spoke of a history, something dramatic, that our textbooks don't tell. I felt an urgent need to take photos of those people. I made my way to Chichijima for the first time in February 2008.［...]

Who are the "Bonin Islanders"?

I kept looking for the answer as I took photos. They lived alone for 46 years, from when the first settlers arrived until Japanese territorialization in 1876.

It was a racially mixed international community. Many Japanese moved in

too afterwards. There wasnʼt a so-called traditional or unique culture. As I proceeded, I realized that the identification of "Bonin Islanders" is limited to those who were born before the GHQ occupation. It took even longer to realize that this was underpinned by the birth certificates and passports that the American army issued.

I might have taken too long to finally compile this book. Last year, Aisaku Ogasawara, a clergyman and my first subject, passed away. We also lost George Minami, nicknamed "little George", who always gave me a ride on his boat. Aisaku once told me: "photography has a great power. That's a good thing for us islanders", while Gorge introduced me to the island, saying "this is our Ogasawara." Both of them motivated me greatly. I wish I could have shown this book to them. At the same time, I somehow understand that it is impossible:

the history of Ogasawara (as the Bonin Islands are also called) is so deep and complicated that I needed enough time to prepare. I dedicate this book to them, and I deeply appreciate all the people I met in the process of compiling this book.

"The title of this collection of photographs, The second seeing, emphasizes that we live within a 'second seeing' by way of an internalized other that exists behind the first-level perception. Our lives exist alongside this image we have of ourselves, she asserts, likening people to actors and the world to a stage.［...]

Ryu isn't satisfied by simply capturing the subject using her camera. Many of the photos taken in Inner Mongolia, where she grew up, Japan and Paris, where she studied, and Egypt, where she travelled, include what appear to be snapshot-like elements-situations encountered unexpectedly, meaningless gestures, subjects with their eyes only half open, and compositions in which the subject is not facing the camera directly. However, it is also true that about half of these photos were taken under circumstances devised by the artist or with interventions by the artist. She also makes edits to the resulting photos, including negative-positive reversal, superimposing images that have been made transparent, and emphasizing noise or particular details. In this way, it almost seems as if she is presenting a profusion of image manipulations at this show.It is an ambivalent mix formed from a stance torn by two perspectives, one viewing photography as truth, the other seeing it as fiction. On the one hand, elements like flesh and mucous membranes, sweat and blood, and animal carcasses touch on the graphic nature of the world (i.e., the truthfulness of fiction). On the other hand, it captures artificial flowers, paddling pools, artificial turf, and iconic images, lamenting how the world is fake (i.e., the truth of fictitious worlds). The conflict brought about by this strong contrast conveys both a sense of the world's realness as well as a feeling that things are being manipulated.

Through the text she distributes at the exhibition venue, Ryu drives home like a stake the fact that photos are not completely transparent, and that 'my' manipulations that intervene in the process in which photos are taken, edited on the computer, printed on paper, and presented before the viewer are 'me.' "I don't feel like I just reproduced the scenery I took on paper, or "I" am the point that is most important in the process from reality to data and from data to reality...we want to tell the world that we don't want to ignore the process and we don't want you to ignore it." Completely transparent photographs are an impossibility. People live in a world of their own preconceptions. That might sound like an often used cliché. However, Ryu Ika stakes out her resistance to an increasingly fake world, approaching photography in a way that allows her to thoroughly digest the 'self' manipulating the photos."

Extracted from the contribution Iioka Riku (Curatorial Assistant, Mori Art Museum) 
"Myself as Resistance-Ryu Ika's The second seeing"