Counteract towards internet and coronavirus

Masashi Sawada: “Becoming a routine” could also be said with the way we put out information—We usually send out information to get published on news sites and web magazines, but a while ago, I was talking with a person and we were saying, “isn’t it going to be a counter effect having the same news on a lot of different platforms?” I feel like it’s going to make the readers not care about it. It’s kind of like we’re getting buried under other pieces of information. I’m well aware that not all readers read everything on magazines, and I don’t care where our information gets published, but when it’s online, the important matters could get buried or overlooked, since people can get access to all sorts of information.   

――I feel you. The quality of information dwindles

Sawada: Relating to our conversation earlier about the store, in the old days, we would send out CDs along with a release, talk to the media over the phone, and if we hit it off well, we would set up an interview—that was the general flow. But since the internet became the main domain, interview articles became indistinguishable from one another. These interviews are supposed to be for promotion, but I’m getting skeptical about it. I think one is good enough to trigger attention.     

――I guess this is all about the pros and cons of the internet taking away the meticulous efforts….

Sawada: Well, essentially, we were working mainly on site, but when that became impossible since the outbreak of Covid, internet gave us the potential to continue expressing ourselves. But back to our conversation about CDs, it’s undeniable that CDs consist of a massive amount of information. And it’s the same with mixtapes. They function like the media; you can acquire information such as the artist’s personal relationships or see who they are connected to. Recently, I started buying and listening to CDs again, and check out the covers just the way I used to in the old days. With hardcore, some artists only put summarized contents of their lyrics, and I find it interesting. 

――I see. I hope we can let more people know that CDs are worth buying as they are fun and entertaining. I understand subscription services are easy but relying on them too much can weaken the quality of listening to music, cause more ‘nibbling,’ and as you were saying earlier, increase the risk of important things getting buried.

Sawada: Especially in specialty stores, the store owners decide what to carry in their stores and write reviews about them—and they’re fun to see. These reviews spark our interest in listening to their selections. Their store lineups can also be found on subscriptions, but you can’t get that excitement of saving the fun for later until the records are delivered to your home. I think I’m able to enjoy that process more these days, as I’m not so swamped and have more time now.  

――I think it goes without saying for those who like records, but I get hyped like a kid when I get records with surprises like detailed sleeves and colored vinyl.

Sawada: You can find out some tidbits from hearing people talk. Originally, I wasn’t that interested in the stuff I’m into now, but like what I said earlier, when I was hanging out with other guys and hearing them talk, they’ve made me curious and want to be involved in their conversations. They seemed so lively when they were having those talks. Obviously, these aren’t vital for us like food, and we’re not going to die without them. But they bring joy and make us feel alive.  

Most things are possible if you try

――As you mentioned about CDs couple times so far, from here on, I would like for you to pick up some CDs or releases from WD’s catalogue, and have you talk about them.

Sawada: I tried to narrow down but there’s quite a lot （laugh）. I can sort them out in different categories, though.

Sawada: Regarding this (=SALVATION MALEVOLENCE,) we were initially planning on releasing a different title, but it didn’t happen as we couldn’t get in contact with the band members. Later, when I went to the states, in Baltimore, my friend took me to that band’s show; there I met this guy name Don [Romeo] from Pulling Teeth, and he asked me if I was interested in putting out Integrity’s CD. The PN of this title is ‘002’; ‘000’ is for my former band and ‘001’ was supposed to be for the split album of Next Step Up and DSL from Tokyo, but it didn’t happen, so technically, SALVATION MALEVOLENCE is WD’s first-ever release. Pulling Teeth is fairly a new band, but they’ve made me realize that I can get along with US hardcore bands that I’ve admired from before.

Especially, the re-release of Cold As Life’s demo (=1988-1993 DISCOGRAPHY) is deeply memorable to me. They’re my favorite band since high school, and only my elders owned the essential copies. Back then, I remember well borrowing and burning the record onto CD-R, but I didn’t think I’d be distributing my coveted records, officially, from my own label. It’s a bit funny to me, though. It’s not like I’m trying to represent the scene, I’m just a listener, who merely likes listening to those bands, and I’m on cloud nine being able to help those who’ve been inspiring me. These lineups are pretty much based on my predilection, but I just want the listeners to know about the ones we put out there.

Actually, quite a lot of people think we’re completely a hip hop label. Or some people don’t even know that I’m in a band. This (=JAPAN SUSPECT TOUR) is a DVD that documents the band’s Japan tour, and it’s also released in the states and in Europe; WD does its distribution in Japan. I joined the tour from the beginning to the end, so gratefully, whenever I’m in the states, they’d invite me to their homes, and we’d hang out together—I feel like I’ve learned a lot through releasing records and interacting with these bands.

Sawada: Next is FEBB’s THE SEASON. This release has given a huge impact on me. I even thought that I would never be able to create something better than this piece. So, in the past, I wasn’t happy with people complimenting this album—because, as a record label, we need to keep updating with more great works. It took over a year producing this record with P-VINE, and it was my first time working with an ample budget.I flew all the way to New York to commission Chance Load for the cover art, and directly asked Ken Sport (beat maker who lives in New York) to do a track. In fact, FEBB and I went through credits of different CDs looking for engineers to work with. Mixing was done by the same person, who did Curren$y’s first and second record. We were browsing through credits saying, “this dude might be lit,” and contacted these engineers, dubiously. Also, we had a concept of making the inside cover almost like an art gallery and asked the artist to create art in each page based on the theme, FEBB’s “THE SEASON.” I think I was able to grow through that experience. If you tell yourself that it’s not going to work out, then it’s going to turn into defeat, and most things are possible if you try—this is what I learned from the album.

Sawada: STRUGGLE FOR PRIDE’s album was produced in conjunction with Space Shower. I’m proud of the WD logo imprinted on the record. It is consisting of two discs in compiled format; I really like records of reggae and oldies that come in a set of two or three discs, so I made it conceiving that excitement. I think another fun part of a CD is that you can fire up your imagination. DJ HOLIDAY’s SETAGAYA TALES is made from a track list that was written in a letter I received from Imazato. He told me that he had selected out of the records in his record bag.

Sawada: voice was an album that SENNINSHO made from my relentless request telling him that he needs to put out another album. The second album, BOY MEETS WORLD (again released from WD) was a straight-up hip-hop album, but on the other hand, voice has a wide variety of sounds, and in that sense, I think it fits WD’s style. After voice was released, I joined the tour with SENNINSHO, and went more than twenty different locations; also, we did a release party at Liquid Room for the first time. We just wanted to try different things. SENNINSHO is loved by everyone, and respected as a rapper, so we had to make sure we prepare the coolest set for him to live up to those expectations. However, the tour was a living hell [laughs]. We were psyched to say ‘tour life’ only in the beginning. The entire time on the road, I was thinking about all the stuff I had to do when I’m back in Tokyo. Though, I’ve got to admit, I was chilling in the backseat of the car, making my friend drive （laugh）—so, I had a blast. There’s a person, who works as a PR, named Aki, who I look up to and takes great care of me, and he lend us NIXON’s hi-ace van saying, “just wanted to support for the tour.” Now that I think about it, it was an insanely cool tour.  

――When was the tour?

Sawada: About half a year ago. We started in February and ended in the very beginning of September—I remember we were planning to finish the tour by the end of August. We learned our lesson and for the BOY MEETS WORLD tour, we’d limited to four locations, and performed during daytime instead of performing late at night. We actually got feedbacks from young kids, saying it’s harder for them to go out to clubs at night, and they prefer us performing during daytime.

――Right when BOY MEETS WORLD was released, SENNINSHO’s headshot was boldly used for the cover of Ollie magazine—I remember it was getting major attention.  

Sawada: That photo was actually taken when we shot the cover for BOY MEETS WORLD. We told the crew we wanted to take the photo for the album cover as well. The photo and design on the cover of the analogue record is slightly different from the one on the CD. And the cover of the remix version is an illustration. We contrived to make them collectible. I think ERA’s album is with the most elaborated design—It’s a three panel Digipak featuring artwork by graffiti artist QP. The unit cost became exorbitant, and even though it’s sold quite a lot, the more it’s sold the more we’re in the red [laughs]. In spite of it all, we wanted people to own one. In fact, it’s not selling so well digitally, which means, most listeners have the physical version.

Being lively, getting off track, community, support, action, and reaction

Sawada: I think there’s more meaning to releasing records. You see, artists are humans, too. And I think that’s what’s intriguing. Because they’re humans, they get lost at times, but if you see the entire picture, those times are worth it. Even if they get off track that doesn’t necessarily mean their work is a failure; in fact, no matter what, record labels are there to support and release their creations, and I think that’s incredible. I work closely with the community, so when FEBB was anguishing and getting lost, although his work (second solo album SO SOPHISTICATED) wasn’t released from WD, I still gave him advice like, “you might wanna talk to ULTRA-VYBE.”

Sawada: It’s not like I’ve got power running the label—it’s an independent label, so we can’t get different things done all at once. So, I once introduced FEBB to Space Shower (for his joint album with GRANDIS NICE, L.O.C -Talkin’ About Money-.) I don’t know if this is the right way to put it, but he was able to carry out ‘till the end because everyone was there to lend him support. He was able to release his music with help from these people behind the scenes. Communities, support, activities including gigs, fans, and responses from listeners—these are the things that keep artists going.  

――Jazzmen from the old times tend to get glorified, but if you read or hear stories about them, most of them are actually assholes.

Sawada: I agree. It’s fun saying it’s shit to shitty stuff when it’s still around. You don’t need to make stuff that are understood and liked by everyone; everyone has their own reason in creating things, and it’s cooler when we can see each of their distinctive signature in their works. In order for the artists to create and put out their bona fide feats, they need to have the right team that can work closely with them.    

――I can absolutely feel that from FEBB’s second album.

Sawada: But he really sucked before recording that album. The second album was like a rehab for his rapping, and it actually sounds pretty good if you see it that way. When I was talking to SAC (beat maker of SCARS), who did the remix of SO SOPHISTICATED, he was also saying that FEBB sucked.  

―― （laugh）.

Sawada: It’s true, FEBB sucked, but I’d never gave up on him. I’ve had times where I thought I wouldn’t be able to help him when he’d asked me over the phone, but I stood by him anyway. I think the background of that time is refelcted in the “inside” of his CD—from the vibe and artists in the pictures. I’ve had times where I had a strong urge to rise in the world and wanted as many people as possible to hear my kind of music, but I didn’t “want people to just listen,” and thought there should be a better way to present it. Also, I don’t want to handle the type of music that gets played poorly. It might sound blunt, but I don’t want trash. So, instead of widening the range, I want to be more particular as it makes more sense to me that way. I think we want people to buy CDs because they expand possibilities. It is said that, in general, CD sales are plummeting, but if we find out that it’s doing well in one spot, we can attract people’s attentions from there; we were reminded that we should make something more robust—From all that we’ve been through.

Masashi Sawada
Born in 1979. While he owns a record label, WDsounds, he takes part in producing records of artists including SENNINSHO, FEBB, CAMPANELLA, and ERA; he is a rapper himself under the alias J.COLUMBUS. He is also a lead singer of the hardcore punk band, PAY BACK BOYS. A member of the readers collective, Riverside Reading Club.
http://wdsounds.jp

Photography Teppei Hori

The post The Usual Experience, Intimate View, Interaction with Others, and Returning to the Intrinsic Interview with the Owner of WDsounds, Masashi Sawada -Part 2- appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

The intelligent music to cut up and get through the dull society

Economic distress, deteriorated public safety, and lousy daily life environment. New York—the city of glory since the modern era—was in peril in the 1970s to 1980s. However, if we look back broadly at the human history—not limited to the states—cultural evolution occurs to places that experience through rough times. Like how the Bauhaus design movement, appreciating concise forms, came to rise after the Spanish flu casted a pall over the world where the bold and sumptuous Art Nouveau was flourishing. It is said that Marcel Breuer has invented the minimal chair made of only plywood and pipes, to make easy cleaning possible. Basically, the spell of lurid embellishments has been broken, and the world has woken up and returned to its intrinsic state.

After the 1970s to 1980s, the scene of hardcore—the music faster, more rambunctious, and brasher than New York’s monumental punk rock band, Ramones—has intensified. Bad Brains, Minor Threat—these are among the bands that have influenced the straight edge spirited bands such as Agnostic Front, Madball, Cro-Mags, Youth of Today, Sick Of It All, Gorilla Biscuits…. Then, there is the techno-essence infused Youth Code that came in the scene later. Lyrics that are opulent in propagandistic lyricism. Shouts. Simplified refrains that are comprised only of power chords. Fast beats. Is it futile to compare these fierce hardcore elements to the examples of Bauhaus or Marcel Breuer?

Hardcore is not an atrocious music. If you think it is, the image of its roots—punk by and for the rogue—is somewhat adhered to your mind. It is worth getting rid of that scab of stigma for once (even if it hurts a bit.) Hardcore is in fact intelligent, rebellious and defiant music that severs and leads us through the dull society. The lead singer of Cro-Mags, John Joseph, has mentioned the following in Noisey’s documentary series UNDER THE INFLUENCE, a music content by VICE:

“It (people moshing fervently at gigs) was like a tribal dance that everybody was a part of—and it was a vibe, and it was a scene.
[With] punk rock, all they ever did was complain about shit— [they were like,] “fuck the mother fuckers.”
There was no solution (with their words and behaviors.)
[But] hardcore is about finding solution to the problems.”

He also added, “we were the fishermen to pull those souls in that were fucking damaged.”

However, the hip-hop/hardcore band of the same New York origin, Beastie Boys, would not abide by the aforementioned context. This is due to the reason because, essentially, Beastie Boys was born from Rick Rubin’s “device,” and heralded in the pop/major field. The defiant Caucasian band kids were fascinated by rap, and Rick was there to back them up. From the beginning of the band’s career, the young stars have accomplished huge live tours; however, even though they were daringly calling the party animals out in “Fight For Your Rights,” they eventually became party animals themselves, and for a moment, they blew up in the air into smithereens. After they were released from Rick’s hands, they were back to square one, and that was when they came up with the pure hardcore track, “Sabotage.” Since then, they have started pursuing freedom, emancipating their style, and crossing over multiple genres; for them, hardcore was (and must have been) the kind of music that “fished out their wounded souls from a dumpster.” Beastie Boys would probably be an underrated band within the purview of the proper hardcore scene, yet they are unequivocally the icon of New York back in those days. They are the representative of youth culture sparking change in detrimental situations, and mixture of hip-hop and hardcore that rose concurrently in the same epoch.  

“When I produced FEBB’s THE SEASON, I just wanted to make sure it’s [paying homage to] New York.”

Masashi Sawada is the owner of the Tokyo hardcore/hip hop label, WDsounds (from hereunder, WD), vocalist of the hardcore band PAYBACK BOYS, who goes by the name Lil MERCY, and also a rapper under the alias J.COLUMBUS; he claims, out of the numerous works he has released, FEBB’s solo first album is the most remarkable masterpiece that shows deference to the aforementioned New York background and hip hop style that came in later, and deftly translates the style into Japanese (which goes without saying.)

“I think ‘hell rap’ only gets consumed, but you know, it’s here with us.” (Reference from Otaku IN THA HOOD)—FEBB implements his dexterous lyrical sense and relentlessly vents out his agitation in the album. What makes FEBB even more interesting is that long after THE SEASON was released right after the Great East Japan Earthquake, his smatterings of singles (“SKINNY,” “2 HOT,” “ICY,” and featuring for DJ BEERT’s collaborative single with the New York rap duo, Square Off, titled “What I Want”) came out during the Covid-19 pandemic as if they were emanated from the eternally 24-year-old apparition. As I compare the past and the present, I realize that what becomes vital in shitty circumstances is the explicit and simple Sendo (double-meaning of ‘agitation’ and ‘guidance’) that prominently blows off the depressing mood, and words and expressions that reinforce Sendo.

New York in the 1970s to 1980s, Art Nouveau, Spanish flu, Bauhaus. Ramones, Hardcore, Beastie Boys, and FEBB. It could be anything—at first, they seem to be coherent, but they are incoherent, and you can of course see them as dots or small single souls. However, at times, there are moments where these unrelated matters, accumulated in the brain tank, link up with one another on a whim. This time, I conversed with Sawada about such matter and value of information, and how to associate the information when expressing. What becomes important is—quoting Sawada’s words— “to see the view.” But we need to keep in mind that the “view” has “a possibility of an impending change and disappearing from our sight.” Ultimately, it would be best if we could capture everything from the actual cities, architectures, sufferings from diseases to profound energy and joy at live shows—yet in real life, we would need a time machine to witness every one of these things. The view could be a bookshelf in your room, CD or a record rack, clubs, stores or venues, which by the way are hard to go these days. It is about the daily experience, intimate view, and interaction with people that are starting to lose their intrinsic meanings.

The “inside” of a CD—exchange of information

Masashi Sawada : Sometimes, digital magazines end suddenly, when there were still articles, I was intending to read later. Plus, once they end, they are nowhere to be found as they aren’t like physical magazines. So, I try to copy and paste and save articles of my interview or anything that feature me.

――They aren’t physical materials, so when they end, they vanish completely. Do you intend on saving traces of your achievements you made as both Mercy (=Sawada) and WD?

Sawada: I would say yes. If I keep them as things, even if they leave my hands, they will continue existing somewhere—I think. Before I founded WD, I was working at a different hardcore record label, and released music of my old band from there. But that label doesn’t exist anymore, so now, I can’t release my old band’s music on digital platforms, even if I wanted to. Though it exists on CD. Also, all printed materials are saved as archives. I sometimes buy these (he takes out flyers and archive books of skinheads.) These can remain as physical materials. I presume these flyers haven’t got permissions to sell from the artists who designed them, so I’m sure they would be hard to be sold in mass.

――Speaking of physical formats and devices, now, it’s more common to listen to music through subscription services, and we can only see the front cover of the record. On the other hand, with physical formats like CD and records, the inside cover is detailed and packed with texts and important information including staff credits; with subscription services, we don’t get to see those parts.

Sawada: It’s a good source for us to procure information when looking for an engineer and recording site. The information “inside” the CD is extremely important to us as it allows us to imagine and gauge if any of these engineers would be able to help us achieve our ideal sounds.

――I’m sure the information would lead you to many things. With WD, would you continuously put out music on CDs and vinyl?

Sawada: There are some that are released only in digital formats due to the reason because they had to be put out promptly. Though, I prefer releasing music on CDs, and I want to continue doing so.

――This might be deviating from the topic a bit but, as you’ve been running the label for a long term, do you see any changes in numbers of people buying CDs?

Sawada: The number is changing, but I don’t feel it. There’s no drastic ups and downs either. It’s definitive though that we’re receiving strong support from consistent customers.

――Fans in hardcore and hip-hop fields seem to be ardent and consistent. I have an impression that they are all quite faithful.

Sawada: I agree. Our CDs or stuff are sold more in private stores than in big retailers. We’ve established a good rapport constantly sharing and exchanging our thoughts with the store owners. I think this is one of the reasons why the CD sales hasn’t been dramatically affected so far.

――How did you get connected with these people?

Sawada: For example, last year, when a record store (LiE RECORDS) opened in Toyokawa-city, Aichi, which could’ve already existed, this person I’ve known for a long time contacted me asking if it’s okay for him to give my contact to the store owner as he wanted to have our CDs on their shelves. There are cases like this for stores to start carrying our products. But in the old days, we used to send sample CDs to stores without being asked—attaching a message saying, “If you are interested, please give it a listen.” I don’t think that stance has changed to this day. Though, we don’t send out sample CDs via email anymore. If someone sends me an email with a big data, I will think it’s sus [laughs].

―― （laugh） You’re right, people would think it’s a spam. They’d be happy with a simple CD.

Sawada: Also, what’s good about CDs is that when I meet someone at a club, I can give them my CD telling them casually, “if you’re interested, please give it a listen”—as a way of saying hi and letting them know what I’m up to lately.

――Hip hop and hardcore might appear rough and full of machismo, but in fact, they’re not; I think they’re fond of love and pure hearted. There are quite a lot of stores that exude their admiration for the music. Personally, I’m vexed with the fact that their “exuberant love” isn’t being understood enough. I know at gigs, people mosh, and you see the aggressive side, but these people are moshing as a diligent gesture to show love to the music, and I think that’s the right way to express. I think WD has constructed a scene, where we can feel that passion the most in Tokyo.  

Sawada: Thank you. I definitely understand what you mean as I was one of those guys, who used to hang out in stores all the time. I’m from Saitama, and there was a guy older than me, who worked at a convenience store in my hometown and was playing in a hardcore band; one day I went to the convenience store wearing a cap, and he noticed me and said, “Ah, so you’re Mercy, I heard about you from a friend.” Since then, I’d go to the store late at night or whenever the store seemed vacant, and he taught me all sorts of bands and a lot of other things. It all started from things like that; in middle school, I moved to Tokyo, and went to stores like UP STATE in Harajuku, where all the band guys would hang out, and gathered information as much as I could. Some of the guys, who lived like me at that time, got into hip hop. By the way, BLYY, who released from SUMMIT, was my middle school classmate. Other guys got into digging soul records, and everyone was doing different things, but it was fun exchanging information with these people. We were sort of competing with one another on who’s got the freshest new information.

――I like how you guys don’t have any barriers among one another. In other fields, people could be clannish—like, they don’t approve of things other than what they think is good.

Sawada: I think everyone has a fear of missing out what’s fun. You see, mind-blowing music could pop up out of nowhere. People may say, “it’s more interesting to explore hip hop tracks that sample some random weird tunes.” But, if you dig further on your own, you end up listening to songs that are very similar. Even if you were listening to music of different genres from hip hop, hardcore, soul, reggae, to house, the songs you listen to could still be related. Every time you meet someone, who could introduce you to unknown things, you would be able to get rid of your entrenched notions. That’s why exchanging information with others is extremely important. Even for a person owing a record label, music becomes a routine. So, you’ve got to reassess once in a while.

Masashi Sawada
Born in 1979. While he owns a record label, WDsounds, he takes part in producing records of artists including SENNINSHO, FEBB, CAMPANELLA, and ERA; he is a rapper himself under the alias J.COLUMBUS. He is also a lead singer of the hardcore punk band, PAY BACK BOYS. A member of the readers collective, Riverside Reading Club.
http://wdsounds.jp

Photography Teppei Hori

The post The Usual Experience, Intimate View, Interaction with Others, and Returning to the Intrinsic Interview with the Owner of WDsounds, Masashi Sawada -Part 1- appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Revering artists and giving back to them

I’d like to explain the background of new wave, a movement that exploded in the late 70s to early 80s. It was short-lived, yet dazzling and dirty, and even had differences within the movement. The end of the 60s was marked by the Vietnam war, which brought about a dramatic shift of consciousness worldwide; one way it manifested was student-led protests against the war, like May 68. It can be said during this period, people were fed up with how modern society forcefully disciplined them via laws and oppression. They fought against it from all fronts and sought freedom. 

Starting with Nordic countries, some regions lifted the ban against pornography; that’s the kind of era we’re talking about. People began to covet decadence, and its influence bled into art. It was no longer about austere art, beautiful landscape paintings, or abstract paintings, as art became unrestrained and unhinged. Not long after, avant-garde artists such as Cindy Sherman and photographers like Robert Mapplethorpe, whose photographs centered on themes of sexuality, came onto the scene. Horror novels and new wave started spreading around the same time.  The Painted Word, written by Tom Wolfe and published in 1975, is a book that criticizes contemporary art, and one of the topics it touches on is the origins of new wave. Television Personalities—a band that expresses themselves in a frank manner among bands categorized as new wave or post-punk—gave their fourth album the same name as the book. The book is a testament to its time.

New wave represented liberation from limitations, with a DIY side. Besides making music, people ran labels, designed cover art, and made clothes. Rather than existing in an already-complete world, they carved the world out with their own hands. I described Television Personalities as frank because of their overall DIY spirit, not just their music style. The band recently collaborated with VIVA Strange Boutique and was highlighted by the shop. The following is Yamaguchi’s thoughts on the band:

“They’re a band that was active at the same time as the Sex Pistols. The roles of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren had a huge influence on The Pistols. In contrast, Television Personalities were completely DIY. Also, Joy Division and New Order solidified their world thanks to Peter Saville’s art direction, and the label owner of Factory Records, Tony Wilson, contributed [to their success]. I think it’s a fantastic thing, and their relationship was beautiful. However, Television Personalities are quite special. Dan Treacy, the lead singer, started his label, put out their music through it, and made the cover art, too. I strongly admire how they’re a punk band with a DIY spirit in the truest sense of the word.”

The biggest value of the products, with shirts being the main category, VIVA sells, is that they’re all official. While there are original band shirts sold at high prices out there, there are endless bootleg shirts, too. If anything, shirts with iconic album covers have entirely taken on a life of their own. Such shirts are widespread and are tolerated by people, but Yamaguchi says she “really made sure they were official.” 

Below is a quote from Chiguhaguna Karada—Fasshon Tte Nani? Written by Japanese philosopher Kiyokazu Washida, published in 1995 by Chikuma Shobo:

“When people think of fashion, they first think about dressing up. But in fact, fashion measures one’s distance between values and norms that make up society [and oneself]. By extension, I think it measures the distance between [fashion] and oneself.”

If you can measure the distance between values and norms and yourself through fashion, regardless of whether it’s close or far, you can wear a band shirt of your liking or imitate the style of someone from the band you like. Meaning: it’s the manifestation of your interests and feelings as a fan. But Yamaguchi’s goal isn’t that per se. Sure, it might be one of her goals, but an immense love that goes beyond that gives her the drive to do what she does.

Whenever she wants to collaborate with new wave or post-punk artists/bands, she first knocks on their door, so to speak. At times, Yamaguchi initiates contact via social media. She’s especially careful when she reaches out because she doesn’t want the other party to be suspicious. Instead of asking if she can make an official band shirt with nothing planned out, she makes an offer after establishing monetary conditions and designs to a certain degree. By expressing her situation and position clearly, asking the artist’s wants, and reflecting said wants onto the design, she creates something new that the artist would like as well. Yamaguchi comes up with new products bi-monthly, but she says she’s still way behind:

“What I make differs from what you would call a fashion brand, so I can’t separate it into seasons. I don’t know what the correct pace is. But I hope I can be more flexible when I feel like making something. The post-punk/new wave artists I want to collaborate with are on the older side, so I want to show them [the complete product] while they’re healthy and make them happy. When I think about that, it makes me feel like I need to be faster. I like music much more than fashion, and I want to work in a way that allows me to give back to artists. I could create bootleg products, but then I won’t be able to give back. The most important thing is to create things in a manner that suits them.” 

“To give back.” These words, uttered by Yamaguchi several times during her interview, are the real purpose behind her running VIVA and producing products.

The subtle brilliance of creating only gender-neutral clothes 

Yamaguchi’s interest in music sparked in her early teenage years. She experienced Sonic Youth in real-time and then dug through the bands that influenced Thurston Moore. By the time she was in high school, she was covering the guitar in the Velvet Underground’s songs. When I ask her why she didn’t start by covering Sonic Youth’s music, which was her entryway into this type of music, she responds: “Of course I like them, but I’m not sure why myself. Maybe it sounded too alternative rock? The Velvet Underground were much darker, so I think they matched my preference more.”

SHE TALKS SILENCE is Yamaguchi’s solo music project. Perhaps people get the impression that her character, coupled with her whispery voice, is on the feminine side. However, I believe there are darkness and hardness to Yamaguchi’s music. It’s similar to Nico after she left the Velvet Underground and went more goth. I especially paid close attention to SHE TALKS SILENCE’s “There’s No,” off her album, Sorry, I Am Not. It’s as though there’s a whisper lurking in the noise; it’s reminiscent of the hardcore band, Struggle For Pride’s stoic song structure. I tell her this, and she laughs without objection. 

It’s hard for me to evaluate the Velvet Underground, as they were born in the 60s, and I was born in 1985, way after their inception. There’s one thing I’d like to say, even though I’m hesitant because I might say the wrong thing. Despite it being a tactic by Andy Warhol that Lou Reed disliked, the Velvet Underground once had Lou and Nico, two different genders, in the band. And this played a big role. Since the Velvet Underground, the gender binary began to blur. Some men were more feminine, and some women were more masculine. One clear example, from new wave, and post-the Velvet Underground, is Cosey Fanni Tutti from Throbbing Gristle, who had effortless sex appeal. 

Regarding fashion, the founder of Throbbing Gristle and Psychic TV, Genesis P-Orridge, influences Yamaguchi the most. The story of Genesis and h/er second wife, Lady Jaye, creating a third identity by modifying their bodies to look like one another is well-known. For the new wave movement, the gender binary was unnecessary.

Yamaguchi says, “I won’t reject it, but I’ve never been interested in girly things.”

Yamaguchi is the artistic director of all the merchandise made by VIVA. But she doesn’t produce products only for women. Almost all the items are gender-neutral, and this should be worthy of mentioning. Is it intentional?

“When I make the products, I think about the featured artist and the type of person the band loves. I think about whether fans and I can be content [with the final result]. I’m a woman in my 30s, but I don’t think that matters so much. Because the bands I collaborate with play music that attracts a largely male audience, and the target demographic is men in their 50s, people often think VIVA is run by a middle-aged man (laughs). But that’s alright with me. I hope to create items by interpreting that old man vibe in my own way. Something that could be appreciated by a wide range of backgrounds, regardless of gender or age.”

What’s more, VIVA’s products cross over national borders: 

“70% of VIVA’s products are purchased by people in Japan, while the rest is bought by people overseas. More and more customers are starting to find out about the store through social media. The artists [I’ve collaborated with] are kind enough to post about the product because it’s official, and I communicate with the artists myself. Fans then react to that. They usually like CAN or Chris & Cosey; their taste is similar to mine, more or less. Many fans end up becoming a patron, which makes me so happy. But I wondered if it was right for me to continue making the items during the pandemic. Shirts and clothes, especially the kind I make, are so nonessential. But a customer from overseas told me, ‘I got excited for the first time in a long time because this [product] was released.” When I felt like I was of service to someone on an emotional level, I was genuinely glad I continued doing my work properly.”

Even if you want to drop by to say hello, Okusawa, Tokyo, where VIVA is located, is in the middle of nowhere. Everywhere you walk, there are houses upon houses, and there are just a handful of stores. There are people around there, but most of them are either on their way to the station or home. It’s not like it’s outside the city center, but it feels like there’s a grayness to Okusawa. On top of the entrance is a small neon sign that says VIVA. The shop doesn’t try to attract attention to itself; its light shines quietly. 

“This city has no color, and I chose this location because I liked that. Okusawa is a place that has no feeling of culture.” 

Once the vibe of a city, whether it’s Shibuya, Shimokitazawa, or Nakameguro, is established, people go there with expectations. But with VIVA, it’s safe to say customers go to the shop directly. Their only purpose in Okusawa is to go to VIVA. It’s a small business built on Yamaguchi’s intent towards artists and the customers’ passion for music. Can it get any better than that?

VIVA Strange Boutique
Opened in the spring of 2019, VIVA Strange Boutique is a one-minute walk from Okusawa station in Setagaya ward. They mainly sell official new wave and post-punk genre shirts and other items like records and vintage magazines. The basement floor has a gallery space, and VIVA holds events and exhibitions of cutting-edge artists from time to time. 

Photography by Kazuo Yoshida 

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The post Communicating intent; the founder of VIVA Strange Boutique, Minami Yamaguchi appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Nowadays, I think it is rare for people to make firm decisions about movies, for example, that it has to be shot with film, or that it must be seen at a movie theater. However, even though the movie theater admission restrictions were relaxed this September, the semi-forced quarantine keeps entertainment on home PCs and televisions. With Internet video streaming services, you have the choice of watching whatever you want, a movie, or even a comedy show; as a result, I tend to choose the latter, and so, when talking with someone, I often end up asking: “What even is a movie, at this point?”. In a conversation with director Shō Miyake, I digressed about the fact that even when watching a movie on a video streaming service, I will just end up watching some bits, constantly skipping through the video as if I was watching porn. I have always paid special attention to movies: I would go to the cinema whenever I’d get a day off, and get excited to buy a recently released DVD of a film I’d like to rewatch; despite that, recently I’ve been lazy and undisciplined about it. At least though, the fact that Shō Miyake understood my comparison with watching porn and replied with a kind “that will happen,” made me feel good about myself.

The myth about the origin of film is divided in two: some claim it to be the 35mm film (the de facto standard) standardized by Thomas Edison in the USA, while others would point at the screenings and shows in the basement of the Grand Cafe by the Lumiere brothers in France. However, since the digitalization of the film industry, all of this has been left behind, and it is not part of what defines a movie anymore. Even in cars, motors are replacing engines, steering wheels are becoming obsolete, and paper maps are unnecessary; no matter what they are, tools and media are bound to change with a hundred years of history and technological advancement. So, what essentially makes a movie “art”?

If I had to go back to the basics of filmmaking, I’d strongly say that structure and montage (editing) are what make movies art. Underpinning the technique of montage is the linguistic theory developed by Ferdinand de Saussure in the latter half of the 19th century. I will avoid elaborating on it, but roughly speaking, Saussure established that language is, based on certain grammatical rules, a connection of words that were not originally related. Applying this concept to modern film, I realized that researching and thinking about everything that comprises a movie, not only the general story, the overwhelming spectacle, deep emotions and amazement, but also the shots and their composition, the dialogue, soundtrack and sound effects, their connection to each other (like words in a language) and the intention behind such connection, is what makes movies fun, and it should be discussed with others. Therefore, watching a movie in a theater, where you cannot rewind or skip it, is as luxurious and precious as a full-course meal.

Speaking of Shō Miyake’s most recent works, Netflix’s original series JU-ON: Origins (2020) is worthy of mention. However, if you haven’t already seen it, I suggest you watch the Shō Miyake-directed music video for Gen Hoshino’s song Oriai / Halfway, which the artist created while trying to make music on a computer for the first time during the quarantine.

This sweet and sour song explores the painful condition of not being able to meet with your loved one, as time inexorably passes. At first glance, the man and the woman in the song seem to be answering each other, like everything is happening at the same time, while also seeming like it actually isn’t. In other words, by diligently creating a separation between his and her time, space, story, and putting them all together, the author is expressing a sense of meta-isolation. In response to how simple and discrete this music video is in comparison to Gen Hoshino’s previous ones, Shō Miyake said: “Up until now, I was thinking about movies and music videos as two different things. Music’s the protagonist, so I didn’t feel the need to just stick a movie to it, or rather, I liked to make music video-ish music videos. This time though, after listening to the song and its production background, I half-intuitively shot it as if it were a new movie.” I didn’t ask more about what he said, but I felt that this was his way of nonchalantly showing his loyalty towards “the essence of what makes movies art” as a film director. I somehow feel that Miyake has taken such an attitude towards filmmaking from the very beginning of his career, without being obvious about it. The music video for Oriai / Halfway is his newest and straightforward example of that.

I’m a little hesitant to quote Jean-Luc Godard and pretentiously conclude that Miyake’s attitude is historically correct, but unfortunately, I can’t think of any other example.

“What kind of films are Godard’s films? It is the kind of films that re-question Hollywood films’ conventions, the kind of movies that are ‘economically, aesthetically,’ ideologically and narratively non-Hollywood. For example, at the beginning of Two or Three Things I Know About Her, the narrator introduces to the audience the character of the housewife, who is also a prostitute, while at the same time explaining who the actress who plays her is. By doing that, the film then begins two tell the story on two contradictory levels: one being the ‘fictional’ level of the movie (the story of a housewife who is also a prostitute), and the other being the ‘real’ level which makes the former one possible (the ‘story’ of the actress doing her job). . . . (Godard’s films) deny any visual illusion or narrative pleasure offered by the Hollywood film empire. . . . (To Hollywood’s films, Godard’s films are) like brothers, comrades and friends.” 

Eiga no Ronri – Atarashii Eiga no Tame ni (Film Logic – For a New Film History) 

2005, Misuzu Shobō, Ltd.

Written by Mikirō Katō

Godard argued that films were nothing more than a combination of sound and video, and to emphasize that, he created several works that dismantled conventional structures, thus becoming a unique and revolutionary individual. If I recklessly said that Miyake’s work is the same as Godard’s, countless cinephiles will probably get angry at me, but it’s exactly because Miyake values montage so much that whether he is making dramas, horror movies, or documentaries about rappers, they all share Miyake’s typical traits as a director; they all become Miyake’s movies. Furthermore, Miyake’s movies are universally well-structured and detailed, with pure storytelling and a sense of charm that draws the viewer in, different from Godard’s and others’ films which tend to be labeled as “experimental.” I feel that their most important feature though is the coordination between every carefully composed cut. Consequently, what is hidden remains concealed and hard to grasp. In addition, Miyake cites Apollo 13 and Jurassic Park as films that left an impression on him, commenting quite indifferently on how he would like to direct such amazing films, but it’s probably not his real intention; no, I suppose he respects such movies, but he most likely won’t make one of those.

What I’ve written above is born from my anguished thoughts after the interview, which actually started with a simple question (which I also originally sent by email) that came from my shallow misunderstanding: “Just exactly ten years after your feature-length debut movie Yakutatazu (2010), you started working with a huge platform such as Netflix and even directed the music video of a major artist; hasn’t your situation significantly changed?” To which Miyake, at the beginning of the interview, replied with a laugh and said: “First of all, I wanted to correct you there.”

Films have the power to liberate you from this rubble-like present

-I don’t want you to be mad at me, but could I speak frankly?

Shō Miyake: Of course.

-No matter how many times I watched, I couldn’t find JU-ON scary at all. I’m not used to the horror genre in the first place, so it might just be my own way of seeing it, but I think that most horror content has specific gimmicks to scare and surprise its viewers. I have the impression that, from the beginning, you have always tried to capture the kind of beauty that can be found in realism, carefully shaping it and adapting it to different themes; this approach is also at the foundations of JU-ON. So, no matter how much splatter was in it, I thought it was beautiful, and felt kind of lonely, too. That’s why I asked by email if your situation had changed, but when I thought about it properly, I realized that your essence hasn’t actually changed at all.

Miyake: As you said, I would love to say that nothing has changed, but I don’t know about that; first of all, you asked me by email if my situation had changed after ten years, but ten years ago I didn’t imagine I would be shooting JU-ON a decade later, so I guess my situation has changed. To be honest, I haven’t thought about it, and I don’t think it’d be worth the effort. I feel like recently, I’ve had one of those moments when I thought it’d be better to start thinking about short-term and long-term life plans, but… hmm.

As for my essence, I wanted to do something different for each movie, so I’d like to say that my situation is changing, but at the end of the day, they’re all kind of similar too, so maybe it’s something that I can’t tell by myself. So far, I’ve been doing this job by thinking about what to do with each and every single work, and I’ve got my hands full with that. That’s the best part.

-You just told me that you’d like to say that your situation is changing, but I also think that we live in a society where it’s hard to genuinely confront each work without changing your essence. Perhaps it’s been said over and over, as but the media has become widely diverse, and values and trends are rapidly changing, I feel like we have to adapt to that, no matter the field.

Miyake: I understand that feeling of emptiness: no one even remembers what was in the news the day before. That can’t be helped. However, things that many people are seriously sad or angry about, or things that are meaningless unless you take the time to think about them, in a moment, they’re washed away without a trace and disappear every day; sometimes, I feel overwhelmed by that, and it really sucks.

However, since I make movies, I think it’s impossible for me to get on the consuming speed of social media in the first place, so that might be the only thing that’s saving me. Preparatives for movies take time, they’re kind of slow, so they can’t possibly follow every new trend. However, on the positive side, you can think of them as something on a different time dimension: it’s like they’re digging a way out of the present. Even if I shot the footage today, I’ll only be able to announce it next year, and even if I do so, not everyone will see it at the same time, maybe in 50, or even a hundred years. I think that movies and photographs, or reproduction art, in general, are a small opposing force to the everyday crumpling rubble-like present. It might be contradictory, but movies can also bear the responsibility of pointing out that rubble-like present through their splendid stories, and make you face the reality of it.

In any case, I feel that there is no point in paying attention to “only” today, for movies and everything else too. Of course, we can’t ignore the current trends in order to stay alive as human beings, and I wouldn’t want to become an ignorant middle-aged man either, but whether to adapt to the current trends or not hasn’t much to do with the essence of movies. By watching an 80 years old movie, or reading a poetry book from a hundred years ago, you can fly to a completely different time dimension, at least once a day. That way you won’t be drowning in the small waves of today. People talk about what’s the newest thing, even when it’s already been done in a 50 years old movie; considering such historical trends, I’d like to change what people think of as the “newest.”

Well, movies are also a business, so it’s impossible to completely ignore trends. Personally, I like to follow latest, flashy works too, while on the other hand, I also admire works that decisively turn their back on their generation; there’s a public expectation for movies to be able to carry those two visions at the same time, and I’d love for that to be the case too, but filmmaking isn’t about neither of them: it’s in between, and it’s slow and steady work. And I think that’s good. If you don’t accept that, you can’t make movies. No matter how much you hurry to shoot something that follows the trends, you’ll still miss your chances to shoot it. Oh, I just remembered; ten years ago, it used to happen a lot, and it sucked! When I was making a behind-the-scenes for a commercial, I didn’t have time to shoot everything, and I would just go home and cry out of frustration. I think I’ve become much less sensitive now, or maybe my attitude has changed in the first place.

-I understand.

Shots that felt like they came out naturally, but they actually didn’t

Miyake: At the same time, the best part of making movies is that you can shoot fresh moments and people. There is a real thrill in dealing with alive people, actors.

-How do you discern what’s fresh from what’s not?

Miyake: It’s a body reaction for me, so it’s hard to verbalize… First of all, I never bring a full-fledged role at an audition; I’m not searching for someone who completely fits the character I made. At first, I only make half of the role in my head, and I can only see what the other half will be when I meet with the right person; that’s when I discern what’s interesting or fresh, I guess. It’s like judging what’s OK and what’s not: I don’t have a perfect OK already in my head, and I’m not searching for something that fits that. I prepare half of it in my head and wait, but I won’t know how it’s going to be until I start shooting. If I knew in advance, it wouldn’t be fresh.

-It may another personal assumption of mine, but I think that instead of putting the actors under your complete control, you confront them and think about how to make them fit. If I may borrow your words, I think that instead of making a complete picture in your head, you wait for it to become complete or to get crooked. I feel that you especially focus on the actors’ behavior and facial expressions.

Miyake: I’m glad that you have that assumption of me, but I think that all directors are actually like that. I don’t know anything about when the studio system was functional, or about the animation industry, but nowadays, most movies are shot in the corners of cities with some sort of compromise, so I’m giving up on thinking that it’s possible to control them completely. If you poorly make a complete picture in your head, it’ll clash with reality, and your plans will collapse. While you’re getting depressed because of that, the shooting location closes; I experienced that when I was a student. On the other hand, I learned how fun it is to work with living human beings. Every day is different because we’re alive. 

-I wasn’t at the shootings, so correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel that many of your films just come out naturally, overflowing. Among them, THE COCKPIT (2014) is the most prominent. 

Miyake: It’s because the actors are already naturally overflowing with talent.

-But, for example, there is a scene where OMSB and BIM are talking while scribbling on a shoebox: that scene works without knowing the rest of the movie, but without it, it wouldn’t be THE COCKPIT. I wonder if your most notable characteristic would be your ability to combine what’s coming out naturally, overflowing, instead of just wiping it off.

Miyake: I like to see that kind of overflow. It’s almost like I’m not doing anything, but maybe I’m actually in charge of preparing a container big enough to capture and hold what’s overflowing. However, in the case of feature films, there are times where a scene has already been discussed over, even though it looks like it came out naturally at first glance. Take for example the club scene from And Your Bird Can Sing (2018): the three characters seem to be enjoying the music freely, and well, I’m aiming for that kind of impression, so I don’t have to necessarily say this, but from where they are standing when the scene starts, to where they move to, and when they move, how distant is everyone from each other; everything is already decided, to some extent. The air was good that day, so we didn’t have to talk too much about it though. On top of that, there is the actors’ performance, which relies on their individual power. Whether they stop the ball with the left or right foot, I can’t possibly decide such things. What I can do here is to prepare an environment that makes it easy for them to perform. After that, I shoot it in such a way that their performance stands out, connect the right parts, and conceal the initial guidelines. That’s become I wanted to make a movie that is about the performance. 

Soccer, for example, looks like chaos from outside, and the focus is usually on the star player, but in substance, there are pre-decided guidelines for how the players should move, which are directed by the coach. Of course, the best part of soccer is when a player’s individual power explodes, but that’s not how you win. However, in the case of elementary school students or amateur soccer, such direction does not work, each player moving as they desire, thus becoming chaos. If you apply this logic to films, there is no right answer since there is no win or loss, so anything goes, but as soccer has in and out of the field, in movies, there is an in front and behind of the camera; therefore, as in soccer, you have to assume that there are parts that you can direct in advance, such as rules and strategies, and parts that are left to the individual actor, so you have to think about where the borderline between those two is. That depends on the players and the theme. Not just with movies, but with any collaborated effort, there is a way to draw that line.

-I heard that for Wild Tour (2018), you were pretty strict with the direction.

Miyake: I tried to be a bit more rigid for Wild Tour. It’s because we did a lot of rehearsals, and we would watch the recorded material together on the spot. I wasn’t leaving it up to the actors, and there weren’t any sneak shots of improvised scenes. No, there were some parts I left up to the actors, but I would tell them in advance and explain why. They weren’t professional actors, and I didn’t want them to be anxious in front of the camera, so I decided to create an environment where they knew what they were doing. That way, I thought their individual power, or rather, their wild charm would definitely come out. The actors are also part of the creative team like me, so if you leave them alone, some will diligently play soccer with me, while others will start playing baseball because they don’t want to play soccer. 

-What do you do when that happens? Do you let them play baseball?

Miyake: Sometimes it’s more fun to play baseball, so I get on with it. As I said earlier, unlike sports, there’s no win or loss, or rather, it’s a world where we all search for a definition of win or loss on our own, and it’s good even if you end up making up a completely new sport. If it’s fun, I’m ok with it.

I guess I’m still a fifth-year university student

-How did you end up shooting THE COCKPIT?

Miyake: The Aichi Arts Center is producing it, and they’ve been working on releasing a film every year since 1993; they asked me to participate, and that’s how I ended up shooting the movie. The theme was the “body,” and I didn’t really understand it at the time: I was just wondering, “Aren’t we just filming bodies, whatever we’re filming?” (bitter laugh). I realized there were many beat making videos on the internet, which I’ve always loved to watch, so I vaguely had this thought of watching that on a big screen; I thought it must feel so good. I also wanted to work with people that I liked, so I was planning for that and was lucky enough to get actors with unique bodies, such as OMSB. On top of that, I found out that, instead of using PCs, they made beats with MPCs, with their bodies: as a result, or half by chance, I was able to respond to the theme head-on; it also made me realize that the “body” is a meaningful theme.

-As you said, I think hip hop is made with your body; to put it extremely, hip hop beats are all about the mood.

Miyake: That’s true. I agree.

-I think it’s rude to beatmakers to say that making rhythm patterns for rap is all about the mood, but it fundamentally is. There may be nuances to make a beat sound in a specific way, but there aren’t so many concrete rules. That’s why in the movie, OMSB asks BIM, “What do you think about when you’re making beats?” Which he answers “Nothing.” There is probably no right answer, apart from that one.

Miyake: Yes. I guess that after all, THE COCKPIT is very important to me.

-Would you define it your turning point?

Miyake: I would, but I’d say that for each and every one of my movies. When I finish shooting a movie, I feel like I got one year older; I guess it sounds like I’m talking about experience points. It’s more like being reborn: every thought you have before are destroyed and changed. It really feels like I’ve done something, and gotten older. It doesn’t only happen with feature films, but also with music videos or writing. 

The feeling of getting old is clear when you’re a student, you’re aware of it; after getting out of school, though, it becomes really hard to understand. What are our turning points, other than marriage, childbirth, and the death of a parent? If you work in an office, maybe a promotion or changing your workplace could be your turning points, but if you’re a freelancer, you’ll always be like a fifth-year university student. In my case, the turning point is finishing a movie. It’s also because I edit them myself, so I can review and criticize what I’ve done over a long period of time, and it’ll probably make me feel like I got older.

-Have you always been following this process of self-review?

Miyake: Hmm… I can’t remember when I started. I’ve always loved making things since I was a child. The undersurface of my parents’ dining table used to be my graffiti space; I would get under the table, look up and draw forever. At the end of the day, I think I’m the kind of person who’s satisfied with creating stuff for myself. However, now it’s my job, and I’m not doing it alone, and since film history is an actual thing, I need to review and criticize my work.

Going back to our first conversation, aside from my life, I think it’s interesting to think about how the world has changed, and if it’s going to change or not from now on. I guess I’m trying to keep my self interested in that by making and watching movies. It’s hard to tell, but that’s what I’m doing, more or less. Ten years ago, I used the energy to stay up all night and all of that, but my guard was down to some extent, while now I’m more in the mood of working diligently. I often say to do things step by step; it’s like properly composing each and every shot of a movie. I’m the kind of guy who crams overnight before a test, so it’s really a bother for me (laughs).

Shō Miyake
Born in Sapporo, 1984, Shō Miyake is a movie director. After graduating from the Faculty of Sociology at Hitotsubashi University, he completed the elementary fiction course at the Film School of Tokyo. After working on several short films, he directed his first feature film Yakutatazu in 2010, and Playback, his first movie released in the theaters in 2012. He received the tenth TAMA Film Awards for Best Emerging Director for And Your Bird Can Sing released in 2018, based on the novel by writer Yasushi Satō, who was nominated for the 86th Akutagawa Prize. His most recent work is Netflix’s original series JU-ON: Origins. In addition, he co-directed Busshitsu Shikō 58 A RETURN OF BRUNO TAUT 2016 with architect Ryuuji Suzuki, and Wild Tour with the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media (YCAM) and the middle and high school students attending the center.

Photography Teppei Hori

Translation Leandro Di Rosa

The post Film Director Shō Miyake’s First Decade and the Reason Why He Continues to Make Movies appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.