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2013
Rhetorical Pop: The Art of Roger Shimomura Allison Morgan McCormick
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FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF VISUAL ARTS, THEATER, AND DANCE
RHETORICAL POP: THE ART OF ROGER SHIMOMURA
By ALLISON MORGAN MCCORMICK
A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Art History in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
Degree Awarded: Fall Semester, 2013
Allison Morgan McCormick defended this dissertation on September 27, 2013. The members of the supervisory committee were:
Lauren Weingarden Professor Directing Dissertation
Nathan Stoltzfus University Representative
Adam Jolles Committee Member
Michael Carrasco Committee Member
The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and certifies that the dissertation has been approved in accordance with university requirements.
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For my family. Thank you for your constant support.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation owes much to the contributions of numerous individuals and institutions. I would like to thank Dr. Susan Lee for introducing me to the works of Roger Shimomura. I am very grateful to Dr. Lauren Weingarden for guiding me through this project and offering constant encouragement and advice. In addition, I would like to thank Dr. Michael Carrasco for always challenging me to think about art in different ways. I am also indebted to Dr. Adam Jolles for his insights and comments. At Florida State University, I would like to thank the faculty and staff of the Department of Art History; the Penelope E. Mason Trust, which funded my writing; and the Friends of Art History, which funded my research. I would also like to thank the staff at the Archive of American Art, as well as the staff at the National Archive for their assistance in my research. In addition, I must thank Roger Shimomura for opening his home, office, and studio to me. He has been endlessly patient and supportive throughout this process. Finally, I want to thank Lindsay Douglas for allowing me to bounce ideas off of her, getting excited about my research with me, and most of all, for helping to edit my footnotes when they all became a giant blur. I also want to thank Jennifer Pride for listening to me go on about Roger Shimomura, night and day, for years. I thank my family, Natalie Blackwell, Amanda Day, Phillip McCormick, and Denise McCormick for their encouragement and support, even when they have no idea what I am saying.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS List of Figures ................................................................................................................................ vi Abstract ........................................................................................................................................ xiv INTRODUCTION ...........................................................................................................................1 CHAPTER ONE: STYLISTIC CONCERNS ................................................................................21 CHAPTER TWO: INCARCERATION AND THE INTRODUCTION OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCE ...............................................................................................................................39 CHAPTER THREE: DOCUMENTATION AND DIDACTICISM .............................................76 CHAPTER FOUR: GLOBAL MUTATIONS – A CASE STUDY OF PARODY .......................102 CHAPTER FIVE: RHETORICAL DEVICES AND THE DEPICTION OF IDENTITY ..........127 CONCLUSION ............................................................................................................................160 APPENDICES .............................................................................................................................166 A.
PERMISSIONS ...................................................................................................................166
B.
FIGURES ............................................................................................................................167
BIBLIOGRAHPY ........................................................................................................................237 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .......................................................................................................241
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LIST OF FIGURES 1
Roger Shimomura. Girl From Life, 1968. Color screen print, 19 x 18 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. ...................................................167
2
Roger Shimomura. 252 Lemons, 1968. Screen print and acrylic on canvas, four panels, 48 x 48 in. each. Current location unkown. ..........................................................................168
3
Roger Shimomura. Coke Freak, 1972. Acrylic on canvas, 59 7/8 x 59 5/8 in. Collection of the artist. ......................................................................................................................168
4
Roger Shimomura. Oriental Masterpiece # 2, 1973. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Private Collection.............................................................................................................169
5
Roger Shimomura. Seven Views of a Japanese Restaurant # 1, 1977. Color screen print, 21 x 24 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. ...................169
6
Roger Shimomura. Minidoka # 3, 1978. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 72 in. Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, Lawrence ..........................................................................170
7
Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 7, 1941 .................................................................170
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Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 12, 1941, 1980. Acrylic on canvas, 50 ¼ x 60 in. Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC...................................................171
9
Roger Shimomura. Diary: January 7, 1942 ....................................................................171
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Roger Shimomura. Diary: May 21, 1942 ........................................................................172
11
Roger Shimomura. Diary: May 23, 1942 ........................................................................172
12
Roger Shimomura. Diary: August 27, 1942 ....................................................................173
13
Roger Shimomura. Diary: September 2, 1942.................................................................173
14
Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 25, 1942, 1981. Acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 in. Private collection .............................................................................................................174
15
Roger Shimomura. Diary: January 1, 1943, 1983. Acrylic on canvas, 61 ½ x 51 in. Washington Art Consortium, Bellingham, Washington ..................................................174
16
Roger Shimomura. Kabuki Play, 1985. Color Lithograph, 27 x 31 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence .......................................................................175
17
Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 1, 1987. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 29 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................175 vi
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Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 2, 1987. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................176
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Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 3, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................176
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Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 4, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................177
21
Roger Shimomura. Nisei Woman And Liz, Color screen print on wave paper, 11 x 50 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ......................................177
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Roger Shimomura. Nisei Man and Liz, 1988. Color screen print on wave paper, 11 x 50 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence .................................177
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Roger Shimomura: Kabuki Party, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 12 x 24 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ......................................178
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Roger Shimomura. Charles Kincaid, Dentist, 1990. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane..................................................................................178
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Roger Shimomura. Linda Bailey, Arts Administrator, 1991. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane ............................................................................179
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Roger Shimomura. Self-Portrait, 1990. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane ............................................................................................................179
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 1, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................180
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 2, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................180
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 3, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................181
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 4, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................181
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 5, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................182
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No.6, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................182
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33
Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 7, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................183
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 8, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................183
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 9, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................184
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 10, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................184
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 11, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................185
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Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 12, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................185
39
Roger Shimomura. Match, No Mix No. 1, 1993. Lithograph, 19 7/8 x 24 5/8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................186
40
Roger Shimomura. Mix and Match No. 1, 2001. Lithograph, 20 ½ x 28 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................186
41
Roger Shimomura. Enter the Rice Cooker, 1994. Color screen print on paper, 36 x 41 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ......................................187
42
Roger Shimomura. After the Movies No. 1, 1994. Acrylic on canvas, 48 x 56 in., diptych. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................187
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Roger Shimomura. After the Movies No. 2, 1994. Acrylic on canvas, 48 x 56 in., triptych. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................188
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Roger Shimomura. American Diary: December 7, 1941(Seattle), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in.............................................................................................................188
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Roger Shimomura. American Diary: April 21, 1942 (Seattle), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in. Private Collection ..........................................................................................189
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Roger Shimomura. American Diary: May 16, 1942 (Camp Harmony), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in.............................................................................................................189
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Roger Shimomura. American Diary: October 16, 1942 (Minidoka), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in.............................................................................................................190
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48
Roger Shimomura. American Diary: June 26, 1943 (Minidoka), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in .........................................................................................................................190
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Roger Shimomura. My first memory of life is celebrating my third birthday in camp, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Color lithograph, 7 x 10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence .......................................................................191
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Roger Shimomura. When We Moved to Minidoka All of my Friends Lived Close to Me, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Color lithograph, 7 x 10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................191
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Roger Shimomura. One Time a Friend From Seattle Came to Visit Me While I was in Camp, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ......................................................................................192
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Roger Shimomura.24 People for Whom I have Been Mistaken, 1999. Chromogenic prints and wall text, twenty-four prints, each 5 x 5 in. Collection of David Schwartz, Seattle .192
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Roger Shimomura. 110 Misspellings of my Name, 1999, ongoing. Mixed media, 28 x 39 in. Collection of the artist.................................................................................................193
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Roger Shimomura. How to Tell Your Friends From the Japanese Americans, 2000. Xerox collage, 19 x 28 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ................................................193
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Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 5, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................194
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Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 1, 2000. Acrylic on canvas and mixed media, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ......................................................................................194
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Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 6, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Collection of June Lee ...........................................................................................................................195
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Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 1, 2000. Acrylic paint on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ....................................................................................................195
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Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 2, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................196
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Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 6, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................196
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Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 1, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................197
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Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 2, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................198
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Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 3, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................199
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Roger Shimomura. Abercrombie & Fitch, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24. Collection of the artist ............................................................................................................................200
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Roger Shimomura. Vincent Chin Murder, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist .......................................................................................................................200
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Roger Shimomura. Two Characters, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist ............................................................................................................................201
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Roger Shimomura. History of Art (Version 1), 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Private collection .............................................................................................................201
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Roger Shimomura. Not Pearl Harbor, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist ............................................................................................................................202
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Roger Shimomura. Kansas Samurai, 2004. Color lithograph, 44 ¾ x 30 9/10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................202
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Roger Shimomura. 83 Dirty Japs, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 72 in. Private collection. ..........................................................................................................................................203
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Roger Shimomura. Sailor Moon, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................203
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Roger Shimomura. Astro Boy, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle...............................................................................................................................204
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 3, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ....................................................................................................204
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 1, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................205
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 4, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................206
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Roger Shimomura. Beady Eyed Purse, 2000. Mixed media............................................207
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Roger Shimomura. Moon as Exiles, 2000. Mixed media ................................................207
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 2, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................208
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 5, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................209
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 6, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Collection of the artist .......................................................................................................................210
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Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 7, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................211
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Roger Shimomura. For Dorothea Lange, 2005. Color lithograph, 14 ½ x 12 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................212
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Roger Shimomura. For Ansel Adams, 2005. Color lithograph, 14 ½ x 12 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence ....................................................213
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Roger Shimomura. American Infamy # 2, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, four panels, 72 x 30 in. each panel. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ...................................................................214
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Roger Shimomura. American Guardian, 2007. Color lithograph, 27 x 39 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................214
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Roger Shimomura. Shadow of the Enemy, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 45 x 36 in. Collection of the artist .......................................................................................................................215
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Roger Shimomura. Classmates # 1, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 36 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................216
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Roger Shimomura. Classmates # 2, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 36 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................216
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Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 1, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................217
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Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 3, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Private collection ..........................................................................................................................218
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Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 2, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle .................................................................................................................219
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Roger Shimomura. The Foreigner # 4, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 20 in. Collection of the artist ............................................................................................................................220
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Image from artist’s personal preparatory book, “Forever Foreign.” ...............................221 xi
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Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 3, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................221
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Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 6, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................222
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Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 8, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist ......................................................................................................223
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Roger Shimomua. Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ......................................................................................224
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Roger Shimomura. George Bush vs. Me, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ....................................................................................................225
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Roger Shimomura. Ann Coulter vs. Me, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle ....................................................................................................225
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japs, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................226
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japanese # 4, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City..................................................................................226
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japanese # 3, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City..................................................................................227
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. American, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................227
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. Chinese, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................228
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Roger Shimomura. American vs. Disney, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................228
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Roger Shimomura. Popeye the Shim, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................229
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Roger Shimomura. Roger the Pig, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................229
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Roger Shimomura. Roger the Goof, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................230
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Roger Shimomura. Super Shim, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................230
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Roger Shimomura. Roger Tracy, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................231
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Roger Shimomura. Naruto Uzumaki, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................231
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Roger Shimomura. Japanese Imposter, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................232
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Roger Shimomura. Chinese Imposter # 2, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................232
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Roger Shimomura. Chinese Imposter # 5, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................233
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Roger Shimomura. Halloween, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................233
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Roger Shimomura. General Shimomura, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................234
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Roger Shimomura. Ultra American # 1, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 18 x 18 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................234
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Roger Shimomura. Ultra American # 2, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 18 x 18 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.............................................................................................235
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Roger Shimomura. American Mouse, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City ........................................................................................................235
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Roger Shimomura. Not Pearl Harbor, 2012. Acrylic on canvas, four panels, 72 x 30 in. each panel. Collection of the artist ...................................................................................236
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ABSTRACT This study examines the works of Roger Shimomura. I argue that the ukiyo-e elements infuse the artist’s paintings and prints with a secondary iconography that is overlooked by art historians to date. I accept Shimomura’s assertions that he is completely unfamiliar with the iconography of Japanese art. However, I assert that his use of this visual sign system creates new meanings in the eyes of educated viewers, beyond the intentions of the artist. In addition, I argue that Shimomura adopts visual rhetorical devices that aid in the didactic function of many of his works. This study explores how Shimomura creates and communicates ideas within individual works. Moreover, I examine particular figures that appear repeatedly in his art over time, and how these figures develop meanings that are particular to Shimomura’s works. Underlying the entirety of this study is Shimomura’s exploration of identity, both ethnic and personal. It is his exploration of identity that situates his works as important within a contemporary art context. I utilize literature from numerous fields, including art history, history, Asian studies, literature, anthropology, and sociology. These enrich the contextual sources, including reviews of Shimomura’s works, articles from journals and newspapers, and other works of art. Each of these resources supplements interviews with Shimomura, as well as primary documents, such as his artist’s statements, essays, and personal papers. Together, these materials help to create an understanding of not only the artist’s working methods and intentions, but also his inspirations. In addition, the critical approaches allow me to discuss how his works are entrenched in sociopolitical contexts that may not be immediately apparent. Finally, these sources open up new discourses on Shimomura’s oeuvre, including how he adopts disparate visual languages and utilizes them to didactic ends.
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INTRODUCTION In discussions of Roger Shimomura, there are two stories that are most commonly used to introduce the artist and his works. One is an anecdote about an interaction that he had with a farmer shortly after moving to Lawrence, Kansas. The farmer assumed that because of Shimomura’s ethnicity, the artist must paint in a Japanese style featuring geishas. The second, and more frequent, trope is to tell the story of the Shimomura family’s internment by the United States government during World War II. I will discuss both of these circumstances throughout my dissertation because they help to answer some important questions about Shimomura’s works. However, I will begin by asking some of the questions that will be explored in this study. Why does the artist’s style change at particular times? How does content influence style? What do these works mean, both to the artist, and to the viewer? Why does the artist continually return to particular characters? What is the relationship between Pop art and ukiyo-e? How does Shimomura use his art to explore identity and to counter stereotypes? Are his works purposefully didactic? These questions are important to a study of Roger Shimomura. However, I utilize Shimomura as a case study for broader critical issues, which lead to another set of disparate questions. How is identity constructed and deconstructed? How does multiculturalism shape identity? What tools are most useful in critiquing current ideas of multiculturalism? What is the relationship between multiculturalism and globalization? How do multiculturalism and globalization effect sign systems? What is the relationship between societal myth and parody? Shimomura is a particularly useful case study for all of these questions. His works address issues of identity through the ironic adoption of stereotypes. He challenges existing thoughts on race and multiculturalism through the appropriation of existing sign systems. 1
Shimomura’s biography is a necessary component to understanding his interrogation of identity. The time that he spent in Camp Minidoka, a World War II incarceration camp for Japanese Americans, located in Idaho, shapes his understanding of both Japanese and American cultures, as well as the popular perceptions of each of these identities. Shimomura’s subjects tend to highlight his hyphenated identity, as he struggles to differentiate between Japanese and American of Japanese descent. Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Geollnicht, in their introduction to Asian North American Identities Beyond the Hyphen problematize the categorization of art and literature by Asian North Americans: . . . at almost every level of creative endeavor – production, marketing, reception, and consumption – we are made aware and reminded that these works are different from texts that are not marked as ethnic, Asian American, Asian Canadian, or as originating from a minority position. Despite postmodern notions of anti-essentialism, we are still frequently caught in discussion about origins, differences, and authenticity.1 Shimomura’s works have not escaped this categorization, and as far back as the 1970s, he embraced this hyphenated identity in an ironic way. Although his work may be branded by essentialist ideas about race and identity, the artist approaches these points of view with the irreverent humor associated with his Pop art style. Style is an important factor in this dissertation. Most commonly, Shimomura’s works are viewed as a hybrid of Pop and ukiyo-e, a type of Japanese art that will be discussed at length in Chapter One. In addition, the artist was greatly influenced by the Funk movement. This style was popular particularly on the West coast, and he was familiar with it prior to his graduate studies at Syracuse. Although a unified style is virtually impossible to identify in this movement, it shares
Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht, “Introduction,” in Asian North American Identities Beyond the Hypen, Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht, eds (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2004), 3. The term Asian American is utilized in this dissertation only to conform to the referenced scholarship.
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a similar purpose and humor with Pop art. However, the artist describes Funk as a “middle finger up to society.”2 The irreverence of Pop, paired with impudence of Funk, is often evident in his works. His use of stereotypical imagery may be associated with other artistic movements by hyphenated cultural groups, such as African Americans and Chicanos. For example, the works of Betye Saar, included stereotypical kitsch pieces and imagery of black figures such as Little Black Sambo and Aunt Mamie. Shimomura shared Saar’s interest in collecting racist kitsch and images, which were reproduced in his works. In addition, Shimomura adopts the imagery of a cultural past from which he is distant, and blends it with popular imagery from his present. This blending is also evident in the works of Chicano artists, who blend religious imagery of the past and present with popular and stereotypical ideas about their heritage. Much like African American and Chicano artists working contemporaneously with him, Shimomura recounts a history that is often ignored. Nevertheless, his blend of ukiyo-e and Pop styles is unique, particularly in dealing with personal family history. Artistic Biography Shimomura received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Commercial Design from the University of Washington in 1961 and a Master of Fine Arts in Painting from the Graduate School of Syracuse University in 1969. In the interim, the artist served as an officer in the military, worked as a commercial designer, and enrolled in graduate school in the Art Department of the University of Washington for a year. In addition, before attending Syracuse University he spent the summer in an art program at Stanford University. The time that Shimomura spent at the University of Washington and at Stanford was pivotal for his career as a painter. At the University of Washington, the artist was struggling to reconcile his Pop style
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Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 3
paintings and Abstract Expressionist drawings with the influence of his Funk art inspired professors and colleagues. His time at Stanford helped him to resolve these ostensibly contradictory issues in his work. His exposure to the Bay Area figurative school demonstrated the potential for painterly Pop.3 This notion of painterly Pop dominated his work at Syracuse. In 1969, Shimomura began teaching at the University of Kansas until his retirement in 2004. Throughout his career, he has been the recipient of more than thirty grants and many awards. His works are in the permanent collections of over eighty-five museums.4 He has worked in numerous media, including paints, printmaking, installations, and performance art. Shimomura’s works are important in the world of contemporary art because he utilizes personal struggles to address broader issues of ethnic and cultural identities. These identity issues are particularly relevant in this era of globalization. Viewers of Shimomura’s works face questions about how identity is framed in their own minds. In a hyphenated identity, does the ethnic overshadow the cultural? Why are there expectations for an artist to create works that reflect stylistically, as well as in content, those of their ethnic ancestors? Shimomura’s biography helps to frame these questions; in addition, a close study of his works may help the viewer to answer them. He works in a particular style that is quite different than most contemporary artists; however, others are addressing the same issues. His works are an exemplary model with which to study these kinds of issues in contemporary art.
Anne Collins Goodyear, “Roger Shimomura: An American Artist,” American Art 27:1 (2013), 78-79. 3
“Narrative Biography,” on Roger Shimomura’s website, accessed 21 January 2013, http://www.rshim.com/pdf/RShim_Bio_0612.pdf. 4
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State of the Literature Shimomura’s critical and commercial success has led to surprisingly little art historical attention. William Lew wrote the first significant essay on the artist’s works in a 1993 catalogue for Shimomura’s Return of the Yellow Peril series.5 Although Lew discusses developments in Shimomura’s works up to that point, the primary focus is biographical. The next important study of the artist’s works was the 1996 catalogue for a retrospective of Shimomura’s works at the Spencer Museum of Art at the University of Kansas. Two art historians contributed substantive essays. Lucy Lippard’s “Delayed Reactions” and Kazuko Nakane’s “Not Made in Japan: Roger Shimomura’s Paintings and a Japanese American Identity” maintain separate approaches to the artist’s works. Lippard weaves biography with questions of visual approaches to conceptual issues, as well as discusses Shimomura’s shift to performance and installation pieces which, at the time, were predominant in his work.6 Nakane outlines the relationship between Japan and the United States, as well as the history of ukiyo-e in Western art, particularly Shimomura’s adoption of the style.7 The next series of art historically significant essays appear in the catalogue from the 2005 exhibition at the Lee Gallery at Clemson University, titled Minidoka Revisited: The Paintings of Roger Shimomura. The exhibition was organized by William W. Lew.8 The show,
5
William W. Lew, Return of the Yellow Peril (Spokane, WA: Cheney Cowles Museum, 1993).
Lucy R. Lippard, “Delayed Reactions,” in Roger Shimomura, Delayed Reactions: Paintings, Prints, Performance, and Installation Art from 1973-1996 (Lawrence, KS: Spencer Museum of Art, 1995), 1-12. 6
Kazuko Nakane, “Not Made in Japan: Roger Shimomura’s Paintings and a Japanese American Identity,” in Roger Shimomura, Delayed Reactions: Paintings, Prints, Performance, and Installation Art from 1973-1996 (Lawrence, KS: Spencer Museum of Art, 1995), 21-25. 7
8
William W. Lew, Minidoka Revisited: The Paintings of Roger Shimomura, Exh. cat. (Clemson, SC: Lee Gallery, Clemson University, 2005). 5
as well as Lew’s essay, concentrates on the artist’s depiction of Camp Minidoka, as it appears in numerous series of paintings. In addition, five other authors from different disciplines offer intriguing points of view on the circumstances of Japanese American incarceration and the artist’s interpretations of the experience. In 2007, the Spencer Museum of Art presented another show, The Prints of Roger Shimomura: A Catalogue Raisonné, 1968-2005. The catalogue, by Emily Stamey, focuses on the artist’s use of prints as spaces of exploration for the themes that appear throughout his oeuvre.9 Two smaller catalogues from 2008 and 2010 accompany exhibits that again focus on Shimomura’s works about Camp Minidoka, Minidoka on My Mind: Recent Work by Roger Shimomura and Shadows of Minidoka: Paintings and Collections of Roger Shimomura, respectively. Poet Amy Uyematsu introduces Shimomura’s works in the former, weaving history and iconography to ground the artist’s criticism of historical events.10 In the latter catalogue, Karin Higa and Roger Daniels offer different perspectives on the show. Higa discusses the Minidoka series in relation to Shimomura’s larger body of works, as well as his collection of papers and artifacts from the incarceration camps.11 Daniels offers historical context for the incarceration of Japanese Americans in camps during World War II.12
9
Emily Stamey, The Prints of Roger Shimomura: A Catalogue Raisonné, 1968-2005 (Lawrence, KS: Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, 2007). Amy Uyematsu, “Minidoka Landscapes,” in Minidoka on My Mind: Recent Work by Roger Shimomura (Seattle: Greg Kucera Gallery, 2008), 5-6.
10
Karin Higa, “Barbed Wire and Barracks: Roger Shimomura’s Paintings and Collections,” in Shadows of Minidoka: Paintings and Collections of Roger Shimomura, Exh. cat. (Lawrence, KS: Lawrence Art Center, 2011), 13-19. 11
Roger Daniels, “Ethnic Cleansing in America? The Mass Incarceration of Japanese Americans,” in Shadows of Minidoka: Paintings and Collections of Roger Shimomura, Exh. cat. (Lawrence, KS: Lawrence Art Center, 2011), 21-29.
12
6
Gallery and museum publications were the first important art historical forays into Shimomura’s works. However, two dissertations expanded these discussions. The first was Stacey Uradomo’s 2005 dissertation at the University of Southern California, “Legacies: Family Memories, History, and Identity in Japanese American Art.” In this study, Uradomo examines three sansei, or third generation, Japanese American artists, including Shimomura. In the chapter on Shimomura, Uradomo focuses on Shimomura’s use of his grandmother’s diaries in his art as an exploration of the relationship between family memories and the conceptualization of Japanese American identity.13 The second study is Emily Stamey’s 2009 doctoral dissertation at the University of Kansas, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura.” Stamey’s is the most intensive study of the artist’s works prior to my dissertation in 2013. Her study encompasses the entirety of Shimomura’s career up to 2009, with particular focus on paintings and prints. She provides in depth discussion for many works, grounding them in particular times and locations, offering historical and social contexts for their creations.14 Methodology My study is similar to Stamey’s in scope; however, I primarily focus on Shimomura’s art from the twenty-first century, although the first two chapters are dedicated to his earlier works. It is virtually impossible to discuss Shimomura’s images without biography. However, almost every essay or article on the artist spends a great deal of time giving the details of the incarceration of Japanese Americans. I strive to invoke this aspect of biography as little as necessary in order to focus more attention on the individual works of art and their functions. I Stacey Mitsue Uradomo, “Legacies: Family Memories, History, and Identity in Japanese American Art” (doctoral dissertation, University of Southern California, 2005). 13
Emily Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura” (doctoral dissertation, University of Kansas, 2009), http://gradworks.umi.com/3369461.pdf. 14
7
offer new interpretations on numerous works discussed in both Stamey’s dissertation and print exhibition catalogue. In addition, I discuss paintings that have been ignored in scholarly and critical discourses. Although I utilize previous discourses on Shimomura’s style and circumstances, I do so to different ends than previous scholars. I argue that the ukiyo-e elements infuse the artist’s paintings and prints with a secondary iconography, which art historians have overlooked. I accept Shimomura’s assertions that he is completely unfamiliar with the iconography of Japanese art. However, I assert that his use of this visual sign system creates new meanings in the eyes of educated viewers, beyond the intentions of the artist. In addition, I argue that Shimomura adopts visual rhetorical devices that aid in the didactic function of many of his works. This study explores how Shimomura creates and communicates ideas within individual works. Moreover, I examine particular figures that appear repeatedly in his art over time, and how these figures develop meanings that are particular to Shimomura’s works. Underlying the entirety of this study is Shimomura’s exploration of identity, both ethnic and personal. In this study, I will critique established theories of multiculturalism, globalization, and parody. These theories are most often applied to contemporary art, and have proved to be of some use. However, I do not believe that the discourses of multiculturalism and globalization are particularly salient as they are currently utilized. Many art historians and critics have not transcended the idea of the First World/Third World trichotomy15 in contemporary art. This is
15
This trichotomy began during the Cold War. The First World denoted the U.S. and its capitalist allies. The Second World denoted the Soviet Union and its communist allies. The Third World encompassed everybody else. In recent years, scholars have continued to use the term Third World, but in a different way. It now denotes underdeveloped countries. For a review of the history of this trichotomy, see Arif Dirlik, “Spectres of the Third World: Global Modernity and the End of the Three Worlds,” Third World Quarterly 25, no. 1 (2004): 131-148. 8
crucial since artists, art and cultures can no longer be defined by national boundaries or existing notions of identity. I utilize parody as a praxis through which multiculturalism and globalization are critiqued in the works of Shimomura. Multiculturalism The problem of multiculturalism in academia is relegated to the annals of history, having reached its peak in the 1990s. However, studies of multiculturalism are relevant to this study. Shimomura worked in an academic setting during the heyday of multicultural discourse, and I will discuss its relevance to works from this period. In addition, the artist has a wide audience outside of academia. Many contemporary viewers continue to utilize the language of multicultural discourse in assessing his works. It is important to recognize the terms and attitudes of multiculturalists in order to understand viewer reception of his art. In my discussion of multiculturalism, I will adopt Stanley Fish’s term, boutique multiculturalism. Fish describes boutique multiculturalism as a shallow association that one may have with a culture outside of one’s own, particularly in the forms of eating in ethnic restaurants and attending cultural festivals. This type of multiculturalist sees himself as chic and openminded.16 Fish’s critique illustrates that boutique multiculturalism is an extension of Enlightenment humanism, where all people share an identity as humans, have equal value, and have equal basic human rights. While the notion of cultural tolerance is built upon these ideas, Enlightenment humanism is a Western discourse. As such, it automatically estranges all other
Although this trichotomy is not particularly relevant in this study, as both Japan and the United States are First World nations, it is a problematic division that must be addressed in multiculturalist discourse. Stanley Fish, “Boutique Multiculturalism, or Why Liberals are Incapable of Thinking About Hate Speech,” Critical Inquiry 23, no. 2 (1997): 378-395.
16
9
cultures from their own individual notions of cultural identity. I do not intend to align myself fully with all of Fish’s ideas, but this term and its meaning are useful in this study because Shimomura’s works utilize stereotypes that are present in contemporary culture. The popular stereotypes present in Shimomura’s art demonstrate a lack of tolerance based on race and/or ethnicity. The presence of popular stereotypes negates the claims of the boutique multiculturalist to tolerance based on race and/or ethnicity. In addition, Fish’s term is relevant to the nonacademic viewing of Shimomura’s art. I would define a large portion of Shimomura’s audience as boutique multiculturalists because they embrace the Japanese elements in the artist’s works as demonstrating the artist’s identity. However, when elements begin to cause discomfort, collectors have gone so far as to request that the artist paint over them.17 In order to supplement Fish’s challenges to multiculturalism, I will utilize Kelly ChienHui Kuo’s article, “A Euphoria of Transcultural Hybridity: Is Multiculturalism Possible?”18 Kuo also challenges notions of multiculturalism, acknowledging that multicultural diversity leads to the problem of cultural solipsism. Further, she argues that this diversity is framed inside an old matrix, in which subaltern cultures are expected to create a cultural identity without the tool of history. She states that, “[e]ventually, multiculturalism is no more than another form of cultural imperialism that enunciates cultural identities for subaltern groups.”19 Her initial concerns are
Anne Collins Goodyear, “Roger Shimomura: An American Artist,” American Art 27:1 (2013), 78-79. 17
Kelly Chien-Hui Kuo, “A Euphoria of Transcultural Hybridity: Is Multiculturalism Possible?” Postcolonial Studies 6, no. 2 (2003): 223-235. For a review of the literature on multiculturalism that Kuo and Fish challenge and build upon, such as the works by Homi Bhabha, Judith Butler, David Theo Goldberg, Gilles Deleuze, Gayatri Spivak, Hannah Arendt, as well as others, please see the Kuo article.
18
19
Ibid, 232. 10
quite opposite of those of Fish. However, they have some similarities. Kuo worries that the obsession with diversity leads multiculturalism to a point of cultural imperialism. In contrast, Fish thinks that by focusing on the superficial, multiculturalism aims to homogenize through cultural imperialism. In addition to Fish and Kuo, Kandice Chuh problematizes multiculturalism; however she does so within the specific parameters of Asian American discourse. She argues that multiculturalism is ambivalent about “liberal conceptions of subjectivity,” simultaneously supporting these conceptions, and the critiques against them. In addition, liberal multiculturalism overlooks historical racism, upholding the United States as the epitome of Enlightenment ideals of egalitarianism and individual autonomy. In doing so, multiculturalism negates the contemporary racial issues faced by Asian Americans by historicizing them and claiming that they are irrelevant to the present. 20 Chuh places a greater emphasis than either Fish or Kuo, on the problematic nature of ignoring history. Additionally, her work focuses on the very specific obstacles of institutionalized multiculturalism for Asian Americans. Shimomura’s use of stereotypical imagery present in contemporary culture demonstrates that Chuh’s assertions are correct. Racist discourses continue to exist and are therefore relevant to the present. Globalization It is necessary to understand the theories of globalization because they are so important to identity politics. In this section, I will outline the theories important to identity issues discussed in the dissertation; however, globalization will not be discussed separately from identity issues throughout the text. Arjun Appadurai views cultural globalization as the extension of the rupture
20
Kandice Chuh, Imagine Otherwise: On Asian Americanist Critique (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003), 6. 11
of modernity. Appadurai argues that cultural globalization is simultaneously caused by electronic mediation and mass migration, both of which lead to the end of the nation-state as the definition of cultural identity.21 He does not focus attention on a singular moment of rupture that “creates a dramatic and unprecedented break between past and present.”22 Rather, Appadurai believes that electronic mediation and mass migration caused a break from multiple pasts. Instead of each culture maintaining a separate history, electronic mediation and mass migration create a universal history that is distanced from individual cultural developments. This causes modernity to develop in ways that are “irregularly self-conscious, and unevenly experienced.”23 Modernity (in which globalization is inherent) is a consequence of the changing of the imagination of cultures. Modernity is a result of peoples no longer being bound by national borders because of media and migration.24 This aspect of globalization is obvious in the works of Shimomura: he uses source materials that are mass produced and traded in a global economy. In “Globalization and Cultural Analysis,” John Tomlinson, echoing Appadurai’s ideas, defines the most significant effect of globalization as the separation of culture from place.25 Further, he problematizes globalization as a capitalist enterprise for the “commodification of culture.”26 He believes that global culture should be studied with a focus on lived experience. In
21
Arjun Appadurai, Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008), 3. 22
Ibid, 3.
23
Ibid, 3.
24
Ibid, 5-10.
John Tomlinson, “Globalization and Cultural Analysis,” Globalization Theory: Approaches and Controversies, ed. David Held and Anthony McGrew (Cambridge: Polity, 2007), 164.
25
26
Ibid, 164-5. 12
contrast to Appadurai, Tomlinson concurs with those critics who “claim that by far the most significant determinant of culture distributed by globalization is precisely that so many cultural practices and experiences in modernity have become transformed into commodities: into things which are bought and sold.”27 This commodification of culture in globalization is obvious in the works of Roger Shimomura, particularly his inclusion of international advertisements in his paintings. I utilize discourses of globalization in tandem with discourses on Asian American, or more particularly, Japanese American identity. The development of hyphenated identities coincided with globalization. As cultural practices were commodified, so were cultural identities. In Shimomura’s works, the artist adopts stereotypical forms from kitsch and comics, both of which utilize culture as commodity. The commodification of stereotypical elements from Japanese American culture was one of the factors that led to discourses on Japanese American identity; therefore, the discussion of identity must include particular aspects of the discourse of globalization. Parody In addition to discussing theories of multiculturalism and globalization, I will be offer a theory of parody. Shimomura’s works parody not only popular stereotypes about Asian Americans, but also ideas about multiculturalism and globalization. I will build my theory of parody based on that espoused by Linda Hutcheon. She states that modern parodists work with numerous intents, ranging “from the ironic and playful to the scornful and ridiculing.”28 The
27
Ibid, 165.
28
Linda Hutcheon, A Theory of Parody: The Teachings of Twentieth-Century Art Forms (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2000), 6. 13
broadest, yet shortest, definition that she offers for parody is “repetition with difference.”29 She believes that this repetition is a tool for “modern artists to come to terms with the past – through ironic recoding. . .”30 Shimomura’s use of parody engages with the repetition of forms ranging from seventeenth-century Japan to contemporary American pop culture icons. His works are ironic and playful. His humor also engages the artist in a critical discourse on multiculturalism, challenging the Western construction of subaltern histories in which time is static. Shimomura’s works reflect his experiences as a minority in the United States. However, collectors and critics of his works maintain expectations of an inherent Japaneseness31 in his works. While Japan is widely acknowledged as post-Modern in art and culture (at least among scholars), the artist is subject to an art market that assumes the artist should be using ukiyo-e as a model for his works. As a result, this assumption locks the artist into a static culture, from which he is distanced. Shimomura adopts common tropes of ukiyo-e in order to parody the assumptions of the art market. In addition to building from Hutcheon’s definitions of parody, I will also discuss parody in terms of a Japanese device, namely mitate-e, or parody pictures. David Bell examines definitions of mitate-e within the context of ukiyo-e in his study, Ukiyo-e Explained. He finds two common elements in the plethora of explanations of mitate-e. “The first is that of establishing a ‘likeness’ between a contemporary scene or figure and an older theme or event.”32 “The second notion is that of playfulness, not so much in the sense of ‘poking fun at’ something 29
Ibid, 101.
30
Ibid, 101.
31
I utilize the term Japaneseness throughout this dissertation to convey a general notion of things associated with Japanese culture, at least in the imaginations of American viewers. 32
David Bell, Ukiyo-e Explained (Kent: Global Oriental, 2004), 159. 14
as in the sense of playing with knowledge or ideas.”33 Shimomura’s use of ukiyo-e imagery seems to invert this first notion, placing older figures or scenes into a new theme or event; however, he also plays with knowledge and ideas. This definition of mitate-e functions similarly to Hutcheon’s theory of parody, and both are useful to build upon in an examination of Shimomura’s works. Myth In order to establish a culturally specific definition of parody, I will utilize Roland Barthes’s discussion of myth. According to Barthes, “myth is speech stolen and restored. Only, speech which is restored is no longer quite that which was stolen. . .”34 The myth begins with the adoption of token cultural icons from diverse cultures; subsequently these cultural icons are blended together until they become empty signifiers. Once the signifiers have lost traditional meanings, they symbolize only the idea of a culture. The idea of a culture is now a myth, while “[s]peech of this kind [i.e. myth] is a message.”35 Building on Barthes, I assert that Shimomura demythologizes this myth, or message, through the adoption and parody of empty signifiers. These parodies demonstrate the absurdity of mythic forms as cultural symbols, and therefore call into question the process that destroys the signification of traditional forms. Shimoura’s works tend to follow Barthes’s prescriptions for the process of demythologizing the myth by mythifying it. Truth to tell, the best weapon against myth is perhaps to mythify it in its turn, and to produce an artificial myth: and this reconstituted myth will in fact be a mythology. Since myth robs language of something, why not rob myth? All that is needed is to use it as the
33
Ibid, 160.
34
Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 125.
35
Ibid, 110. 15
departure point for a third semiological chain, to take its signification as the first term of a second myth. 36 In order to explain my interpretation of Barthes’s demythologizing system, I will utilize his example of the black soldier on the cover of Paris-Match. Although Barthes instructs the reader on how to mythify a myth, he does not do so with his own example. In Barthes’s example, the young soldier, ostensibly saluting the French flag, becomes the myth of French imperialism during the process of signification. In order to mythify this myth, French imperialism must become the departure point for a semiological chain. Although Barthes gives no details on this prescription, I will offer one particular example that is relevant to Shimomura’s approach. I begin a new semiological chain with French imperialism, in the visual form of the saluting soldier, as the first term, or signifier. I will go with the assumption that the soldier is Algerian because of the conflict between France and Algeria at the time of Barthes writing this study. In addition, I include a second target text, which is also a myth. In this case, I include an image of an Algerian man, replacing military garb with traditional garb, representing the myth of Algerian autonomy. If the two are blended, and the soldier now salutes a French flag while wearing a turban, both of the target myths are destroyed (Fig. 80). The saluting soldier wearing a turban demonstrates that French Imperialism has not succeeded in fully acculturating the Algerian people, and that Algerian autonomy no longer exists. Instead, these myths are replaced with a mythology. The viewer must ask questions about not only the new signification, but also about the two myths that were chosen as targets. Was either French imperialism or Algerian autonomy ever natural? If the danger of myths is that they are naturalized, this method is useful in demythologizing because it forces the viewer to question the original myths.
36
Ibid, 135. 16
Shimomura’s works that utilize stereotypical forms are mythologies. In these works, Shimomura studies the myths that are naturalized within the stereotypes. In addition, Shimomura’s parodic images begin with stereotypical imagery as target texts. The stereotypes have been naturalized in myth, but by blending disparate stereotypes, the artist destroys the myths. This destruction occurs by the inclusion of signifiers with disparate meanings. The disparate meanings become confused at the point when the Sign I/second level signifiers progress to their signifieds. It is at this level that the viewer recognizes parody, which does not allow the traditional myth to remain naturalized in these works. Although the original myths do not continue to develop, the second level of signification (meta-language) still progresses and creates a message. The new message is unexpected because of the dichotomies created during the second level of signification. The meta-language developed in these works is parody, as opposed to myth. At once, the two concepts of myth and parody have similarities, in that they are types of appropriated speech and ruptured messages. Myth utilizes meanings in which “signification is already built,” but turns “it suddenly into an empty, parasitical form.”37 Parody, however, challenges the development of myth by the inclusion of multiple signs with disparate meanings. Parody serves to make the emptiness of the meanings in mythical meta-language more apparent. In this, I also hypothesize that parody is dependent on myth – it cannot exist apart from an established myth. Parody develops confusion that destroys the myth by forcing the viewer to question it. Data In the present study, I utilize literature from numerous fields, including art history, history, Asian studies, literature, anthropology, and sociology. This literature enriches the
37
Ibid, 117. 17
contextual sources, including reviews of Shimomura’s works, articles from journals and newspapers, and other works of art. The literature supplements interviews with Shimomura, as well as primary documents, such as his artist’s statements, essays, and personal papers, in addition to my own private conversations with the artist. Together, these materials help to create an understanding of both the artist’s working methods and intentions, and his inspirations. In addition, the critical approaches allow me to discuss how his works are entrenched in sociopolitical contexts that may not be immediately apparent. Finally, these sources open up new discourses on Shimomura’s oeuvre, including how he adopts disparate visual languages and utilizes them to didactic ends. Chapter Synopses Chapter One In Chapter One, I will provide a cursory examination of a wide variety of Shimomura’s works from 1968 through 1978. Although I will offer new interpretations for many of these images, my goal is to demonstrate shifts in artistic style and intent. The overarching argument that begins in Chapter One and continues in Chapter Two is that through these shifts, the artist not only developed a signature style, but also visually discovered his own voice. Design concerns were the sole focus of these early works. The decade covered in this chapter explores the process through which the artist began to shift styles through the inclusion of Japanese elements in his existing Pop aesthetic. Chapter Two Chapter two focuses on shifts in not only style, but also in content. As Shimomura matured as an artist and a person, his works became politically and morally charged, without necessarily losing the irreverent humor associated with Pop art. The decades covered in this
18
chapter follow the process through which Shimomura began to address his personal history and identity issues in his art. This chapter is mostly historical and biographical; however, history and biography are necessary foundations for understanding the identity formation that influenced his later works. Chapter Three In 1999, Roger Shimomura began to tell his personal history in his art with the series Memories of Childhood. In the same year, the artist illustrated the ignorance of others through documenting his experiences with racism. This running theme remains important in his works to date, although the style evolved. Chapter Three examines an array of Shimomura’s works from 1999 to 2004. I will continue to discuss the shifts in style and content that constitute the artist’s signature look. In addition, I will investigate the rhetorical devices utilized in order to create tension and inspire self-reflection in the viewer. Although he began with a documentary approach, the two most important tools that Shimomura develops in this period are parody and metaphor. Chapter Four In Chapter Four, I examine a single series of paintings from 2005, titled Global Mutations. This particular series has never been discussed in scholarly studies, and I offer contextualization as well as interpretations for each image. In this chapter, I outline a functional definition of parody, which I utilize in discussion of this series. In addition, I examine not only the visual texts (myths) that Shimomura targets, I also discuss the cultural and historical discourses that helped to create these texts. This series of paintings utilizes stereotypical imagery from disparate cultures in order to create parodies. I argue that these parodies function to subvert the myths of multiculturalist discourse.
19
Chapter Five In Chapter Five, I discuss Shimomura’s experiments with formal elements and rhetorical devices in order to imbue his works with subversive meaning. These experiments date from 2005 to 2011. Shimomura utilizes parody, simile, metonymy, and synecdoche as visual rhetorical devices during this period. His bold Pop style seems to make light of difficult subjects, however, that disjuncture often forces the viewer to question the meaning in his works. Shimomura seems to return to similar subjects, including comic characters. However, in this period, he uses his own persona as his most common subject. These self-portraits are almost always synecdochical, whimsical, and loaded with meaning. Between 2005 and 2011, the artist focuses more time and energy on depicting his identity, whether it is how he views himself, how he is perceived, or a combination of the two perspectives. This personal exploration is important not only to the artist, but for many ethnic minorities within the U.S. In calling attention to his own predicament, Shimomura is shedding light on identity politics in general. Appendices My arguments are illustrated by one-hundred-thirty-eight images, the vast majority by Roger Shimomura. In addition to his paintings and prints, the comparanda consists of paintings and prints from various periods of the history of art. The use of all of Shimomura’s images is by permission of the artist.
20
CHAPTER ONE STYLISTIC CONCERNS I might be accused of being really superficial in a sense, but I think that’s an accusation that Pop artists learn to live with. Superficiality, thanks to the Pop artists, has as much potential for content as the old masters. – Roger Shimomura In this chapter, I will give a cursory examination of a wide variety of Shimomura’s works dating from 1968 through 1978. Although I will offer new interpretations for many of these images, my goal is to demonstrate shifts in style and intent. The overarching argument that begins in Chapter One and continues in Chapters Two and Three is that through these shifts, the artist not only developed a signature style, but also visually discovered his own voice. Design concerns were the sole focus of his early works, but as he matured as an artist and a person, his paintings and prints became politically and morally charged, without necessarily losing the irreverent humor associated with Pop art. The decade covered in this precedes the process through which Shimomura began to address his personal history and identity issues in his art. Purely Pop (1968-1972) Roger Shimomura’s early works reflect an interest in a purely Pop aesthetic. In her dissertation, Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura, Emily Stamey states that the pop idiom helped the artist to overcome his fears that “his work looked too commercial and thus lacked meaningful content.” This concern, she proposes, comes from Shimomura’s recent move from professional graphic designer into full-time fine artist. In addition, Stamey cites his “transition out of macho military routine,” after two years in the army
21
in the early 1960’s.38 Girl From Life is a screen print from 1968, made while he was still in graduate school (Fig. 1). It is reminiscent of the works of Andy Warhol, with bright eye shadow and lipstick added to a popular black and white photographic advertisement. This image seems to float above a background comprised of regular yellow and orange horizontal stripes. The scale of this screen print is much smaller than that used by most of the successful Pop artists that came before him. The image is 19” x 18”, a miniature compared to the larger than life-size paintings of Warhol or Lichtenstein. Shimomura addresses his emulation of Warhol in his master’s thesis, “The Objectified Image,” from 1969. The artist believed that Warhol’s use of bright colors in silk screens of photographs demonstrated a moral commentary on the anonymity of contemporary culture.39 He also felt that photographs of fashion models distanced himself from the subject so that he could focus on the design of his works, as opposed to the subject.40 These statements from his thesis also demonstrate Shimomura’s answer to the largest question surrounding Pop art: is it a social critique on consumption, or a glorification of it?41 Shimomura emulated Warhol in part because he believed that his work had a moralizing effect on the viewer. In particular, this discussion references Warhol’s Coca-Cola 210 Bottles, as well
Emily Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura” (doctoral dissertation, University of Kansas, 2009), http://gradworks.umi.com/3369461.pdf. 38
Stamey’s study covers a vast array of Shimomura’s works, as well. Her discussion of the images that I cover in Chapter One are more in-depth, linking each image to the biography of the artist. That is not my intention here, as I state in the introduction to the chapter. 39
Roger Shimomura, “The Objectified Image” (master’s thesis, Syracuse University, 1969), 16.
40
Ibid, 28.
41
Historians and critics phrase this question in many ways, while offering their own opinions on the answer. For further reading, please see Lucy R. Lippard, Pop Art (New York: Thames & Hudson, 1985); Jean Baudrillard, “Pop – An Art of Consumption?,” Art and Design 5 (1989): 61-63. 22
as other works in which the artist repeated the same image on a single surface. When faced with one of these objects, the viewer is forced to question his own beliefs about what he sees.42 Although Shimomura chose photographs of fashion models because he could distance himself from his subject in order to concentrate on design, he felt that the meaning of the work existed in the viewer’s internal debate. He did not visualize judgment one way or the other in his images, but created images in which the viewer could find his or her own struggle with the content’s meaning. By 1969, Shimomura’s focus began to shift subtly, while his aesthetic remained Pop. He gradually changed not only subjects, but also media. At this point, he defines the shift in subjects, stating that they “are drawn from situations and include objects and subjects that I feel are; 1. sentimental, 2. overworked (clichés) and 3. ‘trivial’ and 4. commercialized.”43 Earlier in his thesis “The Objectified Image,” Shimomura seemed ambivalent about comparisons between his works and those of Warhol, particularly when he included multiple images, such as in 252 Lemons from 1968 (Fig. 2). Here in “The Objectified Image,” Shimomura states that his multiple images were done for completely different reasons than those of Warhol, and even admits that he stopped making multiples for a period, in order to “avoid any further misinterpretations or referrals to Warhol.”44 Although his words denote his wish to avoid comparison to Warhol, the artist created at least two images that featured Warhol’s visage: 10 Blows in 1969 and West Lounge in 1971. By 1972, the final year that the artist worked in a strictly Pop style, his images were quite different from the earlier screen print photographs. The central subject in his 1972 painting, Coke 42
Roger Shimomura, “The Objectified Image,” 16.
43
Ibid, 36.
44
Ibid, 49. 23
Freak, is Jesus (Fig. 3). This figure is quite familiar with his simple robe, long hair, and beard, staring contemplatively off the side of the canvas. This religious icon stands directly in front of a contemporary building, where a coke machine to the side of the door frames him. This painting is a hybrid of two historical types, now modernized: the religious icon and the still life. According to the artist, “It’s perfectly fine to do a painting of a wine bottle in a still life. In fact, that’s part of what we think of, of the language, I guess when you think of still lives, you think of wine bottles, but it’s not alright to use a Coca-Cola bottle. And, really, what’s the difference?”45 With the comparison between Coca-Cola bottles and wine bottles, an interesting new reading of this painting is possible. If wine symbolizes the blood of Christ, and there is no difference between the bottles, then the contemporary vending machine may be seen as the locus of religious communion. Although Shimomura created distance from morality and judgment in his earlier works, Coke Freak represents a shift to moral judgment. Through framing Christ with the vending machine, the artist makes a statement that may be read in one of two ways: either consumer culture is the new religion, or religion is wrapped up in consumer culture. The viewer no longer grapples with the consumption of the female form in fashion, but instead is forced to face his own feelings on the intersection of religion with consumer culture. In this way, the work possibly becomes more personal to a larger audience, but remains distanced from the artist and his personal experiences. In describing the previous works as purely Pop, I reference style. However, Shimomura’s intellectual basis for these works, as well as almost all of his future works, is Funk. The artist was largely influenced by the Funk movement, particularly Robert Arneson. This movement
45
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 24
shared the irreverent humor found in Pop art, although it was more blatantly subversive. In a personal interview with the author, Shimomura explained his first impressions of Funk: I was a painter at the University of Washington at the time when this was going on, and it just blew me away because it just pulled the rug out from under all of these stuffy art historians that all were looking for, it seemed to me, a common way to look at the world. They all saw Rembrandt the same way, and Da Vinci, and they all agreed upon things, and argued about minutiae, and who cares? All of a sudden, Funk art came along and said none of that is important anyway. None of this is important. Nothing is important. We all just want to have a good time doing it. And they made fun of themselves, which made their point all the more poignant to me.46 His paintings at the University of Washington, completed the year before he began graduate school in Syracuse, were dominated by one particular format – TV dinners. These paintings have since been lost; however, the artist has described them in numerous interviews. He placed different types of things in each compartment. For example, Shimomura positioned a De Kooning work in the dessert compartment of one of them. These paintings were his commentary on art and the world in general.47 His Funk influence is evidenced in placing something as significant as criticisms of art and the world in the space of something as mundane and disposable as a TV dinner tray. Although the works that Shimomura created at Syracuse University and after remain stylistically Pop, Funk sensibilities continued to inform his works. Introducing a New Aesthetic (1972-1975) Beginning in 1972, Shimomura began to include elements of Japanese art in his works, particularly ukiyo-e, “pictures of the floating world,” popular woodblock prints of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Ellis Tinios offers a brief historical definition for the term: ‘Floating world’ had entered the Japanese language centuries earlier as a Buddhist expression that denoted this transient world of sorrows from which release was sought. In the course of the seventeenth century the term was reinterpreted to apply to the new 46
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012.
47
ibid 25
world of earthly pleasures that had emerged in Edo and other urban centres as a result of the prosperity created by the peace brought to Japan by the Tokugawa shogunate. Ukiyo was transformed from that which one sought to escape into something that was avidly pursued. Ukiyo-e artists sought to capture the excitement and glamour of this world.48 The ‘floating world’ was centered in brothel districts, particularly the Yoshiwara of Edo. In some ways, it may be viewed as underground or counter-cultural; however, it was a particularly elite culture. The vast majority of the population had no access. The artists creating the woodblock prints reproduced the experiences of this world for the broader population. Those who could not afford the entertainments of the Yoshiwara were often able to afford the mass produced prints of genre scenes associated with the floating world.49 Common subjects in ukiyo-e are geishas,50 kabuki actors, and scenes associated with daily life. Shimomura uses each of these subjects in works beginning in 1973. In Oriental Masterpiece # 2, of 1973, a geisha appears to be walking past Andy Warhol’s image of Marilyn Monroe (Fig. 4). The geisha is looking forward, not noticing the iconic image of Pop art that she passes. This painting is interesting for numerous reasons, including the addition of a new aesthetic to Shimomura’s works, to which I will return. The geisha’s lack of interest also brings up an important point about Pop art: its meaning is fleeting. The viewer of a work of Pop art is supposed to become introspective, questioning his own beliefs. Yet, the geisha shows no interest, most likely because she comes from a different culture in a different time. She knows of neither Marilyn Monroe, nor the contemporary culture of 48
Ellis Tinios, Japanese Prints (Burlington: Lund Humphries, 2010), 8.
49
David Bell, Ukiyo-e Explained (Kent: Global Oriental, 2004), 134.
50
Although terms for different levels of courtesans ranged over time in different locations, I choose the word geisha because it is the one most commonly known by a Western audience and associated with Japanese courtesans. 26
consumption, therefore, there is nothing to contemplate. Pop art is specific to particular cultures and times. In order to make sense of the object, one must be familiar with the signs that are adopted and replicated. In addition, the viewer must also be a part of the culture that utilized those signs in order to contemplate meaning and questions about their use. The connection between cultural sign systems and understanding images is obvious in Oriental Masterpiece # 2. The geisha is entirely generic; she is identified by her hairstyle and robes as a Japanese woman. The viewer (as well as the artist) assumes her status as a geisha. This assumption is made because American viewers tend to be only vaguely aware of this style of Japanese art, which often features geishas. The viewer identifies the woman based on this vague knowledge, even if he does not know the subtle identifiers to the woman’s identity. The geisha’s robes and hairstyles are familiar from works such as “Shigeoka from Okamotoya House on Kyo Street,” a late nineteenth-century color woodblock print featuring a courtesan. The assumption that the woman pictured in Oriental Masterpiece # 2 is a geisha is correct, as her robe is closed in the front, as opposed to the back, which would denote her as a “civic woman.”51 The Japanese woman/geisha has no identity, and becomes an empty signifier of Japaneseness, or simply difference. On the other hand, the viewer recognizes Marilyn Monroe on two levels: the cultural icon (actor, mistress, etc.) and the Pop art image by Andy Warhol. She is a doubly encoded sign, known by the contemporary American viewer, yet meaningless to the Japanese woman existing outside of her own time and space. Although Marilyn may signify numerous meanings to the viewer, the anonymity given to her by the Japanese woman demonstrates the emptiness of the signifier “Marilyn” in her consumption.
51
Timon Screech, Sex and the Floating World, Erotic Images in Japan 1700-1820 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1999), 20. 27
I will utilize Jean Baudrillard’s article “Pop – An Art of Consumption?” from 1989 in order to unify Pop and ukiyo-e vis-à-vis Shimomura’s new aesthetic in which he blends the two styles. Baudrillard’s discussion of consumption is quite useful in discussing the relationship between Marilyn and the geisha in Shimomura’s painting, as well as the meaning of this relationship. According to Baudrillard, consumption manipulates the meaning of signs, recreating their values in terms of relation: [T]he logic of consumption can be defined as a manipulation of signs. The symbolic relation of interiority, the symbolic relations of creation are absent from it: it is all exteriority. The object loses its objective finality, its function, and becomes the term of a much wider combinatory, of groups of objects where its value is one of relation. Furthermore, it loses its symbolic meaning, its age-old anthropomorphic status, and tends to dissipate in a discourse of connotations, which themselves are also relative to one another within the framework of a totalitarian cultural system, that is to say, one which is able to integrate significations from anywhere.52 Shimomura integrates signs from two different cultures, but according to Baudrillard’s assertions, they lose meaning when they are placed in the same picture plane. Each is defined by its relationship to the other: Marilyn is no longer the person, nor the icon; she becomes an image of consumption that is not consumed. The Japanese woman is no longer a geisha, but becomes a figure that denies the viewer’s place in consumer culture by ignoring the icon of Marilyn. In this new aesthetic that blends Pop and ukiyo-e subjects and styles, the emptiness of each of these signs is less about inspiring contemplation in the viewer, as seemed to be the goal of Shimomura’s purely Pop works, and instead is a visualization of the artist’s internalization of personal experience. I will demonstrate that Shimomura’s choice to include ukiyo-e imagery in his Pop works seemed natural because of his exploration into why he should work in a manner that was foreign to him. However, as an informed viewer, I claim that Pop and ukiyo-e blend successfully for a 52
Baudrillard, “Art of Consumption?,” 61. 28
different reason. Ukiyo-e was Pop art, at least in the sense that it was a popular art form, massproduced for consumption. These woodblock prints were also used for advertisement. One form, bijin-ga, or pictures of beautiful people, typically portrayed famous courtesans and kabuki actors, who were often sexually available for purchase. Bijin-ga had a dual purpose: they not only spread the fame of the people portrayed, but they also served as stand-ins for the originals. Consumers would purchase these images to remember encounters, or to use them in place of encounters that were unavailable because of cost or location.53 The pictures of beautiful people can be related to Pop art images of actors and fashion models. Shimomura’s image of the geisha and Marilyn is a stunted hybrid of these two types of pictures. It portrays the courtesan and famous actor simultaneously, although both are cropped. According to Baudrillard’s assertions, when Marilyn and the geisha are viewed in relation to each other, the original functions of the images are lost, though the signs remain. Shimomura used his Oriental Masterpieces series to address issues brought up in a series of awkward conversations that occurred after he moved to Lawrence, Kansas late in 1972. In interviews, he has repeatedly shared an anecdote about a conversation that occurred shortly after the move, and it has become a popular method of justifying the inclusion of Japanese elements into his works. In summary, a man was curious about Shimomura’s cultural heritage, shocked by his ability to speak English, and assumed that the artist should be making images that were Japanese in style.54 Shimomura claims that similar conversations were repeated with numerous people over many years. In the Oriental Masterpieces series, the artist decided to address the issue brought up by these conversations: “Why an American, who happens to be of Asian 53
Screech, Floating World, 16-18.
Roger Shimomura, “Conversation at a Public Auction,” attachment to General Research Grant application, University of Kansas, Fiscal Year 1974.
54
29
extraction, would work with subject matter that is as foreign to him as it is to his Western peers.”55 For the first painting of this series, Shimomura chose an unusual source for imagery, an ukiyo-e coloring book. The aged and abused coloring book was included in a retrospective of his print works thirty-five years later. The artist discussed with me his reaction to seeing the coloring book in this context, as well as his confusion about the initial reactions of people viewing the painting. I looked at it, and I just kind of flashed for a second, thinking to myself, “That’s really sad – I couldn’t even copy that from a reproduction of a woodblock print. I had to get it off of some first grade coloring book.” But, that tells you how much I knew about it, because it was so foreign looking to me when I used it that I gave myself permission to use a coloring book because that stuff was so far out of my visual vocabulary. When I ended up doing that painting and had people saying, “You look like it and it looks like you,” really took me by surprise because it was so foreign to me.56 Although Shimomura’s work appeared foreign to his own eyes, it was accepted by viewers as natural because of his ethnicity. The assumption of the Kansas farmer, as well as a plethora of other people, was that the artist should work in the style of his ancestry, as opposed to that of the culture in which he was raised. The idea that Shimomura should work in a Japanese style relates to ideas about Asian Americans in the United States. In Lisa Lowe’s Immigrant Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics, the author argues that Asian Americans are always viewed as foreigners in the United States, no matter where they were born. “A national memory haunts the conception of Asian American, persisting beyond the repeal of actual laws prohibiting Asians from citizenship and sustained by the wars in Asia, in which the Asian is always seen as an immigrant, as the ‘foreigner-within,’ even when born in the United States and the descendent of generations born Roger Shimomura, “Proposed Project,” attachment to Japan Foundation Fellowship application, Fiscal Year 1975. 55
56
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 30
here before.”57 The perceived foreignness of Shimomura by the Kansas farmer and others led the artist to attempt to reconcile visually notions of a Japanese American ethnic identity with his own self-perceptions. In dealing with this issue, the artist could not “relate to other attempts that dealt with ethnic identities,” but instead chose to experiment with “making the work stylistically anonymous on one hand, but distinctly foreign on the other.”58 The result of this experiment is that Shimomura emptied the signifiers of Japanese culture, which is a reflection of his own lack of understanding of them. In addition, he also played with the meanings of the empty signifiers appropriated from both Japanese and contemporary American cultures. This is true, at least for his intent, but sign systems are more complicated than that. I will offer some interpretations in this chapter that include iconographic readings of the ukiyo-e elements in his works. I assert that meaning is not necessarily negated just because Shimomura did not understand the particular symbolic significance behind his choices. Many viewers will interpret the Japanese elements exactly as the artist intended: decorative and foreign. However, for those who do have knowledge of the original sign system, signification will not be stalled. This is one of the challenges that Shimomura faced when including these elements: understanding the meaning of signs is a process that occurs inside of the viewer, without concessions for artistic intent. In a private interview the artist stated that he hopes that there are multiple interpretations for all of his works, even if they are surprising to him. In order to bring meaning to the work, and when I say “bring meaning to the work,” there’s always several possibilities of what I do or what I mean. At least, I hope there is. A lot of them are dependent upon people in this culture accepting certain aspects of a particular image, and then sort of playing with their minds a certain way. It’s almost like 57
Lisa Lowe, Immigrant Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 1996), 5-6.
Roger Shimomura, “Proposed Project,” attachment to Japan Foundation Fellowship application, Fiscal Year 1975. 58
31
a mathematical equation, you put something in and you factor something out, and you factor something else in there and the meaning keeps shifting. Sometimes, what’s interesting, is you end up in a totally different place that you never intended to be.59 Shimomura’s comment demonstrates an acceptance of changing meanings within his works. In art historical discourse, there are scholars who address the notion of shifting viewer reception, particularly when existing sign systems are utilized. For example, Jan Mukařovský states in a discussion on the signifying function of objects in architecture, “It is also possible to use a thing for another purpose and with another function than its usual one or even than the one for which its producer designed it.”60 The shift in purpose and function may be extended to all visual arts. In the case of this study, the “thing” is the image, and how it is understood within a particular collective determines its function. If a particular audience is familiar with the sign systems of ukiyo-e, the images function as carriers of these meanings, no matter artistic intent. Although Shimomura is not a fully informed viewer, his familiarity with ukiyo-e images has led to a certain level of understanding of the sign system. The repetition of forms within the genre led to the artist’s competency in understanding some tropes within ukiyo-e. The tropes familiar to the artist will be identified in the following pages, as well as the signs that are only known by the informed viewer, changing the interpretations of many works. Each work from the Oriental Masterpieces series varied for content included, but as the series progressed, the artist tended to create works that focused more on Japanese subjects with few Western interventions. This is probably because Shimomura was granted a Japan Foundation Fellowship, allowing him to spend two-and-a-half months in Japan in 1975. During this extended
59
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012.
Jan Mukařovský, “On the Problem of Functions in Architecture,” in Structure, Sign, and Function – Selected Essays by Jan Mukařovský (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978), 237.
60
32
trip, the artist documented ukiyo-e paintings and prints, as well as collected reproductions and books. The artist chose books based on “their quality of reproductions and/or their unique nature of Ukiyo-e subject matter.”61 In another grant proposal, Shimomura describes how these reproductions are utilized in his process. Following the pattern of usage of the books in my own library I envision that 50% to 60% of the pages will be removed from the books and be re-categorized into files reflecting my compositional and subject matter needs. These pages will subsequently be cut up to remove photographs of specific objects to be combined with drawings and incorporated into a final collage sketch which will serve as a model for the finished painting.62 The artist demonstrates a shocking lack of interest in the content of the text in his books. Shimomura’s dismissive attitude suggests that his presumed ignorance of Japanese imagery is contrived. Although he had access to books that could explain the iconographic significance of his source images, the artist chose to adopt only the superficial aesthetic tropes of Japanese art, ignoring its meaning. His next series, Seven Views of a Japanese Restaurant, eliminated Western elements, with the possible exception of a Pop art aesthetic. It is impossible to say whether the flatness of the picture plane, graphic outlines, and color choices are the reflection of Pop art or ukiyo-e, as they share these characteristics. In the first screen print from this series, a man and a woman are seen through a gap in a shoji screen, participating in a sex act (Fig. 5). The man stares out at the viewer, his face clearly visible, while the woman is hidden, except for one breast, her stomach, and an arm. Because her garment appears to open in the front, the viewer may assume that the
Roger Shimomura, “Summary of Activities and Achievements,” addendum to Japan Foundation Fellowship application, Fiscal Year 1975. 61
Roger Shimomura, “Research Plan, Supporting Data, and Proposed Time Schedule,” attachment to Application for General Research Fund Allocation, University of Kansas, Fiscal Year 1984. 62
33
man is bedding a courtesan. The only color in the image is in the gap, while the screen and shadows behind it are monochromatic. This use of color in between shades of gray and black draws attention to that which is visible: the anonymous female form and the gaze of the male. This scenario may be read in two ways: it either creates an exhibitionist fantasy for the male viewer that takes the place of the gazing man, or it is a denial of voyeuristic fantasy for the viewer who is caught in the act of gazing. Each screen print of the series depicts a sex act, partially veiled by a shoji screen. When evaluating the content of the pictures in tandem with the titles, one very important question arises: What is the connection between exhibitionist sexual encounters and a Japanese restaurant? This question is the entire point of the series; there is no connection beyond superficial Japonisme. This question causes the viewer to consider how little he knows of Japanese art and culture, and further, it leads the informed viewer to realize that the artist knew just as little. Shimomura utilized generic aspects of ukiyo-e in order to signify Japaneseness, while not demonstrating any in-depth knowledge of the art form. The adoption of generic imagery allowed him to achieve his goal of creating stylistic anonymity that invoked foreignness. The images from this series are quite playful. Here, the artist utilized the highly sexualized content of shunga, “spring pictures,” a subset of ukiyo-e that is distinct for its explicit sexual imagery. Shimomura knows this term and its meaning.63 In addition, the artist adopted the older Japanese literary and artistic trope of accidental voyeurism in romantic stories dating back to at least the Heian period. This trope is known as kaimami, or seeing through a gap in the
63
Informal discussion with artist. 34
hedge.64 Although the voyeuristic gaze of the viewer in Shimomura’s picture appears to be purposeful, the open gap in the screen seems to be a direct play on the meaning of the term kaimami. The artist was unfamiliar with this term and its meaning. However, he was looking at ukiyo-e as a source for his work, and I assert that the popular visual trope of voyeurism in ukiyoe was familiar enough to the artist to infer its usage and meaning. Gaps in screens were a common visual element of this type of image. The common usage of gaps in screens occurred for three reasons. Ukiyo-e often satirized elements of historically significant literature and art. In addition, these gaps allowed the viewer of the image to partake in exhibitionist/voyeuristic fantasies. Also, these gaps portrayed the physical environment of brothel architecture.65 Shimomura’s works are less explicit than typical shunga, but the voyeuristic gaze of the viewer is amplified when the pictured subject gazes back. The voyeur is caught in his transgression, but the subject does not mind. He gazes back, and judging by the look on his face, he enjoys being watched. Gaze is important in shunga, but typically occurs within the image. Often participants are gazing at each other, an outsider is gazing in, or a humanoid form (often in the form of a work of art) watches over the act, all of which allow the viewer’s entry into the scene. Mirrors or lenses in shunga may provide further access points.66 Shimomura circumvents all of the usual Japanese elements of the gaze, and instead incorporates the modern Western convention of the subject gazing back at the viewer. When asked about his use of gaze and voyeurism in the “Seven Views” series and their relationship to kaimami, Shimomura replied that he was unaware of the 64
The Heian period was 794-1185 C.E. Examples of kaimami are found in art and literature, particularly illustrated scrolls of The Tales of Genji and The Tales of Ise.
65
Screech, Floating World, 195-7.
66
Ibid, 193-236. 35
term. However, he did admit that his ideas about voyeuristic tropes were rooted in shunga imagery. There was something about it that I saw in shunga. I think that’s something that I can deduce from looking at a lot of shunga, it was sort of going through the key hole in a way, and having these things become public. But, when it started, it was sort of steeped in that idea of voyeurism, but it was ultimately exposed. What I was doing was putting it back into its original, what I thought of as its original, state of peeking and naughtiness. Seeing something you’re not supposed to be seeing, bringing it back to that.67 In addition, when asked about what he hoped to accomplish by turning the viewer into a voyeur, his answer had nothing to do with source imagery. Instead, he attributed his intentions to his Funk roots. There’s something empowering about that, when you could force the viewer to look at something they wouldn’t normally look at, and in a way they wouldn’t normally look at it. . . In some ways it’s somewhat of a cleansing thing going on with these things, “See, you can look through this keyhole and you’re not all that bad for doing that.” Of course, you could make an argument for that and say, “No, that still is bad. The act itself is bad.” And, soon you’re arguing about something that you never would have argued about before and I kind of like that. There’s something, what’s the word? You kind of fuck with people’s minds is the only way I can say it. And, I think that most artists do that, and find that part of their mission, their creative mission is just fucking with people. I like that, and I think that because essentially, I’m a Funk artist.68 Seven Views of a Japanese Restaurant # 1utilizes the voyeuristic trope of kaimami; however, it is also an interesting inversion of subject and viewer interactions in the history of Western art. In this particular image, the viewer is caught peeking by the male figure. The outward gaze, combined with the inference of a sexual transaction, recalls Manet’s Olympia, but with a reversal of roles. Whereas Manet’s prostitute gazes at her unseen customer, Shimomura’s customer gazes at an outside viewer, while his courtesan is obscured. Manet’s courtesan is on display, as a sexual product. Shimomura’s couple is obscured, and the screen that is meant to 67
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012.
68
ibid 36
provide privacy is instead the locus of the voyeuristic act. The male figure’s awareness of the viewer forces the question, “is this act of voyeurism wrong?” The male is complacent, possibly even delighted, in the voyeuristic gaze that he returns. He is smug, satisfied with his ability to procure the courtesan of his choice, whereas Manet’s unseen customer has not yet been judged worthy. He has just delivered a large bouquet, suggesting that he is still in the process of wooing the courtesan. Olympia, Manet’s title subject, is a prostitute of high rank, able to select her customers. By the looks of her lavish surroundings, she is obviously able to charge large sums of money for her services. Shimomura’s courtesan is of a lower rank, which is denoted by the shoji screen. During the Edo period, smaller or unlicensed brothels did not have private quarters; rooms were shared, and divided by a single screen.69 Shimomura depicts the everyday, as opposed to the elite, experience of prostitution. Spurred by the provocation of Shimomura’s male figure, further questions arise from this print. Is prostitution wrong? Is this image perpetuating stereotypes of Japanese sexuality? Is the obscured female figure complacent in the voyeuristic act of the viewer? The print is imbued with numerous possible arguments by the artist’s irreverent treatment of the figures and their actions. Conclusion In this chapter, I provided a cursory examination of a wide variety of Shimomura’s works from 1968 to 1978. During this period, design concerns motivated the artist’s Pop works. Toward the end of the covered decade, Japanese elements became important inclusions in the artist’s oeuvre. Shimomura’s forays into blending ukiyo-e with Pop art began as an exploration into viewer expectations that were linked to his Japanese heritage. In the following chapters, I
69
Screech, Floating World, 197. 37
will demonstrate that this shift in style changed not only the aesthetics of Shimomura’s works, but in addition, added to the shift in subject matter.
38
CHAPTER TWO INCARCERATION AND THE INTRODUCTION OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCE
Following the “Seven Views” series, Shimomura began to diverge from his earlier works by painting images that reflected personal experience. In 1978, the artist started a series titled Minidoka, named after the Japanese concentration camp where he spent a couple of years as a small child. The Minidoka series was but the first of the artist to explore the time of his family incarcerated in the camp. His initial forays into the experience tend to focus on the recollections in his grandmother’s diaries. However, by 1999, Shimomura begins to tell the story from his own memories of the experience. The works about camp life additionally ushered issues of identity in to his works. The exploration of dual identity that begins in the period covered in this chapter becomes a common theme in his works throughout the rest of this dissertation. The Minidoka series features almost exclusively Japanese elements, and appear to be set in Japan, as opposed to Seattle, Washington and Minidoka, Idaho, the actual locations associated with the incarceration subjects. Each painting is numbered, but with a subtitle to inform the viewer of what is depicted in the image. The first four paintings reflect the personal experiences of the artist’s family during the internment process. Minidoka No. 3 (Diary) features a female in the foreground, writing on a hand scroll with a calligraphy brush (Fig. 6). She is looking back over her shoulder in surprise or fear, as if she was caught doing something wrong. In the middle ground, another adult female is assisting a toddler to walk. The woman in the foreground is assumed to be Shimomura’s grandmother, Toku, who kept extensive diaries throughout her life. The artist used these diaries as inspiration for a later series of paintings. If the female in the 39
foreground is Toku, then the female and toddler in the middle ground may be Shimomura’s mother and the artist as a child. While the family unit attempts to go about their lives as normal, the background reminds the viewer why this scene is not one of domestic bliss, and why Toku looks over her shoulder. Behind the mother and toddler, in the background shown through the open screens, a guard tower and barbed wire are barely visible through a dust storm, denoting the location as the Minidoka Relocation Center. These early forays into the incarceration experience were highly decorative, maintaining the ukiyo-e style, which caused the subject matter to seem secondary to the aesthetics. Shimomura’s first wife had a negative reaction to these works, claiming that they perpetuated stereotypes: “White America thinks we go home after work and put on kimono and eat with chopsticks.”70 The artist, instead, saw the stereotype as a way of introducing the incarceration experience in a way that was more accessible. They held more appeal to dealers and collectors than they would if they were straightforward renderings of the experience.71 It would take many years before Shimomura would create straightforward renderings of internment; however, it was a subject to which he would return many times. Diary (1980’s) In the early 1980’s, Shimomura began a series of paintings based on the diary entries of his paternal grandmother, Toku, dating to the family’s internment in the Minidoka Relocation Center. On January 1, 1980, Shimomura submitted an application for general research fund allocation at the University of Kansas. The funding request was for a graduate research assistant from the Department of Eastern Languages and Cultures to translate Toku’s diaries. In his final Anne Collins Goodyear, “Roger Shimomura: An American Artist,” American Art 27:1 (2013), 78-79. 70
71
ibid 40
paragraph of the proposal, the artist acknowledges his lack of understanding of the Japanese language. “It is my intention to execute paintings as the translations are received. Without knowing what specific information the diaries contain it is impossible to estimate how many paintings will be executed in this series.”72 These translations, which were the product of the grant, were displayed next to each painting of the corresponding diary entry. In order to offer a more complete interpretation of the excerpts from Toku’s diaries, as well as Shimomura’s paintings, I will supplement my discussion with historical events and data. The Diary series does not simply serve as illustration for the chosen passages taken from Toku’s writings. Ostensibly, at this point, Shimomura was more interested in creating aesthetic interest than didactic works, but a personal iconography emerges: “I used the diaries as an excuse to do a painting; I’m more interested in making a good painting than moving anyone about the situation my grandmother was in.”73 This series continues the familial history that began in the Minidoka series. In addition, the artist utilized the same aesthetic tropes with which he experimented during his earlier forays into Japanese imagery. The adoption of familiar forms and visual devices from ukiyo-e, such as kaimami, and their continued usage in this series represents the emergence of a personal iconography that will continue to develop throughout the period covered by this chapter. The emergence of this iconography is important for numerous reasons. Beyond Shimomura’s creation of a unique and identifiable style, the use of a personal iconography reflects the questions posed within his works about dual identity. In addition, the use of this personal iconography allowed the artist to create works that are foremost aesthetically Roger Shimomura, “Research Plan, Supporting Data, and Proposed Time Schedule,” attachment to Application for General Research Fund Allocation, University of Kansas, Fiscal Year 1981. 72
Irene Clurman, “Wartime Diaries Turned into Paintings by Artist,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver, CO), May 29, 1981.
73
41
interesting and appealing to buyers, but additionally tell a history that most viewers would prefer to forget. Shimomura created multiple versions of Toku’s diary entry for December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor Day). Here she wrote, “When I came back from church I heard the dreamlike news that Japanese airplanes had bombed Hawaii. I was surprised beyond belief. I sat in front of the radio and listened to the news all day. It was said this morning at 6 a.m. Japan declared war on the United States. Our future has become gloomy. I pray that God will stay with us.” Each version depicts a close-up of a Japanese woman, looking rather pensive. The woman, presumably Toku, is portrayed as a prostitute, with her robes closed in the front. In the most famous version, Toku’s bust and face are large in the foreground, and barely visible beyond the shoji screen (Fig. 7). In the middle ground is a snow-capped mountain, taken almost exactly from Hokusai’s 36 Views of Mt. Fuji. The radio to which she listens is situated directly over her right shoulder. As previously stated, Shimomura was likely not aware of the iconography of ukiyo-e. However, this sign system allows for an interesting, if unintended, reading of the painting. Toku’s identification as a prostitute lies not only in her garments being fastened in front, but also in the handkerchief in her mouth. In ukiyo-e, this trope illustrates the moments just after a courtesan has performed oral sex, using the handkerchief to remove the remnants of her lover’s ejaculation. In this image, if one has no knowledge of the symbolism of ukiyo-e, Toku’s posture and actions may be read as anxiety. If the viewer believes that she is chewing on the handkerchief while listening to devastating news, this action may translate as a nervous habit, much like nailbiting or twisting hair around her fingers. However, from an informed perspective, the painting becomes a powerful tool of foreshadowing once one is familiar with the signs appropriated by the artist. Toku’s handkerchief wipes away the foul taste that will be left in her mouth after she is
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metaphorically used by the U.S. government. She will be taken away from the life that she has built, forced to trade her dignity for her alleged security, with no regard for her civil rights or comfort, much less pleasure. Six weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, titled “Executive Order Authorizing the Secretary of War to Prescribe Military Areas.” The result was that within two days, military zones were created in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. These states, particularly those on the coast, had high concentrations of Japanese Americans. Many Americans feared that the presence of people of Japanese ancestry was a threat to their security, and the government acted to extract the almost 120,000 Japanese Americans living on the West coast. Initially, they were encouraged to move inland on their own, but in March 1942, they were forced to stay put and await compulsory relocation by the military. During the interim, many had lost their jobs and all access to their bank accounts.74 Those that owned their own businesses suffered losses because of the fear and racism reinforced by the war. A small amount of relief was offered on December 12, 1941, when it was announced that Japanese Americans would be able to access $100 per month of their own money for living expenses. Although this amount was prohibitive of extravagant expenses, for most families it was enough to survive, as it would convert to about $1433 in today’s economy. Toku’s relief is palpable in her diary: “I spent all day at home. Starting from today we were permitted to withdraw $100 from the bank. This was for our sustenance of life, we who are enemy to them. I deeply felt America’s largeheartedness in dealing with us.” Her attitude is difficult for the contemporary viewer to understand. Why should she be so grateful for being allowed access to Sandra Taylor, “Japanese Americans: From Relocation to Redress,” in Journey to Minidoka: The Paintings of Roger Shimomura (Ogden, UT: Collett Art Gallery, 1983), 3–5.
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her own money? The artist told me that this way of thinking was standard for Issei, or firstgeneration Japanese Americans. However, he explained that there was another side that the Issei kept hidden. The Issei were individually divided, grateful for niceties, yet angry about their treatment by the U.S. government. As Shimomura recounts, So many Japanese Americans, especially the second generation, my parents’ generation were caught between their traditional Japanese parents, the immigrants, and their kids, that were being completely Americanized, and had the same values and everything else as the majority of the population. But, the Japanese that came over, the grandparents, they were divided right in half – I don’t mean that the population was divided, but that each person was divided, individually divided between mixed values of on one hand, being so appreciative of anyone who gave them anything, and then on the other hand, I have poems and songs that my grandmother wrote and sang with other groups of Issei, the first generation, bitching about coming to this country and being treated like trash. When I read those, I couldn’t believe it, because up to that point, I’d never seen that other side of the immigrants.75
As Shimomura attests, the poems and songs that the Issei utilized as an outlet for their anger toward the U.S. government were kept very private. The above diary entry demonstrates gratitude to an extent that is unfathomable to the vast majority of viewers. The divide within Toku is not obvious in the diary entry; however, Shimomura hinted at it within the painting, as I will show in the following paragraph. In addition, the creation of these paintings reflects the artist’s own divided self; he chooses to tell a familial history through Toku’s diaries, allowing him to portray personal experiences while maintaining a distance by using another’s memories. In order to understand the multivalent layers of meaning within this one painting, I will discuss it in terms of government policies, the personal history of Toku, both within the diary entry, as well as the oral history passed down to the artist, and the imagery chosen by the artist to illustrate this particular diary entry. Diary: December 12, 1941 shows Toku through a gap in a structure, sitting at a small desk, chin resting on her fist, gazing out vacantly (Fig. 8). Her posture 75
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 44
and gaze are reminiscent of Katsukawa Shunshō’s Woman Writing a Letter. Behind a shoji screen to Toku’s right, the silhouette of Superman looms over her. In this painting, her hairstyle and robes are much simpler, but her garments still closed in front. She is caught in a moment of thought during a quiet time of mundane pursuits. On her desk, there is a blank hand scroll, a book, and a box containing her brush/pen and ink. This is down time for the prostitute; she is no longer in the finery associated with her trade, but instead is stripped down to the basics. Shimomura’s chosen imagery for this painting may be construed as a statement about the U.S. government’s attitude toward Japanese Americans after Pearl Harbor. In my interpretation, the change in Toku’s appearance and actions may be directly related to the appearance of Superman. Initially, one may see him as the hero, granting Toku the access to funds that she desperately needs in order to survive. However, he may represent the ultimate big brother figure, watching over the enemy to ensure her proper conduct. Superman is an inherently American hero, and his presence, instead of seeming protective, becomes oppressive and menacing in this context. As a stand-in for the U.S. government, he does not allow Toku enough money to resume her fine lifestyle, but only enough for necessities. His standing position while she sits on the floor establishes their relationship: he is dominant and she is subservient to his whims. She is forced to remain in her current predicament as long as he watches her closely, under the guise of the protecting hero. Toku destroyed many of her diaries because of her anxiety about her predicament. In Shimomura’s grant proposal for funding to translate the remaining diaries, the artist explains Toku’s actions. “During the outbreak of World War II she was forced to destroy approximately 60% of her diaries, selecting copies that had any sentimental references to Japan. This was due to the fact that the F.B.I. was intensely investigating the loyalties of the Japanese Americans on the
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westcoast [sic] and would most likely have considered her an enemy alien should these references have been discovered. Hundreds of innocent people were imprisoned as spy suspects for less evidence.”76 The silhouette of Superman in Diary: December 12, 1941, when viewed in light of this information, is definitely menacing. He is the F.B.I. agent, spying on Toku’s private thoughts, recorded in her diary. Her history as a nurse in the Japanese Army Nursing Corps, 21st Relief Squad, during which time she was awarded for valor in action by the Emperor of Japan, could already have made her a target as a suspected enemy alien. Sentimentality toward her home nation would only exacerbate the situation. The fact that all of her diaries since the outbreak of WWII remain intact demonstrates that her recording of personal thoughts was filtered. Although she did not abandon the recording of her personal history, she mediated her thoughts with fear of being incarcerated. The artist offered an original interpretation of a diary passage based on its text, mediated with historical and lived facts. The Diary series may not directly illustrate diary passages, but Diary: December 12, 1941 functions as a metaphor for her new practice of journaling – she had to begin to write as though someone was looking over her shoulder, and she had to ensure that her thoughts were above reproach. Shimomura created paintings corresponding to Toku’s most anxious diary entries between the attack on Pearl Harbor and the family’s incarceration. In addition to these, he illustrated a single entry that reflected quiet domesticity during these difficult times (Fig. 9). On January 7, 1942, Toku wrote: “We had snow all day. The stain of the earth was covered by a wet Roger Shimomura, “Research Plan, Supporting Data, and Proposed Time Schedule,” attachment to Application for General Research Fund Allocation, University of Kansas, Fiscal Year 1981. 76
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blanket. It was impressive and beautiful. I remained in the house and played with Roger (grandson).” Her tone is optimistic, as if she believed the clean snow could wash away the horrors of the ongoing war, at least temporarily. Interestingly, the quiet tranquility reflected in the passage was not the only thing that made Shimomura’s choice unique. This is the only diary entry he illustrates in which he is mentioned. In this painting, Toku is returned to her former glory in dress and hairstyle. She is bent over a small box, napping with her head resting on her arm. The young Roger plays quietly by himself directly in front of her, making a mess by spilling a goldfish bowl on the floor. A frame of wooden beams separates interior and exterior space. On the right, this frame almost forms an empty shoji screen, and on the left, a porch. The view is almost completely unhindered. In the middle and backgrounds, snow covers quaint houses, streets, and mountains. The scene is set in Japan, although it took place in Seattle. The mountains are reminiscent of Hokusai’s in the 36 Views of Mount Fugi series. This painting is quite different than most in the series because of the subject. Although Toku is often shown in quiet contemplation, there is almost always an aura of angst. Instead, here she is portrayed as carefree, napping while her toddler grandson plays, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil that is plaguing their lives. This is not an image of impending incarceration, but instead, the artist’s selection of subject and mood creates a picture of life continuing despite the desolation of the future. Within the Diary series, the earliest painting of a diary entry dated from internment in the Minidoka camp is from May 21, 1942 (Fig. 10). “Early in the morning the laundry area looked like a battlefield. I started to eat my meals in my room. The lunch meal was wieners and once again at dinner it was bologna. I had a poor appetite. I spent time cleaning and doing laundry. Yoichi Hayakawa put our name on our bucket and washtub. At night I could not sleep so I took a
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pill.” Toku’s words focus on mundane things, such as the poor food and issues with laundry. She seems pessimistic about her situation, relying on pills to sleep in her new environment, although her complaints are kept to a minimum. Shimomura captures the simplicity of her statements, but creates a foreboding mood. Toku is featured in a close-up view, holding a bowl of food. In the background, the interior space is mostly obscured, and a barbed wire fence can be seen through a window. Later, the appearance of barbed wire in this series became a point of contention between the artist and collectors. In an interview with Anne Collins Goodyear, the artist states: “I liked the idea that people were bothered by the little bit of barbed wire depicted. We’d be talking about one barb that’s an inch long, and they would say, ‘God, I’d love to have that painting, but the barbed wire just bothers me,’ which shows that they weren’t ready yet to accept the work based on its real intention.”77 Even as collectors made offers to buy his works if he would paint over the barbed wire, Shimomura refused. In addition to wanting to rid the paintings of barbed wire, buyers rarely asked for the accompanying diary entries, demonstrating that most were prized for their aesthetic appeal over their subject matter. In this painting, Toku’s garments are ornate in pattern and rich in color, and her hair is quite intricately styled. Her bowl is full of rice and hot dogs. Her puffy cheeks show that she has a mouth full of this food, but her expression denotes that she is not enjoying it, and may even be on the verge of expelling it. In both the diary passage and in the painting, it is obvious that the food is not to her tastes, and she resents the necessity of eating it. The initially comical sight of this refined woman about to vomit is suddenly sad as one notices the barbed wire and considers its implications. In an interview, Shimomura spoke with me about Japanese American attitudes
77
Goodyear, “Roger Shimomura,” 78-79. 48
toward the camp. He gave a short anecdote about his father’s public opinion regarding the food, which contrasted with his grandmother’s diary passage: My dad even said some things that really pissed me off, that were embarrassing. There were newspaper clippings in this one book that someone made up, and one of them was my dad saying, “Some of these things aren’t so bad in camp. The food is pretty good,” and all this kind of stuff. Oh, Jesus. I’d read my grandmother’s diary and she said the food was inedible, “I can’t eat this,” and that was meant for very private consumption, what she said. But my dad was off on this other trip about not wanting to seem whiny, that he understood why there were shortcomings, and understood this and that, and after all, this was all built over night, and he was just being so fucking benevolent about everything.78 The disparity in opinion about the food might be the difference in generations and a reflection of the artist’s statement about internal division. However, it is more likely that is the contrast in statements made for public and private consumption. The artist’s father’s benevolence was a reflection of his not wanting to seem whiny. Toku’s distaste, on the other hand, was private, and therefore, more likely an honest opinion. Although the small portion of barbed wire in the painting is the most obvious visual cue of the ignominy suffered in camp, this image demonstrates a small indignity, as well. In the other images of Toku, she is a well-groomed and aloof figure of beauty; however, in this one, mortification counteracts the effects of her stylish appearance. Returning to the Diary series as a whole, the interior scenes changed very little between Shimomura’s depictions of Toku’s diary entries before relocation and after. The most obvious difference in location is the inclusion of barbed wire in the relocation scenes, either in exterior scenes, or seen from a door or window opening in an interior setting. The excerpt from May 23, 1942 demonstrates the mundane subjects discussed in Toku’s diaries in camp, as opposed to the anxiety-filled entries between the attack on Pearl Harbor and the family’s exodus to the 78
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 49
relocation center. “It was clear until the rain started in the evening. As always, the entire day was monotonous. During the evening Ogishima and I paid a visit to Kubota san who was ill in bed. Even if you are healthy, it is not very pleasant nowadays. I went to bed listening to the rain drops which sounded like machine guns.” Although some angst can be detected in her words, her concerns have turned to the weather, boredom, and discomfort. In the painting based on this entry, Shimomura focuses on the rain (Fig. 11). There are two Japanese women hovering under their umbrellas, fighting through the storm in the foreground. The rain is exaggerated in a dramatic way that is familiar to ukiyo-e. As Bell explains, “Even in everyday scenes figures are often depicted struggling dramatically against the forces of rain and wind, or tottering under the weight of huge loads, or riding horses at breakneck speed.”79 Figures struggling through driving rain are featured in Utagawa Hiroshige’s Fifty Three Stations of the Takaido: White Rain at Shono and Two Men on a Sloping Road in the Rain, as well as Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s Heavy Rain. The middle ground of Shimomura’s painting is occupied by similar figures, depicted as shadows. In the background, the horizon line is dominated by four rows of barbed wire, reminding the viewer that the storm is not necessarily the biggest worry of the women powering through the rough elements. As with all of Shimomura’s depictions of women from his grandmother’s diaries, their robes are closed in front. Fabric covers their heads, adding additional protection from the rain, but also obscuring hairstyles. They carry umbrellas, which are popular inclusions in shunga images, as phallic symbols.80
79
David Bell, Ukiyo-e Explained (Kent: Global Oriental, 2004), 79.
80
Timon Screech, Sex and the Floating World, Erotic Images in Japan 1700-1820 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1999), 189. 50
While the umbrellas may be understood simply as useful tools for protecting the women from the rain, I posit a secondary meaning. The masculine protection offered by the umbrellas does little to help the women as they struggle in the darkness. In fact, they seem to have an even more difficult time maneuvering through the wind because of them. When read this way, the umbrellas become a symbol of Minidoka, as the masculine (U.S. government) form of protection for the Japanese Americans. Unfortunately, it is clear that this is really just a token gesture of protection, which actually makes life more difficult for the incarcerated women. The shadows that move along with them in the darkness serve a dual purpose. At first glance, they are ominous, and paired with the barbed wire and the storm, the women seem in mortal danger from the threats. Looking more closely, the shadows are other Japanese women, fighting the storm as well. These shadows are metaphors for the women in the foreground: in this harsh environment, the women lose their identities and humanity, reduced to shadows of what they once were. Within the painting, the torment of the storm that reduces visibility (and therefore identity and humanity of the shadows) echoes the constant fear of Toku; in this situation, even something as mundane as raindrops begin to sound like machine guns and remind her of the perils of war and her own incarceration. Many of Shimomura’s paintings based on Toku’s diary passages reflect an interest in the weather. In all of her diary entries, the first thing that Toku mentions is the weather, even if it is the single word “Clear.” Her entry for August 27, 1942 focused exclusively on the weather: “Storm. What a view! I have never seen such a dust storm. I stayed in my room and looked out the window. It was so dark we were all afraid to move. Pessimistic words came out of everyone’s mouth. We were sent to such a harsh place.” With all of the concerns about incarceration, such as health risks associated with people living in such close quarters, loss of
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personal property, and lack of dignity, Toku gives voice to a seemingly mundane concern of the internees. The weather was quite different in Minidoka than they were used to, and with the fierce storms came fear of the unknown. For those Japanese Americans that only had experience with the extreme humidity of Japan and the Pacific North West, dust storms offered a new type of dread; they were unaware of how to protect themselves and their environment from these storms (Minidoka was almost entirely self-sufficient due to farming efforts by the internees). In Shimomura’s painting of this entry, two Japanese women stand just beside a black rectangle, presumably an open door (Fig. 12). The storm is so bad that the artist portrayed it as a vast wasteland that is too dark to see. The women are in their finery, hair coiffed in a stylish manner. The one closest to the blackness stares out into the void, curious, but without fear. The other stands behind her, hand raised to her mouth, as if in horror at the sight. The composition is split in half, with the black doorway on the left, and the women framed by a shoji screen on the right. The screen would seem to offer little resistance against such a devastating storm, but the only sign of worry is the second woman, covering her mouth. Her eyes are not stretched wide with horror, nor do either of the women hold on to anything to stay in place. Their robes are not even ruffled with a slight breeze, much less devastating winds. The diary entry that accompanies the painting is the only real connection to the frightening weather. Without the supplemental text, the black rectangle is as innocuous as a closed door or a view onto a dark night. Toku describes a day of calm weather in a diary entry from September 2, 1942. “The morning air was fresh. I woke up early to experience the peacefulness for a few moments.” The horrifying dust storm of the previous week is forgotten, and Toku seems optimistic about the day ahead of her. The corresponding painting is the only one in the series that does not include any human figures (Fig. 13). Colorful flowers, likely azaleas, dominate the entire right side and
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bottom of the composition. The sky is peaceful, even though there are clouds. The middle ground holds rows of barbed wire, mostly obscured by the flowers, and a bird, apparently an osprey, is perched on top, its head turned up to the sky. Although neither the osprey nor the azaleas are common in Idaho, both are native to Japan, demonstrating the artist’s penchant for changing the settings of these paintings from their actual locations to Japan. To the informed viewer, the symbolism of the azalea in shunga is closely associated with that of the chrysanthemum, for which it is often substituted. While the chrysanthemum is a symbol of Japan, both the azalea and the chrysanthemum may represent male love (homosexual encounters), and are closely associated with a seasonal cycle. The Chrysanthemum Festival (a trysting location for male lovers in Nanshoku stories) takes place in September, the same month as the diary entry.81 The beauty of nature reflects the sanguinity of Toku’s diary passage, but the barbed wire breaks it. The bird of prey perched on the menacing boundary line and the absence of human figures adds to the ominous undercurrent of the otherwise decorative image. Shimomura utilizes these elements to undermine the hopefulness of Toku’s words and remind the viewer that though she found moments of peace, she was still being held against her will. In addition to the weather, Toku wrote about special events in the camp. On Christmas, Toku wrote: “The muddy ground was completely covered by the snow. It was like a beautiful white cloth and a suitable sight for Christmas. The dinner was in mess hall number 7. The waitresses and cooks were all dressed up in the beautifully decorated mess hall. The radio emitted melodies of Christmas. We happily sat at our family table. At 9 p.m. Santa Claus appeared. For these moments I forgot where I was.” At this point in her incarceration, Toku offers a different point of view; she neither seems horrified at her predicament, nor hopeful for
81
Ibid, 153-154. 53
an end to it. Instead, she seems to have accepted her fate, and she and her fellow internees are striving to achieve a sense of normalcy. Although this Christmas celebration is far different than what they were probably used to, there was still a sense of holiday cheer, and Toku seems to have enjoyed herself. This is the first diary entry in which she states that she was able to forget her circumstances, at least temporarily. In Shimomura’s painting of the passage, a group of individuals is seen in silhouette behind a shoji screen (Fig. 14). The only figure in color is Santa Claus, who has not yet fully passed behind the screen. The five Japanese figures, two men and three women, are identifiable by their hairstyles. They appear to be having animated discussions, all of them caught in suspended motion. While Toku’s diary focuses attention on the snow, and its ability to render everything pristine and white, it is not depicted in this painting. Instead, Shimomura’s focus is on the lone colored figure, Santa Claus. This pop of color creates the festive mood within the painting, reflecting Toku’s statements in the diary passage. In addition, the appearance of Santa Claus in the painting may be read as another example of internal division. In the silhouettes of the revelers, they appear to be dressed in traditional Japanese garb and hairstyles. However, the American version of Santa Claus was a welcome distraction. The internees are stylistically Japanese, yet culturally American, demonstrating a dual identity. In addition, the appreciation of Santa’s appearance is tempered by the muted tones of the revelers viewed in silhouette. The holiday celebrations continued into the New Year, and Toku’s entry for New Year’s Day is again celebratory. “I shared homemade sushi with close friends. People forgot that we were in camp and celebrated by wishing each other a Happy New Year.” Again, Toku and her friends are able to forget their circumstances and celebrate, this time even including traditional Japanese food. In the corresponding painting, Toku holds out a small tray of sushi rolls to an
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unseen guest (Fig. 15). Her layered robes are of a less elaborate pattern than many of her previous ensembles, although her hairstyle is quite intricate. The subtle details of this painting may contain a great deal of meaning. The color palette of the outermost layer of robes denotes Toku as a sophisticated fashionista. The grayed down complimentary colors (violet and yellow) in a simple pattern, particularly paired with the complex neutral of the dark taupe under dress, are highly refined choices to wabi aesthetic sensibilities. Haga Koshiro, in a discussion of the wabi aesthetic states, “ the wabi ideal of beauty sets simple and unpretentious expression above the complex and striking. It abhors excess; it admires restraint.”82 The floral layer also combines grayed down complimentary colors, with the mauve background and dark green leaves framing the neutral chrysanthemums. The color choices denote maturity and good taste, associated with the wabi aesthetic ideal. Her hairstyle is again intricate, but the accoutrements within the style are odd. The sticks going through her hair resemble disposable chopsticks from cheap Asian restaurants (prior to being broken apart). In addition, they are covered in irregular spots, resembling food splatter. The juxtaposition of sophisticated finery in her clothes and makeshift sloppiness of her hair accessories mirrors her actions of the day. Shimomura depicts Toku as she tries to maintain a celebratory attitude, despite her incarceration. In addition to Toku’s color palette denoting maturity, the chrysanthemums may be read as a secondary sign of age to the informed viewer. As story settings for sex with women in shunga took place in spring, and the Chrysanthemum Festival and Nanshoku episodes took place in the fall, the choice of this particular flower demonstrates that she is past her sexual prime. The
Haga Koshiro, “The Wabi Aesthetic Through the Ages,” in Nancy Hume, ed., Japanese Aesthetics and Culture: A Reader (New York: State University of New York Press, 1995), 251.
82
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chrysanthemum offers another layer of symbolism in this particular image; that is, it denotes her position of subservience. Although this flower is rarely associated with anal sex for women, there is the suggestion of a power relationship inherent in this type of encounter.83 The informed viewer may infer that by wearing this flower, Toku is the penetrated, under the absolute power of the penetrator. This relationship of power mirrors her status as incarcerated, even as she celebrates with friends. In addition, a stylized chrysanthemum is used as the seal of the Imperial Family of Japan. This allusion to Japan denotes Toku’s status as foreign, and justifies her incarceration. There are twenty-five paintings in the Diary series. Although none are direct illustrations of diary entries, they form a narrative of Toku’s turmoil spanning the attack on Pearl Harbor through internment. In displaying these works with the accompanying diary entries, the artist amplified his grandmother’s voice. Although Shimomura’s voice may be found in his selection of diary entries and their visual depictions within the paintings, he still did not tell his own story. As the 1980s progressed, Shimomura began to include his personal experiences and anxieties in works, finally discovering his own voice, although he still did not share his memories of incarceration. The Return to Pop Although Shimomura never truly abandoned Pop aesthetics in his narrative paintings, the subjects of Pop art forcefully returned to his works in the mid-1980’s. The artist maintained an interest in depicting his dual identity as a Japanese American; however, during this period his paintings are no longer narrative. In Kabuki Play from 1985, Superman makes an appearance, in the form of a mask, as does Donald Duck (Fig. 16). A sword splits the lithograph diagonally,
83
Screech, Floating World, 152. 56
held by a disembodied hand in the upper right and ending outside of the composition on the lower left. Space is gendered, with males on the left and females on the right, although two masculine forms penetrate the feminine space. The central figure on the bottom is a Japanese man wearing a Superman mask. His race is depicted in his garment, hairstyle, and slanted eyes that do not quite line up with the holes in the mask. Just above him, Donald Duck, also in Japanese garb, reaches across to feed a pearl to a blonde Caucasian Cinderella. Stamey identifies the pearl as a sly reference to the attack on Pearl Harbor, which is echoed in the form of the imperial plane.84 Cinderella appears entranced, not noticing the rather phallic airplane aimed directly at her forehead. To her right is a Japanese woman, watching the interaction between her counterpart and the cartoon duck. This image may be interpreted as a reflection of the artist’s questioning of identity. The visual language of comic books and cartoons became important for the expression of dual identity. “There was a point that I realized what I was painting about had to do with dual identity. . . I realized that doing the early paintings of just the ukiyoe wood block style was perhaps a little too removed intellectually . . . So then I had to step back a little bit and introduce those Western icons into the work in order to present a more balanced picture of what this idea was about.”85 Shimomura’s dual identity is the result of being born and raised culturally American, while his race set him apart as Japanese. In this particular image, the artist plays with the idea of JapaneseAmerican identity through two elements. One is the Japanese man masquerading as Superman. The second is Donald Duck taking on stereotypical Japanese attributes, such as the darkening of his feathers, the Japanese garments, and the facial expression and posture of the Japanese enemy 84
Stamey, Pop, Place, and Personal Identity, 44.
Roger Shimomura, interview by Mark Luce, “Roger Shimomura: His Art and His Identity,” Lawrence Journal-World (Lawrence, KS), January 11, 1996. 85
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from World War II propaganda cartoons. While Donald Duck is unquestionably American, his appearance connotes him as the Japanese enemy, a menace to the unsuspecting blonde woman. As she is distracted by the pearl that he offers, an airplane with the red circle of the Japanese Imperial Navy is flying directly toward her head. The Japanese woman watches, unconcerned for the welfare of her American counterpart. None of the figures notice the sword that separates them. The artist paints the stereotypes associated with his race in a comical way, but this campy depiction of racism incites the viewer to ask numerous questions: Why does the Japanese man want to be Superman? How does the change in Donald Duck’s culture allow him to be portrayed as a menace? Why do the two women seem so unconcerned with their own welfare when facing the nefarious schemes of the Japanese cartoon? By implying these questions on the surface of his works, Shimomura finally found a way to express his own experiences in his art. In the later 1980s, Shimomura continued to blend Pop icons and Japanese stereotypes in order to explore identity, although the threatening nature of Japanese men is much more obvious than in his earlier works. In the Untitled series (# 1 – 4) from 1987 - 88, the artist created long, rectangular compositions featuring famous Andy Warhol paintings (Figs. 17-20). In # 1 and # 4, Warhol’s Marilyn is featured, and in # 2 and # 3, Liz is a focal point. This type of imagery is reminiscent of Shimomura’s earlier Pop works, where Warhol featured as a major influence. A generic white rice cooker makes an appearance in each of the four lithographs, as does a Japanese man with red paint on his head. Random household objects from American culture appear in each picture (a crayon, lipstick, television, and a wrench, respectively). Japanese elements appear in the first three objects (an airplane, script, and script, respectively), but in the final image in the series, these elements are replaced by a fierce look on the Japanese man’s face as he gazes at Marilyn, fulfilling the stereotype. Every element in all four works is cropped, and
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this cropping may be read as a metaphor for identity: the artist is neither fully American nor fully Japanese to the outside world; therefore his personality and character must be split. I have discussed the artist’s statements about the internal division of the Issei, but in these prints, a different internal division is utilized to describe his own identity. The influence of Warhol’s Liz and Marilyn continue to dominate Shimomura’s prints of 1988. In Nisei Woman and Liz and Nisei Man and Liz, Warhol’s iconic image is cropped in half in the bottom of the composition, with a Nisei (second-generation Japanese-American) woman and man, respectively, in the top of the picture plane (Figs. 21 and 22). Both appear highly acculturated to American society, wearing Western dress and hairstyles, although they date to 1960’s styles. In the second screen print, a rice cooker appears in the bottom left corner, creating a stronger tie to Japanese culture for the Nisei man than for his female counterpart. This idea appears repeatedly in later works; however, this pairing of images is Shimomura’s first blatant reference to the incongruous levels of acceptability afforded Japanese men compared to women in post-WWII American society. This attitude may be attributed to numerous variables, such as the stereotype of exotic sexuality associated with Japanese women in popular prints or the view that women were less likely to be a military or physical threat to American men. Stacey Uradomo clarifies Shimomura’s understanding of the interracial pairings: “During the 1980’s [Shimomura] believed that the Japanese American male was in a particularly frustrating position with respect to marriage. Unable to find Japanese American brides [because for Japanese American women the] ‘Anglo-American male was the ultimate prize’”86 The uneven acceptance of Japanese American men and their female counterparts is depicted in Kabuki Party, from 1988. In the image, Warhol’s Marilyn takes up almost the entire
86
Roger Shimomura, quoted in Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity,” 108. 59
right side of the horizontal picture plane (Fig. 23). On the left side, a samurai warrior stares off into the distance, looking away from the Pop icon. He is framed in blue, with a rice cooker behind his head, and a paintbrush stroke in white sweeps behind him from the bottom left corner, behind Marilyn’s orange background, and back to arc underneath Warhol’s painting, ending on a larger than life tube of red lipstick. Although the background behind Marilyn is a bright red, the orange background of the painting sits directly next to the blue of the samurai’s half of the image. This creates a differentiation of space that is only possible with true complimentary colors. Although there is a forceful demarcation of space based on color and content, the single paint brushstroke unites the two fields, forcing the viewer to accept that both sides are only images, the creations of an artistic mind. Both are rendered as unnatural ideals, never existing in reality. Through this trope, Shimomura demonstrates that the frightening samurai warrior only exists symbolically, as does the figure of Marilyn Monroe as the ultimate female sex symbol. Shimomura delved into his personal identity in art through the inclusion of Pop icons, which were an allusion to his earlier artistic interests. In this later manifestation, particular focus was on comic book and cartoon characters from his childhood, as well as images from Pop art that are associated with his initial forays into the art world. He paired these Western images with stereotypical Japanese figures. As he began to settle into his own style and his own voice, his source images began to vary. So too did his subjects, as he explored identity in a very personal way. The “Yellow” Series In 1990, Shimomura worked on a new series of paintings, Return of the Yellow Peril. Each of the ten images features an acquaintance of the artist. The paintings were displayed with wall texts, describing the artist’s relationship with each acquaintance. Again, Shimomura uses
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humor to tackle the subject of identity, but instead of the usual iconic images standing in as stereotypes, the figures are friends of the artist, unknown to most viewers. This series was a response to numerous letters to the editor printed in his local newspaper. These letters were racist diatribes against perceived Japanese economic domination in the U.S.87 The artist responded with the series, Return of the Yellow Peril. In this series, the subjects appear to be playing dressup in a closet full of pajamas, many wearing sleepwear under Japanese printed robes, put together in a way to remind the viewer of kimonos. Included in the portraits are identifying accoutrements, whether to a career, pastime, or an aspect of their personal histories. The series title reflects the use of the phrase “yellow peril” to refer to the Japanese during and after WWII, although it had been around for much longer.88 With this title, the viewer may expect to see a collection of Japanese or Japanese American subjects, but the artist chose to portray a variety of races, genders, and ages in this series. In his statement for the solo exhibition of these works, Shimomura discusses the increase in anti-Japanese racism that was becoming prevalent in the U.S. at the time, due to “[a] failing U.S. car industry.” He had a singular purpose in creating these images: “This series of paintings and photographs is intended to represent the realization of America’s worst nightmare. The return of the ‘Yellow Peril’, the Japanization of America, starting right here in Lawrence, KS.”89 In Charles Kincaid: Dentist, Shimomura creates a portrait of his dentist dressed in plaid pajama pants, a t-shirt, and three layered robes (Fig. 24). He wears latex gloves, and the tools of his trade on a table right behind him. In addition to portraying Dr. Kincaid as a dentist, the artist 87
Stamey, Pop, Place, and Personal Identity, 51.
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Yellow Peril; or, Orient vs. Occident was the title of a 1911 book by American religious zealot G.G. Rupert. 89
Roger Shimomura, Solo Exhibition Statement, in Return of the Yellow Peril, Exh. cat. ed. William W. Lew (Spokane, WA: Cheney Cowles Museum, 1993). 61
alludes to his sense of humor through the Groucho Marx glasses in his hand. The accompanying text reads: “I call Charley, my dentist, ‘Dr. Feelgood.’ Since he has become my dentist I have actually started to look forward to root canals and dental caps. This is because of the Valium, stereo headphones, Nitrous Oxide, Novocain, and post operative pain killers that force me into much needed moments of complete relaxation.” This statement, while more about the artist than the subject, still informs the viewer that Charles Kincaid is just a normal dentist. His inclusion in the series is, much like all of the other subjects, sarcastic. Linda Bailey: Arts Administrator features a portrait of a woman in a sorority sweatshirt and yoga pants, covered in voluminous robes (Fig. 25). The descriptive panel states: “Linda Bailey is a 49-year-old arts administrator who was once married to a Lawrence physician. She once told me that in her college days she was a member of a sorority. In those days people of color were never allowed to become members of Greek organizations. Today, on the westcoast, this situation is slowly changing.” Again, the text describes a normal woman, with a career and a typical Midwestern history. In addition, these texts detail the relationship of the subjects to the artist. Linda Bailey has a somewhat personal relationship with him because they have discussed her marital history and college memories. Charles Kincaid’s relationship is more professional, as the artist can only recall details about his experiences with “Charley” as his dentist. In Shimomura’s self-portrait from this series, the artist presents himself in such a way as to eliminate the fear associated with his race (Fig. 26). The text that accompanies the painting reads: “I am a ‘sansei’, a third generation Japanese American. My parents, though 100% Japanese have never been to Japan. In 1990, I developed a serious heart problem while teaching at Carleton College, Northfield, Minnesota. For the duration of my stay at Carleton I divided my time between teaching performance art, writing my new theater piece, and monitoring my blood
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pressure hourly.” The painting features the artist in a Carleton College t-shirt, pajama pants, and a robe. He has a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in position to check his vitals, and the floor is littered with a video camera, tape, and notebook. By featuring his physical flaw (heart problem) with his passions of art and teaching, he presents himself to the viewer as harmless, far from the perceived Yellow Peril. The artist chose to depict a group of his friends and professional acquaintances in Lawrence, KS. It is a sampling of individuals of various races, religions, genders, and professions, none of which has anything to do with a Yellow Peril. This varied group demonstrates the ideal of the melting pot. Each person comes from a different background, but they are all linked through their relationships to the artist. In addition, the inclusion of Japanese robes on each subject, particularly with the humorous blend of pajamas or other clothes peeking out from underneath the robes, serves to show that the superficial exterior of an individual does not define the person. Lastly, by portraying himself in the same comical manner as his other subjects, the artist does not appear any more at home in the robes than those of other races; no matter that he is Japanese, his other attributes define him more than his race. Before finishing The Return of the Yellow Peril series, Shimomura created a series of lithographs, Yellow No Same in 1992 (Figs. 27 – 38). The barbed wire that divides each composition unifies these horizontally oriented rectangular images. In every picture, a different stereotypical Japanese man appears on the viewer’s side of the barrier, separated from characters on the opposite side. It is unclear who is being kept in, and who is kept out of the space delineated by the fence. The viewer receives a clue in Yellow No Same No. 9. Mickey Mouse is on the far side of the barbed wire, and behind him is a view of buildings that are similar to those depicted in Shimomura’s later works that portray the Minidoka Relocation Center. When read
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this way, each view shows the stereotypical Japanese men on the outside of the camp, and a variety of acculturated Japanese Americans inside. These interned figures range from smiling children, soldiers, and cowboys, to a sweet little old lady. This division between the stereotypical Japanese men and those figures on the other side are meant to call attention to the difference between Japanese and Japanese Americans. Although each of the men on the Japanese side is a stereotype of historical categories of men, they offer striking visual differences, allowing no room for confusion in the viewer. These two series, while differing in styles and media, have a similarity: they demonstrate the artist’s struggle with his dual identity, in which he is racially Japanese, yet culturally American. He utilizes his art to distance himself from his racial heritage in order to be perceived as an American, without a hyphen or further descriptive term. The inclusion of wall text with The Return of the Yellow Peril was not a new phenomenon in his work, but in this series, as opposed to Diary, the artist utilized his own voice to deal with his own struggle. Furthermore, the addition of a contemporary self-portrait is an important shift in his work as a whole. The experiments with styles and media of the previous decades helped him to discover an aesthetic sensibility that defines his future works. More importantly, the changes in subject and content help him to discover his voice, through which he can work out his issues of identity and history. Men and Women As I discussed in relation to Nisei Man and Liz and Nisei Woman and Liz, Shimomura portrays the differences in racial acceptance for men and women of Japanese heritage. In the mid- to late 1990’s, the artist created numerous images featuring couples, each picture depicting a different aspect of racial stereotypes in sexual encounters. The first of these is Match, No Mix: No. 1, a lithograph from 1993 (Fig. 39). The rectangular picture plane is split into two panels. On
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the left, a stereotypical couple from an ukiyo-e picture is kissing, and on the right, a Caucasian couple in comic-book style is doing the same. The Japanese couple keeps their eyes open, as the woman sticks out her tongue, caught as it just reaches the crease in the man’s lips. The Caucasian couple is in a passionate embrace, eyes closed, mouths locked together. On the left, the man and woman are of an almost equal height, whereas on the right, the woman must reach up while the man leans down. The couples are different, not only in appearance, but in their dedication to the romantic moment. The Japanese couple seems unaffected by their actions, although they depend on the sensual woman to progress their actions. The Caucasian couple is fully lost in the moment, and the larger man is assumed to be the seducer. The artist utilizes the character types and common sexual imagery from two distinct popular art forms, each of the two together demonstrate the stereotypes associated with Japanese vs. American sexuality. These two couples are replaced by others in a follow-up lithograph from 2001, Mix and Match: No. 1 (Fig. 40). In the left panel, a Caucasian male is kissing a Japanese female, and on the right, a Japanese man is ogling a Caucasian female, who looks out to the viewer, as if asking for help. The Japanese woman’s face is obscured by the kiss, and it appears as though the man is pulling her nude body closer. They are absorbed in each other and the moment. The Japanese male is a stereotype from WWII propaganda, with exaggeratedly slanted eyes, black glasses, a villainous moustache, and gigantic buckteeth. The blonde woman at whom he leers is generically beautiful, and seemingly afraid, or at least uncomfortable, with his attentions. The Caucasian male and female are again drawn in a comic book style, with the Japanese woman in Shimomura’s typical Pop/ukiyo-e aesthetic. The Japanese male is drawn differently in this picture; his features are not only based on WWII propaganda, but his figure is drawn in the comic style used for this type of character in propaganda cartoons. I posit that the artist utilized
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the different styles in order to magnify the effect of the stereotypes of sexuality based on race and gender. The American male is a seducer, as is the sensual exotic female. The Japanese man is sinister, not only in times of war, but also in his approach of the beautiful blonde woman. The Caucasian woman is incapable of acting without the seduction of the strong, American man. She looks for help from the viewer because she is powerless against the foreign villain that wants to take her. Before creating this diptych in 2001, Shimomura tackled these subjects separately in both painting and print. Enter the Rice Cooker, a screen print from 1994 portrays a kabuki actor spying on a woman, seen predominantly in silhouette through a shoji screen (Fig. 41). Her redgloved hand, a small bit of arm, and her makeup compact are seen through a gap in the screen. She seems stylish, with an up-do and form-fitting clothes, apparently applying her make-up. The viewer has to assume her race is Caucasian, based on the small bit of skin visible. The sight mesmerizes the Kabuki actor, staring through the gap. The kabuki actor is familiar from Edo period prints. In Shimomura’s modern version, the actor is frozen, gripping the rice cooker in his arms. His painted face and voluminous robes create a sense of menace around him. Because he is in the foreground, he is much larger than the unsuspecting woman, adding to the feeling of danger in the picture. The mon, or emblem or Japanese family heraldic symbol, of concentric squares in his costume denotes a particular identity for this Kabuki actor. From the perspective of the informed viewer, the actor is Ichikawa Danjūrō, or at least one of the many male actors of this name from the most famous family of Kabuki actors. The name is passed down through generations, up to the current day.90 Although the artist and the viewer have no knowledge of this identification, the 90
Bell, Ukiyo-e Explained, 148. 66
actor’s identity would have been obvious to a contemporary Edo audience. Unknown to the artist, the fearsome appearance of the actor dressed as a warrior functions well for the purpose of creating a menacing effect in this print. A pair of triptychs from the same year depicts the opposite scenario: the Japanese female in a lovers’ embrace with a Caucasian male. After the Movies, No. 1 and No. 2 feature a stereotypical Japanese courtesan and Superman (Figs. 42 and 43). Each scene is viewed through an open window, and walls that obscure the scene of the trysts cover a large part of each canvas. In the first scene, Superman has just arrived; both figures are fully dressed, and while they embrace, they are not yet kissing. In the second, the lovers are kissing passionately, and the woman is nude, as is evidenced by her shoulder. There is nothing sinister in these paintings; the woman expresses no fear, and the only voyeur is the viewer. The rendering of the Japanese woman in an ukiyo-e style adds to the romantic fantasy created for the male viewer. As Superman’s face is obscured, the male viewer is invited to take his place in the arms of the exotic beauty. With her depiction in the style of Japanese pornographic images, there is no confusing her with an average Japanese American woman; she is a sensual courtesan, sexually available to the viewer. The rendering of this couple is a socially acceptable scenario, but Shimomura depicts it as an unattainable fantasy. Although the viewer is invited to step into the place of the obscured Superman, he will never be able to become the super hero. In addition, by obscuring so much of the view with bricks and screens, distance is created between the viewer and the sexual acts portrayed, denying full entrance into the scene. Each of the couples represented in this section demonstrates stereotypical attitudes toward interracial dating. The paintings focus on the imbalance of perceptions about Japanese males and females in relation to sexuality. Although one may assume that the artist had some
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personal experience with this type of racism, he distanced himself from the discourse by painting generic cartoons. These scenes of interracial couples were painted just one year before Shimomura married the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Janet Davidson-Hues in 1995. Although he used these images to work through his issues with the incongruous racism associated with interracial dating for Japanese men and women, he would not address his personal experience with interracial dating in his art until 2009, in the painting Roger and Janet. In the interim, Shimomura would return to painting entries from his grandmother’s diaries before returning to his own voice and issues of identity. An American Diary In 1997, Shimomura returned to his grandmother’s diaries for inspiration, creating a second series of Diary paintings. In the newer series, the artist abandoned many of the elements of Japanese art that were so prevalent in the initial works, particularly historical Japanese clothing and hairstyles. In addition, he places the images in the camp, with its brick buildings, inside of which there are no shoji screens. His human figures are no longer flat, although his use of shading more closely resembles comic book images than photo-realistic painting. In an interview with Steven Hill in 1998, the artist discussed the changes in style. In reference to the viewers of Diary series: “There were people who chose not to become involved with what the paintings were actually about, but only what they looked like. They related to them much more on a decorative level.” About An American Diary, Shimomura stated: “This time around I felt an obligation to deal directly with the internment issue and to handle it in a way that these paintings read almost as comic strips.”91 The difference in Shimomura’s attitude may be attributed to his artistic maturity. In addition, he was definitely influenced by the funding source for the series: Steven W. Hill, “Artist Hopes Exhibit Will be Learning Experience,” Lawrence JournalWorld (Lawrence, KS), July 16, 1998, The Mag.
91
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the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund (CLPEF). The CLPEF is part of the Civil Liberties Act of 1988. The goal of the fund is to educate the public on Japanese internment during WWII.92 The funding for this series was based on a didactic approach to the subject matter. The inclusion of educational aspects in the series do not remove the images from the humorous approach that Shimomura takes to most subjects, but they are clearly didactic when viewed in comparison to the earlier series. Although the diary entries vary between the two series, there are a few that overlap. American Diary: December 7, 1941 (Seattle) is accompanied by the same text as the Diary painting of the same date (Fig. 44). In the newer version, Toku appears in a window, gazing at the radio from which she hears the news about the attack on Pearl Harbor. She is in contemporary Western garb, her hair pulled back demurely, as opposed to the clothes and hairstyle of the Edo period courtesan that she wears in the four versions of this date in the original series. The brick exterior of her home signals that her location is Seattle, not Japan. One similarity between the two works, however, is the art deco radio. Visually the two series are different, particularly when comparing works painted for the same diary entry. The darker tones, blended with contemporary figures and actual settings, draw focus to the plight of Toku’s situation, as opposed to the decorative surfaces of the earlier canvases. American Diary: April 21, 1942 (Seattle) is accompanied by Toku’s text (Fig. 45): “At last the order for evacuation was given formally by General DeWitt. There were some limitations to the first move. Kazuo (son) along with some others will leave here on the 28th as an advance party. In haste we prepared for the leave.” Shimomura has not abandoned all elements of ukiyo-e,
“History of Civil Liberties Public Education Fund,” CLPEF Network, accessed August 11, 2012, http://www.momomedia.com/CLPEF/backgrnd.html#Link to History. 92
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as the mountains in the background are still reminiscent of Hokusai’s Mt. Fuji views in shape. However, these involve large patches of black for shading and sculpting. The mountains break up the dark left side of the canvas, which is dominated by the silhouettes of industrial buildings in front of a body of water. The right side features a sign taped to a brick wall. The paper is the civil exclusion order for the area, giving instructions to people of Japanese ancestry for relocation. The script is mostly squiggly lines, but the title and large print are enough to understand the meaning. The instructional poster is dated May 3, 1942, and the text is presumably the same as that from another poster from the same date. The instructions were incredibly specific, telling each head of family exactly what they were expected to bring. “Evacuees must carry with them on departure for the Assembly Center, the following property: (a) Bedding and linens (no mattress) for each member of the family; (b) Toilet articles for each member of the family; (c) Extra clothing for each member of the family; (d) Sufficient knives, forks, spoons, plates, bowls and cups for each member of the family; (e) Essential personal effects for each member of the family.”93 By painting only the title and large script legibly, Shimomura demonstrates less interest in the details of the proclamation than in the greater meaning for Toku. Toku’s concern in the diary entry is that the time had come for the family’s preparation for departure. The American Diary series differs quite drastically from the earlier Diary s series. In the American Diary paintings, Toku is not the central figure in most of these images, as she had been in the Diary series. The artist appears more often in this set of images than he did in the
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John L. DeWitt , "Civilian Exclusion Order No. 34," in In-Between Peoples, Item #32, http://chnm.gmu.edu/staff/sharon/as205_f09/collections/items/show/32 (accessed December 7, 2010).This text is taken from the poster from San Francisco, as it exists intact, unlike that from Seattle. 70
originals. In addition, this series comes closer to illustrations than do their counterparts. One more distinction is that the location is mentioned in the title. In the Diary series, each work was titled simply with the date of the diary entry. In this series, a location is given in parentheses next to the date. There are three different locations: Seattle, the family’s home; Camp Harmony, the temporary site of relocation while the Minidoka Relocation Center was under construction, and Minidoka, the concentration camp. Two paintings from Camp Harmony feature the artist as a child, as do two more in the series. In American Diary: May 16, 1942 (Camp Harmony), Toku writes: “Fine weather today, although it showered in the evening. In the afternoon Kazuo carried Roger in. I was able to enjoy him for only a few minutes. Today the process of accommodating the 8,000 Japanese from Seattle area finished. The camp became very lively.” In the painting, a small Roger is being carried on the shoulders of his father, Kazuo (Fig. 46). The ground behind them is a desolate gray, and the building is bleak beige. They are standing next to a wooden structure with a window, which takes up the entire right side of the composition. Father and son have small smiles as they go to see Toku. The camp does not appear particularly lively in Shimomura’s painted interpretation, but the evidence of the new arrivals is in the open doors and suitcases in the building in the background. The environment becomes bleaker as the scenes shift to Camp Minidoka. Accompanying American Diary: October 16, 1942 (Minidoka), Toku’s text reads: “It was fine weather today. I realized that today was Friday because fish was served. How monotonous life is here. Again, another day passed wastefully doing laundry and miscellaneous things.” Shimomura’s painting reflects Toku’s melancholy in the grayed down color palette and vast emptiness of the environment (Fig. 47). The right side of the composition features Toku’s
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body and arms scrubbing a piece of laundry on a yellow washboard. This tool is the brightest feature in the painting, highlighting its significance to her day. The left side is dominated by an empty ground, devoid of any defining elements besides a few clumps of scrub grass. There are rows of identical buildings in the background, surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence, with a watchtower on the other side. Shimomura’s irreverent humor is missing completely from this work; instead, Toku’s suffering and lack of hope infuses it. As time passed and the internees grew more accustomed to the Camp, Toku’s diary entries became less melancholic. As in the earlier series, special events and family gatherings seemed to be especially bright points in her day-to-day existence. In the text accompanying American Diary: June 26, 1943 (Minidoka), Toku writes: “Fine weather today. Because it was Roger’s birthday, Fumi (daughter) came over to visit us in the morning. In the afternoon, over tea and cake, we all had a lively time celebrating the day with Roger. In the evening the Tsuboi family joined us, so a total of 11 people gathered for a dinner of Ocean Perch, which we brought back from the mess hall.” The background of the image is dark, the wood paneling of the building’s exterior forming a large portion of the composition (Fig. 48). Through the window inside of the structure, the same color and paneling can be seen from the next building. The open doorway reveals a bright room, with a woman sweeping. A table with a bright yellow cloth holds a cake with four candles. The child Roger is just outside, bouncing a red ball. Although the environment is dark and reminds the viewer that the family is incarcerated, the inclusion of bright colors on the child’s clothes, as well as the ball and cloth under the cake demonstrates the small joys of Toku’s day. These thirty paintings from An American Diary will not be the artist’s last depictions of Minidoka; however, they remain the darkest and most didactic. Their creation was funded in
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order for them to become teaching tools about Japanese internment, and this intent comes through visually. In 1999, Shimomura returns to his brighter depictions of internment with a series of lithographs based on his own memories of the internment experience. Memories of Childhood This group of lithographs is bound in a book, and a textual explanation accompanies each image. Unlike the previous series where the art was paired with text, these are quite short, just a single sentence. This collection of memories is important in the development of Shimomura’s works because these are the first images of his own experiences of internment. He distanced himself from his earlier portrayals of this time by basing them on Toku’s experiences and recollections, as opposed to his own. Some of Shimomura’s recollections overlap with occurrences discussed in Toku’s diaries, although the final products are quite different. As there are no specific titles, I will refer to each lithograph by the explanatory text. The first image, “My first memory of life is celebrating my third birthday in camp,” is set in the interior of a building (Fig. 49). The walls are wood, and in the center is a table with a birthday cake holding three candles. Just above the cake is a window with a view of blue skies and barbed wire. A single picture hangs on the wall, a red frame around a neutral background with a black star in the center. The composition is quite simple compared to those of the two different series based on Toku’s diaries. This simplicity may reflect the difference in a child’s memory than the written recollections of an adult. The artist was just a toddler and unlikely had much of an idea of why they were relocated, or even what the relocation meant. His memories are simple because his understanding was simple. “When we moved to Minidoka, all of my friends lived close by” portrays a literal interpretation of the memory (Fig. 50). Two building exteriors are separated by very little space.
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In front of each structure is a small child, although they are identified only by visible body parts, since they are both cropped almost completely out of the picture plane. The children seem to be involved in a game with a yellow ball. In between the two buildings, desolate land is topped with a blue sky, which is obscured with numerous rows of barbed wire. It is impossible to know the children’s attitudes toward their situation because their faces are not depicted. This particular lithograph, as well as all but one in the series, denies the viewer access to facial expression or emotion. This lack of emotion echoes the simplicity in color palette and form; Shimomura depicts basic memories without much context. “One time a friend from Seattle came to visit me while I was in camp” features two small boys and the legs of an adult woman (Fig. 51). The ground is tan and bleak, denoting the almost desert-like environment. A barbed wire fence separates the boys. Roger, on the inside crouches down to talk to his friend that is seated on the ground on the outside. His friend holds a ball, as if he expected to play with Roger during his visit. The text seems like a happy memory, but the depiction hints at the devastation of separation, without actually revealing emotion. The color palette is quite dull and mostly neutral, although it remains within the simple range of primary and secondary colors as the rest of the series. Along with the simplicity of composition and lack of emotion shown in the series, the minimal color schemes emphasize the childish understanding that formed these early memories in the artist. Through this series, the artist inserts his own voice into the discourse on Japanese American incarceration. I posit that this attempt to reflect on his own situation, while not particularly didactic in practice, will lay the foundation for the shift in his art in just a few years. This shift is to a first-person discussion of his personal experiences to politicize and to moralize his works.
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Conclusion Design concerns motivated Shimomura’s Pop works of the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. His inclusion of ukiyo-e aesthetics and motifs were equally as superficial, treated simply as decorative elements, as opposed to a separate sign system. Shortly after his initial forays into Japanese art, the artist began creating narrative series based on Japanese American internment during World War II. He gradually began to create works that were more personal, focusing on issues of dual identity. However, he only once used himself as the subject. This disengagement from the exploration of identity in the works allowed for critical distance. Toward the end of these three decades, Shimomura began to display more interest in painting himself as a subject, although the vast majority of his self-portraits were not contemporary, but instead, featured him as a child. The second series based on Toku’s diaries included more paintings based on entries that featured the child Roger. In addition, the abandonment of Japanese elements led to these works being less decorative and more didactic than the original series. Finally, Memories of Childhood is the first series based on the artist’s personal experiences and recollections, without critical distance to mediate the resulting images. This shift to the voicing of his own concerns shapes the vast majority of his future works.
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CHAPTER THREE DOCUMENTATION AND DIDACTICISM In 1999, Roger Shimomura began to tell his personal history in his art with the series Memories of Childhood. In the same year, the artist illustrated the ignorance of others through documenting his experiences with racism. This running theme remains important in his works to date, although the aesthetics evolved. His style became more dependent on Pop, and less on ukiyo-e, although he continued to utilize figures familiar from his earlier forays into ukiyo-e. This chapter examines an array of Shimomura’s works from 1999 to 2004. I will continue to discuss the shifts in style and content that lead to the artist’s signature style. In addition, I will investigate the rhetorical devices utilized in order to create tension and inspire self-reflection in the viewer. The two most important tools that Shimomura develops in this period are parody and metaphor. However, he began with a documentary approach. The artist’s use of these rhetorical devices demonstrates the complexity of which Pop art is capable. Shimomura also continues his exploration of identity during this period. Documenting Racism The 1999 piece, 24 People for Whom I Have Been Mistaken, is a collection of twentyfive frames arranged in five rows of five (Fig. 52). The center frame holds the text of the title. The twenty-four frames that surround the title are chromogenic prints of faces. The stories of the people in the photographs vary; the artist knows some and not others. They also range in age, ethnicity, and even gender. Emily Stamey demonstrates that the circumstances of mistaken
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identity occur for different reasons, although they tend to be based on two suppositions: all Asians look alike and all foreign names are simply that: foreign.94 In the same year, the artist began the mixed-media piece, 110 Misspellings of My Name, which is an ongoing work (Fig. 53). It is comprised of numerous rectangular scraps of paper, each collected from his personal papers. Exhibited with the misspellings is an explanatory paragraph by the artist, detailing when the collection began: In 1982 I received a phone call from the State of Kansas Sherrif’s Department asking me if I would buy some tickets to a benefit carnival that was to be held at the local county fairgrounds. I agreed to purchase two tickets and gave the officer my full name and address. I found it highly unusual that he did not ask me to spell my last name when writing down my order. Two days later when I received the tickets in the mail, I found that the envelope was addressed to Roger Sherman. All of my life people have misspelled my last name, but for some reason I decided, at that moment, to start a collection. To this date, I have 102 versions of Shimomura. In addition to the misspellings and the explanatory text, a large rectangle of paper at the bottom reads “SCHIKATAGANAI.” This phrase, loosely translated, means “It’s out of my hands” or “It can’t be helped.” Stamey points out that Shimomura misspelled this word, reflecting the samples of the artist’s name.95 These two works differ from others by the artist. They are documentary in content without alteration due to design or a decorative focus. They stand out from his body of works because Shimomura did not continue to explore racism in a documentary style. These are serious commentaries on the marginalization of the artist based on ethnicity. His next foray into this criticism of offences based on race is a Xerox collage from 2000, How To Tell Your Friends From Japanese-Americans (Fig. 54). This work is a parody of the 1941 Time Magazine article
Emily Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura” (doctoral dissertation, University of Kansas, 2009), http://gradworks.umi.com/3369461.pdf, 180-183. 94
95
Ibid, 184 77
“How to Tell Your Friends From the Japs.” The original article includes images of Chinese men and Japanese men, and seeks to give defining characteristics to distinguish the different ethnicities. Although the Time Magazine author does not make any claims to scientific absolutes, he does provide a list to help American citizens make educated guesses: A few rules of thumb — not always reliable : Some Chinese are tall (average: 5 ft. 5 in.). Virtually all Japanese are short (average: 5 ft. 2-½ in.). Japanese are likely to be stockier and broader-hipped than short Chinese. Japanese — except for wrestlers — are seldom fat ; they often dry up and grow lean as they age. The Chinese often put on weight, particularly if they are prosperous (in China, with its frequent famines, being fat is esteemed as a sign of being a solid citizen). Chinese, not as hairy as Japanese, seldom grow an impressive mustache. Most Chinese avoid horn-rimmed spectacles. Although both have the typical epicanthic fold of the upper eyelid (which makes them look almond-eyed), Japanese eyes are usually set closer together. Those who know them best often rely on facial expression to tell them apart : the Chinese expression is likely to be more placid, kindly, open; the Japanese more positive, dogmatic, arrogant. In Washington, last week, Correspondent Joseph Chiang made things much easier by pinning on his lapel a large badge reading “Chinese Reporter – NOT Japanese – Please.” Some aristocratic Japanese have thin, aquiline noses, narrow faces, and except for their eyes, look like Caucasians. Japanese are nervous in conversation, laugh loudly at the wrong time. Japanese walk stiffly erect, hard-heeled. Chinese, more relaxed, have an easy gate, sometimes shuffle. 96 Shimomura’s parody of the Time Magazine article includes four images, as well: two men and two women, one of each Caucasian and one of each Japanese-American. The Caucasian images are Superman and Marilyn Monroe, providing images of the ideal European Americans. The artist also includes a list of pointers to distinguish the two races on sight:
96
European Americans are tall. Virtually all Japanese Americans are just as tall. Japanese Americans are about the same physical build. Japanese Americans are seldom fat; like European Americans they often dry up and grow lean as they age, however, their skin remains tight.
“How to Tell Your Friends from the Japs,” Time 38, no. 25 (December 22, 1941): 35. 78
Japanese Americans are not as hairy as European Americans, therefore seldom grow impressive moustaches. Most Japanese Americans wear Yves St. Laurent sunglasses. Although European Americans always have the epicanthic fold of the upper eye lid, many Japanese Americans now also have similar folds. Those who know them best often relay [sic] on facial expressions to tell them apart; the European expression is likely to be open and expressive; the Japanese American more exaggerated and stylized. Some aristocratic European Americans have wide noses and faces and, except for their eyes, look Japanese American. Japanese Americans are obsequious in conversation, laugh at everything European Americans say. Japanese Americans are adroit at walking like European Americans. They no longer shuffle.
Shimomura begins with a documentary subject (the Time Magazine article) as a target text for his parody. The inclusion of the irreverent humor associated with many of his works differentiates How to Tell Your Friends from Japanese Americans from the two documentary pieces from 1999. This work is less personal, as the target text does not single him out as the other documentary projects did. However, the Time Magazine article greatly affected attitudes toward Japanese Americans in the U.S. in general. The results of these attitudes lead to the offensive treatment that spurred the documentary works. The racist description of Japanese features and the subsequent stereotypical images used in anti-Japanese propaganda of the World War II era made frequent appearances in Shimomura’s subsequent works, as the targets of parody. Jap’s A Jap Shimomura began a new series in 2000, titled Jap’s a Jap. This title references a statement made by General DeWitt during the incarceration process of Japanese Americans during World War II: “A Jap’s a Jap. They are a dangerous element, whether loyal or not. There is no way to determine their loyalty. . . . It makes no difference whether he is an American; theoretically he is still Japanese, and you can’t change him. . . . You can’t change him by giving 79
him a piece of paper.”97 Each painting features the same Japanese male stereotype. There is no way to tell whether he is Japanese American; as the title of the series dictates, no matter what his citizenship or culture, he is always just Japanese. He is yellow-skinned with eyes slanted shut, ears that stand out, and an exaggerated oval-shaped mouth full of large teeth. In her study on Asian Americanist critique, Kandice Chuh states that arguing against the claims made about Japanese Americans during internment is not particularly useful in shaping Asian American studies. Instead, she posits that a more useful approach is “thinking in terms of signification and interpretation, of conceiving every (meaning that comes to stand as) truth as . . . that which requires interpretation and which is a deployment of a practice of power.”98 In this series, Shimomura does not argue against the stereotypical images, familiar from World War II propaganda. Instead he simply relocates them, causing the viewer to question their significance and truth. This allows the viewer to understand them as ridiculous and question the intentions of the original artists in creating these stereotypical figures. The fifth and sixth images of this series feature Disney characters as the American stereotype, utilized to highlight racial and cultural difference. Jap’s a Jap # 5 returns to Shimomura’s interest in interracial couplings (Fig. 55). Hearts, a trope in comics to show that a character is enamored with another, surround the Japanese male. He offers a bouquet to Minnie Mouse, who acts shy and glances coyly over her shoulder at her suitor. The female reaction is quite different from the fear of the Caucasian female in Mix and Match # 1. The difference in reaction of the female figures might lie in Shimomura’s view of Minnie Mouse. The artist has
97
Paul Spickard, Japanese Americans (London: Prentice Hall International, 1996), 98.
98
Kandice Chuh, Imagine Otherwise: On Asian Americanist Critique (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003), Kindle edition. 80
stated “the difference between one of Utamaro’s beauties and Minnie Mouse was race.”99 Utamaro’s beauties were courtesans, trained to show interest in paying suitors. If the only thing that differentiates Minnie Mouse is race, then the offering of a bouquet should be graciously accepted. In Jap’s a Jap # 1, the artist portrays an amorous Japanese stereotypical male dumbfounded by two sunbathing beauties (Fig. 56). The women are in bikinis on a beach, and the male holds his head, jumping into the air, the quickness of his action demonstrated by the clouds of dust and motion streaks under his feet. One of the beauties looks toward the viewer, smiling broadly. The other looks over her shoulder at the male, finger moving towards her face in a sign of thought. Her expression is confused, as opposed to fearful, but her interest appears to be more in his odd behavior than in him as a man. The iconography of comic books in these two paintings (hearts, motion lines) denotes a light mood, belying the serious topic of interracial dating. Shimomura presents the Japanese male as a source of curious behavior or target for the courtesan, presenting stereotypes beyond those of looks. Although they are presented in an initially humorous way, the viewer begins to question why a Japanese American artist would portray these stereotypes. Questions about the deeper social constructs of stereotyping occur in the mind of the viewer, as opposed to the surface of the canvas. In this way, Shimomura appropriates the rhetoric of the racist in order to make the stereotypes transparent, by raising doubt about their legitimacy. In Jap’s A Jap # 6, a slightly different Japanese figure paints a self-portrait (Fig. 57). The painting shows how the artist views himself: as Donald Duck. He wears the famous cartoon duck’s sailor top, distinguishing him from the subject of his painting: his foreign uncle, Scrooge
99
Roger Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 81
McDuck. However, the artist is a duck with darker feathers and the same head as the Japanese male stereotype that appears in the rest of the series. This image represents the presumption that Japanese is always Japanese, even when he is a duck. Shimomura has returned to the figure of Donald Duck repeatedly throughout his career. As Emily Stamey points out, Shimomura tended to use Donald Duck as a didactic tool, commenting on the U.S. government.100 During World War II, Donald Duck was utilized in propaganda films and comics as the ultimate patriot. Disney even designed insignias for the U.S. military without financial compensation, turning him into the mascot of many squadrons and units.101 Shimomura plays with this idea of Donald Duck as the ultimate patriot by painting his Scottish uncle. Donald Duck is allowed to be an all-American patriot, although his ancestors are from Scotland. On the other hand, the duck painter of Japanese descent is still just Japanese. Another reading of this painting may demonstrate a secondary meaning of the title. Donald Duck’s face represents not only a stereotypical Japanese figure, but also looks like a stereotypical Chinese figure from propaganda cartoons. In this case, Donald Duck may be conflated with Donald Duk, the title character of Frank Chin’s 1991 novel. Although Shimomura has stated that he can hardly remember the book anymore, he read parts of it when it was released.102 In the story, Donald Duk is a Chinese American boy, grappling with his identity. Although he initially views himself as absolutely American, forsaking his Chinese heritage, a series of dreams leads him to see things differently. As he begins to embrace his cultural
100
Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity,” 94.
101
Marcia Blitz, Donald Duck (New York: Harmony Books, 1979), 39.
102
Personal communication with author, 08/08/13. Frank Chin first got Shimomura involved in camp reparations, and the two still communicate, or as Shimomura states, “He still sends me his rants.” 82
heritage, he starts to see the racism that surrounds him. No matter how American he is, he will always be just Chinese to others. In this way, Donald Duck/Donald Duk in the painting titled Jap’s A Jap # 6, calls attention to another aspect of racism in the U.S. Not only are Asian Americans never viewed as simply Americans, stereotypes conflate them all, no matter their individual or ethnic identities. Shimomura’s ironic use of Donald Duck in conjunction with the Japanese/Chinese stereotypical male demonstrates the point of this entire series. Although many Asian Americans are fully acculturated, viewing themselves as Americans, they are often still perceived as Asian. Their identities are conflated, and the racist rhetoric of different points in history are conflated, as well. The fear and hatred espoused by General DeWitt is long lasting in the United States. Shimomura utilizes the visual stereotypes associated with this rhetoric in order to contradict them. His paintings initially seem humorous, inspiring laughter within the viewer. After a moment of thought, however, one must question why these stereotypes are funny, as well as interrogate their accuracy. Ebay Citizen Shimomura continued adopting Japanese stereotypical imagery for his next series, Ebay Citizen, also from 2000. The artist is an avid collector of racist kitsch produced during and after World War II, primarily those pieces depicting Japanese stereotypes. He began this collection in the 1990s, and the auction website eBay facilitated this hobby.103 Stacey Uradomo-Barre curated an exhibition of Shimomura paintings in conjunction with his collection at the Wing Luke Museum in 2009. In the exhibition catalog, she claims that this series “replicates the format of Stacey Uradomo-Barre, “Envisioning Asian Americans: Examining Stereotypes in the Art of Roger Shimomura,” in Yellow Terror: The Collections and Paintings of Roger Shimomura (Seattle: Wing Luke Museum 2009), 29.
103
83
eBay that displays photographs of object(s) for sale accompanied by concise descriptions about the product. The small format paintings are similarly direct with easily comprehensible scenarios.”104 I argue that although these are “direct with easily comprehensible scenarios,” they do not replicate the format of eBay. The images in this series tend to be cropped, depicting figures up-close and cut off, removing background elements. They appear very similar to individual panels of comic books. In opposition, images of products for sale on eBay are almost never cropped because they must show the product in full. Backgrounds may be minimal, but they are always there and, often, stand out because the products appear out of place. This feeling of disjunction may occur because American viewers are used to looking at products that are professionally photographed either on blank backgrounds or in situ for catalogs. Common people placing items for sale on eBay do not have access to the same types of backdrops and lighting, causing the products to seem out of place. In Ebay Citizen # 1, the same stereotypical male figure from the Jap’s a Jap series appears, his cropped face taking up most of the picture plane (Fig. 58). Slightly further back and to the right, a young woman appears, covering her face and screaming. The little bit of visible background is solid black, removing these figures from any identifiable space or story line. The viewer is left to discern the scene. The woman appears to fear the Japanese man, yet there is no other information. In opposition to the format of eBay, there is no context for the image. Furthermore, the stereotype is removed from its original temporal and spatial contexts. As Urodomo-Barre notes, “The central subject is rendered ridiculous as Shimomura pokes fun and destabilizes the potency of the historic conceptualization of the yellow peril trope that was a
104
Ibid, 29. 84
significant part of popular culture.”105 The pieces of kitsch collected by Shimomura were once very popular, and their availability on eBay where they are sold as collectibles demonstrates that the stereotypes have not died out completely. The appropriation of the imagery by a Japanese American artist, removing them from context, forces the viewer to contemplate not only the original meaning behind the images, but also to evaluate how prevalent these stereotypes still are. In addition, by displaying these paintings with his collection of kitsch, Shimomura creates juxtapositions that cause viewers to question how these contemporary images are different than their predecessors, or if they are. David L. Eng states that one must look back at the formation of these types of stereotypes in order to overcome them. “[I]t is only through a critical investigation of the production, dissemination, and reinscription of these sexual and racial identifications, stereotypes, and fantasies that we can begin to examine the ways in which Asian American cultural productions also help us to expose, confront, and dispute these significant representational burdens.”106 Through the appropriation of existing stereotypical images, Shimomura’s works confront and expose racism toward Japanese Americans in particular and Asian Americans more broadly. The viewer is left to dispute the ideas that led to the racist depictions. In this way, the juxtaposition of art and kitsch causes a diffusion of the power of the original racist imagery. In Ebay Citizen # 2, there are three figures: Joe Jitsu from the Dick Tracey comics, and a little Native American boy and girl from Disney’s Wonderful World of Knowledge book series (Fig. 59). The artist collected Dick Tracey comics from the time he was a child, although he
105
Ibid, 29.
106
David L. Eng, Racial Castration: Managing Masculinity in Asian America (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001), 17. 85
rarely read them and mostly looked at the pictures.107 Joe Jitsu was one of Dick Tracey’s ethnic sidekicks, all of which were rendered in very stereotypical ways. He is yellow skinned, with a football shaped head, ears that stick out, large glasses framing exaggeratedly slanted eyes, buckteeth and a moustache. In this painting, Joe Jitsu is flanked by two Native American children with reddish tints to their skin, large eyes and big smiles. The figures all appear happy and not particularly menacing: these are the helpful, as opposed to intimidating, stereotypes. These stereotypes are just as dangerous in the mind of the artist. In his studio, Shimomura keeps a binder full of images labeled “Stereotypes.” It is organized by type (i.e. Native, Black, Chinese, etc.), and includes pictures from books, kitsch, comics, and other sources. In addition, there are descriptions of “types” found on the internet, including a large printout from a webpage about “positive Asian stereotypes.” The view espoused repeatedly in Shimomura’s binder is that judging people based on ethnicity is always negative, as it does not allow for individuality. Beyond the criticism of positive stereotypes in this image, there is a secondary consideration in the painting. The use of Native American children in addition to the Japanese sidekick may hold an additional meaning. The Japanese man is always Japanese, never Americanized, but the Native American children are just as foreign to the viewer. American denotes Caucasian, as all other ethnicities are modifiers to the term American, even in politically correct speech. Although the Native Americans are the original Americans, they must be segregated with terminology. By flanking the Japanese American with Native Americans, Shimomura’s painting may be read to be a statement on not only racism, but also on the questionable nature of the term American when it must be modified by ethnicity.
107
Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 86
Ebay Citizen # 6 features Mr. Wong, the title character of an internet cartoon that started in 2000 (Fig. 60). He is not cited as specifically Japanese, but instead is generically Asian. He has yellow skin, buckteeth, and small eyes, although they are not slanted completely shut, as in many of the other appropriated images. He appears next to a Caucasian woman, leering at her. Although the background is not entirely distinct, they seem to be in a car with Mr. Wong driving and the woman leaning toward him from the passenger seat. She is unafraid of the butler, smiling, even as he stares at her instead of the road ahead. The inclusion of Mr. Wong functions in two ways. First, he is an allusion to “The Mysterious Mr. Wong,” a Don Sederberg film of 1934, in which the title character is a villain, trying to become the leader of a large province in China. He epitomized the yellow peril prior to World War II. Secondly, as the Mr. Wong from the 2000 cartoon, the character demonstrates that racism towards Asian ethnicities is still prevalent in the U.S. The new Mr. Wong is a butler, subservient to his WASP mistress, no longer a threat to Caucasian women’s safety, but he is still a figure of ridicule. This painting displays that although the stereotypes may change with time, racism continues to define popular opinion about Asians in this country. American Portraits Shimomura’s exploration of stereotypes is personal on the level that these views shaped his life; however, he does not initially include himself as a subject. In 2002, he created the series American Portraits. The first painting in this series is a self-portrait (Fig. 61). The artist painted a bust-length portrait of himself, surrounded by cartoon and comic characters. Across his forehead, a stereotypical Japanese Imperial soldier appears to be diving from an unseen source, plummeting past Shimomura. In the background are famous characters, including Dick Tracey, Superman, Mickey Mouse, and Donald Duck, all facing away from him. While the other figures
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are rendered in their popular forms, Shimomura is relatively naturalistic, with a flash reflection on the lenses of his glasses. The reflection is most likely the result of the artist working from a photograph to paint himself. His preparatory books for many of his paintings include myriad photographs from which he works when painting himself or others that he knows personally. Working from a photograph to create a naturalistic image demonstrates the artist’s interest in specificity of identity. He is not a generic figure, nor a cartoon. He is different from the characters that surround him. The collection of characters tends to be common subjects from his previous works and reflect his interests in popular figures from his childhood. However, the viewer is denied access to their faces. The only other figure that is fully visible is the Japanese Imperial soldier. This reflects Shimomura’s dual identity and the perceptions that come with it. His face is naturalistic because he attempts to give an unbiased view of his visage. The visible soldier that interrupts this view is how he is perceived: always foreign, and possibly a danger. The popular American icons in the background represent his culturally American background, but with their backs turned on him, he is denied association with this aspect. This representation of the artist also reflects changes in Asian American identity politics since the early 1990s. According to Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht, prior to this time, starting in the 1970s, the Asian American panethnic coalition was “dominated by Englishspeaking, American-born students of Chinese and Japanese descent.”108 They continue to state that there was a division between American-born Asian Americans and immigrants. However, beginning in the early 1990’s, ideas about Asian American identity changed. Elaine Kim discusses this shift: “As the world has changed, so have our conceptions of Asian American identity. The lines between Asian and Asian American, so important in identity formation in 108
Ty and Goellnicht, “Introduction,” 5. 88
earlier times, are increasingly being blurred.”109 Shimomura’s subjects and titles may denote his interest in maintaining the demarcation between Asian and Asian American. The series Jap’s A Jap conveys the artist’s displeasure with General DeWitt’s commentary on the mutual inclusivity of the identities of Japanese and Japanese Americans. In addition, Shimomura creates many works that attempt to differentiate between Japanese and Japanese Americans, including the Yellow No Same series from 1992. In American Portrait # 1, the artist and the Japanese stereotype are shunned by the American cartoon characters, indicating that they are united in identity by the disdain of their ostracizers. Shimomura’s identity formation as a Japanese American, differentiated from Japanese, is negated by the shifts in Asian American identity conception from the early 1990’s on. In the next two images of this series, Shimomura is no longer the visible subject. However, I agree with Stamey’s argument that the figures are “substitutive selves” of the artist.110 They become stand-ins for the artist, as the stereotypical images reflect his perception by society. In American Portrait # 2, a Kabuki actor is the central figure, surrounded by numerous smaller images (Fig. 62). In the background, bombs marked with red stars rain down from the sky. In the bottom right corner, a Japanese male stereotype based on World War II propaganda cries vehemently in a square frame that is reminiscent of a “picture in picture” application from a television. On the bottom left, another male figure, based on an ukiyo-e type, leans over a buxom blonde woman. The center left figure is a small Japanese soldier, holding a rifle directly between the eyes of the large Kabuki actor. At the top of the actor’s forehead is another box containing the torso and arms of a man rolling up his sleeves, and finally, in the top Elaine Kim, “Foreward,” in Reading the Literatures of Asian America, Shirley Geok-lin Lim and Amy Ling, eds. (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992), xiii.
109
110
Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity,” 185-6. 89
left is a comic book detective taking a photograph of the actor. The entirety of the painting may be read as a reflection of the perceptions of the artist. He is the Japanese man from all the stereotypes: dangerous and foreign. He may even be viewed as self-loathing, based on the crying and the gun pointed at his head. He is also the subject of scrutiny by the American detective. Finally, as he is the figure that rolls up his sleeves, he is going to work, fighting the stereotypical perceptions of himself. In American Portrait # 3, Shimomura’s stand-in is a Japanese soldier from WWII propaganda (Fig. 63). Behind him, a bomb is detonated, and a plane is flying overhead. In the bottom right corner, a male type from ukiyo-e faces the central figure, carrying a sword. In the top left corner, a young Japanese male type from manga throws a baseball. Each of these men is a fierce adversary to the viewer: the soldier with his fang-like teeth, the samurai with his swords, and the boy with his pitch. The explosion that dominates the background is not only a reminder of Pearl Harbor, but also is a generic display of the source of fear for the viewer. The cartoonlike renderings of each image demonstrate the ridiculousness of the perceptions of the artist. The Pop art aesthetic distances the figures from reality, and the inclusion of multiple stereotypes denies temporal and spatial contexts of the stereotypes. This denial of time and space forces the viewer to see the stereotypes in his own personal time and space. I posit that the distance between the creation of the original images and their appropriation by Shimomura negates the original meanings through ironic usage, forcing the viewer to acknowledge the inherent ridiculousness of stereotyping. Stereotypes and Admonitions Shimomura’s personalization of stereotypes is an important step forward in his exploration of personal identity through art. However, his focus oscillates between the personal
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nature of self-portraits and commenting on society through general stereotypes. The 2003 series Stereotypes and Admonitions focuses on contemporary racism and how it is perpetuated through images and speech. Some images are based on news stories, while others reflect the artist’s personal experiences. A textual explanation accompanies each painting, telling the story of Shimomura’s inspiration for the piece. Lucy Lippard, in the introductory article written for the exhibition catalog of this series at the Greg Kucera Gallery, discusses these images in terms of strict dichotomies: past/present, truth/lies, and dignity/insult.111 Further, she argues that, “While each painting illustrates a story, it also contains the seeds of resistance by the in-your-face style, which reverses the stereotypes and transforms them into admonitions.”112 I agree with her assessments generally, but as I discuss individual pieces, I will try to refine this evaluation, showing that they function in much more complex ways. Abercrombie & Fitch features two stereotypical “Chinamen,” one of whom wears one of the offending T-shirts (Fig. 64). Shimomura pulled the two figures directly from the “Wong Brothers Laundry Service” shirt. They hover directly in front of a red circle, floating in the sky. The red circle is a reference to the flag of Japan, yet the figures are supposed to be Chinese. The overlapping of imagery is supposed to represent all of Asia, and all Asian Americans. The figures floating in the sky are removed from spatial and temporal contexts. By removing these figures from space and time, they are located in the context of the viewer. This painting is accompanied by the text: In April, 2002, retail clothing store Abercrombie & Fitch introduced a new line of Tshirts depicting smiling men with slanted eyes wearing conical hats. The T-shirts carried slogans such as “Buddha Bash” and “Wok-n-Bowl.” Asian American groups responded Lucy R. Lippard, “Perilous Times,” in Stereotypes and Admonitions, Exh. cat., ed. Janet Davidson-Hues (Seattle, WA: Greg Kucera Gallery, 2004), 1.
111
112
Ibid, 1. 91
quickly, complaining that these images and phrases were blatant examples of racial stereotyping. Protests began at Abercrombie & Fitch stores nationwide. After instructing all stores to remove the T-shirts, a spokesman for Abercrombie & Fitch said the company felt the shirts would be especially loved by the Asian American community and would be seen as cheeky, irreverent and funny. He said he was surprised by the hostile reception the merchandise received. In addition to the stereotypical facial features and dŏulì conical hats, the depiction of the two Chinese men as drycleaners adds another level of racist rhetoric. David L. Eng discusses Asian American male immigrants in “feminized” jobs, such as laundries, restaurants, and tailor’s shops, and how this perpetuates particular aspects of Asian American male identity formation. Collectively, these low-wage, feminized jobs work to underscore the numerous ways in which gender is mapped as the social axis through which the legibility of a racialized Asian American male identity is constituted, determined, rendered coherent, and stabilized. Popular stereotypes connecting past and present Asian American male laborers to these types of professions are succinct and compelling illustrations of the ways in which economically driven modes of feminization cling to bodies not only sexually but also racially.113 By forcing the viewer to contextualize these figures, Shimomura compels him to ask the question: How can these stereotypical figures still be accepted by society, much less found humorous? The strict dichotomies identified by Lippard are only partially present within the painting. Truth and dignity are generally lacking, however past and present exist within the terms laid out by Eng. Past, in the form of the dŏulì conical hats, meets present in the profession of the two Chinese men, at least in a stereotypical way. Shimomura only paints the lies about and insults on the stereotypical Chinamen represented on the shirt. The viewer is left to distinguish the truth. In this series, Shimomura not only focuses on supposedly humorous aspects of racism. In Vincent Chin Murder, the artist tackles the subject of a brutal murder committed by racists (Fig. 65). The accompanying text reads: 113
Eng, Racial Castration, 17. 92
In 1982, while attending his bachelor party at a suburban Detroit strip club, Chinese American Vincent Chin was lured into an altercation with Ron Ebens and his stepson, Michael Nitz, two white auto workers who blamed him for the ailing U.S. auto industry and the consequential loss of jobs. “It’s because of you little motherfuckers that we’re out of work,” witnesses recalled hearing. The violence escalated and the two auto workers bashed Vincent Chin’s head with a baseball bat, killing him. Ebens and Nitz pled guilty and each received three years’ probation and a $3,000 fine. Judge Charles Kaufman reasoned that Ebens and Nitz did not have criminal records and were not likely to violate the terms of their parole. Later, the judgment was appealed, but the respective juries acquitted each of them. Neither served any jail time for his crime. Vincent Chin’s mother, totally disheartened, left the U.S. and returned to her native village in China. The painting features a stereotypical Japanese man from WWII propaganda, with yellow skin, oval mouth with large teeth, and round glasses over small eyes. He is dressed in a military uniform and covered in bumps. The awkward positioning of his body, complemented by motion lines ending in tiny stars, indicates that he is plummeting through the air. The yellow background is almost the shade of his skin. In the bottom left corner, the silhouette of a baseball player in mid-swing appears. The contusions and the figure’s current predicament appear to be the result of the baseball swing. Shimomura chose to focus on the victim of the hate crime, although he is a blended racial stereotype, not identifiable without the context of the title and text. His attackers are conflated into a single silhouette; he is the archetypal American athlete, not a monster. Lippard’s notion that the style of these works transforms stereotypes into admontitions is quite simplistic. In addition, Lippard’s claim that the style of painting reverses the stereotype does not take into consideration the complexity of the generic stereotype, nor the contribution of the text to the transformation into admonition. The body (of Vincent Chin) flying through the air in a comic-book style does nothing to reverse the stereotype. The aesthetic of the stereotype dominates the image; the transformation reversal is not apparent. Instead, the process of turning stereotype into admonition occurs within the viewer, but only after reading the text. The average viewer may question why the stereotype is portrayed, although the full meaning of the image is 93
lost without the text. After reading about Vincent Chin’s brutal death and the lack of repercussions for the assailants, the point of the stereotype is finally understood. The autoworkers saw Chin only as an Asian, and therefore a threat to their livelihoods. The generic aspects of the image serve to highlight this view of all Asians as alike. The military uniform is nonspecific, blending different coloring and uniform styles. The stereotypical Japanese male is actually a little different from that in many propaganda images: his eyes are slanted, but still visibly open, and while his teeth are large, they are not buckteeth. The assailant in the background is unidentifiable. The generalizations in the painting demonstrate the artist’s interest in the story as metaphors for hate crimes in general. In this series, Shimomura includes stories about his personal experiences with racism. In Two Characters (Variation 2) (Fig. 66), three figures are in an office space. In the background, a Caucasian man sitting at his desk stares over his shoulder at the two characters that have entered his office. On the left is a stereotype of a Native American warrior. He wears the war bonnet of a Plains tribe, which overshadows his person. His visage is a silhouette, with an exaggeratedly large nose dominating his features. His raised hand and visible shoulder are red, adding to his stereotypical appearance. He is facing a samurai warrior on the right side of the composition. This character is yellow skinned with red war paint, wearing a robe that denotes his identity as the Kabuki actor Ichikawa Danjūrō, and a hairstyle common in ukiyo-e. In this image, the actor is dressed as a warrior, and appears almost identical to the stereotypical incarnation in Shimomura’s Enter the Rice Cooker of 1994. The text panel states: In the 1980s, Native American artist Edgar Heap-of-Birds was awarded a guest artist residency at the University of Kansas. Roger accompanied Edgar to obtain the signature of a university administrator in order for Edgar to receive payment for his services. Upon entering the central administration building, Roger handed the papers to a receptionist who took them into the administrator’s office. Prior to signing, the administrator peered out at Roger and Edgar, and said derisively, in a voice loud enough 94
for all to hear, “I want you to check the IDs of those two characters out there.” He then laughed out loud, shaking his head as he stared at them.
The administrator reduced the two artists to characters, and Shimomura reflects this attitude in the painting by turning them into caricatures of their races. The two warriors stare at each other, not seeming to notice the administrator in the background. Lippard points out that not only antiAsian discrimination, but also anti-Indian have affected Shimomura.114 This painting, as well as the story that inspired it, unites Japanese and Native American stereotypes in one composition, focusing on the stereotypes of the warriors. Their seeming communion through eye contact merges their experiences, although without the text, the viewer does not know that they are facing racial discrimination together. Again, the text is necessary to turn these stereotypes into an admonition of the administrator. Another painting based on the artist’s experience is The History of Art (Fig. 67). A kabuki actor is the central focus of the piece, leaning down and staring away from his work, out of the side of the picture plane. His posture seems to imply that he is in the middle of doing something wrong, paranoid and making sure he is not about to be caught. He holds two paintbrushes in his right hand and a palette in his left. In front of his body is a canvas covered in brushstrokes reminiscent of the works of Roy Lichtenstein. The stereotypical figure derived from ukiyo-e fears discovery as he paints in a Western pop style. The text tells the story: Several years ago, Roger had a conversation with an art history colleague who was writing a textbook on the history of art. She informed Roger that she had included his name and painting with other American artists in the chapter on contemporary American art. She also said that she could not promise his name would survive the editing process due to a difference of opinion with her editor, who felt Roger would be best defined as a contemporary Japanese painter rather than a contemporary American painter.
114
Lippard, “Perilous Times,” 3 95
The editor wanted to categorize Shimomura based on ethnicity, rather than culture or style of painting. The paranoid kabuki actor painting in a pop style reflects this attitude: he is not supposed to be painting this way, and is afraid of the repercussions if caught. The artist has related numerous similar stories over the years: many people believe that his art should be defined by his ethnicity, both in category and style. While the combination of text and image offer admonition of the editor, I posit that they also suggest hope in the field of art history. His colleague knew his work well enough to categorize it correctly. This entry in the series is unique in that it is the only story with hope that these stereotypes are beginning to dissipate, and one day may be eliminated. One may assume that the colleague is Dr. Marilyn Stokstad because of her tenure at University of Kansas, as well as her famous survey textbooks. One paragraph in the introduction of Stokstad’s Art History discusses Shimomura, although he is not identified as either Japanese or American specifically. Through context, the reader may infer his American status. Neither the author nor the editor won the argument about defining the artist’s works, but he was not edited out of the canonical history of art. One particular image of the series does not address a specific event. Not Pearl Harbor features three figures that are typical Japanese male stereotypes from the WWII era (Fig. 68). They are modified by the inclusion of beards and turbans, conflating their identities with those of Arab stereotypes. The text states: Since the horrible tragedy of September 11, 2001 numerous comparisons have been made to the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. For many reasons this comparison has made millions of Japanese Americans anxious – reminding them of the injustice of their wrongful internment during WWII. Today, many members of the Islamic religion, Arab Americans, Middle Eastern Americans, and anyone who looks like “them,” encounter similar intimidation, violence, and racial profiling.
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This painting depicts the faces of WWII Japanese enemy stereotypes, now bearded and turbaned as the stereotypical terrorists. In the background, in place of the 9/11 planes on their kamikazestyle mission, Japanese Zero planes head toward their targets. Instead of a particular story, Shimomura includes a statement about the conflation of two tragedies that similarly resulted in racially motivated violence. Included in the artist’s preparatory binder for this series are email conversations with his friends about the 9/11 attacks and the resulting fear and violence. In general, these emails demonstrate anxiety about the possibility of the introduction of incarceration camps for Muslim Americans. I posit that this painting is a reflection of the anxieties and fears of Asian Americans that not only would this terrorist attack be conflated with Pearl Harbor, but would also cause the same kind of military action that resulted in the internment of Japanese American citizens. In one of the included emails, a friend states that “yellow all same” morphed into “brown all same.”115 The visual amalgam of Asian and Arab stereotypes, paired with the title of the work, is a powerful statement and admonition against fear turning into racism. The text that accompanies this painting is almost extraneous. It is with this particular image that I believe that Lippard’s argument for style reversing the stereotype and transforming it into an admonition is satisfactory. However, I assert that it is not necessarily the “in-your-face” style that is the cause, but instead, the blending of disparate stereotypes into a singular style. Shimomura’s ironic use of stereotypes to convey messages about their dangers developed throughout his career. The artist does not give up irony, or the use of an idea to convey a meaning that is opposite of the literal, as a rhetoric device after this point. Instead, in the future, he uses irony in conjunction with parody. These expressive tools add to the artist’s irreverent pop
115
Robin Gilmore, e-mail message to Roger Shimomura, September 19, 2001. 97
style, forcing the viewer to question the use of stereotypes. Are they meant to be funny? What is the deeper meaning?
Stand Alone Works In 2004, Shimomura created a number of works that were not parts of a series. His interests in pop icons and stereotypical imagery continued throughout this year, but it would be 2005 before he returned to series paintings. His personal exploration of identity unites these disparate self-portraits. In Kansas Samurai, the artist combines the elements of two images from the American Portrait paintings (Fig. 69). The central Kabuki actor from the first painting is modified: he now holds a sword and wears round glasses, similar to Shimomura’s. Popular comic and cartoon characters dominate the background, turned away from the central figure. Unlike in American Portrait # 2, those in Kansas Samurai are just outlines without color or shading. The red shading on the Kabuki actor’s chin and jaw line is replaced with blue on the samurai, and a moustache and goatee appear. I posit that the nature of this image as a stand-in portrait is more obvious than the second and third installations of American Portrait. Although the central figure remains an ukiyo-e type, the facial hair and glasses of the artist identify this painting as a self-portrait. In addition, the title reflects Shimomura’s location. In 83 Dirty Japs, eighty-three boxes form a grid (one is larger than the others, taking the place of two boxes). Each rectangle containing a Japanese stereotype, which are mostly drawn from World War II propaganda (Fig. 70). One female appears in the bottom row, second column: a fat, cartoonish geisha. In these individual figures, some stereotypes are hybrids. In the fourth row, last column, the Japanese male with the huge oval mouth wears a turban and has a black eye. This could be a reference to Abu Ghraib, as it was painted in the same year that the abuses
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at the Baghdad prison dominated the news. In addition, in the top row, eighth column, the face of the Japanese man is conflated with a sugar skull, a popular Mexican stereotypical image. The figure in the last row, sixth column is a conflation of a Japanese male and a monkey. The monkey was a symbol for African and Irish people in Victorian era England, as they were believed to be less evolved than their European counterparts are. The figure just to the left of the center (there are an even number of columns, so this is as close to center as one could get) is a self-portrait of the artist. In this image, Shimomura holds up the outside corner of his eyes, forcing them to slant almost closed. Photographs of himself and of his non-Asian friends in the same manner comprised a series that he worked on the previous year, although they were not sold, nor can I find a record of their public display. Eighty-four images comprise this painting, although there are only eighty-three rectangles. In the double sized panel, there are two figures. If one is to believe the title, only eighty-three of the eighty-four figures are “dirty Japs.” Although the artist includes a self-portrait in this painting, he distances himself from the stereotypical figures that surround him. Further, it may be read as a comment that “dirty Japs” exist only in propaganda and the fear and racism that instigates it. Because the artist is an actual person, he is not counted among the stereotypes of “dirty Japs.” The inclusions of other stereotypes, conflated with Japanese stereotypes, signal this work as a metaphor for all subjects of racism, not only Japanese Americans. In fact, Shimomura refers to his works as metaphors, stating, “Please try to understand that what I do, while it relates particularly to Japanese Americans as a focus, the most narrow focus, you have to see that metaphorically, that we’re talking about bigger issues.”116
116
Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. 99
Shimomura created two more self-portraits in 2004, Sailor Moon and Astro Boy. Even though they are not part of a series, they are related. In each image, the central figure is the Japanese pop icon in the title with Shimomura’s face. These two characters are the focus of popular manga, anime, and video games that originated in Japan, and were adapted into other languages for export, particularly into the U.S. In Shimomura’s painting Sailor Moon, the artist is in the guise of the title character: sailor outfit adapted as a girl’s school uniform and blonde pigtails (Fig. 71). In the background, she is flanked by two more character from Sailor Moon manga, Sailor Mercury on the right and Sailor Mars on the left. The sidekicks are rendered in their standard styles, although they are tinted slightly red. This highlights their differences from the central character: Shimomura as Sailor Moon. Although her hair and body are in their typical style, her face is replaced with the artist’s: smaller eyes, larger nose, moustache, goatee, and glasses. The artist makes one concession to her gender: he changes his normal glasses for a pair of red, feather shaped glasses that are outrageously feminine. In Astro Boy, Shimomura as the boy robot flies through outer space, right toward the viewer (Fig. 72). The background is full of stars and rocket ships, but no other humanoid figures. The robot’s body is extremely foreshortened, with his front fist taking up almost a quarter of the canvas. Fire shoots out of the bottom of his feet, propelling him through space. The character appears to be dressed in the usual fashion: no shirt and long red rocket boots. The black and gray briefs are not visible because of the foreshortening. The artist keeps Astro Boy’s black spiky hair, but uses his own face. Wrinkles are visible in his forehead, he wears glasses, and has facial hair; all of these aspects denote his age. His age and gender in these two images indicate their functions as parodies.
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Conclusion Shimomura’s use of irony developed into parody gradually. Beginning with these selfportraits, his adoption of the rhetorical strategy to counter myths becomes a major factor in his work. In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, Shimomura continued to shift his focus to personal concerns and experiences. In addition, he began to use more complex rhetoric devices to enrich his works with meaning. In the following chapter, I will outline a complex, yet functional, definition for parody. In addition, I will continue to explore Shimomura’s use of parody in order to demonstrate its function in visually refuting myth.
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CHAPTER FOUR GLOBAL MUTATIONS – A CASE STUDY OF PARODY In this chapter, I will examine a single series of paintings from 2005, titled Global Mutations. Because this particular series has never been discussed in scholarly studies, for each image I offer social and historical contextualization as well as iconographic interpretations. In addition, I will outline a functional definition of parody, which I will utilize in discussion of this series. Furthermore, I will examine not only the visual texts (myths) that Shimomura targets, I will also discuss the discourses that helped to create these texts. The overarching thesis of this chapter is that this series of paintings utilizes stereotypical imagery from disparate cultures in order to create parodies. Additionally, I will argue that these parodies function to subvert the myths of multiculturalist discourse, particularly the notion of boutique multiculturalism. The myths of multiculturalist discourse are wrapped up not only in the melding of cultures, but also in gender and racial issues. Shimomura’s use of parody in the Global Mutations series addresses all of the above issues and demonstrates the complexity of which Pop art is capable. In addition, the artist continues his exploration of identity, both ethnic and personal. As discussed in the previous chapter, in his works leading up to this series, the artist became more explicitly critical of contemporary culture and global issues. This shift in content and intention led to a shift in rhetorical devices. In Global Mutations, the culmination of Shimomura’s criticism of contemporary global culture is expressed in parody. Multiculturalism Each image in Global Mutations demonstrates the absurdity that can result from the adoption of empty signifiers, as occurs in boutique multiculturalism as defined by Stanley Fish. Fish describes boutique multiculturalism as a shallow association that one may have with a 102
culture outside of one’s own, particularly in the forms of eating in ethnic restaurants and attending cultural festivals. This type of multiculturalist sees himself as chic and open-minded. However, as Fish points out, there is no such thing as tolerating all other cultures.117 Inherent in this term are Western discourses built on prejudices and stereotypes, such as the feminized, morally inferior Orient that remains static throughout time. Building on Fish’s model, I contend that multiculturalism allows for the foreign appropriation of elements associated with different cultures, as signs of tolerance and respect. However, the alienation of these elements through their foreign appropriation eliminates their traditional meanings, and they become simply signifiers of a culture. The paintings in the Global Mutations series also emphasize one of Kelly Chien-Hui Kuo’s criticisms of multiculturalist discourse. As Kuo argues, in trying to provide a voice in history for marginalized cultures, the West continues to frame them in a traditional way. This view secures the Other in a static existence outside of time and space, not allowing for the intervention of modernization.118 As I will demonstrate in my discussion of the individual works in this series, Shimomura leads the viewer on a temporal journey that begins with a hybrid of seventeenth-century Japanese and contemporary American culture. The journey ends with a figure that embodies the contemporary cultural similarities of both countries. Furthermore, when Shimomura’s series is viewed in the order in which they are numbered, the viewer moves forward through time. The earlier images demonstrate the static Orient through the use of visual language associated with Japanese woodblock prints of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Stanley Fish, “Boutique Multiculturalism, or Why Liberals are Incapable of Thinking About Hate Speech,” Critical Inquiry 23, no. 2 (1997): 378-395.
117
Kelly Chien-Hui Kuo, “A Euphoria of Transcultural Hybridity: Is Multiculturalism Possible?,” Postcolonial Studies 6, no. 2 (2003): 224. 118
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As the series progresses, the Japanese elements are modernized until, in the final image, the figure is painted using contemporary visual markers of both Japan and the West. Shimomura’s series Global Mutations features life-size figures painted onto flat backgrounds with small advertisements in the bottom half of the picture planes. Each image combines elements of American and Japanese cultures. The depicted races and costumes of the subjects are specific to the two cultures in which the artist searches for his identity. These works function through designating the apparently natural differences of race and costume, as well as the similarity of modern capitalist advertising between the two cultures. I do not view these paintings as simply functioning on an aesthetic level to work through a very personal experience. Instead, I assert that Shimomura’s “mutations” in this series interrogate broader issues of biased historicization and cultural exchange within globalization. There is no discussion of this particular series in academia or art criticism. Therefore, I will assess individual works more than in previous chapters. I assert that this series is a critique of multiculturalist discourse, demonstrating the superficiality of hybridity through commodity spectacle. Commodity spectacle refers to Guy Debord’s ideas about class alienation, cultural homogenization, and mass media. Of particular concern in this study is Debord’s fourth thesis in The Society of the Spectacle: “The spectacle is not a collection of images; rather, it is a social relationship between people that is mediated by images.”119 The paintings of the Global Mutations series reflect the social relationship between two disparate cultures that is based on stereotypical imagery in popular culture. Each work reflects Stanley Fish’s boutique multiculturalism, as well, enhanced with Western discourses built on prejudices and stereotypes,
119
Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, trans. Ken Knabb (London: Soul Bay Press, 2011), Kindle edition, 26. 104
such as the feminized, morally inferior Orient.120 When viewed in this way, these paintings reflect the shallow ideals of boutique multiculturalism as the source for popular imagery that mediates the relationship between American and Japanese cultures. I assert that a goal of multiculturalism is the equivalent representation of dissimilar cultures, resulting in uniformity where none exists. This ideal of equal representation is clearly defined by Kelly Chien-Hui Kuo: “By celebrating multicultural diversity, multiculturalism is committed to pursuing equality of cultural representation, confronting cultural consensus, contesting hegemonic norms, and cautioning against the imposition of ideological tenets on cultural representation and identity.”121 I argue that Shimomura’s Global Mutations series demonstrates the impossibility of the ideal of multiculturalism. Because of Japan’s status as an Axis power during World War II, multiculturalism, in the form of maintaining one cultural identity while living in a separate culture, was made impossible for Japanese-Americans during and following the war. Shimomura portrays both American and Japanese cultures in accordance with their stereotypes, focusing on their superficial differences and juxtaposing them in ridiculous ways. Shimomura’s paintings emphasize Kuo’s criticism of multiculturalist discourse that the West frames marginalized cultures in a traditional way. For example, the women in this series are both products of specific cultures and specific periods, yet they are disconnected from their cultures and periods. The Japanese woman, although dressed in her corporate suit cannot escape the Edo period evident in her hair and makeup. The Caucasian woman, even in her kimono, is a modern American, marked again in her face and hair. Although they may participate in boutique Stanley Fish, “Boutique Multiculturalism, or Why Liberals Are Incapable of Thinking about Hate Speech,” Critical Inquiry 23, no. 2 (Winter 1997): 378-395. 120
121
Kuo, “Is Multiculturalism Possible?,” 225. 105
multiculturalism, demonstrating their respect, tolerance, and desire for other cultures through fashion, they are trapped in the traditions that are inscribed on their skin. As we have seen, Shimomura demonstrates great interest in this predicament because it is one in which he has been ensnared for his entire life. Multiculturalists claim to value and accept other cultures, but this turns out to be the bane of Shimomura’s existence. Upon initially meeting him, Americans assume that he has strong ties to his Japanese ancestry, and expect him to act (and paint) accordingly. Shimomura tries to escape from these presumptions by demonstrating his superficial understanding of Japanese art and culture, and bastardizing it through the aesthetic of Pop art. In all actuality, he claims to feel no connection to Japanese art, stating “it felt foreign to me.”122 Further, it is not only that he is distanced from the woodblock tradition that he invokes in his Pop art imagery, he does not particularly like it: “It’s presumed that because I am of Japanese ancestry it would be comfortable to me, and it really isn’t. I’m not too fond of Japanese woodblock prints. In the history of world art, the Japanese woodblock print is quite low in terms of what I would prefer to look at.”123 In this series, the artist focuses on the visual differences between Japan and the United States. While each figure incorporates both cultural markers, the signs are generally distinct and disjointed. This disjunction prevents the visual creation of a hybrid monoculture. The desultory treatment of Japanese elements in this series is complemented with American stereotypes. The artist skims the surfaces of both cultures to create commodity spectacles. In each painting of the
Roger Shimomura, quoted in Steven Hill, “Found in Translation,” Kansas Alumni, no. 1 (January 2004): 23. 122
Ruthe Thompson, “Roger Shimomura: Japanese American Woodblock-Screen Print,” Screen Printing 76, no. 4 (April 1986): 123. 123
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Global Mutations series, a relationship is formed between disparate cultures, based on stereotypical images of each culture. Because Shimomura includes advertisements in each image, the viewer is able to infer that the mediating force that allows the disparate cultures to merge in these paintings is the commodification, not only of products, but also of stereotypical cultural markers. The marginal advertisements in the paintings in the Global Mutations series ensure that they are akin to large-scale poster advertisements from shop windows.124 The viewer recognizes this type of advertisement in shop windows and often associates them with models and actors. The use of famous actors to set standards of fashion is a commonality between both nineteenthcentury Edo Japan and twenty-first century United States. In Edo, the prints of geishas and kabuki actors “were elaborate in the attention they gave to interior furnishings, personal accessories and dress. They egged on buyers and made the . . . life-style of the epicenters of fashion into something visible in any bourgeois context.”125 Although it seems incongruous to compare these two cultures at different periods, it is obvious that Shimomura utilizes imagery from these disparate eras. One likely reason for the artist’s use of imagery from disparate eras is to comment on the Western notion of the static Orient, to which I will return below. The paintings in Global Mutations, much like the full-size window advertisement posters, feature attractive people, posing to draw attention to themselves and their garments. Each painting in this series features advertisements on the margins of the backgrounds. The advertisements are in the generally vertical katakana script, which is most often used to transcribe foreign words into Japanese language, and each ends with corporate 124
Some familiar examples of this type are the Gap advertising campaigns featuring Sarah Jessica Parker from the previous year. 125
Screech, Floating World, 51 (see chap. 1, n. 9). 107
logos for the advertised products. Similarly, the Sarah Jessica Parker advertisement for Gap features script down the right side of the otherwise blank background of the image, ending with a Gap logo at the bottom. Although the script ending in a logo is common between the paintings of Global Mutations and the Gap advertisement, this feature has another precursor in Japanese culture. Traditionally, Japanese artists have signed their works with seals. In addition, many hanging and hand scrolls, along with woodblock prints, feature the stamps and commentaries of the owners of the works. The commentaries and seals create rows of script in the margins, with the seals appearing much like logos. When I asked the artist about the use of Japanese imagery in this series, he stated: Well, that was a case where it was clearly meant to be a parody, and I had intended to have those Japanese references. But then, the point of the paintings were these surprises, these steps out, [Global Mutations 2], for example. That certainly would never be mistaken for coming out of an ukiyo-e tradition. It’s the same with the types of objects that were in the signature column. They clearly were not traditional, but it used certain aspects or created expectations because of where they were placed or how they were laid out vertically and things like that.126
In Global Mutations, Shimomura repeats the basic forms of marginal scripts and seals, familiar from the Japanese tradition, but the corporate logo replaces the artist’s mark. This substitution of the corporate for the individual, and the mass-produced for the unique, sustain the Pop art discourse on ambiguity; do advertising and Pop art reconcile signs of everyday life with their consumable images, or are they strictly objects of consumption themselves?127 This series and its subjects are put on display to be consumed; yet, they also represent a conflation of disparate stereotypes, inscribed on bodies, and in seemingly naturalized cultural elements.
126 127
Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012. Jean Baudrillard, “Pop – An Art of Consumption?,” Art and Design 5 (1989): 33-34. 108
Global Mutations 3 In Global Mutations 3, a man, representing the ultimate man’s man of each society, confronts the viewer (Fig. 73). He is the great American cowboy from the neck up, and the samurai warrior from the neck down, wearing a five-gallon hat with his kimono, two swords, and thong sandals. His posture is reminiscent of prostitutes in bijinga imagery, as he looks slightly downward with his head turned toward his shoulder. This pose may be seen in numerous Utamaro prints, including “Abalone Divers” and “Two Women.” The girlish pose of the figure is only one of the elements of gender and sexual confusion embodied in this image. This is compounded with the Dr. Scholl’s ad in the image. Both the cowboy and the samurai are thought to be strong and able to handle discomfort. The inclusion of an advertisement for orthopedic inserts negates this idea by inferring that this man needs relief from the pain of being on his feet. Shimomura draws on a long history of Americans dressing up as samurai. For example, Raimund von Stillfried’s photograph “Charles Longfellow dresses as a samurai,” c. 1872, demonstrates this superficial curiosity in the ultimate Japanese masculine costume. Longfellow wears a very formal version of samurai costume, yet only carries a single sword, and wears pants that are far too short for the formal attire, revealing his lack of authenticity in Japanese customs and costumes. Other nineteenth-century travelers to Japan similarly adopted local wardrobes, ostensibly to assert their knowledge of authentic Japanese culture.128 While some travelers occasionally dressed in ceremonial and formal attire, most who opted to “go native” wore kimonos more regularly. In Christine Guth’s discussion of “going native,” she outlines a number of issues at stake in American men traveling to Japan, and their decisions to adopt local dress. These men were escaping their own cultural constructions of masculinity, refusing to settle down Christine M. E. Guth, Longfellow’s Tattoos: Tourism, Collecting, and Japan (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2004), 136.
128
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and start families. In Japan, they could come together to form strong homosocial bonds and search for alternative masculinity.129 Beyond the Western association of the feminized kimono, the loose fitting garment had another connotation of freedom and sexual liberation, because of the romantic notion of a sexualized Orient, freely available to its Occidental counterparts.130 The cowboy in Global Mutations 3 secures his masculinity in his hat and double swords, yet flirts with femininity in gesture and dress. Shimomura creates the image of a man that freely experiments with gender and sexual domination and docility. The cowboy samurai is free to experiment because these shallow cultural stereotypes of inferiority will disappear immediately when he removes the costume and returns to his regular stance. Global Mutations: Women Global Mutations 1 features a Japanese woman wearing a navy pinstripe suit and stylish sling back heels. These Western markers are juxtaposed with white face makeup and a rounded, highly decorative hairstyle of the Edo period (Fig. 74). The woman’s face is anything but individual, representing a prostitute type in ukiyo-e. The pinstripe suit further reinforces the idea of anonymity, through the corporate uniformity represented by this costume. The figure stands against a solid black background, with a McDonald’s logo in the bottom right of the picture plane and the company name spelled out in katakana. She vacantly stares off to the right, looking down her nose at something outside of the composition. One hand is on her hip and the other arm bent up from the elbow, with the hand in an upturned questioning gesture. Shimomura creates a hybrid between a Yoshiwara prostitute and modern C.E.O., with an air of arrogance fit for either profession. The corporate logo and Pop art flatness serve to highlight the superficial
129
Ibid, 137.
130
Ibid, 139. 110
nature of her appearance. The markers of each culture are superficial. The navy suit and polished heels are emblems of modern, corporate uniformity, emblematic of contemporary, capitalistic American society. The makeup and hairstyle are characteristic of a Japan locked in timelessness, forever in the amoral floating world of the Edo period Yoshiwara. These two cultures are incompatible, their symbols never meant to coincide in space and time. Shimomura combines them to an initially humorous effect, causing the viewer to question their coexistence in a single figure. The only other female subject of the series, besides the corporate geisha featured in Global Mutations 1, is a Caucasian American woman in Global Mutations 4, dressed in a kimono (Fig. 75). Instead of the makeup and hairstyle associated with the Edo period Yoshiwara, a small amount of mascara and eyeliner emphasize her blue eyes, and red lipstick accentuates her auburn hair, which flows down behind her shoulders. Her gray garment is brightened by red trim together with a number of flora and abstract details. The obi that ties her garment shut has a black-and-white geometric pattern on top of a bright blue that matches her eyes. The short sleeves would traditionally denote her status as a married woman, but she does not wear a wedding ring. One bare foot pokes out from under the floor-length garment, and her hands hold a closed folding fan. Her pose is awkward, with one shoulder raised much higher than the other, over which she stares out at the viewer. While her upper body is contorted, her lower half is relaxed, denoting a slight contrapposto. The artist’s assertion of an “American stupidity of Japanese ways (unlike what most people expect),” and the idea of boutique multiculturalism are supported by the confusion of symbolism in Global Mutations 4.131 The woman in this image appears to be a model, relaxed in
131
. Roger Shimomura, e-mail to author, April 7, 2008. 111
a ridiculous pose, and reminiscent of American starlets. However, instead of granting her this American star status, Shimomura negates it with the appearance of chrysanthemums on her kimono. To an informed viewer, these flowers have two different meanings in Japanese culture. The most common is the mum as a symbol of Japan. The secondary meaning is as a symbol of beautiful boys, known for sexual trysts with older men, and because of the flowers’ resemblance to anuses they are associated with nanshoku, or male-male love, in general. The nanshoku symbolism, along with the confusion of the figure’s marital status, demonstrates the misunderstanding of Japanese culture by American viewers, as well as the artist. To an uninformed viewer, the woman is a starlet in a kimono. However, to the informed viewer she is either wearing the symbol of a disparate culture, or displaying a confused marital status because of sexual deviance. Global Mutations has some formal precursors in Shimomura’s body of works. In a number of series, Shimomura offers a superficial interpretation of Japanese imagery and culture to demonstrate the ridiculousness of expected hybridity. One of these series is Thrift Store Haiku, in which the artist juxtaposes found objects of both Japanese and American origins to an almost comical effect. In his statement on this series, the artist says: “[H]aiku poetry is meant to intensify a moment so that the reader may see it more clearly than before. To achieve this in writing, one device is to relate two or more images in an unusual way, thereby creating a new and interesting relationship that might suggest multiple meanings or associations.”132 A haiku written by a Japanese-American poet accompanies each object. These poets write about their cultural predicament. For example, Amy Uyematsu’s poem exhibited with Beady Eyed Purse (Fig. 76): Roger Shimomura, quoted in Steven Hill, “Found in Translation,” Kansas Alumni, no. 1 (January 2004): 23. 132
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American blues Trap my O-RI-EN-TAL eyesA joke for children.133
This brief poem is a poignant reminder that in the eyes of Americans, Japaneseness is inscribed on the body. By juxtaposing stereotypes with the subjects of Pop art and objects of popular culture, Shimomura is able to demonstrate the racism that still circulates among Americans. While this series is very different from Global Mutations, it is an important precursor both formally and for the idea of blending Japanese and American elements in order to demonstrate the ridiculousness of multiculturalism. In Moon as Exiles, the artist puts a white doll in a kimono, demonstrating his future interest in the blending of opposite race and wardrobe (Fig. 77). Another important work in which the artist begins to experiment with a similarly humorous mixture of cultures is his Self-Portrait of 1990, from the Return of the Yellow Peril series, discussed in Chapter One. In this image, the artist turns his pajamas and bathrobe into a seemingly Japanese samurai garment, much as a child would create during a game of dress-up. Shimomura’s figures in the Global Mutations series have historical precursors, as well. Historian Paul Varley discusses the penchant for nineteenth-century Japanese men to blend traditional garments with Western clothes: During the 1870s, Western clothes, deemed more practical and up-to-date, were increasingly worn by men in the cities, often combined amusingly with items of the native costume. Thus, it was not unusual to see men sporting kimonos over long pants or suit jackets and hakama skirts. Women and people in rural areas, on the other hand, were much slower in adopting the sartorial ways of the West. Western shoes, moreover, presented a special problem, for the Japanese foot, splayed from the traditional wearing of sandals, frequently could not be fitted into footgear imported from abroad.134
133
Roger Shimomura, “Thrift Store Haiku,” Emergences 10, no. 1 (November 1, 2000): 80-81.
134
Paul Varley, Japanese Culture, 4th ed. (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000), 240. 113
The notion of blending the costumes of two cultures is historically significant; however, Shimomura’s tendency in this series is to merge nineteenth-century Japanese styles with twentyfirst-century American fashions. There may be a convergence of interest between the two. Varley’s description of the meshing of fashions accompanies a discussion of Japanese people trying to redefine themselves after regular encounters with the West. The 1870s was a time of political and social upheaval in Japan, as Japanese literati debated whether they should remain cut off from outside influences, or embrace them in a move toward Western modernity and technology.135 The concerns of the literati on how to move forward as a nation were broad, yet Varley demonstrates how these concerns were expressed individually in clothing. In contrast, Shimomura’s paintings from the Global Mutations series demonstrate an interest, not in defining a national identity, but instead in trying to navigate a personal identity. As we have seen, the artist grapples with the distinctions between the perceived identity of Japanese and his own ideas of Americanness. In both situations, historical Japan and contemporary painting, a blending of superficial cultural markers allows subjects to navigate the complicated notions of bifurcated identity between a timeless Japaneseness and a modern West. Global Mutations: Men Global Mutations 2 features a Japanese man wearing masculine Kabuki makeup and hairstyle with white briefs and undershirt, along with argyle socks (Fig. 78). Shimomura chose this juxtaposition to highlight the assumed exotic nature of the Kabuki actor. As he stated in a personal interview: Kind of the basis of everything in our society is only the white person. So, whenever you see a person of another race assume that same identity, it looks really weird. It’s like a double-whammy. I was really playing on that in the whole Global Mutations series. The juxtaposition of why is it that a Japanese person, especially one with Kabuki makeup, 135
Ibid, 235-270. 114
looks so weird in tighty-whiteys? If it was a white man in tighty-whiteys, you see that in commercials.136 The tighty-whiteys are normal on a Caucasian man, but the typical viewer has a hard time assuming that this is what a Kabuki actor wears underneath his costume. In Global Mutations 2, the actor appears on a solid white background with an advertisement for Chya-re Soft tampons next to him, including a drawing of the tampon that is being sold. In this image, Shimomura is raising the stakes of boutique multiculturalism by utilizing the gendered stereotype of a feminized Orient. The idea of a feminized Orient had become naturalized in the minds of Americans. In his study of the formation of Asian American masculine identity, David L. Eng cites Freud as a perpetrator of the stereotype of the feminized, morally inferior Orient. Through an examination of Freud’s Totem and Taboo and “On Narcissism,” Eng concludes that these studies serve to situate any non-European (white) male as primitive, lacking an “unconscious,” and unable to control his unnatural (homo)sexual impulses.137 Therefore, Asian American men are often portrayed as inferior and feminized.138 Shimomura brilliantly calls attention to this idea through the juxtaposition of masculine gender identities from the two different cultures used to illustrate the promotion of a product that is biologically linked to the female sex. The superficial crossing of cultures through clothes and makeup cannot erase the femininity inscribed on the Japanese man’s body, whether in the forms of eye shape or skin color. Even when the Japanese man accepts Westernization in the form of his clothes, he is still marked as the feminine Other. Only 136
Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012.
137
The unconscious is the mediator between thought and action. As Freud argues, the primitive lacks an unconscious and therefore impulses are acted on without mediation. 138
David L. Eng, Racial Castration: Managing Masculinity in Asian America (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001), 4-14. 115
through using him to advertise for tampons can the American viewer realize the absurdity of this construct, and begin to notice the superficiality of the cultural markers that Shimomura highlights. The artist’s use of the Pop art aesthetic is important to the success of these works. The flatness of the picture planes and the figures that inhabit them serve to demonstrate the shallowness of the multiculturalism that he critiques. The discourse on multiculturalism builds on the notion that there is a core to every culture, differentiating it from others. However, boutique multiculturalists believe there is an essence in humanity that unites us all underneath the differences. In Global Mutations, Shimomura negates this notion of a fundamental core by illustrating stereotypes in a superficial way. The picture plane is not a window through which the viewer can look to find deeper meaning. Instead he faces a shallow illustration in which he is confronted with the overarching ideas of Americanness and Japaneseness, coming together, yet not penetrating each other. As I have shown, in this series, the artist focuses on the visual differences between Japan and the United States. While each figure incorporates both cultural markers, the signs are generally distinct and disjointed, avoiding a hybrid monoculture. The individuals are participating in boutique multiculturalism, each appropriating cosmetic aspects of the other tradition. However, there is a deeper level of critique in these images, rooted in the artist’s personal experience. Shimomura’s use of katakana, a Japanese script used to write cognates taken from foreign languages, highlights multiculturalism as a stepping-stone to globalism. The artist claims that he was completely unaware of the meaning of the katakana script in these images, as he just
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pulled advertisements out of a Japanese magazine that fit into his compositions. 139 However, I believe that this is telling of the situation. As multiculturalism allows for the foreign appropriation of elements associated with different cultures, as signs of tolerance and respect, the alienation of these elements eliminates their traditional meanings, and they become simply signifiers of a culture. In these images, McDonald’s spelled out in katakana, ceases to mean McDonald’s, the foremost name in American fast food. It becomes an exotic word that the average American, including Shimomura, cannot know. The obverse of this situation is that Japanese language has been infiltrated by American capitalist imperialism, in the forms of food and billboard advertising. While the two cultures are linked by the McDonald’s economy, the individual people of each culture are still alienated from the other, focusing on the superficial differences in appearance. Additionally, differences in appearance create a disjuncture within American culture. Shimomura’s personal experiences reflect that his appearance distances him from his culture in the eyes of many Caucasian Americans. The artist includes himself in this series, in a kind of opposition to the cowboy. Shimomura is dressed as Superman in Global Mutations 5, complete with the hyper-musculature (Fig. 79). The advertisement is seamless in this image, as it is for Superman and DC Comics. The artist’s head appears tiny in comparison to his body and his gray hair and glasses are visible markers of the disjunction between man and costume. The older Japanese man, feeble in vision, dresses up as the American fantasy of perfect masculinity. Unlike the cowboy, who undresses to return to a state of Western masculine perfection, when Shimomura disrobes he will negate this ideal. His age and handicapped vision set him apart from the virility of youth, embodied in the superhero. Super heroes, such as the one just discussed, are a recurring theme in the artist’s
139
Roger Shimomura, e-mail to author, April 7, 2008. 117
works, particularly Superman and Astro Boy, the most popular super heroes of the United States and Japan, respectively. While the artist’s critics and colleagues expect him to be a hybrid, fully participating in and knowledgeable of both Japanese and American cultures, he betrays this notion by giving visual evidence of his wholly American fantasy of being Superman. The only Japanese elements in this image are the artist’s race and the katakana script in the advertisement. He does not dress up to appreciate another culture, he dresses up to live out his fantasy of being the pinnacle of virile masculinity in the culture in which he was born and raised. Global Mutations 6 features an onnagata, a male Kabuki actor that plays female roles, recognizable from his cross-eyed expression, a familiar form of demonstrating drama on the stage (Fig. 80). In this image, Shimomura creates a challenge to gender construction. The onnagata has breasts, which are highlighted, along with his hidden genital region, by suntan lines. These lines play a dual role. First, they place the actor in the contemporary world, since the modern invention of a bikini is required to tan in such a way. Second, they act as an inversion of Kabuki makeup. The typically white face is left natural, while the sites of sexual distinction are emphasized. The onnagata has breasts, which he covers with his hands, and his slightly bent leg conceals his genitalia. His hair is prepared for the stage, in a style of the Edo period, and is decorated with an assortment of colorful objects. His body is drawn in a manner similar to the idealized female form in manga, with severely elongated legs, further modernizing the figure. While he covers his breasts and genitalia, he is only feigning modesty, since his posture serves to intrigue the viewer. Kabuki actors of the Edo period, particularly onnagata, often doubled as prostitutes. While woodblock images of the actors were created to advertise their shows, they were also utilized to advertise for assorted commercial products. In Shimomura’s painting, the onnagata
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appears with an advertisement for Vasclean bath creams. The use of an advertisement for bath creams is not only reminiscent of Edo period uses of woodblock prints, but leads to another point about onnagata and their influence. Their fame extended beyond the pleasure quarters, and the onnagata set the standard for beauty and femininity for Japanese women. Shimomura’s focus on the cross-eyed expression of this actor has a dual function. First, it identifies him as an actor. Second, it appears silly in the eyes of the American viewers. A male actor setting the standard of feminine beauty is ridiculous and incomprehensible, even to the most accepting of boutique multiculturalists. In addition, the different connotations of crossed eyes between the two cultures, actor in Japan and silly in the United States, help to create this dual function. One of the interesting ideas that come up in viewing the works together, as a series, is the viewer’s movement through time. American elements are contemporary, datable to any year in the past half-century. Both garments and advertisements locate the images in modern American society. The Japanese elements of the images, however, are not situated in the same time. The geisha in the first image wears a hairstyle and makeup, both of which date back to the Edo period. The same can be said of the Kabuki actor’s hair and makeup, and the cowboy’s kimono. All of the products advertised in the images are contemporary, whether they are American or Japanese in origin, but as the series progresses, the Japanese figures move forward in time. The onnagata is obviously modern because of his suntan lines, and in the final image, Global Mutations 7, the Japanese man is contemporary, blurring the lines between cultures in his modernity. The young Japanese man in Global Mutations 7 is presented differently than the rest of the figures (Fig. 81). His clothes are painted in a manga aesthetic, as opposed to that of Pop art. His jeans, jacket, and athletic shoes are standard for both American and Japanese youths. His
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hair style is still reminiscent of the Kabuki actor’s, but like the onnagata just before him, he is stripped of the makeup that clarifies his position in time and space. For the first time in the series, English letters interrupt the katakana script. This boy exists in a modern, global culture, which has appropriated signs of both Americanness and Japaneseness to sell a jacket. The juxtaposition of garments, body, and writing flawlessly connect these two cultures to the ends of capitalism, the pinnacle of which is in the international economy that eliminates differences, in which all consumers can appropriate signs to the extent that they can afford to. The Japanese boy has lost the sexual freedom of his kimono, the onnagata has been given a moral code of shame, and all that is menacing to harmony between cultures is erased. The result of this erasure is a comic book image of an average boy, a modern construction of unthreatening normalcy. Multiculturalism has been stripped bare to reveal its true ambition: a boy who has lost his culture, which has succumbed to the Western imperialism of moral capitalism. The superficial markers of his culture still exist in the forms of a hairstyle, an art form, and a script, all of which multiculturalists can appropriate with a free conscience, but the discomfort of core difference is gone. Shimomura’s works, in general, are critical of his awkward placement in American culture, since the inscribed difference on his skin normally leads people to situate him as an exotic outsider. In this series, he changes this situation, juxtaposing superficial elements of both American and Japanese cultures to make them both awkward. Global Mutations are the result of a boutique multiculturalist approach to understanding other cultures, where cosmetic elements are appropriated as a means of tolerance and respect. As the images move forward in time, they also demonstrate the impossibility of tolerance and respect where there is a gap between differing moral codes. The appropriation of elements allows the boutique multiculturalist to feign
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knowledge and esteem of another culture, while separating its signs from their actual meanings. Shimomura uses shallow stereotypes and odd juxtapositions to emphasize the ridiculousness of this type of approach, and to draw attention to the underlying results of homogenization inherent in the globalism that develops out of it. Parody At this point, it is critical that I define parody, as well as how it functions in Shimomura’s works. This term is often used and ill-defined. The most common usage comes from Linda Hutcheon’s study, A Theory of Parody. She states that modern parodists work with numerous intents, ranging “from the ironic and playful to the scornful and ridiculing.”140 The broadest, yet shortest, definition that she offers for parody is “repetition with difference.”141 She believes that this repetition is a tool for “modern artists to come to terms with the past – through ironic recoding. . . .”142 Unfortunately, this characterization is too broad to be useful. I conceive a new definition for parody, as a semiotic process that functions as a counter to myth. In this case, I refer to Roland Barthes’s usage of the term myth as a second-level semiotic process, which I will return to below. Although this new designation of parody may be useful in other situations, I argue only that this semiotic function occurs in Shimomura’s works, particularly in his adoption of token cultural icons and stereotypes. In order to understand my definition of parody, one must first begin with Barthes’s use of the term myth. As I stated in the introduction, according to Roland Barthes, “myth is speech stolen and restored. Only, speech which is restored is no longer quite that which was 140
Linda Hutcheon, A Theory of Parody: The Teachings of Twentieth-Century Art Forms (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2000), 6. 141
Ibid, 101.
142
Ibid, 101. 121
stolen. . . .”143 The appropriation of cultural symbols, which are combined until they become empty signifiers initiates the myth. Once the signifiers have been stripped of traditional meanings, they symbolize only the idea of a culture. The idea of a culture is now a myth, and “[s]peech of this kind [myth] is a message.”144 Shimomura is demythologizing this myth, or message, through the adoption and parody of empty signifiers. These parodies demonstrate the absurdity of these forms as cultural symbols, and therefore call into question the process that destroys the signification of traditional forms. Barthes prescribes the process of demythologizing the myth through mythifying it: “Truth to tell, the best weapon against myth is perhaps to mythify it in its turn, and to produce an artificial myth: and this reconstituted myth will in fact be a mythology. Since myth robs language of something, why not rob myth? All that is needed is to use it as the departure point for a third semiological chain, to take its signification as the first term of a second myth.” 145 In order to explain my interpretation of Barthes’s meaning, I will utilize his example of the black soldier on the cover of Paris-Match. Although Barthes instructs the reader on how to mythify a myth, he does not do so with his own example. The young soldier, saluting, becomes the myth of French imperialism during the process of signification. In order to mythify this myth, French imperialism must become the departure point for a semiological chain. Although Barthes gives no details on this prescription, I will offer one particular example that is relevant to Shimomura’s approach. I begin a new semiological chain with French imperialism, in the visual form of the saluting soldier, as the first term, or signifier. I will go with the assumption that the soldier is 143
Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 125.
144
Ibid, 110.
145
Ibid, 135. 122
Algerian because of the conflict between France and Algeria at the time of Barthes writing this study. In addition, I include a second target text, which is also a myth. In this case, an image of an Algerian man that is not a soldier, representing the myth of Algerian autonomy. If the two are blended, and the soldier now salutes a French flag while wearing a turban, both of the target myths are destroyed. Instead, these myths are replaced with a mythology. The viewer must ask questions about not only the new signification, but also about the two myths that were chosen as targets. Was French imperialism or Algerian autonomy ever natural? If the danger of myths is that they are naturalized, this method is useful in demythologizing because it forces the viewer to question the original myths. I assert that Shimomura’s works that utilize stereotypical forms are mythologies. They study the myths that are naturalized within the stereotypes. In addition, Shimomura’s parodic images begin with stereotypical imagery as target texts. The stereotypes have been naturalized in myth, but by blending disparate stereotypes together, the artist destroys the myths. This destruction occurs by the inclusion of signifiers with disparate meanings, which become clear between the Sign I/second level signifiers and their signifieds. I posit that it is at this level that the viewer recognizes parody, which does not allow the traditional myth to remain naturalized in these works. Although the original myths do not continue to develop, the second level of signification (meta-language) still progresses and creates a message. The new message is unexpected because of the dichotomies created during the second level of signification. I assert that the meta-language developed in these works is parody, as opposed to myth. At once, the two concepts of myth and parody have similarities, in that they are types of speech and messages. Myth utilizes meanings in which “signification is already built,” but turns “it suddenly into an
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empty, parasitical form.”146 I assert that parody, however, challenges the development of myth by the inclusion of multiple signs with disparate meanings, which serves to make more apparent the emptiness of the meanings in mythical meta-language. In this, I also hypothesize that parody is dependent on myth – it cannot exist apart from an established myth. Parody develops confusion that destroys the myth by forcing the viewer to question it. Shimomura’s early forays into ukiyo-e were ironic, and qualify as parody by Hutcheon’s definition. They repeated the target texts (here, I would define the target text as ukiyo-e in general, as opposed to specific pieces) from a distance (cultural, temporal). However, I argue that they are not successful parodies. The first level of signification of these works ends with Sign I: Foreign. The process stops at this point, at least in the intentions of the artist. Deeper levels of meaning are understood to those with knowledge of the sign systems of ukiyo-e, as I described in reference to multiple works in Chapter One. In order to become parody, by my definition, these works would have to be understood as containing a second level of signification, or participate in meta-language. Shimomura makes a reference to a target myth that is being refuted through parody: Japanese Americans have an inherent knowledge of Japanese art. The refutation of this myth is not successful because most of his audience was unaware that he had no knowledge of his target text. To the average viewer, the work is foreign; this foreignness is attributed to the artist’s ethnicity. In order to be successful, Shimomura would have had to demonstrate his ignorance visually, belying the myth. Because the process of signification for the viewer stops before the myth is developed, these works fail to function as parody. In contrast, the paintings in the Global Mutations series function in a way that is relatively new to Shimomura’s works. With
146
Ibid, 117. 124
this series, the artist advanced his use of rhetorical devices to include parody as I have described it. Parodic Semiotics In Global Mutations 3, the pose and the advertisement cause confusion in what should be a typical chain of signification. The image as signifier produces a signified of race and clothing. In this case, the sign is a samurai cowboy, which becomes a second level signifier. The signified of this second level should be doubled masculinity; the samurai cowboy should be doubly masculine, as it is a combination of the ultimate masculinity from two different cultures. Instead, the pose and the ad negate these ideas of masculinity. Without these inclusions, the chain of signification would continue to create the second level sign, or myth. This myth would be that both cultures can survive multiculturalism intact, creating a hybrid of über-masculinity. Viewed within the context of parody, the two target texts/myths in this painting are the cowboy and the samurai. The semiological chain begins with these two established myths as signifiers, with race and clothing as signifieds. Sign I is a samurai cowboy with a model’s pose, and the signifieds of doubled masculinity, feminine attributes, and the vague notions of Americanness and Japaneseness. Instead of sustaining the separate myths of cowboys and samurais, Shimomura creates a parody of the appropriated signs: the cowboy is a samurai; the masculine is feminine. The artist deconstructs the original myths during the second level of signification by emptying the signifiers of their original meanings. The inclusion of additional elements to the chain of signification causes confusion, forcing the viewer to question the naturalized status of the original myths. The result of this broken chain allows even an uneducated viewer to notice that something is wrong, at least in the sense that what should be intimidating becomes silly.
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In Global Mutations 1, the signifiers that lead to the recognition of race and clothing indicate Sign I, the corporate business woman/geisha. As a second level sign, this image signifies the modern and historical, as well as the broad ideas of Japaneseness and Americanness. These contrary ideas at the second level of signification transform myth into parody: the historical Japanese courtesan in the guise of a modern corporate businesswoman. In the first level of signification of Global Mutations 4, the woman’s pose, hair, and makeup denote her as a modern model or actor, while her costume indicates contradictory identifications as a married woman or a beautiful boy. As the second level of signification begins from this point, the signs lose meaning; they signify nothing more than the dichotomies of modern and historical, as well as Japaneseness and Americanness. The signs cannot maintain their original connotations; they are too contrary. Therefore, the parody develops, displacing the myth. The resulting parody is that the historical, feminized Japanese actor is a typical modern man. Conclusion Shimomura’s series, Global Mutations, utilizes stereotypical imagery from disparate cultures in order to create parodies. These parodies function to subvert the myths of multiculturalist discourse. In the following years, the artist continues to find inspiration in personal experience, as well as his expansion of rhetoric devices. In the following chapter, I will demonstrate that although events in his life shape a great deal of his art, in his most current works, Shimomura’s inspirations expand. This results in more politically charged works with a greater variation in their messages. In order to represent his political messages, the artist expands his repertoire of rhetorical devices to include parody, simile, metonymy, and synecdoche.
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CHAPTER FIVE RHETORICAL DEVICES AND THE DEPICTION OF IDENTITY In this chapter, I discuss Shimomura’s works from 2005 to 2011. In particular, I focus on his experiments with forms and rhetorical devices utilized in order to imbue his works with meaning. The rhetorical devices aid in the expression of the artist’s depiction of identity, as well as in his political agenda. In this period, the artist expanded his use of rhetorical devices to include parody, simile, metonymy, and synecdoche. His bold Pop style seems to make light of difficult subjects. However, the disjuncture between his irreverent Pop aesthetic and difficult subject matter often forces the viewer to question the meaning in his works. Shimomura’s combination of rhetorical devices and difficult subject matter demonstrate the complexity of which Pop art is capable. Shimomura seems to return to similar subjects as those from his earlier works, including comic characters. However, in this period, the artist himself is his most common subject. The self-portraits are almost always synecdochical, whimsical, and loaded with meaning. Currently in his career, the artist is focusing on depicting his identity from multiple perspectives, including how he views himself, how he is perceived, or a combination. This personal exploration is important not only to the artist, but for many ethnic minorities within the U.S. In calling attention to his own predicament, Shimomura is shedding light on identity politics in general. Internment Images Mistaken Identities Throughout 2005, Shimomura created two series of works that coincided with Global Mutations. In addition to parody in Global Mutations, the artist utilized two other rhetorical devices in his works during this year – simile and metonymy. Simile compares two like things. 127
With metonymy, one concept is exchanged for another to which the original one is related. For example, the word “Crown” is often used in place of a monarch, or “suits” in reference to business people. The first of the 2005 series is Mistaken Identities, a suite of six lithographs, which returns to the subject of Japanese internment. In this series, instead of utilizing his memories or his grandmother’s diaries, the artist created generic scenes. They were based on famous photographs and paintings made during the time of the incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II, as evidenced by titles such as For Dorothea Lange and For Ansel Adams (Figs. 82 and 83). Unlike the American Diary series, these lithographs feature stereotypical figures in Japanese clothing. There is little room for confusion about location, as there was in the Diary series, in which he substituted Japan for Idaho in the backgrounds. The simple, almost industrial-style buildings of the later camp works, as do the prevalence of barbed wire and desert-like appearance of the semi-arid climate. Garments are bright and colorful, almost cheery against the desolate backdrops. The lithographs of Mistaken Identities may be viewed as inversions of their source photographs. Shimomura’s Pop style, with bold outlines and flat colors, are antithetical to the focus on light and shadow of the black-and-white photographs. As opposed to the documentary photographers’ rather solemn subjects, Shimomura’s subjects are emotionless, as well as unsympathetic to viewers; there is nothing in their faces or postures to signal suffering. Given these observations, this inversion of the source photographs forces the viewer to question the legitimacy of the photographic document. The juxtaposition of clothing and location in the lithographs demonstrates that the viewer must look beyond what is presented to understand artistic choices, not only in prints and paintings, but also in photographs. Documentary photographers choose their subjects; often they are manipulated to sway public opinion about a
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particular situation. Shimomura’s lithographs, in their inverted relationship to the original documentary photographs, question the legitimacy of such photography, particularly as a tool for propaganda. In The Prints of Roger Shimomura: A Catalogue Raisonné, 1968-2005, published for the 2007 retrospective of Shimomura’s prints, Emily Stamey argues that Shimomura’s print works function as “asides” to his paintings. She explains that they offer an experimental space for the artist to return to old themes or work out new ones.147 I argue that in Mistaken Identities Shimomura returns to an old theme, as well as works through a new one. The artist returns to the theme of internment explored in the Diary and American Diary series. At the same time, he expands upon his use of rhetorical devices, including simile and metonymy. Shimomura had earlier played with the analogic function of simile. Not Pearl Harbor from 2003 was a simile in which the artist compared the tragedies of September 11, 2001 and the attack on Pearl Harbor. However, the artist utilized the title to deny the similarity. In the Mistaken Identities series, Shimomura creates the similes by way of juxtaposition of image and title, but forces the viewer to draw their own conclusions about the relationships. What are the similarities between the original documentary photographs and the lithographs? In For Dorothea Lang, Shimomura paints a small grouping of Japanese people, with the focus on a young girl. Similarly, the source photograph is a grouping of Japanese Americans, although there is no focus on a particular figure. In addition, the artist utilized metonymy. In this series, the garments denote the figures as Japanese, which stand in for the Japanese Americans originally photographed. For example, in For Dorothea Lange, the small grouping wears kimonos, whereas the source photograph contains figures in contemporary American garb. At the time of internment, popular opinion 147
Emily Stamey, The Prints of Roger Shimomura, 16 (see introduction, n. 6). 129
believed that there was no difference, and Shimomura’s use of metonymic representations addresses this issue. Shimomura’s layering of simile and metonymy, in the case of Mistaken Identities, results in parody. Here, the target texts of parody are specific and identifiable through the titles. The original documentary photographs, paired with popular opinion, support the myth that the people interned in the camps were Japanese, as opposed to Japanese American. Shimomura problematizes this myth in the 2007 print retrospective catalogue: In this series all of the figures are depicted as traditional Japanese, replete in kimono, geta, and typical headdress. The images refer to America’s inability, during World War II, to differentiate between the Japanese Americans and the Japanese enemy. This failure was initially expressed by the 1942 proclamation by General John L. DeWitt, head of the Western Defense Command, that ‘A Jap’s a Jap . . .” This misconception continues today as many Americans assume that people of Asian appearance are foreigners to this country.148
However, in Mistaken Identities the juxtaposition of contemporary American locations with figures clothed in nineteenth-century Japanese garments denies the myth and calls attention to the misconception. In these prints, the internees’ clothing was not contemporary and the subjects were depicted in their actual environments. The confusion of signification occurs because of this disjunction, forcing the viewer to realize that these lithographs are false representations. The parody forms: eighteenth-century Japanese people were interned in the U.S. during WWII. The complex layering of rhetorical devices in this series served the artist as a study. However, Shimomura would not come to depend on these devices in his next series of internment paintings. His next series of internment paintings, Minidoka on my Mind, does not share the same
148
Roger Shimomura, quoted in Emily Stamey, The Prints of Roger Shimomura: A Catalogue Raisonné, 1968-2005 (Lawrence and Seattle: Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas and University of Washington Press, 2007), 122. 130
relationship with extant imagery. Therefore, different approaches to creating meaning within the images are necessary. Minidoka on my Mind I have discussed rhetorical devices as Roger Shimomura’s tools for imbuing works of art with meaning. In this section, I will examine images that utilize less complicated approaches to portraying the subject of internment. In 2007 and 2010, Shimomura had two exhibitions titled Minidoka on My Mind. The exhibited works return to the subject of Japanese-American internment during World War II. In his “Artist’s Statement” for the first of these two exhibitions, Shimomura explains that he spent years looking at images from a plethora of media. “The result of this search has been a visual distillation of tar papered barracks, barbed wire, and desolate landscapes, which are inhabited by muted occupants standing in line to eat and to clean, quietly interacting, contemplating their fate . . . and to wait.”149 Reflecting the artist’s search through internment imagery, most of the images from Minidoka on my Mind include dark or bleak backgrounds. In addition, many feature a shadow figure, unidentifiable except in shape. In American Infamy # 2 and American Guardian, the shadow figure is a soldier in a watchtower (Figs. 84 and 85). In both works, the soldier utilizes a pair of binoculars to gaze over the camp. The viewer is placed looking over the shoulder of the shadow soldiers, also staring down on the barracks. In the former, the camp yard is busy; people go about their daily business -- children play, adults walk and talk. The artist subtlety hints at the misery shared by some of the inhabitants. Near the barbed-wire fence in the upper left of the composition, a couple of solitary men stare at the landscape beyond the fence. In the front window of the second barracks from the
Roger Shimomura, “Artist’s Statement,” in Minidoka on My Mind: Recent Work by Roger Shimomura (Kansas City: Greystone Graphics, 2007), 22.
149
131
right, an older woman sits at the window with her head rested on her arms in despair. Just below the distant watchtower, a boy in a baseball uniform walks with his head down, dejected. His father walks beside him, offering comfort with his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Only these few characters seem to feel resentment for their current situation, while the others mill about, keeping busy. American Guardian and American Infamy # 2 share similar elements: the rows of black barracks lined up against the barren tan ground; billowing clouds winding their way through the scene; barbed wire and watchtowers. The biggest change in the second painting is that fewer people occupy the camp yard. Here a single figure is observed - the shadow of a small boy riding a tricycle. Another important difference between the two images is the soldier, who does not just watch with his binoculars. In addition, he is prepared for action with one assault rifle slung over his shoulder, and another set up and ready for immediate use in front of him. The artist places the viewer behind the figure of the soldier in order to offer the point of view of an unnecessary prison guard. If the barbed-wire prison in American Infamy # 2 seems extreme for the large group of people that offers no resistance, then the gun pointed at a lone toddler in American Guardian is ridiculous. In this light, the point of view is meant to disturb the viewer in two distinct ways. First, since the gun pointed at an unprotected and unchaperoned child who could not possibly be a war criminal, the viewer is forced to note the wrongness of the situation. In addition, since the child is viewed from behind, the point of view indicates that the child does not notice this wrongness; he plays, unaware or at least uncaring about the danger to his person. Throughout this series, Shimomura utilizes children and teenagers as primary figures. They often function to demonstrate the reckless disregard by the U.S. government for the constitutional rights of those interned. Although many people can acknowledge that the
132
imprisonment of untried adults was unlawful, people tend to react more strongly when children are at risk. In addition, the idea of small children as possible war criminals or public menaces seems outrageous. In order to make this point, Shimomura included a number of small children in shadow form in these works, pairing them with titles that should inspire fear. In Enemy Alien # 1 (Fig. 89), a woman is sweeping out the inside of a barracks. Standing in the doorway is the shadowy form of a toddler holding a baseball bat. He is most likely the alien identified in the title, as the viewer cannot see his face. The woman gazes down at him with a serene smile on her face, demonstrating a lack of fear of this tiny alien. The viewer cannot reconcile the loving gaze at the toddler with the idea of an alien enemy. In Shadow of the Enemy, the viewer faces the outside wall of one of the barracks (Fig. 86). In the upper right corner, a sliver of window is visible, showing figures inside. On the wall, a shadow reflects the small girl jump-roping outside. Although features are not perceptible, the viewer can make out her pigtails. The title of this image, as well as those of the previous two paintings, are ironic. The idea of children playing, even in the shadows, cannot be reconciled with the idea of alien enemies. Initially, the titles are almost funny, until the viewer is forced to realize that children are imprisoned and considered enemies. In the serial paintings, Classmates and Classmates # 2, Shimomura offers two pairs of figures of children (Fig. 87 and 88). In the former, there are two adolescent girls, and in the latter, a young boy and girl. Each of the pairs is separated by barbed wire, the Caucasian child stands in front and the Japanese American stands behind the barbed wire. Behind the fence, the Japanese American girl and boy are dressed similarly to their Caucasian counterparts: periodappropriate dress in American styles. Each of the adolescent girls holds an apple in her right hand. All four figures smile out at the viewers, as if they are all happy to be there. These pairings
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call attention to the fact that while the government would never consider imprisoning Caucasian children unjustly, during World War II, very few questioned the imprisonment of Japanese American children. The pairs of children are friends, and based on the depicted visits, the viewer may assume that there is mutual caring and respect between the classmates. The most disturbing aspect of these paintings is the smiling faces. Much like the unaware child in American Guardian, the children’s lack of fear or resentment heightens the viewer’s feeling of wrongness. Shimomura included three self-portraits in the 2007 show, Minidoka on my Mind, each titled Enemy Alien. In Enemy Alien #1 and Enemy Alien #3, the artist is dressed in stereotypical ukiyo-e fashions (Figs. 89 and 90). These two are the only paintings in the exhibition to feature any costumes that are not period-appropriate American fashions. Although both his hair and costumes date to eighteenth-century Japan, Shimomura wears no makeup, as would be expected in stereotypical ukiyo-e fashion. His costume in Enemy Alien # 3 actually signifies a very particular identity. The concentric squares on his robes denote him as Ichikawa Danjūrō, a Kabuki actor in the Yoshiwara.150 Although unfamiliar to the artist and many viewers of this work, the mon (an emblem used to decorate and denote an individual or family) is identifiable to the informed viewer. This mon of concentric squares was also enough for contemporary Edo audiences to identify the particular actor. In Shimomura’s painting, his face is unhindered, showing his iconic glasses and facial hair. In Enemy Alien #2, the artist’s face, the only visible part of his body, is seen through a barracks window (Fig. 91). Just outside is another shadow figure - it is the small boy on the tricycle. Barbed wire is visible through windows in all three of these paintings.
150
David Bell, Ukiyo-e Explained (Kent: Global Oriental, 2004), 59. 134
The ironic disjunction between title and figures functions differently in each of these paintings. In the first, Shimomura is dressed as an ukiyo-e courtesan. He gazes at the viewer, holding open his outermost robe in invitation. Although this figure is alien to the contemporary time and space of the artist, there is nothing menacing about him. In the third painting, Shimomura is visible in profile, his face and hair partially hidden by voluminous robes. Protruding from the robes is the hilt of a katana, or samurai sword. His hunched posture seems to indicate that he is tip-toeing through the barracks, sneaking up on an unseen figure. Although the sneaking warrior is alien, and probably an enemy to someone, the disparity in time and place forces the viewer to acknowledge that this figure is not the enemy alien who was imprisoned in the camp. Finally, in the second image, Shimomura is seen staring out of a barracks window. The viewer cannot be sure who the enemy alien is, the artist or the small child on the tricycle. In any case, he now realizes that neither subject is actually an alien or enemy that must be feared and interned. Shimomura painted these self-portraits placed within the camp contemporaneously with two other series of self-portraits. Beginning as early as 2002, there is a significant shift in Shimomura’s work. He becomes the predominant subject of his paintings. I assert that this shift demonstrates the artist’s growing interest in identity politics, or the theorizing and political activities related to marginalized social groups. Although Shimomura focuses on himself as a subject, he does not abandon his exploration of stereotypical imagery. In the following section, I will argue that stereotypes stand in for ethnicity and that ethnicity stands in for identity within the self-portraits. In this light, the relationship between stereotype and identity are the subjects of Shimomura’s self-portraits.
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Self-Portraits As we have seen, Roger Shimomura was more direct in his approach to the subject of internment in the images discussed in the previous section than those with which I began this chapter which were imbued with complicated rhetorical devices. In this section, we will see that Shimomura did not abandon rhetorical devices altogether. Synecdoche, in which a part stands in for a whole, plays a large role in Shimomura’s self-portraits. The most important discussion of the artist’s self-portraits is in Stamey’s dissertation, in which she dedicates the section “Substitutive Selves” to Shimomura’s prolific output of self-portraits beginning in 2002. Here she argues that these works are an example of Paul Moorehouse’s description of covert portraits. Stamey states: “Covert portraits represent known individuals, but pass them off as anonymous types, addressing ‘the issue of the individual’s relation to the modern world and its impact on personal identity’.”151 Stamey states that the artist’s substitution of an existing figure for himself . . . serves the pointed function of allowing Shimomura to be both someone and anyone, a stereotype in the eyes of others. . . [T]he figure that stands in for Shimomura also stands in for any and every Asian American. . . [I]t [the substitutive self-portrait] is a type. . . [H]owever, it is also a critique of that type.152 Although I agree with her adoption of Moorehouse’s terminology for these self-portraits, I assert that Stamey’s use of the term “stand in” is misleading. Shimomura is clearly identified in all of his self-portraits, either visually or in the accompanying texts. The figure of the artist, whether visually recognizable or not, is a synecdoche. In a synechdoche, a part of something stands in for the whole. The stereotype is a part of the artist’s identity, at least in the sense that it is how he is viewed, if not who he actually is. The stereotype, therefore, stands in for ethnicity, and ethnicity
151
Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity,” 191 (see introduction, n. 11).
152
Ibid., 192. 136
for identity. In addition, Shimomura’s self-portraits have another layer of synecdochical meaning. The artist is a part standing in for the whole of stereotyped Asian Americans. In the 2005-2006 series, The Foreigners, each painting is a self-portrait of Shimomura as a stereotypical Japanese male. I assert that each image is a synecdoche, in which the part stands in for the whole. In this case, ethnicity stands in for the entirety of identity. The stereotypical element varies; the artist is a samurai, kabuki actor, geisha, etc. However, his face is persistently identifiable, and although additions such as paint and makeup change his appearance, his glasses and facial hair are constants. Each of these 20” x 24” compositions features a close-up of the artist’s face. Unlike many of his previous paintings of stereotypes, in which the characters possess boneless, generic facial features, this series portrays the artist’s underlying facial structure. The shift from boneless faces to specific features has a historical precedent. In the later eighteenth century, a similar shift occurred in ukiyo-e portraits. David Bell explains this change as twofold: “The formal change came with the introduction of the okubi-e ‘big head’ format – close up studies of the upper half of the body, or even of a head and shoulders only. The stylistic change came in an increasing preoccupation with the representation of physical likeness. . .”153 This series of Shimomura’s self-portraits demonstrates a similar preoccupation with specificity in a close up view. This specificity of features in a ‘big head’ format demands the viewer to identify the artist underneath the superficial elements that identify his ethnicity. The artist’s interest in specificity of his own features is obvious in one of his preparatory books. These books are large binders in which the artist collects existing imagery, personal communication, and articles that he uses as research for his paintings. In “Forever Foreign,” 153
Bell, Ukiyoo-e Explained, 147. 137
which includes the artist’s research and preparations for this series, as well as for Eternal Foreigner, there are twenty-four photographs of the artist’s face. Each of the photographs provides a close-up of Shimomura’s experiments with different expressions. These images demonstrate the artist’s interest in rendering his face in a naturalistic, identifiable way. The ukiyo-e source image for The Foreigner # 4 (Figs. 92 and 93) appears on page thirtysix of the preparatory book.154 The two surrounding pages include a close-up view of the source image, as well as a photograph of the artist’s face with the expression painted in his work. The source image is an ukiyo-e style Kabuki actor, featuring the hairstyle and face paint reproduced in Shimomura’s painting. Details of the geometric shapes on the kabuki actor’s massive robe, as well as the collar and string tied beneath his chin, all appear in The Foreigner # 4. However, the close-up of the artist’s face removes these details from the context of the robe. These shapes are concentric squares of the mon identifying the Kabuki actor as Ichikawa Danjūrō. Out of context, the geometric shapes shift into a decorative background. Although Shimomura maintained many details of the source image, including costume, hair, and makeup, he replaced the background of the source image with a bright yellow backdrop. Shimomura’s interest in preserving the integrity of the source images from this series extends only to the human figures and their costumes. Removing the figures from the contexts of their original backgrounds allows the artist to use them as stereotypes, as opposed to historical subjects. In addition, by replacing the faces of these figures with his own, he not only removes them from historical and artistic contexts, but also replaces the original persona with his own. While the stereotypical elements stand in for ethnicity, the individuality of the artist’s features 154
There is no pagination in the preparatory books. In order to clarify which images I am discussing, I am numbering the pages in order, including blank pages, as they appeared during my research. These binders are unpublished and are currently located in the artist’s studio. 138
stands in for contemporary Asian Americans as a whole. The disparate elements of stereotype and individuality cause the viewer to question the construction of identity. Although Shimomura portrays himself in a stereotypical way, his face challenges notions of “they all look alike.” The stereotypical aspects are a part of his ethnic identity in the eye of the viewer; however, the naturalistic details of individual facial structure denote his place as a single, identifiable person that is subject to the stereotype. In the series Eternal Foreigner, from 2006-2007, the artist presents himself in different costumes. Many of the paintings from this series were featured in the 2006 exhibition, Gottabees, Wannabees & Gonnabees at the Jan Weiner Gallery. Unlike the previous series, these self-portraits depict Shimomura’s full body rendered on 72” x 24” panels reminiscent of hanging scrolls. The costumes in these paintings are not all stereotypically Japanese; they also include Chinese aristocratic garb, a martial arts gi (training uniform), a business suit, and a cowboy costume. Each self-portrait could be classified within one of the three title categories of the 2006 exhibition, although Shimomura left it to the viewer to decide which the best fit was. He also defined each of the categories in a review article. Gottabees, he stated, “have to do with the perception in this country that if you are Asian, you are from Asia and must not be a citizen.”155 Wannabees are “personas that we wish to be, which sometimes is not easy for people of minority groups because they are stereotyped as ‘other.’”156 Gonnabees “make direct reference to globalization, that point that there’s going to be such an overlap of all cultures that it should
Bembnister, “One Man, Everyman: Shimomura Self-Portraits Depict the Obstacles AsianAmericans Face,” Kansas City Star (Kansas City, MO), October 21, 2006.
155
156
Ibid. 139
become a liberating time for people of minority cultures in this country to finally assume a stronger position.”157 Stamey’s dissertation, the only previous academic study on this series, focuses on the Gottabees, citing the Mia Tuan study, Forever Foreigners or Honorary Whites, as proof that Shimomura’s experiences are common for Asian Americans. In particular, Tuan refers to the familiar question, “Where are you from?” This question is asked with an expectation that the Asian American will automatically discuss ancestry, as opposed to answering literally.158 Stamey’s assertion is that all of these paintings are visual banter, responding to this question with false answers.159 However, Stamey overlooks the second question invoked in Shimomura’s imagery: “When are you from?” To the informed viewer, each masquerade depicts not only a person tied to a particular place or culture, but also a time. The geisha costume in Eternal Foreigner # 3 denotes the artist’s place in eighteenth-century Yoshiwara, Edo, Japan (Fig. 94). The aristocratic Chinese garb in Eternal Foreigner # 6 is more difficult to situate in a particular time and place because of the generic nature of the rendering (Fig. 95). The exaggerated beard, extravagant headpiece, and robe with billowing sleeves denote pre-twentieth-century Chinese aristocratic garb. However, in reality, the exact costume comes from a design for a paper doll that the artist collected for his preparatory book.160 The artist’s costume in Eternal Foreigner # 8 is again not specific enough for an exact date or location, but the cut of the suit, as well as the hat, allow one to hypothesize mid-twentieth-century United States (Fig. 96). In his preparatory
157
Ibid.
158
Stamey, “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity,” 194.
159
Ibid, 194.
160
Roger Shimomura, “Forever Foreign Preparatory Book,” personal papers of artist, 20. 140
book for this series, the artist inserted an image of a man in the exact suit and hat from a 1940s catalog.161 The most important aspect of the question “When are you from?” lies in the lack of specificity of the answer. The answer is generally “not now.” Shimomura’s self-portraits reflect disparity in time and place from the source images, as well as from his own reality. I assert that in the Eternal Foreigner series, Shimomura is the synecdochical part standing in for all ethnic minorities. In addition, the costumes reflect numerous stereotypes about Asian-Americans, particularly how ethnicity is interpreted as identity. This series portrays stereotypical costumes that have become a standard part of the artist’s repertoire, but it also includes those that denote Americanism, i.e. the business suit or the superhero costume. As in the Foreigner series, Shimomura’s face is easily identifiable, and he wears the same round-rimmed glasses in every image. As he changes clothes throughout the series, he does not change his core identity. The array of costumes from different times and places, particularly when viewed together, begin to seem like a silly game of dress-up. The artist, whether Chinese or Japanese, ancient or modern, is at the mercy of the viewer to decide which, if any, is his identity. In this way, Shimomura forces the viewer to question ideas of identity based on superficial features, whether they are based in biology or fashion. He stands in for every person who the viewer has seen and judged based on stereotypes. Political Imagery Throughout this dissertation, I have outlined a progression in Shimomura’s works, demonstrating a growing complexity in subject matter, as well as visual devices used to critique society. As we have seen up to this point, Shimomura tended to attack stereotypes and criticize society generally for allowing such myths to proliferate. The artist painted only one image of a 161
Ibid, 12. 141
specific political figure, Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin, in 2006 (Fig. 97). This painting is most likely a response to Malkin’s 2004 book, In Defense of Internment: The Case for ‘Racial Profiling’ in World War II and The War on Terror. In this painting, Shimomura placed Malkin inside one of the buildings of an internment camp. She stands inside the building, at the window, revealing her bust and face. Her mouth is wide open, in protest of her imprisonment. Behind her, another window is in the parallel wall, revealing the bleak landscape and barbed wire surrounding the camp. In Malkin’s book, she defends the actions of the U.S. government in interning citizens of Japanese heritage after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. She further suggests that it would be acceptable to intern Arab-Americans and Muslim-Americans today. During numerous personal conversations with the artist, he has made it perfectly clear to me that one of his greatest fears after the 9/11 attacks was that Muslims in the U.S. would be treated as his family was after World War II. Additionally, in his “Artist’s Statement” accompanying the Minidoka on My Mind exhibition, he states: [F]or most viewers, I offer this exhibition as a metaphor for the impending threat posed by current times, and as a warning that during international crises our government seems to consistently lose its memory regarding past mistakes.”162 Although Shimomura painted this particular political figure in 2006, Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin is vastly different from his later political works. In 2009, the artist created two paintings that seem shocking in their specificity of political subjects. The two paintings from 2009, George Bush v. Me and Ann Coulter v. Me, abandon generalizations in order to criticize particular people (Figs. 98 and 99). In addition, the criticism is visually personal; while Michelle Malkin was featured alone, George Bush and Ann Coulter each appear with a self-portrait of the artist. Each of these 34” x 34” compositions features the 162
Shimomura, “Artist’s Statement,” 22. 142
artist in combat with the named political figure, achieving varying degrees of success. Shimomura appears as himself, although he is dressed in a judogi (judo training uniform, also referred to as a gi). Unlike many of his previous self-portraits, he wears no makeup or hairstyle to denote a stereotypical ethnicity. Although the artist’s costume signifies ethnicity, it also highlights his participation in hand-to-hand combat. The gi demonstrates premeditated participation in the battle. In addition, the gi references the construction of Asian American masculine identity, as prescribed by the editor’s preface to Aiiieeeee!: An Anthology of Asian American Writers.163 The editors believe that the feminization of Asian American males can only be overcome through the adoption of an Asian martial tradition as the foundation for masculine identity. However, David Eng argues against this type of identity construction. As he states, Paradoxically, this reification of a strident cultural nationalism, with its doctrine of compulsory heterosexuality and cultural authenticity, mirrors at once the dominant heterosexist and racist structures through which the Asian American male is historically feminized and rendered self-hating in the first place. Not to question cultural nationalism’s heterosexist discourse of authenticity, in other words, reinscribes the same mechanisms of identification that support oppression in the first instance.164 At first glance, when he dresses himself in the costume most often associated with the Asian martial tradition, Shimomura seems to accept Asian martial tradition as the foundation for masculine identity. However, his choice of combatants also demonstrates his personal intent to destroy the dominant heterosexist and racist discourses associated with the conservative Republican figures, particularly George Bush and Anne Coulter.
Jeffrey Paul Chan, Frank Chin, Lawson Fusao Inada, and Shawn Wong, “Preface,” in Aiiieeeee!: An Anthology of Asian American Writers (Garden City, NY: Anchor-Doubleday, 1974), ix-xiii. 163
164
Eng, Racial Castration, 21. 143
In George Bush v. Me, Shimomura is situated behind the former president, George W. Bush. The artist holds the politician in a judo chokehold, known as an okuri eri jime. Shimomura wears a standard white judogi, yet Bush’s costume is red, a color not utilized in judo matches. Bush wears a yellow belt, but the artist’s belt is not seen, making it impossible to judge who is of a higher rank. However, a closer reading reveals that Bush’s yellow belt denotes a very low rank. In the U.S., the yellow belt is the first one after white (given to all first-timers in a judo class), although it is only given to juniors, not adults.165 One may assume that Shimomura is more skillful because of his dominant position in the match. The artist’s assignment of yellow belt to the former president infantilizes the political figure, since this particular rank is not available to judo practitioners over the age of sixteen. In addition, the chokehold appears less than strenuous because of Bush’s facial expression and body language. He is not fighting back or struggling against the hold. He seems content to be in this position against the artist. The two figures appear on a hardwood floor, in a room with blue walls. Shimomura’s expression is blank and Bush’s is slightly confused, demonstrating that any passion for the fight has subsided, if it ever existed. Shimomura looks toward the viewer, although his face is pointed away. There is no pride in overcoming the former president, nor sorrow. The artist disempowers Bush, highlighting popular assertions that the former president was spineless while in office. In direct opposition to the passionless fight between Shimomura and Bush, is Anne Coulter v. Me. Coulter stands in the foreground, smiling and showing off her anti-Democratic Party t-shirt. She appears unaware of Shimomura’s flying kick, which is just a second away from landing on her head. The artist appears fierce, his mouth open in a battle cry with his body
“U.S. Judo Federation Handbook, Section VII, Junior Rank Requirements,” United States Judo Federation, accessed January 2, 2013, http://www.usjf.com/public/jr_rank_requirement.pdf.
165
144
hurtling through the air. In this image, he repeats his body position from Eternal Foreigner # 10, while he presents a different facial expression. In the earlier image, the artist appears calm and focused, with his face almost serene in this position. Conversely, when using the same kick to attack the political commentator, he is impassioned and aggressive, although his eyes are on the viewer and not his opponent. While the blue background is unidentifiable, without even a horizon line to locate this scenario, it frames two shadow figures who lurk behind the foreground figures. These shadows appear to be large men, although there are no identifying features besides generic shapes. Coulter’s bright smile demonstrates her lack of caring about what is going on around her, including the presence of the artist. Just as Shimomura likely responded to Malkin’s book with his 2006 painting, this painting is probably a reference to an article from April 2008. In this article, Coulter rants against Barack Obama’s Dreams from my Father. For example, in responding to Obama’s concern over what Caucasians think about ethnic minorities, Coulter states: “Here's a little inside scoop about white people: We're not thinking about you. Especially WASPs. We think everybody is inferior, and we are perfectly charming about it.”166 Shimomura’s painting demonstrates this elitist attitude by depicting the political commentator as absolutely indifferent to the artist’s attack, as well as the ominous shadows in the background. Her focus is on the viewer and the anti-Deomocratic Party message on her shirt. Whereas Bush and Shimomura are equally calm and detached from their fight, Coulter and Shimomura are far from equals. Coulter is happily ignorant that the fight even exists, whereas Shimomura is impassioned and aggressively attacking the political commentator. The equality of the fight with Bush gave the artist the chance to succeed in subduing his opponent. In contrast,
Ann Coulter, “Obama’s Dimestore ‘Mein Kampf,’” AnnCoulter.com (April 2, 2008), accessed January 2, 2013, http://www.anncoulter.com/columns/2008-04-02.html.
166
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by capturing his fight with Coulter at a moment when she is smiling and unaware, the artist portrays a fight he cannot win. He is invisible to his opponent, and his surprise attack remains forever on the brink of occurring; it is an opportunity that is never actually seized. As we have seen, these two paintings from 2009 portray a personal reaction to political figures. However, when viewed with the previous series, they may also be regarded as synecdochical portraits. Although Shimomura is identifiable as himself, he may also stand in for all ethnic minorities, or any person that disagrees with the political views of his opponents. This synecdoche occurs because of the artist’s eye contact with the viewer. The subjectivity created by this contact between artist and viewer opens an avenue for the viewer to enter the painting, in the guise of the artist. In addition, Bush and Coulter are parts of a whole, as well. Bush represents the Republican Party, and Coulter, ultra-conservatives. The artist’s attack on these individuals extends to those that espouse the same views, although often with less notoriety. Both political figures stare into the audience, as well, opening yet another avenue for the viewer to enter the painting. This dual entry into each painting demonstrates an artistic distance from the subject matter, even when the artist is portraying himself in combat. Based on the people he chooses to attack, Shimomura’s personal stance is clear in these paintings. However, he does not force his opinions onto the viewer. The viewer is given the option to take on the subjectivity of the artist or his foes; the viewer is free to enter the painting as an opponent to Shimomura. In this way, Shimomura encourages debate. The figures are just place-holders, inviting viewers into political discussions, from multiple points of view. Fight Scenes In 2009, Shimomura began another series of paintings in which he featured himself fighting opponents. The paintings from the American Vs. series are all 54” x 54” and feature self-
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portraits of the artist as the American denoted in the titles. Each painting has the artist battling different foes, designated by their country of origin. I have discussed numerous rhetorical devices utilized by Shimomura in his self-portraits. The paintings in the American Vs. series employ metaphor generally, yet require less work from the viewer to interpret them than some of the previous series. American vs. Japs from 2009 is the first of these works that I will examine (Fig. 100). The artist appears in the upper, middle ground, positioned as though he has just kicked his enemies to the ground. At his feet lie multiple Japanese soldiers from World War II propaganda cartoons. In the background, bold green mountains are framed with a red sky, full of orange and yellow smoke. The ground is littered with bodies, as well as bricks and a grenade. In addition to the images, text appears on this canvas, in the form of comic book style exclamatory words, including PING, PLING, BLAM, and WHAM! The blue WHAM! is the center of the painting, highlighting Shimomura’s kick to the fallen soldier wearing glasses identical to the artist’s. Shimomura’s avatar wears jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers; these items are the most common in the artist’s daily wardrobe. Unlike earlier self-portraits, Shimomura is not taking on the stereotypical attributes of Japaneseness, nor did he prepare for battle by donning a gi. He is attacking his foes as himself, without pretensions of identity politics inscribed on his avatar. However, identity politics are central to this series. In American vs. Japanese # 4, Shimomura again appears in t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, with the addition of a jacket (Fig. 101). Once more, the artist is battling Japanese soldiers stereotyped in World War II propaganda. The background is a dark blue, with shadowy figures of enemy soldiers running away from the artist. In the foreground, four of these uniformed figures are flying toward the viewer, the result of Shimomura’s kick. In contrast to the WWII
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soldiers, in American vs. Japanese # 3, the artist’s opponents are male figures from ukiyo-e prints, whom he battles with a katana (sword) (Fig. 102). The artist is dressed in a white robe with a Superman t-shirt visible underneath. At his waist hangs another katana, ready for use. Although the wardrobe changes, the foe does not. In each portrayal, the artist is battling Japanese stereotypes, whose identities are conveyed by nationality in the works’ titles. The “Japanese” are easily identifiable in their stereotypical forms. The “American” can only be Shimomura, dressed in contemporary garb, even if the Superman t-shirt is partially hidden by a robe. The meaning in these images lies in the metaphor. In a metaphor, one object or idea is used in place of another in order to suggest a likeness or resemblance. The artist’s avatar is a metaphor for his previous paintings dealing with stereotypes. In this series, Japanese stereotypes are his perceived enemy. He now challenges the acceptance of stereotypes by forcing the viewer to face them and question their continued existence. In this particular series, his figure is the one facing the enemy stereotypes, and vanquishing them physically. However, the artist also portrays himself as a cultural hybrid through his wardrobe and accoutrements, forcing the viewer to consider whether the artist-hero is also the enemy. Other paintings in this series include American vs. American and American vs. Chinese, both from 2010 (Figs. 103 and 104). In these two works, Shimomura faces a single opponent; his wife, Janet Davidson-Hues, and the actor, Bruce Lee, respectively. In the first of these, the artist is dressed as a kabuki actor portraying a warrior, with white makeup, voluminous robes, and a katana at his waist. He is on the defensive; Davidson-Hues is dressed as Wonder Woman. She has just landed a punch to his face, knocking off his glasses. The ground is littered with items from previous paintings: a rice cooker, red lipstick, a banana, Minnie Mouse ears, and a toilet seat. Their battle is taking place in the driveway outside of their Lawrence, Kansas home. A cat
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in the background, which does not seem particularly interested or concerned with the fight, watches them. In this painting, both opponents are identified as American in the title, yet Shimomura is dressed as a stereotype of Japaneseness. Davidson-Hues is the ultra-American woman: blond hair, blue eyes, and superhero appearance. The drastic difference of appearance of the two combatants is unacknowledged in the title; they are both Americans. The metaphor in this painting is that Shimomura is still tied to the stereotypical representations of Japaneseness, and therefore has to defend his status as an American to others that are not ethnic minorities. In American vs. Chinese, Shimomura attacks a different kind of stereotype. His opponent in this image is Bruce Lee, the U.S.-born, Hong Kong-raised martial arts actor and popular icon. In the painting, Shimomura is in the foreground, facing an image of Bruce Lee in the background. Both are in fighting stances. Lee wears black pants, but no shirt, whereas the artist wears a white gi. While maintaining the flat, graphic planes of his usual Pop art style, Shimomura creates a conundrum in the image; he is a three-dimensional person, fighting a twodimensional picture. There are two stereotypes in this image, including the one to which the artist alludes. The most obvious is that all people of Asian descent are good at martial arts. The less obvious is that there is no difference between Asian races. Shimomura, metaphorically, must battle Chinese stereotypes, as well as the idea that there is no difference between the ethnic groups. The choice of Bruce Lee as his Chinese opponent is due to Lee’s popularity. He is not only recognizable to most Americans as a Chinese martial arts star, but many recognize his status as a Chinese-American. In order to fight the perception that all Asians are the same, Shimomura chose a target image that was familiar to the American public and, notably, not Japanese. In American vs. Disney, Shimomura deviates from the pattern of naming his foe based on nationality (Fig. 105). This painting features the artist, dressed in his standard jeans and t-shirt, in
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combat with cartoon characters. The identification of Disney is a bit misleading; although many of the characters are Disney creations, others are owned by Warner Bros. and their subsidiaries. Shimomura takes up most of the right side of the composition, with his extended right arm following through on the punch that just knocked out Popeye. The cartoon sailor is sprawled at the bottom of the composition, with two white stars floating around his head, indicating the punch that knocked him down. Numerous other characters appear to be flying through the indistinct background, some with stars indicating their injuries, as well. Shimomura is focused on his own fist, while Scrooge McDuck approaches him from behind, his cane raised to strike the artist. Initially, American vs. Disney seems less serious than the others of the series. It is hard to find anything but humor in this image of the artist fighting cartoon characters. However, the characters represent the companies that created them. Disney, in particular, created many World War II propaganda films, featuring popular cartoon characters. In addition, the company perpetuated racial stereotypes in many of their movies, books, and shows. Among many of Shimomura’s preparatory books, one is simply titled “Stereotypes.” Although most of the images and texts in this binder are organized by ethnicity, there are two sections of particular relevance to this painting. One is “Walt Disney,” and the other is “Other Comics.” In these, the artist has collected images from movies, books, and comic strips that are racial stereotypes. In addition, Disney images may be found in almost every section of Shimomura’s “Stereotypes” binder. I argue that the repetitive appearance of Disney characters as racial stereotypes in the artist’s research demonstrates his interest in the proliferation of these stereotypes in popular culture. In addition, this painting, in which Shimomura defines Disney as a foe, reveals his ambivalence about the characters. The artist grew up reading comics, full of these characters and their racial
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stereotypes. While he is challenging the continued acceptance of the racial stereotypes, he is constantly returning to the characters of his childhood. Although he fights the characters in this painting, his facial expression demonstrates no heat or passion for the battle. He is calm and focused, whereas in a number of other paintings in the series, he appears happy, with a smile, as he battles his opponents. As a whole, this series utilizes metaphor to describe the purpose of many Shimomura’s works: to challenge the continued existence of ethnic stereotypes. The artist calls attention to his cultural heritage in the title, reminding the viewer that despite his ethnic background, he is an American. The inclusion of American pop references in these paintings reinforces the reminder. The comic book style of words, images, and even costumes serves to situate these paintings in an American popular culture tradition. The inclusion of stereotypical imagery calls attention to the roots of these stereotypes in American history, particularly propaganda cartoons and Hollywood martial arts films. In each painting of this series, Shimomura’s avatar battles stereotypes and their propagation, just as his paintings challenge the acceptance of stereotypes in the viewer. An American Knockoff The paintings discussed in the previous section were but a few included in Shimomura’s 2010 exhibit, titled An American Knockoff. This section continues to explore the importance of identity politics in the works from this particular exhibition. In his artist’s statement about the exhibition, Shimomura states: “Far too many American-born citizens of Asian descent continue to be thought of as only 'American knockoffs.' This latest series of paintings is an attempt to
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ameliorate the outrage of these misconceptions by depicting myself battling those stereotypes, or in tongue-in-cheek fashion, becoming those very same stereotypes.”167 As we have seen, Shimomura’s paintings, although ranging in subject matter and approaches, often return to the styles and characters of comics. In 2010, the artist created a series of self-portraits as comic characters. In each 24” x 24” panel, the comic character is rendered almost precisely as he would be seen in a comic book or strip. Shimomura makes two major changes to each image: he includes his own facial hair and glasses. These are the only changes made to Popeye the Shim, Roger the Pig, and Roger the Goof (Figs. 106 – 108). In Super Shim, Roger Tracy, and Naruto Uzumaki, the artist includes a few other identifying elements (Fig. 109 – 111). In Super Shim, although the superhero maintains his standard hairstyle, Shimomura streaks gray hair throughout the standard black. In addition, the artist includes his own facial structure, including age lines, as opposed to the standard, youthful appearance of Superman. Again, in Roger Tracy, age lines are added to the facial structure of the artist, as opposed to the broad square jaw and hooked nose of the fictional police detective. The Japanese comic and cartoon character Naruto Uzumaki is drastically changed in the painting titled after him. Shimomura turns the tall, muscular youth into a short, slightly rounded figure. The greatest difference is in the face – the chiseled bone structure of Naruto is replaced with generically rounded, boneless features. These self-portraits as cartoon characters are whimsical, even more so than the others in the An American Knockoff exhibition. Although they are fun and less overtly politically charged than his other self-portraits discussed in this chapter, they are a continuation of the artist’s “Roger Shimomura: An American Knockoff,” Flomenhaft Gallery press release, October 2010, accessed January 2, 2013, http://www.flomenhaftgallery.com/october-2010-rogershimomura.html.
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exploration of identity. Shimomura’s chosen subjects are almost predominantly American characters. Only Naruto Uzumaki features a Japanese character. However, this figure is the one in this series that is most changed by Shimomura. The artist visually demonstrates that he is more closely associated with his American culture than his Japanese ancestry. In order to paint a self-portrait as a Japanese character, the artist makes drastic changes to the figure, which was not required in his treatment of similar American subjects. Shimomura’s changes to the Japanese character represent a recent shift in Asian American identity politics. Viet Thanh Nguyen in Race and Resistance: Literature and Politics in Asian America expresses this shift. Political representation through race, taking the form of multiculturalism, has transformed minority racial identities from being stigmatized to celebrated, at least on the level of the representative (if not necessarily the represented). This celebration of race in the form of pluralist political and cultural representation has also meant that racial identity has become a cultural icon and commodity, in variable ways for different racial populations.168
Nguyen argues that for Asian Americans, racial identity cum commodity is the idea of the model minority. When Shimomura’s painting is viewed in light of Nguyen’s argument, Naruto Uzumaki is the commodity of the model minority. Naruto is the lead character from the popular imported comic and cartoon series Naruto, which airs on Cartoon Network in the United States. The franchise has expanded into trading card games, video games, movies, and merchandising. Naruto Uzumaki is the embodiment of the ideal citizen, and when imported to the U.S., the model minority. Although his village ostracizes him, he works hard to help the people and become a leader. I assert that Shimomura’s changes to Naruto Uzumaki reflect an American
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Viet Thanh Nguyen, Race and Resistance: Literature and Politics in Asian America, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, 10. 153
animation style and therefore diminish the Japaneseness of the figure. In this light, changing the figure to reflect an American animation style, the artist transitions the character from Japanese to Japanese American. This character epitomizes the commodification of Japanese popular culture, as well as the idealized notions of Asian American identity. To the informed viewer, Naruto Uzumaki has one more layer of meaning that is only apparent if the viewer is familiar with both the artist’s biography and the storyline behind Naruto. The title character of the comic and cartoon series is ostracized from his village because he holds the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox within him, a creature responsible for an attack on the village. This malicious creature is Naruto Uzumaki’s dark past, embodied inside the hero. In this light, the attack on the village by the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox, Kurama, is an allusion to the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese during World War II, at least in Shimomura’s painting. The ninja hero is influenced by the powerful beast initially, but finally Naruto controls both himself and the creature. Although he did not choose to house Kurama within his body, nor was he responsible for the attack on the village, Naruto is shunned. In the face of this adversity, Naruto demonstrates optimism and good cheer. Again, he is the model citizen, but in addition, his dark past is the reason for his behavior. In order to atone for a crime that he did not commit, Naruto works harder than most to overcome the prejudice of the villagers. This attitude reflects those of many Japanese Americans during and after internment: becoming model Americans might help them to avoid being ostracized and persecuted within their own homeland. In his painting of Naruto, Shimomura challenges the stereotype of the model citizen because the artist altered the body of the character significantly. The artist’s decision to render Naruto in an American cartoon style reflects an American identity beyond his Japanese ethnicity.
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In 2009, Shimomura created the painting Japanese Imposter (Fig. 112). In this image, the artist is a sumo wrestler, poised to begin a match with his opponent. The viewer is placed behind Shimomura’s foe, looking directly into the artist’s eyes. His challenger is crouched down, only his back is visible. Behind Shimomura are two Japanese male figures, dressed as though they are from the eighteenth-century. The artist’s face is rendered naturalistically, although his body is very large and quite different than his actual body type. He is concentrating on the viewer, as opposed to his rival. In this painting, Shimomura is placing himself in the role of imposter. He is not Japanese, nor a sumo wrestler. His face does not belong on this large body. The source image for this painting is a photograph in one of the artist’s preparatory binders, titled “An American Knockoff,” which is also the title of the exhibit for these works. Although Shimomura informs the viewer that there is an imposter in this painting, it is up to the viewer to understand that the artist is the imposter because he is Japanese-American, as opposed to Japanese. Two years later, in 2011, the artist returned to the idea of imposter in the series Chinese Imposter. In each of these 54” x 54” canvases, Shimomura places himself in the position of pretending to be Chinese. He most commonly appears as a soldier or a member of the proletariat, with his recognizable face denoting him as the imposter. Each is reminiscent of Chinese propaganda images of proud soldiers and happy workers. There is one exception; in Chinese Imposter # 2, Shimomura appears as one half of a pair of Chinese lovers (Fig. 113). In Chinese Imposter # 5, besides the artist’s presence, one small detail exposes the propagandistic image as false (Fig. 114). At the center of the composition, Shimomura’s raised shirtsleeve reveals his tattoo, which reads “Minidoka Interlude,” a reference to his time in the Minidoka concentration camp. This is significant because it returns us to the attitude towards Asian Americans that “they all look alike.” This image in particular challenges the viewer to acknowledge the differences
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between Chinese and Japanese Americans. The artist’s tattoo invokes a particular ethnicity, different from the other figures in the painting. Although his face is enough to identify the artist as the imposter in these images, this particular painting includes this secondary reference to his status. The reference to the Minidoka internment camp reinforces Shimomura’s ethnic and cultural identities, reminding the audience that he is Japanese-American. The Imposter paintings function to highlight Shimomura’s cultural identity: he is an American, and therefore an imposter when framed in a Japanese or Chinese context. In the painting Halloween, from 2011, children are dressed in costumes, presumably out to trick-or-treat, as evidenced by the candy pail in the hand of the clown (Fig. 115). Behind the vibrantly painted children are shadowy figures, running to catch up to this particular group. All of the children are converging on a single point: a boy dressed as a World War II-era Japanese soldier. Mob mentality seems to have overtaken the children, as the moustached child on the right swings a weapon at the head of the unfortunate soldier. The clown also raises an unidentifiable weapon and, similarly, the witch approaches with her broom prepared for a strike. The absolute focus on the Japanese soldier is disconcerting, particularly because other children are dressed as racial stereotypes. For example, just behind the soldier is a child in a Mexican mask, and in the background is another child in blackface. The viewer can see part of the face of the Japanese soldier, as his mask was dislodged by the blow to his head; his face denotes shock and pain, and his body is pushed forward, about to fall. This composition forces the viewer to ask, “Why this child?” The answer to this question does not appear in the painting, but may be inferred from Shimomura’s earlier works. The Japanese soldier is a source of fear for Americans. The children are not ganging up on this particular boy because his costume depicts a stereotype, as evidenced by the apparent safety of the other children dressed in stereotypical costumes. They
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attack him because his costume is that of an enemy. The child soldier’s stricken face emphasizes his surprise: he was unaware of his faux pas. This painting draws attention to the proliferation of ethnic stereotypes in the U.S. The children’s costumes demonstrate the continued existence of these stereotypes, and their behavior exhibits the fear that allows them to perpetuate. In 2011, Shimomura painted a number of self-portraits underscoring his cultural heritage as American. In General Shimomura, the artist appears as George Washington (Fig. 116). Shimomura’s face replaces that of the first President of the United States, while all other details of Washington’s form are historically accurate, including the powdered wig. The artist-cumpresident stands next to his horse, arm resting on its back. In the background, a light blue sky is filled with fluffy clouds, forming cartoonish shapes on the left. In the painting, the parody of an image of Washington is relatively straightforward. While the figure is extremely recognizable, the replacement of the expected face with the artist’s draws attention to the status of each. Washington is as American as one may get, however, so is Shimomura. The first President of the United States is never questioned about his Americanness, whereas Shimomura must often defend his own legitimacy. Continuing the theme of Americanness, Shimomura rendered a pair of paintings titled Ultra American. In the first, the artist paints a self-portrait as Astroboy, the popular comic and cartoon character imported from Japan (Fig. 117). In this image, Shimomura is flying through the air. In the second, Shimomura as Astroboy is viewed in a close-up, showing only his face and bust (Fig. 118). In both, the artist’s iconic facial hair and glasses are added, as well as some age lines. However, the Astroboy in the former appears older, and has a facial structure closer to Shimomura’s. While these are not the first self-portraits of the artist as the comic book robot,
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their titles seem to underscore their meanings. Although he is depicted as a Japanese comic book character, the artist is American. The title does not allow for any other interpretation. The final image that I discuss from the “An American Knockoff” exhibition is American Mouse from 2011 (Fig. 119). Unlike the earlier images of the artist as comic characters in this section, this painting includes Shimomura’s actual facial structure blended into a popular character. This self-portrait as Mickey Mouse is disconcerting, as the two figures are not merged in an aesthetically pleasing way. Mickey Mouse’s ears and rounded face outline maintain their original forms, but that is where the comparison ends. Instead of the white face of the cartoon mouse, the artist uses his natural skin tone. In addition, Shimomura’s features are rendered naturalistically. The tension between the outer edges of the cartoon face and the inner section of portrait reflect the disparity between the artist’s ethnic and cultural heritages. Shimomura is culturally American, and when blended with Mickey Mouse, he is obviously the American mouse in the title. Ethnically, the artist’s Japanese heritage tends to shade the way he is perceived by other Americans. There is a disparity between expectations and reality. This disparity is echoed in the uncomfortable hybridity of the painting. Conclusion Shimomura experiments with self-portraiture and popular imagery, as well as rhetorical devices in order to imbue his works with meaning. He has utilized parody, simile, metonymy, and synecdoche as visual rhetorical devices in the past decade. His bold pop style seems to make light of difficult subjects. However, the disjuncture between his irreverent Pop aesthetic and the difficult subject matters often forces the viewer to question the meaning in his works. Shimomura seems to return to similar subjects, including comic characters. However, in this most recent period, the artist uses himself as his most common subject. The self-portraits are
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almost always synecdochical, whimsical, and loaded with meaning. At this point in his career, the artist is focusing more time and energy on depicting his identity, whether it is how he views himself, how he is perceived, or a combination of views. This personal exploration is important not only to the artist, but for many ethnic minorities within the U.S. In calling attention to his own predicament, Shimomura is shedding light on identity politics in general.
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CONCLUSION In this study, I began by introducing Roger Shimomura’s early works in tandem with biography in order to establish the formation of questions of identity. In addition, I outlined a progression in style over the first few decades of his works, leading up to the artist’s signature style. I demonstrated shifts not only in style, but also in subject matter as the artist began to explore his own history. After establishing these shifts in the first chapter, I went on to address larger theoretical questions in the following chapters. I utilized Shimomura as a case study in order to examine the use of rhetorical devices as tools for criticizing racism and stereotypes. In addition, the works discussed support my arguments about subverting the myths of multiculturalist discourse. Further, Shimomura’s paintings and prints of recent years include many self-portraits, which I assert are used in order to shed light on identity politics. The complex layering of irreverent humor and difficult subject matter forces the viewer to question not only the meaning inherent in the works, but also their reactions to it. Other contemporary artists are working with similar ideas, if different styles. For example, Adrian Stimson, a Blackfoot artist, created Buffalo Boy, a parody of Buffalo Bill. His character is an alternate persona utilized in his performance pieces in order to challenge ideas about identity wrapped up in colonialism, gender, sexuality, and ideas of authenticity in ethnicity. Naomi Bebo, a Ho-Chunk and Menominee artist and activist, utilizes beads to create masks. Although in their original contexts, Native American masks were important for transcending identity, the masks used as models for Beaded Mask (2010) were important for creating fear in war. However, Beaded Mask is decorated with flower and berry forms, transforming this type of mask from a source of fear into a source of visual pleasure. This work questions ideas about static identities within native cultures. Another artist blending traditional 160
ideas with contemporary forms is EL MAC, a Chicano artist from Los Angeles. In his Dia de Muertos en Pomuch (Seres Queridos) of 2010, the artist portrays an old Mexican woman carrying a bouquet of flowers in a Coca-Cola bottle. Presumably, the woman is about to make an offering to a dead family member. Although she is dressed in a traditional fashion, the inclusion of the Coke bottle identifies her as contemporary. Wangechi Mutu, a Kenyan born artist now working in New York, creates images of women in collage. Her found images come from fashion magazines, pornography, ethnographic journals, and anatomy textbooks. Her works criticize Western ideals of beauty and ethnic authenticity that are projected onto African women. This small handful of artists is representative of a movement in contemporary art that questions the framing of identity in an era of globalization. This study of the works of Roger Shimomura may be useful in exploring other artists with similar interests. I will conclude this study by discussing a single painting from 2012 in order to demonstrate Shimomura’s current interests, as well as the possibilities of future works. When I was interviewing Shimomura in his studio in February of 2012, there were three blank canvases lined up on a wall. The artist told me about his plans for a new painting, still in the planning stages. He was going to paint an image of the destruction of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. We talked about his concerns over the treatment of Muslim and Arab Americans after the attacks of September 11, 2001. There were far too many similarities to the treatment of Japanese Americans after the Pearl Harbor attack for his comfort. His initial description of this painting was very different from the final product. The plan included an image of him flying into the Twin Towers. I pictured him painted as Superman or Astro Boy, and I expected the same irreverent humor that infuses much of his work. Instead, he chose not to include himself in the painting, and the resulting work is dark and disturbing. Whenever I have shown his works to
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others in the past, the most common reaction has been immediate laughter, followed by questions. Often the questions are intense, about racist attitudes and how they continue to infect society. With this painting, the reactions were immediately visceral and extremely uncomfortable. Not Pearl Harbor consists of four panels; the two on the right feature images of the September 11, 2001 attacks, and the two on the left contain vignettes of the Pearl Harbor attacks (Fig. 120). Each scene or portrait is divided by black smoke, which dominates large portions of the composition. The bottom center depicts a yellow explosion emanating from the first tower, the second still unharmed. Just above this scene are two caricatures – stereotypes of an Arab terrorist on the left, and a World War II-era Japanese soldier on the right. The top center features portraits of Franklin D. Roosevelt and George W. Bush. The vignettes on the right include an image of an incarceration camp, a mushroom cloud, a Japanese soldier, a tranquil beach, a ship exploding in the water, three Japanese bomber planes flying, and finally in the center, an image of the Pearl Harbor Memorial. The scenes on the left include a view through the cockpit of a plane just before it struck one of the towers -- the New York City skyline, a terrorist kidnapping, a view of the inside of a plane during a high jacking, a commercial airplane flying through the sky, Osama bin Laden, a Muslim woman holding an American flag, and prisoners from the Guantanamo Bay prison facility. Shimomura expressed that he had a particular goal in mind when painting this image. The artist believes that the most important aspect of the painting is metaphor, not only to express the connection between the two horrific events pictured, but also to relate people of differing races and their experiences with racism. He stated, Please try to understand that what I do, while it relates particularly to Japanese Americans as a focus, the most narrow focus, you have to see that metaphorically, that 162
we’re talking about bigger issues. And that’s what I’m hoping that this painting is going to do, because we’re going to talk about Arabs, we’re going to talk about terrorists, besides talking about my usual stereotypes about Japanese people. It’s an opportunity. This is going to be like a big stage for what happened at the World Trade Center and what happened at Pearl Harbor. Pearl Harbor becomes the metaphor for the World Trade Center, and everything becomes a metaphor for something even bigger. That immediately opens a door, opens a window to my work to impact other people. You can kind of see the light bulb go on in the viewing audience when they think of it in those terms because I don’t expect most people to give a damn whether this happened to the people of Japanese descent because they’ve heard it so often. But when they see that it relates to Guantanamo Bay, and it relates to the whole Middle East, and the population gets bigger and bigger. You throw all the Middle Eastern Americans in there, along with Asian Americans, and Chinese Americans, and Indian Americans, and, my God, and all of a sudden there are ways you can tie in immigration, too. All of a sudden, you’ve got all the Latinos in there, and all of a sudden you’ve got the majority of the population of America.169 As this statement shows, Shimomura does not want to be known simply as the man that paints about Japanese American internment.170 When the viewer takes the time to think about this imagery as a metaphor, the ideas within it begin to evolve. It is not about the two horrific events pictured. It becomes about the actions of a few shaping popular opinion about the many. It shows two particular starting points that led to fear and racism against people that were completely uninvolved. This is not just about Pearl Harbor and 9/11, nor is it simply about Japanese and Arab Americans. Most people can relate to being judged based on another’s actions. This painting, when thought about as a metaphor, can help the viewer to relate to it on a much larger scale, and begin to question their own prejudices. Shimomura’s subjects, while stylistically evolving over the past thirty years, have remained relatively constant. He continues to address issues of racism in the United States, even as some multiculturalists argue that they have disappeared. Jeffrey J. Santa Ana states in “AffectIdentity: The Emotions of Assimilation, Multiraciality, and Asian American Subjectivity,” that 169
Shimomura, interview with author, February 18, 2012.
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ibid 163
minorities continue to experience racism and prejudice in “an era of neoliberal logic and postethnic ideology in which racial and ethnic differences apparently no longer matter, for ‘we are all multiculturalists now,’ according to those who uphold the liberal pluralism of hybridity in postethnic thinking.”171 Not Pearl Harbor, like many of Shimomura’s works, is a potent reminder that postethnic thinking does not yet exist. Further, the idea of postethnic identity is problematic: we, as a society, cannot just ignore racism and pretend that it has just disappeared. Shimomura’s art draws attention to the problem in an effort to force viewers to deal with their own feelings about race and identity. In Not Pearl Harbor, Shimomura utilizes simile, comparing two similar events. The bombing of Pearl Harbor and the attacks of September 11, 2001 both led to racist rhetoric and actions from many American citizens. Multiculturalism has not solved the problem of racism in this country. We are nowhere near postethnicity. In closing, I want to identify the contribution of this dissertation to the field of art history. First, the close examination of individual works that have previously been ignored will expand the knowledge of Roger Shimomura as an artist. More importantly, I have created a model for investigating the use of rhetorical devices in Pop art. I have laid out a functional definition of parody that may prove useful beyond the present study. In addition to these contributions to the field of art history, I hope that this investigation will open lines of communication between disparate fields of scholarship. Shimomura’s works address contemporary social and political issues, with an eye to the past that helped to shape them. I believe that exposure to the bright,
Jeffrey J. Santa Ana, “Affect-Identity: The Emotions of Assimilation, Multiraciality, and Asian American Subjectivity,” in Asian North American Identities: Beyond the Hyphen (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2004), 24.
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bold works discussed here can lead scholars to question not only identity politics in multiculturalism and globalization, but also how these issues should be addressed in the future.
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APPENDIX A PERMISSIONS
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APPENDIX B FIGURES
Figure 1: Roger Shimomura. Girl From Life, 1968. Color screen print, 19 x 18 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 167
Figure 2. Roger Shimomura. 252 Lemons, 1968. Screen print and acrylic on canvas, four panels, 48 x 48 in. each. Current location unkown.
Figure 3: Roger Shimomura. Coke Freak, 1972. Acrylic on canvas, 59 7/8 x 59 5/8 in. Collection of the artist. 168
Figure 4: Roger Shimomura. Oriental Masterpiece # 2, 1973. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Private Collection.
Figure 5: Roger Shimomura. Seven Views of a Japanese Restaurant # 1, 1977. Color screen print, 21 x 24 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 6: Roger Shimomura. Minidoka # 3, 1978. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 72 in. Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 7: Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 7, 1941.
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Figure 8: Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 12, 1941, 1980. Acrylic on canvas, 50 ¼ x 60 in. Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC.
Figure 9: Roger Shimomura. Diary: January 7, 1942 171
Figure 10: Roger Shimomura. Diary: May 21, 1942
Figure 11: Roger Shimomura, Diary: May 23, 1942 172
Figure 12: Roger Shimomura, Diary: August 27, 1942
Figure 13: Roger Shimomura. Diary: September 2, 1942 173
Figure 14: Roger Shimomura. Diary: December 25, 1942, 1981. Acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 in. Private collection.
Figure 15: Roger Shimomura. Diary: January 1, 1943, 1983. Acrylic on canvas, 61 ½ x 51 in. Washington Art Consortium, Bellingham, Washington. 174
Figure 16: Roger Shimomura. Kabuki Play, 1985. Color Lithograph, 27 x 31 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 17: Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 1, 1987. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 29 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 18: Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 2, 1987. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 19: Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 3, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 176
Figure 20: Roger Shimomura. Untitled # 4, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 23 x 8 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 21: (left) Roger Shimomura. Nisei Woman And Liz, Color screen print on wave paper, 11 x 50 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. Figure 22: (right) Roger Shimomura. Nisei Man and Liz, 1988. Color screen print on wave paper, 11 x 50 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 177
Figure 23: Roger Shimomura: Kabuki Party, 1988. Color screen print on Arches, 12 x 24 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 24: Roger Shimomura. Charles Kincaid, Dentist, 1990. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane. 178
Figure 25: Roger Shimomura. Linda Bailey, Arts Administrator, 1991. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane.
Figure 26: Roger Shimomura. Self-Portrait, 1990. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 60 in. Cheney Cowles Museum, Spokane.
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Figure 27: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 1, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 28: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 2, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 29: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 3, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 30: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 4, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 31: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 5, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 32: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No.6, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 33: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 7, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 34: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 8, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 183
Figure 35: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 9, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 36: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 10, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 184
Figure 37: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 11, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 38: Roger Shimomura. Yellow No Same No. 12, 1992. Lithograph, 3 ½ x 8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 39: Roger Shimomura. Match, No Mix No. 1, 1993. Lithograph, 19 7/8 x 24 5/8 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 40: Roger Shimomura. Mix and Match No. 1, 2001. Lithograph, 20 ½ x 28 ½ in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 186
Figure 41: Roger Shimomura. Enter the Rice Cooker, 1994. Color screen print on paper, 36 x 41 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 42: Roger Shimomura. After the Movies No. 1, 1994. Acrylic on canvas, 48 x 56 in., diptych. Collection of the artist. 187
Figure 43: Roger Shimomura. After the Movies No. 2, 1994. Acrylic on canvas, 48 x 56 in., triptych. Collection of the artist.
Figure 44: Roger Shimomura. American Diary: December 7, 1941(Seattle), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in. 188
Figure 45: Roger Shimomura. American Diary: April 21, 1942 (Seattle), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in. Private Collection.
Figure 46: Roger Shimomura. American Diary: May 16, 1942 (Camp Harmony), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in. 189
Figure 47: Roger Shimomura. American Diary: October 16, 1942 (Minidoka), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in.
Figure 48: Roger Shimomura. American Diary: June 26, 1943 (Minidoka), 1997. Acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 in. 190
Figure 49: Roger Shimomura. My first memory of life is celebrating my third birthday in camp, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Color lithograph, 7 x 10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 50: Roger Shimomura. When We Moved to Minidoka All of my Friends Lived Close to Me, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Color lithograph, 7 x 10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 51: Roger Shimomura. One Time a Friend From Seattle Came to Visit Me While I was in Camp, from the book Memories of Childhood, 1999. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
Figure 52: Roger Shimomura.24 People for Whom I have Been Mistaken, 1999. Chromogenic prints and wall text, twenty-four prints, each 5 x 5 in. Collection of David Schwartz, Seattle.
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Figure 53: Roger Shimomura. 110 Misspellings of my Name, 1999, ongoing. Mixed media, 28 x 39 in. Collection of the artist.
Figure 54: Roger Shimomura. How to Tell Your Friends From the Japanese Americans, 2000. Xerox collage, 19 x 28 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
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Figure 55: Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 5, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
Figure 56: Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 1, 2000. Acrylic on canvas and mixed media, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
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Figure 57: Roger Shimomura. Jap’s a Jap # 6, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Collection of June Lee.
Figure 58: Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 1, 2000. Acrylic paint on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
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Figure 59: Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 2, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Private collection.
Figure 60: Roger Shimomura. EBAY CITIZEN # 6, 2000. Acrylic on canvas, 8 x 16 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
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Figure 61: Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 1, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist. 197
Figure 62: Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 2, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist. 198
Figure 63: Roger Shimomura. American Portrait # 3, 2002. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60 in. Collection of the artist.
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Figure 64: Roger Shimomura. Abercrombie & Fitch, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24. Collection of the artist.
Figure 65: Roger Shimomura. Vincent Chin Murder, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist. 200
Figure 66: Roger Shimomura. Two Characters, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist.
Figure 67: Roger Shimomura. History of Art (Version 1), 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Private collection. 201
Figure 68: Roger Shimomura. Not Pearl Harbor, 2003. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 24 in. Collection of the artist.
Figure 69: Roger Shimomura. Kansas Samurai, 2004. Color lithograph, 44 ¾ x 30 9/10 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence. 202
Figure 70: Roger Shimomura. 83 Dirty Japs, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 72 in. Private collection.
Figure 71: Roger Shimomura. Sailor Moon, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle. 203
Figure 72: Roger Shimomura. Astro Boy, 2004. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 48 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
Figure 73: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 3, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle. 204
Figure 74: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 1, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection. 205
Figure 75: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 4, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection.
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Figure 76: Roger Shimomura. Beady Eyed Purse, 2000. Mixed media.
Figure 77: Roger Shimomura. Moon as Exiles, 2000. Mixed media.
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Figure 78: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 2, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection. 208
Figure 79: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 5, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection.
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Figure 80: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 6, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Collection of the artist. 210
Figure 81: Roger Shimomura. Global Mutations 7, 2005. Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 24 in. Private collection. 211
Figure 82: Roger Shimomura. For Dorothea Lange, 2005. Color lithograph, 14 ½ x 12 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 83: Roger Shimomura. For Ansel Adams, 2005. Color lithograph, 14 ½ x 12 in. Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence.
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Figure 84: Roger Shimomura. American Infamy # 2, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, four panels, 72 x 30 in. each panel. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
Figure 85: Roger Shimomura. American Guardian, 2007. Color lithograph, 27 x 39 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle. 214
Figure 86: Roger Shimomura. Shadow of the Enemy, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 45 x 36 in. Collection of the artist. 215
Figure 87: Roger Shimomura. Classmates # 1, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 36 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
Figure 88: Roger Shimomura. Classmates # 2, 2007. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 36 in. Private collection. 216
Figure 89: Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 1, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Private collection. 217
Figure 90: Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 3, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Private collection. 218
Figure 91: Roger Shimomura. Enemy Alien # 2, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle. 219
Figure 92: Roger Shimomura. The Foreigner # 4, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 20 in. Collection of the artist.
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Figure 93: Image from artist’s personal preparatory book, “Forever Foreign.”
Figure 94: Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 3, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist. 221
Figure 95: Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 6, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist. 222
Figure 96: Roger Shimomura. Eternal Foreigner # 8, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 24 in. Collection of the artist.
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Figure 97: Roger Shimomua. Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 24 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle. 224
Figure 98: Roger Shimomura. George Bush vs. Me, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
Figure 99: Roger Shimomura. Ann Coulter vs. Me, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle.
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Figure 100: Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japs, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 101: Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japanese # 4, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 226
Figure 102: Roger Shimomura. American vs. Japanese # 3, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 103: Roger Shimomura. American vs. American, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 227
Figure 104: Roger Shimomura. American vs. Chinese, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 105: Roger Shimomura. American vs. Disney, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 228
Figure 106: Roger Shimomura. Popeye the Shim, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 107: Roger Shimomura. Roger the Pig, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 229
Figure 108: Roger Shimomura. Roger the Goof, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 109: Roger Shimomura. Super Shim, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 230
Figure 110: Roger Shimomura. Roger Tracy, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 111: Roger Shimomura. Naruto Uzumaki, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 231
Figure 112: Roger Shimomura. Japanese Imposter, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 113: Roger Shimomura. Chinese Imposter # 2, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 232
Figure 114: Roger Shimomura. Chinese Imposter # 5, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 115: Roger Shimomura. Halloween, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 54 x 54 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 233
Figure 116: Roger Shimomura. General Shimomura, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 34 x 34 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 117: Roger Shimomura. Ultra American # 1, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 18 x 18 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
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Figure 118: Roger Shimomura. Ultra American # 2, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 18 x 18 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City.
Figure 119: Roger Shimomura. American Mouse, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24 in. Byron Cohen Gallery, Kansas City. 235
Figure 120: Roger Shimomura. Not Pearl Harbor, 2012. Acrylic on canvas, four panels, 72 x 30 in. each panel. Collection of the artist.
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BIBLIOGRAPHY Appadurai, Arjun. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008. Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. Translated by Annette Lavers. New York: Hill and Wang, 1972. Baudrillard, Jean. “Pop – An Art of Consumption?.” Art and Design 5 (1989): 61-63. Bembnister, Theresa. “One Man, Everyman: Shimomura Self Portraits Depict the Obstacles Asian Americans Face.” Kansas City Star (Kansas City, MO), October 21, 2006. Bhabha, Homi. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 1994. Blitz, Marcia. Donald Duck. New York: Harmony Books, 1979. Boyd, Monica. “Oriental Immigration: The Experience of Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino Populations in the United States.” International Migration Review 5, no. 1 (Spring 1971), 48-61. Bretz, Lynn. “A Diary’s Tale: Paintings Retell a Japanese-American’s Story.” Lawrence Journal-World (Lawrence, KS), March 15, 1981. Buell, Raymond Leslie. “The Development of Anti-Japanese Agitation in the United States.” Political Science Quarterly 38 (1923): 57-81. Clurman, Irene. “Wartime Diaries Turned into Paintings by Artist.” Rocky Mountain News (Denver, CO), May 29, 1981. Debord, Guy. Society of the Spectacle. Translated by Ken Knabb. With a new foreword by Martin Jenkins. London: Soul Bay Press, 2011. Kindle edition. Desmett, Don. Roger Shimomura: Recent Paintings and Performance. Cleveland, OH: Cleveland State University Art Gallery, 1988. Exhibition catalogue. Fish, Stanley. “Boutique Multiculturalism, or Why Liberals Are Incapable of Thinking about Hate Speech.” Critical Inquiry 23, no. 2 (Winter 1997): 378-395. Foucault, Michel. The Archaeology of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language. Translated by A. M. Sheridan Smith. New York: Pantheon, 1972. —. The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences. New York: Vintage Books, 1994. —. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977. Edited by C. Gordon. New York: Pantheon, 1980. Guthe, Christine M. E. Longfellow’s Tattoos: Tourism, Collecting, and Japan. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2004.
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Hagen, Dan. “Shimomura: Evolution of an Artist.” Times-Courier (Charleston, SC), February 14, 1986. Hane, Mikiso. “Wartime Internment.” Journal of American History 77, no. 2 (September 1990): 569-575. Hill, Steven W. “Artist Hopes Exhibit Will be Learning Experience.” Lawrence Journal-World (Lawrence, KS), The Mag, July 16, 1998. —. “Found in Translation.” Kansas Alumni, no. 1 (January 2004): 21-27. “How to Tell Your Friends from the Japs.” Time 38, no. 25 (December 22, 1941): 35. Hutcheon, Linda. A Theory of Parody: The Teachings of Twentieth-Century Art Forms. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2000. Klompmakers, Inge. Japanese Erotic Prints: Shunga by Harunobu and Koryūsai. Leiden: Hotei Publishing, 2001. Kuo, Kelly Chien-Hui. “A Euphoria of Transcultural Hybridity: Is Multiculturalism Possible?.” Postcolonial Studies 6, no. 2 (2003): 223-235. Kuramitsu, Kristine C. “Internment and Identity in Japanese American Art.” American Quarterly 47, no. 4 (December 1995): 619-658. Lew, William W. Minidoka Revisited: The Paintings of Roger Shimomura. Clemson, SC: Lee Gallery, Clemson University, 2005. Exhibition catalogue. —. Return of the Yellow Peril. Spokane, WA: Cheney Cowles Museum, 1993. Exhibition catalogue. Lew, William W., Sandra C. Taylor, and John H. Seto. Journey to Minidoka: The Paintings of Roger Shimomura. Ogden, UT: Collett Art Gallery, Weber State College, 1983. Lippard, Lucy R. Mixed Blessings: New Art in a Multicultural America. New York: Pantheon, 1990. —. Pop Art. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1985. Luce, Mark. “Roger Shimomura: His Art and His Identity.” Lawrence Journal World (Lawrence, KS), January 11, 1996. Lustig, John. “Memories of Minidoka: Pictures of an (Almost) Forgotten Time.” South District Journal/ Beacon Hill News (Seattle, WA), June 27, 1979. McCarthy, John. “’Yellow No Same,’ Japanese American Artist’s Work Deals with Asian Stereotypes.” Lewiston Morning Review (Lewiston, ID), April 14, 1992. Minidoka on My Mind: Recent Work by Roger Shimomura. Kansas City: Greystone Graphics, 2007.
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Mintz, Robert. “Roger Shimomura: A Retrospective Look at Japanese American Identity.” Artifact 2, no. 2 (September/October 1996): 10–13. Mukařovský, Jan. Structure, Sign, and Function – Selected Essays by Jan Mukařovský. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978. National Museum of American Art (U.S.), and Jacquelyn Days Serwer. American Kaleidoscope: Themes and Perspectives in Recent Art. New York: Distributed Art Publishers, 1996. Nguyen, Viet Thanh. Race and Resistance: Literature and Politics in Asian America. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Platt, Susan. “Bellvue.” Art Papers 26, no. 4 (July/August 2002): 52. Roger Shimomura, Delayed Reactions: Paintings, Prints, Performance, and Installation Art from 1973 to 1996. Lawrence, KS: Spencer Museum of Art, 1995. Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Random House, 1978. Screech, Timon. Sex and the Floating World: Erotic Images in Japan 1700-1820. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1999. Shadows of Minidoka: Paintings and Collections of Roger Shimomura. Lawrence, KS: Lawrence Art Center, 2011. Exhibition catalogue. Shibun, Asahi. American Stories: Amidst Displacement and Transformation. Tokyo: Setagaya Art Museum, 1997. Shimomura, Roger. “63 Stations of the Yellow Brick Road.” Special insert, CAA News: Newsletter of the College Art Association 28, no. 3 (May 2003). —. An American Diary. New York: Steinbaum-Krauss Gallery, 1999. Exhibition catalogue. —. “Conversation at a Public Auction.” Attachment to General Research Grant application, University of Kansas, Fiscal Year 1974. —. “The Objectified Image.” Master’s thesis, Syracuse University, 1969. —. “Proposed Project.” Attachment to Japan Foundation Fellowship application, Fiscal Year 1975. —. “Thrift Store Haiku.” Emergences 10, no. 1 (November 1, 2000): 79-88. Shimomura, Roger, Lucy R. Lippard, and Greg Kucera Gallery. Stereotypes and Admonitions. Edited by Janet Davidson-Hues. Seattle, WA: Greg Kucera Gallery, 2004. Exhibition catalogue. Smith, Jaune Quick-to-See. “Roger Shimomura: Sansei Samurai,” In Fresh Talk, Daring Gazes: Conversations on Asian American Art, by Elaine H. Kim, Margo Machida, and Sharon Mizota, 143-145. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003.
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Spickard, Paul. Japanese Americans. London: Prentice Hall International, 1996. Stamey, Emily. “Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura.” PhD diss., University of Kansas, 2009. http://gradworks.umi.com/3369461.pdf. —. The Prints of Roger Shimomura: A Catalogue Raisoneé, 1968-2005. Lawrence, KS: Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, 2007. Thompson, Ruthe. “Roger Shimomura: Japanese American Woodblock-Screen Print.” Screen Printing 76, no. 4 (April 1986): 120-3, 70, 72. Tomlinson, John. “Globalization and Cultural Analysis.” In Globalization Theory: Approaches and Controversies, edited by David Held and Anthony McGrew, 148-170. Cambridge: Polity, 2007. Ty, Eleanor Rose, and Donald C. Goellnicht. Asian North American Identities: Beyond the Hyphen. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004. Uhlenbeck, Chris, and Margarita Winkel. Japanese Erotic Fantasies: Sexual Imagery of the Edo Period. Amsterdam: Hotei Publishing, 2005. United States Office of War Information. American Handbook. Washington, D.C.: Public Affairs Press, 1945. —. Bibliography of Articles and Books Related to Japanese Psychology. Prepared by Dr. Herman M. Spitzer and Dr. Ruth Fulton Benedict, Foreign Morale Analysis Division (Washington, D.C., August 25, 1945). —. The Japanese are Tough, by the Honorable Joseph Clark Grew, Former United States Ambassador to Japan: A Radio Address on Aug. 30, 1942. Office of War Information, Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1942. —. Japanese Personalities in Japanese Propaganda. San Francisco: Analysis and Research Bureau, Target Intelligence Division, 1945. Uradomo, Stacey Mitsue. “Legacies: Family Memories, History, and Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura, Tomie Arai, and Lynne Yamamoto.” Ph.D. diss., University of Southern California, 2005. Uradomo-Barre, Stacey. Yellow Terror: The Collections and Paintings of Roger Shimomura. Seattle: Wing Luke Museum, 2009. Varley, Paul. Japanese Culture. 4th ed. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000.
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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Education Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL PhD, Art History ABD Spring 2010 (estimated graduation date, Spring 2013) Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL MA, Art History Graduated Spring 2009 Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL BA, Art History Graduated Summer 2006 Florida Community College at Jacksonville, Jacksonville, FL AA Graduated Spring 2004 Monterey Peninsula College, Monterey, CA Attended Fall 2000 – Fall 2001 Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Attended Fall 1996 – Spring 1998 Employment History 2008 – 2013 Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Instructor of Art History Fall 2008, History and Criticism of Art II Spring 2009, History and Criticism of Art II Summer 2009, History and Criticism of Art II Fall 2009, History and Criticism of Art I Spring 2010, History and Criticism of Art I Spring 2012, Corrupted Bodies: Race, Class, and Gender in the Postcolonial World Spring 2013, Contemporary Art in Public Spaces Fall 2013, History and Criticism of Art II 2007 - 2008 Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL 241
Research Assistant Art History Department, Dr. Talinn Grigor
2006 – 2007 Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Research Assistant Art History Department, Dr. Karen Bearor
Fellowships and Awards Summer 2011 Friends of Art History Research Grant Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Department of Art History Fall 2008 - Spring 2010 Patricia Rose Teaching Fellowship Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Department of Art History Fall 2006 – Spring 2008 Research Assistantship Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Department of Art History Spring 2006 FSU Foundation Scholarship Helen J. Beard Undergraduate Scholarship for Excellence in the Major Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL Art History Department Conferences and Lectures May 2008 "Hiding the Indian Problem in The History of Mexico Cultural Studies Association Conference, New York University 242
March 2009 "Herbal Propaganda: The Beatus Manuscript" Mission San Luis, Tallahassee, FL April 2010 "Scientific Organization or Justification of Colonization: DeBry's Conversion of White's Watercolors" Mission San Luis, Tallahassee, FL September 2012, “Iconography of Civic Architecture” Daughters of the American Revolution, Chattanooga, TN chapter Languages Reading proficiency in Spanish, French, and German
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