Kazunari Suzuki is a Japan-based visual artist who works with photographs and historical archives. His work focuses on the history and culture of Japanese photography. Suzuki started his career as a commercial photographer but later shifted to fine arts due to illness.
The particular project, Japan Guide Book, appears to be a collection of Japanese “tourist attractions” which have been documented throughout the years. By cutting out the attractions and leaving a stark white silhouette in their stead, the photos in the collection highlight what has been captured but often overlooked by the camera: the everyday people and normality of the country.
Francesca Woodman‘s portraits are evocative and atmospheric, often using composition to supplement her storytelling. Despite her photos being in black and white, Woodman’s photos don’t rely on a high contrast to be visually appealing. She embraces soft lighting, leading to creamy whites and subtle gradients. This soft light effect can be achieved by using natural lighting, such as shooting during the day or at golden hour. It can also be emulated by filtering light through a set of curtains. Woodman also purposefully obscures her subjects, sometimes using double exposure to create more interesting compositions.
Surrealist photographer Izumi Miyazaki is very playful with her compositions, combining bright colors with creative imagination to mock cultural cliches. She explores her intrusive and raw thoughts as an artist, capturing their whimsical nature despite dealing with heavy themes such as sadness and anger. The photos are heavily staged with even, studio lighting that makes it easier to edit digitally post-shoot. Miyazaki also uses a green screen for that clean, minimalist background.
As we grow older, we gain a deeper understanding of life. Like a camera finally gaining focus, many concepts that once felt so abstract and intangible gradually become clear. I’ve never had much experience with loss. I knew of it but never really understood it until this past year.
Losing my grandfather to the big C felt like I was grieving someone who was still alive. Chemotherapy and radiation reduced him to a husk, and it was painful to move forward with the looming threat of his inevitable end. I was torn between cherishing the time I had left with him and mourning the grandpa in my memories. When he passed, it felt so wrong to feel emotional about it. Subconsciously, I convinced myself that his death was a logical proceeding of events: a man lost his battle with cancer and died. We all saw this coming, so there’s no point in being sad or upset about our loss. We were ready for this, right? I thought I was.
It was only months after his funeral when the realization hit me. I was cutting my brother’s hair (a routine we picked up during the quarantine), and I remembered the last time I cut my grandpa’s hair. It was days before he was admitted into hospice care. He was so fragile, slumped on our kitchen chair as I tried my best to work the clippers around the swelling of his jaw and neck. His graying hair fell to the tiled floors like petals off a withering flower. My grandpa had always been a man of appearances: he was consistently dressed well, maintained a well-groomed appearance, and exuded confidence wherever he went. Remembering him so far removed from his usual sophisticated look shattered me. The grief I thought I had escaped caught up to me, and I was not ready. No amount of mental preparation would ever have prepared me for this.
I realized that he wasn’t just a ‘man’ who lost his battle to cancer. He was a caring husband, an enduring father, a gentle grandfather, a reliable brother, and a wise friend. He was more than what my rational mind summed him up to be. Thousands of cancer patients die every day, and even more die yearly. He was just a statistic in the grand scheme of things. In an attempt to protect myself from anticipatory grief, I had reduced him to a nobody. But he was somebody to me. It wasn’t right to remember him as a victim of cancer. I needed to remember him as the dapper war veteran who was unmatched in poker and doted on the young. He was my grandpa and so much more. I learned to be more appreciative of my time on Earth, of those around me, and of my health. My first lesson in loss is that it gives more than it takes.
Loss takes many forms. Whether it be emotional loss, physical loss, or existential loss, being human is about taking and losing. For my documentary project, I’d like to interview people and their experience on loss to put into perspective the different interpretations that exist. Inspired by personal experiences and shared experiences from family and friends, this documentary aims to highlight the highs and lows on the journey towards healing. I feel like loss is often an awkward subject to discuss, and I hope that by bringing together the many accounts of loss, I can generate a better understanding for both myself and my audience.
Methods & Materials
An interactive website that tells (my) story of loss
Web documentaries have been around for decades, but their versatile form allows creative exploration and integration. The “battle for the screen,” or battle for people’s attention, has called for new ways of reaching and engaging audiences. Essentially, what a documentary encapsulates is to deliver a message or to record information. Web technologies make it possible to distribute documentaries that reach extensive audiences as long as an internet connection is available. The interactivity of web technologies provides documentary filmmakers the chance to design new forms of documentaries. Methods combine various media forms, such as video, audio, and animation, to create new and engaging narratives. According to a case study of Audience Reception and User Engagement on iOtok, interactive documentaries allow the user to shape their own experiences, allowing audiences to learn on their own rather than it being a guided experience. iOtok is a web documentary composed of 13 episodes that was released in 2017. It tells the story of the last inhabitants of Biševo, a small Croatian island threatened by mass tourism, allowing users to click through a 3D-render of the town to explore and speak to locals. It offers a unique approach to documentaries that inspires me.
iOtok, 2017
Another example is The Goggle’s Welcome to Pine Point, which documents Pine Point, a small town in Canada that no longer exists. The webdoc features videos, interviews, ephemera, and other artifacts gathered in a scrapbook format that audiences can collect as they move between the town’s past livelihood and its current state of abandonment.
Welcome to Pine Point, 2012
Similarly, Michelle Mizner’s The Last Generation is a webdoc about life on the Marshall Islands. The Marshall Islands is a low-lying island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that is increasingly becoming affected by the rising sea levels due to global warming. The story follows children who live on the Marshall Islands and tells an immersive story capturing the hopes, fears, and resilience of these residents.
The Last Generation, 2018
Work Statement
I created an interactive web documentary that discusses my healing process from grief. Using a fantastical analogy, the art is hand-drawn using Procreate and edited using Adobe Premiere Pro. For the story, I made a little self-insert of myself as a photographer where the person I’ve lost is alive through my camera’s viewfinder and not in reality. It’s an analogy to how we see the person who’s no longer with us in everyday life, and it’s a slow process of getting used to not seeing them in those scenes anymore, but their memories will continue to live. The voice-over tells the story of my experience with loss while accompanied by my animation. I used my condenser microphone to record the voiceover and used free source audio for sound effects/music. Overall, I think the project does a good job of conveying my message using art and storytelling. Although my approach does not include informative video footage, I tailored my animations for that purpose.
Sources
Ducasse, J., Kljun, M., & Čopič Pucihar, K. (2020). Interactive Web Documentaries: A Case Study of Audience Reception and User Engagement on iOtok. International Journal of Human–Computer Interaction, 36(16), 1558–1584. https://doi.org/10.1080/10447318.2020.1757255
In a fast-paced world you rarely get the opportunity to stop and breathe. This triptych is representative of my experience in people-watching: in strangers I see myself. Everyone is in their own world bubble, and it takes a lot of courage to let someone in. Inspired by Lydia See and Melissa Grace Kreider‘s works, I combined storytelling photography with acrylic paint to compose these pieces.
Melissa Grace Kreider’s work, particularly her recent series i will bite the hand that feeds, critically examines the intersections of gendered violence, systemic injustice, and power dynamics. As a photographer and survivor advocate, Kreider uses her trauma-informed art practice to challenge the culture of silence surrounding domestic and sexual assault. Her work draws from lived experiences, courtroom observations, and broader societal issues, connecting themes of misogyny, capitalism, and the justice system’s failures. Through a combination of photography, handwritten text, and cultural references, she confronts these oppressive structures with a mix of direct critique and self-aware levity. Kreider’s work not only sheds light on the struggles survivors face but also serves as a call to action, urging systemic change while fostering hope and resilience.
