what i fight for

My country Japan waged war seventy years ago and was completely defeated by America. Because of repeated air raids, the city Tokyo, where my grandfather lived, was almost reduced to ashes. When America invaded Japan right after the war, young kids, desperate for food, gathered around the US troops who threw a handful of chocolates to them. My grandfather was among the crowd. Surviving the chaos, he got married and my father was born. And thirty years after that, in Japan at the peak of its economic prosperity, I was born.

“Look, this is when he was around thirty.” My father said, showing me the picture of my young grandfather after his funeral. The man in the monochrome photo still had black hair. He looked somewhat mysterious; his eyes looking somewhere else, he was posing like Humphrey Bogart. Looking back memories, he was always a man of mystery to me. I knew him well but at the same time I didn’t know his history very much. He survived in totally devastated Tokyo right after the war. He looked like a yakuza boss when wearing Armani but wore pink pajamas in his house. He worked in Disney and never talked about Mickey Mouse. He was a man of few words whose past had so much to talk about. He had experienced so many things that I was not familiar with, and I was fascinated by his unique background. I loved him, but I didn’t see him often. One day after his death, my grandmother said to me, “He said he loved you more than anybody in the world.” I choked back tears. I felt guilty. Am I worth it? I didn’t do what I could have done with him. I didn’t see him when he was about to die. Of course I loved him, but still I don’t know the answer to those questions. And still, along with his words, that enigmatic image of my grandfather in his gray suit stays in my mind.

Both I and my best friend want to become movie directors. Now I am in America to seek my dream to be a great filmmaker, while he seeks his own in Japan. After high school we used to go to movie theatres together and talked a lot about typical guy things such as movies, colleges, girls and the future. Even though our tastes for films differ significantly, we have been always the friends who encourage each other. He is a strict critic when reading my movie script or short films, and vice versa. On the day I flew to America, he gave me the letter. In the plane I read it. It says, “Of my fellows who are seeking dreams, you are the most passionate guy I’ve ever met. When you said you were going to America I even envied you. Remember, if you give up your dream, I will be done for.” Sometimes when I feel that I have lost my way, I read his letter to push me forward.

When I became twenty years old this year, along with my friends, I participated the Coming of Age ceremony (twenty is the symbol of an adult in Japan). There I heard one of the speakers say the following: “In the near future, if Japan got involved in war, you can run away. Don’t bother to think you will fight and die for the country. Because if you were not alive, our country would be nothing.” Everybody hushed. If he had said that seventy years ago, he would have been shot immediately. In America I often hear someone say it is honorable to fight for the country. I don’t know which is correct. Peace or violence? Cowardice or courage? But at the same time I think there is no universally correct answer. I am proud of Japanese constitution which bans war forever, while you can say that seventy years after the war, Japan still depends on America for its national defense, just like the desperate kids clustering around the US troops to get chocolates. But one thing is certain: I will never ever fight and die for ideology, like my ancestors did seventy years ago. I will never make the same mistake, and that is my duty as Japanese.

I am from Japan. I like to be Japanese. I love my country. But my country is not ideology. My country is not mere small islands or US military base in the Far East. My country is people; it is my family, friends, their voices and smiles that I always come up with when thinking of Japan.

In Japanese kanji (Chinese characters), the “human” consists of two curving lines leaning on each other. These two simple lines are supporting each other to represent human being; the letter doesn’t make sense if one of them stops supporting the other. Now, I have people who are just like that simple line which makes myself, and that is what I fight for.

Statement

The Statement of Purporse

I was a thirteen year-old Japanese boy when it first struck my mind. My heart was beating fast; I could feel it pounding in my chest. My hand seemed to move of its own free will as it was putting plots and characters onto paper. That was how I experienced the creative process of crafting a story for the first time. I will never forget that moment. It was like my brain was vomiting whatever was smoldering in my mind. What was on paper was the story that came from my heart. Though I knew my young mind was not completed thus that I should not be complacent yet, I was content because I knew how wonderful it is to express my inner self. Since then, I have scribbled down whatever idea I came up with; I have wanted to retain that extraordinary feeling that once struck my mind. When I was inspired and scrawling on paper, I was like Michelangelo painting Last Judgment and Dostoevsky writing Crime and Punishment even though (of course) I knew in my heart that I was still nothing but a lanky film geek.

Most of those stories and ideas that I have jotted down are for my films. When I was a kid I read the entire film encyclopedia and dreamed about becoming a filmmaker. Now I am a 20 year-old college student whose brain has inputted a 300-page film encyclopedia and still dreaming about becoming a movie director. To get closer to this goal, I have written and directed several short films. So far, when I completed them, I noticed one fundamental fact: there is no Michelangelo or Dostoevsky in me. This was at first embarrassing to me. When I was in a scrawling trance I felt as if I was a genius like them. However, I realized another crucial fact: I am original. Some people still might say that my works are nothing but mediocre student films, but I am sure they can never create them. Yes, one hundred Daichi Amano’s are no match for one Dostoevsky, but it is only me on the earth who can create my world through my films.

I came here to absorb technical knowledge and aesthetic values thoroughly and train myself as a filmmaker in California Institute of the Arts, one of the most prestigious film schools in the nation. As well as improvement in technical skills, I will seek innovation in creative process. Cinema, only one hundred years old, is the art that still can be explored for new ways of expression, and I am confident that being original and innovative is the shortest way to being productive in this highly-competitive film industry.

Art is communication, not a tool for self-satisfaction. If you want to become an artist, the easiest way is to declare that you are an “artist” and is not to concern yourself with what others would say about your works saying you are the judge of your own works. I do not want to become that kind of “artist”; that is not an artist at all. Believing in one’s own perspective blindly is not creation at all; it is the beginning of laziness and failure. Art does not shine under a blind and lazy dictator; it is polished by active –sometimes fierce –communication between talented creators who have a craving for originality. I want to depict the truth that has to be told, look at the strange in the familiar, and express aesthetic values that shine timelessly. And most importantly, through my films, I want to make a difference to the way someone perceives the world by appealing to their soul- that’s how we can change the world through communication.
For that dream, now, I don’t want to waste one second compromising and basking in complacency. I want to become an innovative filmmaker competing with other determined students and intellectuals -rather than indulging myself at a mediocre level.

For me, my dream has always been the reality. There is no dead end down the road as long as I keep walking this path I chose. I know this will be a long long journey. I know the road can be extremely rough sometimes. But at the same time, I am really exhilarated; I know filmmaking is the way that I can express myself best, and if I am true to my inner self and keep moving forward, someday my dream will come true. For me, the point of being a successful artist is rather simple: to make the real art – which reflects my deep, aggressive soul. If I never stop seeking innovation and perfection in my works, they will fascinate lots of people –embracing different interpretations- beyond generations. The true value of art is determined by the eventual outcome of what it appeals to the audience. Even though I am still a lanky film geek, I am confident that my films will survive on their own timelessly, if they are great and depict the truth. Oscar Wilde, in the preface of The Picture of Dorian Gray, beautifully depicts the nature of art: “No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.” Like the truth desires to be sought by all people, the real art desires to be loved by all people.

When I was jotting down movie scenarios in my room at midnight, I caught a glimpse of a diamond ore. It was too exhilarating to forget, so I chose to keep seeking it. For me, it is more than a dream; it is more mysterious than passion - IT IS MY LIFE!