Yasukichi Murakami: Through a Distant Lens

Overview

Yasukichi Murakami: Through a Distant Lens casts a spiritual spell onto the SBW Stables Theatre, revealing the little-known but remarkable life story of Japanese photographer Yasukichi Murakami. But it’s much larger than that — a poetic reflection on our modern desire to ‘capture’ every moment. As we strive to immortalise ourselves in the Insta-age, we forget to listen to the ghosts of ancestors who would teach us the message “It’s possible to contribute without recognition”.

This play is penned by Mayu Kanamori, a Sydney-based photographer intrigued by cultural intersections of Japan and Australia. The show follows her preoccupation with the figure of Murakami, a photographer, publican, pearl-farm manager and father of nine. His migration to Australia in search of gold, his subsequent life and loves are interesting enough, but Kanamori also uses him to represent the Japanese histories lost in Australia during WWII. Kanamori begins a quest to find Murakami’s precious family portraits, which disappeared when he was interned in 1943. She's searching for ‘truth’ in personal and philosophical realms.

Kanamori’s script offers historical findings, as well as many beautiful musings on the art of photography, and artists in general. We are encouraged to use s-l-o-w shutter speed, to notice the details missed by this instant-upload society. Director Malcolm Blaylock wants us to focus fully on the experiences of life, not their over-documentation. Arisa Yura, as the actor playing the writer, ponders, “we take so many photographs, how do we know which ones are important?”

Yura walks a line between immersion and observation. As she describes Mayu’s pilgrimage to truth, she both presents the character and reflects upon her own life; her own ghosts. It’s a stunning and convincing performance, enhanced by the ethereal video projections and sound. She has a charming, conversational style, which contrasts with the rigid, formal acting of Kuni Hashimoto, who plays the ghost of Murakami. His performance displays how Japanese traditions may grow to seem strange or stilted for those generations moving away from the rising sun.

Ghosts patrol this show. It begins with a funeral, and, as the heroine converses with the dead Murakami, she cannot turn her face to him. Instead, she feels and hears his presence. The gentle music of Terumi Narushima transports us away from the land of the living. It is mesmorising to watch her perform in the near-darkness, playing strings percussively, tapping clock-springs or a wooden instrument that sounds like a hollow skull. As the portraits of long-dead faces flicker past in slideshow, a haunting, whispering chorus of voices connects us to the Japanese bones buried in Australian soil.

Murakami invites Mayu and her audience to share a worldview, and be “silent with history” for a short time.