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Travel Blog
Art as Healing
I found this week's readings quite thought-provoking. Personally, when I paint or create work, I know that once I release it into the world, it no longer belongs to me. However, an audience will interpret a piece, changing the work and its meaning. Though I will still know what I intended to create, or what a work means to me, will be different for each individual. When I look at work, I first try to grasp onto one element to see how I can relate to it. That makes the task of engaging in work feel less daunting initially and allows me to begin making sense of whatever I am looking at. I think viewing art and the act of creating art can be a healing or liberating experience. These articles reminded me of another I had read by James E. Young, Between History and Memory: The Voice of the Eyewitness. In this work, Young explores how illustration can function as a tool in unpacking traumatic memory, in a way that is not harmful or retraumatizing to victims of war. For many of the artists featured by the wing luke, art-making can be a medium of making invisible stories and histories visible, while also serving as a medium of exploration and liberation for artists processing traumatic memories or identities. Art can allow victims to process the memory safely in a controlled environment, while also still working through the memory to move forward. I would argue that sometimes art is the only method that allows people to heal and also serves as a unique method for stories to be made visible.
Being a reflective traveler: identity, community, place
I chose to do my observations in Sangubashi Park by the station. I noticed lots of well-groomed dogs in the park, as well as people and children quietly enjoying the space in different ways. At the hour I went, the sun was casting a soft golden hue over the grass and park goers. It was nice to have some distance from my phone, to step away and have some time to reflect and slow down. I wanted to go to Japan to temporarily step away from my life in Seattle and the University of Washington. While I love my life back home, I hoped the distance would bring me some clarity and space to grow. I wanted to remember who I was on my own, who I am outside of a certain place or amongst certain people. What it feels like to be unknown in a city is quite peaceful. Being in a new environment and meeting so many new people, allows me to determine which parts of myself are constant. Though I have found myself tackling occasional language or cultural hurdles, I feel quite comfortable and safe in Japan. It feels far more familiar than I had anticipated. While it is certainly different from Seattle, I do not feel uneasy or too disoriented here. This is my fourth time in Tokyo, however, my first time without family and as an adult. I remember far more about the city than I thought I would. I feel quite safe here, sometimes more so than at home. I am comfortable with the social rules and my Japanese pronunciation, though I wish my vocabulary was a bit broader! I keep thinking about my mom and her time going to high school here. I understand why she liked growing up here so much. She tends to be drawn to large cities, I think it is because within a city this size, you can easily blend into the blur of the crowd. She and I are quite similar and that only intensifies as I get older. With this many people, it is okay to stand out socially or in terms of identity. It is alright to dress differently and loudly or to mess up certain social cues, in the larger scheme of things, the city gives you grace. In the crowded streets of Harajuku or moving through the Shibuya crossing, the small mistakes and differences matter less. The city provides you with the resources for everything you could ever want while draping you in a blanket of anonymity. The distance provided by this reflection, as well as the distance from home, has helped me put things into perspective.