Friends Mustafah Abdulaziz from MJR and Justin Maxon from Razon did a cross-country road trip a few weeks back. This is how they saw it.

But I need to try here. I can do it…

List of inspirations: palm trees, sea air, Terrence Malick, slasher films, Agnes Varda, jewel thieves, Greek myths, taco trucks, faded loafers, Les Quatre Cent Coups, super 8 cameras, blue skies and lemon trees.

Note: no band members were hurt in the course of the shoot, though not for want of trying.

The following photos were taken by Andrew White during the filming process.

Only in America… God-bless diversity.

An art show of this work opens in Brooklyn on Friday.
American Standard
Friday, July 17th, 2009. Six p.m. until dawn.
Red Hook Labs
46 Beard St., 3rd Floor
Red Hook, Brooklyn, NY

Toyama prefecture, Japan, September 2006 – May 2007.

Never married, and with no children to help, Sakai-san subsists on a government pension, living in an abandoned house in rural Toyama to avoid paying rent.

With dementia already in play, Sakai-san has a difficult time with short-term memory. Old notes and newspapers scatter the floor, figures from the past imagined from the present.

Left: Oranges and laundry, armchair and rice cooker. Everything has it’s place; remembered, forgotten, then found anew.
Right: Two 40-watt bulbs light a narrow front room Sakai-san has turned into his primary living space.

Kitchen and bathroom all rolled into one.

Left: Seventeen when WWII ended, Sakai-san worked a variety of jobs to put food on the plate; the first was as a traveling medicine salesman, a job with historical precedence in Toyama dating back to the Edo era.
Right: Neko-chan, one of two cats that keeps loneliness at bay.

Left: With no gas connection and only one extension cord, Sakai-san is ingenious with utilities. The rice maker functions as a cooking device with which weathered hands prepare everything from tea to boiled fish.
Right: After a chance encounter with the art world in Tokyo, Sakai-san decided to sell pictures to various businesses and government offices in the Hokuriku area.

“I couldn’t draw worth a damn when I was young, but I’ve always been interested in the arts. People don’t buy much in the way of that out here, so it’s hard to convince them to spend money on a print –- have to go to the man at the top, you know, the number one in charge -– number two won’t do.” Sakai-san on selling art in the countryside.

“This one. Yeah, this one. It’s interesting isn’t it? Problem is, I can’t just cart it around with me everywhere – too heavy you see. Besides, can’t walk in and see them [business/government executives] with the real thing. So I take photographs instead, that’s what I show them, copies.” Sakai-san on his approach to potential clients.

“Might be able to sell this. It’s good but the background is unfinished, see. If it were mine I’d fill in those patchy areas with some solid color – something flat, make it smooth.”

“Have you ever thought about doing it yourself?”

Chuckling, “Oh – no, no, I’m not a painter.”

Old age and lack of mobility have made selling paintings a practical impossiblity now, but old art history books help keep the dream alive.

Sakai-san’s dilapidated, yet homely kitchen.

Left: A lone bottle of spirits sits on a run-down kitchen counter.
Right: Cold water flows constantly through the kitchen tap, conveniently rigged to the offshoot of a water treatment plant nearby.

Sakai Shouta.

“Can I take your portrait?”

“Yup…”

An evening glimpse into the front room of Sakai-san’s home.

Although he often tries to go to the city, it takes more than 1.5 hours for Sakai-san to walk from his home to nearest major road. From there he hitchhikes or takes the bus. The journey has become increasingly difficult, leaving Sakai-san more and more alone in his old age.

Check out the book for the whole story.

You can see the full, unedited feature over at unpiano.com. The photos that I appear in where taken by Evelyn Lee.

A town transformed by immigration to the United States, the festival is a chance for Santeros living abroad to come home and demonstrate their wealth and success in the north. They pay for marimba players, buy livestock to be slaughtered and eaten, rent the horses, and of course buy tons of beer and liquor. After a day of racing, they retire to family homes to eat and dance, before spending the following day in the cemetery, drinking and remembering their relatives that have passed on.

Todos Santeros mount horses during the annual town festival.

Francisco Martin rides a horse led by a cowboy through town to the racecourse. Francisco is an immigrant living in Oakland, CA, and he returns every few years for the festival.

A horse bucks its rider and tries to escape the racecourse.

Francisco Martin, left, and his brother argue with horse brokers about their mounts. The horsemen bring dozens of mounts into the town for the 3 day festival, and rent them to the men.

A mud splattered rider tries to hold onto a beer between rides.

A rider tries to hold on to his mount. The riders are rarely horseman, and ride horses that are brought in from outside the town expressly for the festival.

An elderly man watches drunk neighbors stumble home.

The extended Martin family gathers in the cemetery after the races.

A young boy watches the races.

Young Mayan boys and their mothers gather in the cemetery.

Todos Santeros attend a carnival.

Drunken men sprawl in the street as a rider passes by at the conclusion of the festival.

All photos © 2008 by Victor J Blue