Yuki Kokubo

El Eden

2011-12-19T12:26:00.002-05:00

As the end of the year approaches, I'm beginning to reminisce about all the amazing experiences of this year. One of the most fantastic trips ever, was my trip to Mexico. In late-June, I traveled to the Yucatan Peninsula with Trip Jennings of EP Films to document a jaguar and puma collaring project in El Eden Ecological Reserve. We spent 2-1/2 weeks in the jungle with no phone or internet connection. I have to admit, I was a bit afraid of what would happen to me or my life during this period of disconnection, but when I got there it was totally fine! In fact, I didn't miss it very much. There were about a dozen of us on the research station, including biologists, a veterinarian, jaguar "hunters" and their dogs, as well as the director of the reserve.

Trip and I stayed in a small cabana on stilts that had two lightbulbs and a gravity shower. I had my bed set up on the second tier of the bunk so that when I sat up on my bed, I was looking right out of the window (well, more like square openings covered with mosquito mesh). About a minute to the main station at a quick pace, the cabana was truly surrounded by nature. There were three vultures that perched on the cabana every afternoon, and Trip and I joked that they were waiting for us inept foreigners to die.

Two days after our arrival at the reserve, about a dozen goats were brought in to be used as live bait for the big cats. An old jaguar hunter named Don Poncho, who had turned to conservation work arrived with his son and another young disciple, who were in charge of running with the dogs. We awoke every morning at 3 a.m. and embarked on the bumpiest rides of our lives, through the pre-dawn darkness to check for dead goats. Sometimes the rains had washed away the scent trails, but two times the dogs caught the scent and we crashed through the sweaty jungle as the sun rose above us.

We once chased a jaguar into a cave, but were not able to lure it out. But Trip was able to sneak into the cave with his camera and came face to face with its fearful roar. Another time, the dogs chased a female puma onto a tree so that Cuah was able to dart it with a tranquilizer. She fell off the tree then promptly kept running through the jungle again. She put up a good fight, but finally passed out. After we put radio collar on her, Trip suggested that she be named after me! This sweet gesture has become one of the nicest memories of the summer.

El Eden, a set on Flickr.

Noteworthy Persons

2011-12-06T22:33:00.004-05:00

Last week, I had the honor of shooting an event where Billie Jean King received an award for civic Leadership. Being completely ignorant of tennis (or any sport for that matter), I had no idea who she was, but now I will never forget! It's rare to find so much integrity, honestly and passion rolled into one human being. A takeaway line is "Remember, every single person is so important." - with tremendous emphasis on each word. A worthy addition to my growing list of female role models!

Mississippi River Delta

2011-11-29T10:54:00.002-05:00

Many of my photographs that I took in Louisiana during the EDF days are featured on this new website about Mississippi River Delta restoration. I'm pretty excited!

The Center

2011-11-19T19:22:00.007-05:00

My dear friend Sam's father died today. Sam and I have been friends for about twenty years now. We have gone through a lot together so he is someone I hold very close to my heart.

We met for dinner last night with a couple of other friends, and I learned about his father's sudden discovery that he had Stage Four lung cancer just a few weeks ago, while on a visit to Taiwan with his wife. With an understanding that his father's condition was deteriorating, Sam was on his way to Taiwan this morning. Unfortunately, his father died shortly after our dinner.

Early this morning, I talked to Sam briefly on his way to the airport. He was still numb, unsure of how to process the news. It was painful to imagine him getting on the plane alone, even though I knew that he had his mother and other family members waiting were waiting for him. In some way, I wished that I could go with him to help him go through whatever he will be going through in the next weeks.

In a moment of meditation, I visualized my feelings about the situation. I saw Sam walking willfully into a big storm, then as the strong winds hit him, I sensed that he was afraid and his arms flailed, but he was swallowed by the storm. I reminded myself that all storms end, and that he would come out on the other side.

Later in the afternoon I went to a yoga class, where our teacher Johan began the session by telling us to try to find our center. Despite the fact that the yoga studios is in the middle of Soho, New York, where everything is hectic, we had one hour to try to connect with our inner selves. That's when I visualized the second part of the storm.

In Buddhist teachings, we learn that that true self is silent and still, but it is surrounded by noise and distractions. Our true self is the center of the storm - a dot of truth that is hidden and surrounded by so much negativity. All that we experience in life as hurt, anger, and frustrations cause us to build strong walls to protect the true self. The closer you get to the center, the more fierce the storm.

This brought me some comfort. Because I know that despite how Sam comes out of the storm, his experience would bring him closer to the center of his being. And though he may not know it, in the midst of all the chaos, the experience would bring him, in the long run, closer to his true self.

Ecomagination

2011-11-18T13:52:00.003-05:00

Last week, I traveled to Los Angeles to attend the Opportunity Green business conference with Ecomagination. Here's the video I shot there and edited with Frog Design.

Outside Magazine

2011-11-16T06:20:00.008-05:00

My photo was featured in an article about EDF in Outside Magazine.

Advice for Mid-Career Journalists

2011-08-15T13:23:00.000-05:00

My short video shot at the Asian American Journalist Association's National Convention is featured on AAJA NY Chapter website

Rain in Eden

2011-06-27T15:00:00.001-05:00

It’s been two days since the rain started. Everything is totally waterlogged. Water on the ground is rising, my clothes are damp and my hair hasn’t dried since I washed it yesterday. I’m here in the Yucatan to assist on a shoot about jaguar conservation in El Eden Ecological Reserve. While the rain comes down, it’s impossible to go about our task because one: we can’t exactly shoot in the rain, and two: jaguars don’t hunt in the rain. Despite the frustration about not being able to film, it’s been quite relaxing. There is no phone line or Internet here, so I’m finding ways to fill the time by reading, sleeping, and getting to know the people who are working here.

Trip and I are staying in a cabana high on stilts at the edge of the research station. It is high enough that from our little porch, it is possible to look out above the treetops for miles and miles. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve been in a place so remote that it’s impossible to see any other man-made structures. Inside, is a little room with two bunk beds shrouded in Mosquito nets. There are three light bulbs, a sink and a gravity shower coming from a large black tank at the top of the palapa roof that covers our cabana. Each evening, we fall asleep to the sounds of frogs croaking and purring, and wake up to an orchestra of various birdcalls that range from chirps and whirs to distant sirens that reverberate above the treetops.

We arrived in Mexico on the evening of June 18th, and spent two days in Marco’s house in Punto Morello, a small town just south of Cancun. On June 20th, after a three-hour drive with Marco and Cuoltelmoc the scientist in a huge white suburban without air conditioner, two of which consisted of the bumpiest ride across a road cut on the rough limestone landscape, we arrived in El Eden. The first two days were really hot. We batted away mosquitoes as we set about the task of filming the preparations for the capture – the arrival of Sandra the veterinarian, Don Poncho the hunting expert and his son, and the goats that will be used as live bait. We also strolled into the savanna, a patch of desert where we filmed in the purple sunset.

One day, we woke up at 5:30 to film at sunrise. I didn’t wander far from the cabin when I saw a large bird walking on the limestone path in my direction. I quickly set up my tripod and camera and crouched down to keep my eye level with the viewfinder. I stood still. As the bird approached, I saw that it was a large turkey with a bluish bald head and iridescent black body. It strolled toward me at a steady speed until it was about thirty feet away. Then the turkey suddenly stopped and turned its head sideways to point an eyeball in my direction, then swiveled its head several times to look at me with both eyes before it trotted off into the brush.

Tsunami

2011-06-15T20:07:00.003-05:00

I arrived in Japan a week and a half ago to spend time with my family. It's been a strange and stressful experience being at home in Ibaraki prefecture, just south of the Fukushima nuclear power plant, where high levels of radiation has put people on edge. The fact that the radiation is invisible makes it both easy to disregard but also creates a feeling of helplessness - that's everywhere all the time. Due to the radiation, much of the produce from Ibaraki was banned, until the government raised the acceptable radiation exposure limit by 20-fold. This has taken the edge off of impending economic collapse but has angered many people, especially parents with small children.

With the country's future uncertain, many people have moved or are planning to move abroad. I met one such couple, who live in the same artist community as my parents. Maho and Masa have two children: Sara, a twelve year old girl and her little brother Kai, four years old. At first, they were contemplating moving in with Maho's parents in Tokyo, where they took refuge immediately after the tsunami. While in Tokyo, Kai had nosebleeds daily, which they discovered later was a symptom of low level radiation exposure. As it turns out, winds from the north carried radiation to Tokyo immediately following the explosion. I feel saddened by Maho and Masa's experience, and the implications for Japan's future.

Earlier this week, my father and I traveled to Sendai to see the aftermath of the tsunami. It was unbelievable. The scale of destruction is impossible to describe in a single photograph, or even a film clip. It's only when you drive for hours along the coast and see all of the flattened towns that you get a real sense of how big this disaster is. We saw entire towns completely washed away, tall buildings uprooted and lying on their sides, and mass graves full of bodies that could not be cremated as is usually done in Japan. After one day of driving from one town to the next, we decided to head home the next morning. The entire coast looked like a war zone and it was too much for us to take.

Gator Hunting

2010-09-05T15:28:00.021-05:00

I spent last week alligator hunting in Louisiana with Lance Nacio. I met Lance during the oil spill when I interviewed him for the Environmental Defense Fund. He's a shrimp fisherman from a Cajun family who have lived in the coastal area for generations. The 6000 acres of land that Lance's grandfather originally leased from an oil company has been split up amongst his descendants. Alligator hunting tags are dispensed according to how much land you own, and this year, Lance, who owns 2300 acres was given 43 tags. Hunting season begins in late-August and lasts about a month.

The first day of hunting, we were accompanied by Lance's 11-year old daughter, Savanna. She had been begging Lance to take her for years, and this year he finally decided she was ready. It was her second day of hunting and she proved to be a brave young woman eager to be as helpful as possible to her father. We woke up at 4:30 A.M. and loaded up a bucket of raw chicken for the hooks and headed out on Lance's truck in the predawn darkness. We were attacked by ferocious mosquitoes at the dock but as we entered into the marsh, we were greeted by the slowly rising sun that cast a purple light on the morning mist.

Lance had set 70 lines around his property. Each day until he has caught his limit, Lance makes the rounds to check his lines. As he approached our first catch of the day, I felt myself tense up. I had never been hunting before, and had never seen an animal get shot. I held my breath as the shot from the 17 caliber handgun rang out loudly across the otherwise quiet and peaceful marsh. After shooting the alligator a second time "for insurance" Lance hauled it onto the boat and covered it with a blanket to keep the sun off its precious hide.

We continued on for about six hours, collecting nine alligators in all that day - the biggest one being almost eleven feet long. Afterwards, we met up with his uncle and friend, who had also just returned from hunting on an adjoining property. Lance's uncle Albert, who is 74 years old is a tall and gangly man with a sweet smile. He has been hunting for years with a distant relative, Edward, who is also in his seventies. The three men gathered around and talked excitedly about the day in a mixture of French and English before loading the alligators up in the truck to take to a buyer in town.

I love this culture. Cajun, Southern, Louisianan - whatever you want to call it. The people are warm and so connected to the earth. These are people who have been living in harmony with nature for generations and appreciate what it has to offer; hunting and trapping according to the season to feed their families. Most of them are not rich and openly talk about the fact that "money is not everything." It's not hard to see what they value most - families, friendships, the freedom of being out there in nature. And because of these things, I feel more determined than ever about working to tell the story of land loss - so that these people can go on living this way, the way they love to live.

Out West

2010-08-16T20:58:00.013-05:00

I've always loved the West Coast and have pondered the idea of moving that way for the past few years. Last week, I visited my best friend, her husband and their two small children who live in the outskirts of Portland. We drove to east Oregon to a small town called Dufur and spent some time at a ranch, swinging from tree swings and riding in combines. It was so relaxing and rejuvenating to be out in wide open spaces and to see mountains with rivers criss-crossing in between.

Growing Pains

2010-07-19T21:01:00.010-05:00

Tonight, I went to a screening of documentary shorts that was recommended by the coordinator of the program I will be entering in the fall. It comprised of four films that all fit into the named theme of the screening, "Life Is A Progress." Watching one of the films in particular, made me more sure of my decision to study filmmaking. A good film takes the viewer for a ride: up and down like a roller coaster; feel the intensity of the crescendo; hold you captive while waiting for the climax, cry along during the lows, and so on.

The last film tonight, called "12 Notes Down" really touched me. It's a 30 minute documentary about a Danish boy named Jorgis, who is on the verge of puberty. He has been part of a boys' choir for years, much longer than most of the other boys because he is an especially talented singer, and singing has become such a part of his identity that he is unwilling to let it go. In a few scenes, he is shown singing solo with his angelic voice.

But then the idyllic world begins to break apart. During a voice training lesson, his voice starts to break on the high notes and his coach warns him that if he keeps going, he will damage his voice permanently. She tells him that she understands how important the choir is to him; that it has become such a big part of him that if he stops, he might feel like he will be losing a part of him himself. The conductor of the choir as well as a doctor also repeat the same warnings, until Jorgis finally gives into the fact that he must stop singing.

Jorgis decides that he will quit the choir after the next big show. At the beginning of the scene, he is seen beaming as he walks onto the stage with the other boys. But while singing the last song, his facial expression breaks down and he starts wiping his eyes frantically with his sleeves while trying to hide his face with the music book. He knows that this is the last time he will perform, and he is mourning the loss of a part of himself.

The story is a perfect metaphor for life. Growing pains are not only experienced during childhood but through the entire span of life. Every time something changes in your life, be it a death, an end of a job, a move or an end of a relationship, you have to say good bye to not only the situation, but to the identity you created for yourself based on the situation. The process is always painful and difficult but adjustments must be made in order to move on.

Ripple Effects

2010-05-16T17:51:00.018-05:00

I happened across Susie's Seafood on my first trip to Louisiana in early April. It was weeks before the Deepwater Horizon exploded, spilling millions of gallons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico.

As I drove around exploring Morgan City, I spotted the restaurant's name written across the slanted roof in Christmas tree lights. What initially struck me about the restaurant was its quirky but home-like atmosphere. With a drab gray carpet and brightly painted yellow walls, the tables are covered with brown paper, and cheerful waitresses dump mounds of crawfish onto them - no plates required. The restaurant is decorated with all manners of fishing and logging paraphernalia, an illustration of a culture of people who make their living off the land and the sea. I returned to Susie's for three consecutive nights, drawn to the good food and the friendly owners, Susie and Murray.

The mood was different when I returned a month later. The large screen TV that usually shows a sports game was turned to the news, and voices of reporters talking about the oil spill blared in the background. Sitting in the corner of the restaurant, Murray explained the sudden rise in cost of seafood, as fisheries closed and people scrambled for the remaining stocks. Before he became the buyer for the restaurant, Murray was a shrimp fisherman for 30 years. He was born into a family of fishermen, and stays connected to his roots by buying exclusively from his relatives.

The cost of shrimp had gone from $5 per pound to $7.50 per pound, a huge increase when you consider that the restaurant goes through about 100 pounds per week. When I asked him how he intends to deal with the rising cost, he said sadly that he would have to pass the cost onto his customers. But when I asked him what they would do when his family could no longer supply the seafood, he simply said that they would not serve it. I didn't want to ask him the obvious next question, which would have been, "How does a seafood restaurant survive when it doesn't serve seafood?"

Small Battles

2010-05-08T07:46:00.017-05:00

On Grand Isle, erosion is a serious and perpetual problem. As a barrier island, Grand Isle gets hit with full-force winds and surge whenever there is a hurricane. Though the storms and hurricanes are devastating to the island itself, it acts as a buffer for the sensitive inland areas. Just north of Grand Isle is a large swath of marsh, with trees that died long ago from increased salinity dotting the grassy landscape. The marsh acts as a nursery for many types of marine creatures, making it a critical area to protect.

As the oil slick spread across the Gulf of Mexico, Grand Isle was dealing with the reality of being on the frontline yet again, but this time to a storm that is less understood. In November of 2009, a strong surge from Hurricane Ida tore through a strip of land that separated the marsh from the ocean. Since then, the tide has been washing freely in and out of the marsh, compromising the ecosystem, and making it vulnerable if and when the oil drifted toward Grand Isle. Some projects had been attempted to close the breach, but none of them had been successful.

Wayne Keller is the Executive Director of the Port Commission. He also serves as the Executive Editor to the local newspaper. He knows everybody, and he is the man who gets things done for the island. On May 6th, as Wayne scrambled to get help to protect his island from the spreading oil slick, he attended a meeting with the Governor and the National Guard. Wayne saw this as a chance to finally get the breach fixed. Six hours later, 40 National Guard troops were called in with bulldozers. The project is expected to be completed within three days.

Sometimes, when the battle you're fighting is so big, it becomes necessary to focus on the small triumphs.

(On Grand Isle, Wayne Keller and SFC Austin Reis and CPT James Hoover, engineers of the Louisiana Army National Guard, survey a location where a strip of land used to block the marsh from the ocean.)

Last Christmas

2010-05-06T07:14:00.006-05:00

Brenda Dardar-Robichaux is the Principal Chief of the United Houma Nation, which represents 17,000 tribal citizens spread out across Louisiana. I met her at her large house in Raceland, Louisiana, which is more like a command center for disasters. After Hurricane Katrina, her yard served as a campground for people who lost their homes, as well as dozens of volunteers who came from all over the country. She provided food in the evenings, and coordination amongst the volunteers. Even now, there is a man living in a trailer in her backyard, still trying to get back onto his feet after the financial devastation caused by Katrina.

We met on the afternoon of May 4th, a few hours after the shrimping season had closed. Brenda had just come back from a week of fundraising at Jazz Fest in New Orleans, and she was coming up to speed on the effects of the oil spill on her community. We talked as she apologetically paused to listen to news coming from the large TV in her living room, while simultaneously fielding phone calls, emails, and text messages on her handheld device. She furiously scribbled notes and phone numbers into her new "disaster notebook," which has all of the pertinent information related to each disaster. She had four notebooks filled with information from the recent hurricanes and this was her first oil spill notebook.

The oil spill will have disastrous consequences for her people, many of whom are fishermen, still recovering financially and emotionally from the four major hurricanes that had hit them in the past four years. One of the fishermen affected is Brenda's father. He is 75 years old, and lives in Dulac, Louisiana. Deprived of a college education, he became a shrimp fisherman like many in his community. After decades, it is the only way he knows how to make a living, but he enjoys the freedom of being out on the water and being his own boss. When he has a good catch, he says it feels like Christmas. But just a month ago, he suffered the loss of his wife so this disaster could not come at a worse time. He is still in mourning, and is faced with bills from the hospital and the funeral home. Nonetheless, he rushed to get his fishing permit and his boat ready for the five day season, only to catch undersized shrimp that were hardly worth selling.

Brenda and the many fishermen have survived hurricanes, and know how to deal with them. Although devastating to houses and boats, the shrimp always return after a year. She fears that this disaster is going to have a much longer-term affect on the marine life in the area, and it could take years for the fisheries to recover. Brenda worries about her father, and because of his age, he may never experience another "Christmas" again.

The End?

2010-05-04T22:32:00.009-05:00

Because of the oil spill, shrimping season was opened about two weeks early on April 29th to allow fishermen to catch what they hoped would be the last batch of untainted shrimp. I met Lance Nacio on May 3rd on his shrimping boat before he left for his last run of the season. Unfortunately, the season closed the following day at 6 a.m.

Lance is a shrimp fisherman who has been shrimping since 1998 - it is the only job he knows. Lance grew up in southern Louisiana, a descendant of generations of farmers who lived off of the land. But due to substantial land loss, farming has become impossible and he had to find another line of work. Lance recalls how during the twenty years he lived on his family's property, he watched about a third of the land, that has been in his family for generations, wash away into the ocean.

The oil industry is largely to blame. They have dug canals for oil exploration and navigation, allowing salt water to intrude deep into areas where the plants and trees were not accustomed to salinity, killing off much of the wetlands. When vegetation is lost, so are the roots that hold the dirt in place. When enough plants die, the soil gets washed away into the ocean. Without the marsh, there is no environment for shrimp and fish of the Gulf to spawn.

If the fishing industry shuts down, so do the businesses that are connected it - the boat builders, net makers, seafood restaurants, as well as the hotels that provide seasonal housing for fishermen. Lance fears for what will become the Gulf region when the oil hits the wetlands.

Oil Spill in Louisiana

2010-05-03T07:44:00.007-05:00

Hey there. Long time no see. It's been ages since I updated this blog but now it has become necessary to resurrect it. Unfortunately, it's not for a happy occasion - I'm here in Louisiana, following a massive and growing oil spill after an oil rig exploded 50 miles off shore on April 20th. It is estimated that 5,000 barrels of oil per day are pouring out of the seabed. The oil slick is growing at an alarming rate, surrounding the entire east side of the boot of Louisiana and nearing Mississippi's shores as well.

I arrived here on Saturday with Liz Skree, who is a program associate for the Louisiana work at the Environmental Defense Fund, and we have spent the past two days talking to fishermen, whose lives have been directly impacted by the oil spill. Right now, there's a 10 day moratorium on fishing in the Gulf. Instead of fishing, many of the fishermen are being trained to deploy booms to prevent the oil from reaching shore, and hazmat training in case the oil comes ashore and they are needed to clean up the area. Many of these people are tense and on edge, and many talk of how they had just recently recovered from the effects of Katrina, only to be faced with another catastrophe.

We met a Vietnamese woman at a dock, whose husband is a shrimp fisherman. She showed us a small album full of photos of wreckage. A wrecked house, a smashed boat, rubble, and pieces of wood. The photos showed what Katrina left behind of their house and their livelihood. I wasn't sure why she kept such photos in an album - perhaps to remind herself of what she survived. But on the day that we met her, it only seemed to amplify her pain of having to suffer through yet another disaster.

Inauguration Eve

2009-01-19T21:20:00.012-05:00

Today, while running on a treadmill at the gym, I listened to the latest This American Life podcast. The entire hour was dedicated to the inauguration - people's stories and expectations and thoughts, all relating Obama. It was, to be fair, with acknowledgment that the producers at NPR are a democratic bunch, a pretty positive selection of vignettes and stories that left one with that feeling of Hope, which seems to be a staple in the emotional lives of Americans at the moment. The episode ended with Mary J. Blige's "I Found My Everything" a sugary sweet song about finding, at last, the "everything" that you've been waiting for, with a touch of the motown bounciness. "I found my everything - in you - I found my everything - mmmmm - and I trust in you..." A cheesy but perfect ending to that feel-good hour that prepped us for the goodness that is sure to take over the politics of our country; the change that will make us proud of our nation; and the hope that will improve the economy and everything else in our lives. I closed my eyes and felt the tingles run down my arms as the song faded out.

Tomorrow is Inauguration Day - the day that will mark the beginning of Barack Obama's Presidency. I know that I am one amongst many, many Americans who is taking acute interest, perhaps for the first time, in a political event, which is sure to be remembered and savored for a long time to come. Earlier today, as I observed the images pouring in through the photo feed at my job at Time.com, and saw the thousands and thousands of people crowded around the Washington Monument, I felt an overwhelming sense of one-ness with the people there, and the people around me, on the trains, the sidewalks, and everywhere else in this country. That feeling, that I share with so many others, is not just a happy feeling - it is a sense of relief, a sparkle of hope, a willingness to try, and an overwhelming need to succeed, in whatever it is that that we have overlooked or forsaken in the past. Obama to many people is a symbol of all of those things, and carries that burden of responsibility of inspiring each of us must find the willingness and energy to succeed as individuals and therefore as a whole. It's amazing how one person could inspire so much, and I feel lucky to witness to this moment in our history, and wonder with so much anticipation how his presidency will play out. I hope for the best.

In the summer of 2007, when Obama's campaign for presidency was still in its early stages, I learned that he was coming to New York to speak in Washington Square Park. I took off work early and headed down to the West Village to wait in line with thousands of other people who were curious about what this new guy had to say. From early on in his campaign, Obama appealed to the young voters, and the photos I took on that day reflect this. Though the wait was long, it was definitely worth it, and I am happy to have been a part of this moment with so many others, who were drawn to Obama's beaming message of hope and change.

Beautiful India

2008-10-10T08:08:00.000-05:00

India has many personalities - the mad rickshaw driver in the crowded streets, the forlorn woman of the slums, the made-up and bejeweled lady of the upper crust, the sun-baked and peaceful face of the farmer, the smiling opportunist of the city, and the tireless child running around in the streets. All these personalities exist together, smashed together, as one giant entity known as India, and it is hard at first to understand, to take it all in. The variety and the disparities between people, and the quality of life between the classes will assault your senses. But eventually, you come to see beauty in it, as life is life, and can be beautiful, depending on how you look at it.

Argentina Greens

2008-10-06T09:44:00.000-05:00

Patagonia Blues

2008-10-06T08:42:00.000-05:00

All Alone in Roatan

2008-10-02T18:05:00.004-05:00

And I loved every moment.

This time, I stayed at Anthony's Key Resort, which is just east of the more touristy areas like West Bay and West End. It's a large resort with cabanas on the main island, plus two tiny islands called Anthony's Key and Bailey's Key. It's a pretty nice resort, with nicely appointed rooms and great dive boats. The food was actually good and served in a timely manner, which is more than you can say about most places on Roatan. Because I was traveling alone this time, I really appreciated the extra security measures, like fencing and security guards at the gate.

Unfortunately, the visibility was not so good. And because my main goal in this trip was to practice shooting underwater, this was a little bit of a disappointment. On my previous trip to Roatan in December of 2007, the visibility was freakintastic - at least 100'. But this time, it was barely 60' at times, making it difficult to take photographs. I'm not sure if this was due to the time of year or the hurricanes that had ripped through the Caribbean in the weeks before. Though the trip was not a complete flop, and I did manage to take a few decent photos.

I dove a total of twelve times in five days, and spent the sixth day lounging on Bailey's Key. For most of the day, there was nobody else there but the dolphins that the resort keeps in a fairly large pen attached to the island. A couple of snorkelers came and went, and a kayaker dropped by to see the dolphins but aside from that, it was just me, the sun, the breeze, and the sand fleas! I had managed to stay pretty much bite-free through the week but being the only mammal on this island for the entire day made me a very desirable target for the pesky vampire bugs.

Here, I leave you with a shot I took of a big tree that had obviously arrived on the shore via the ocean. It was stripped of bark and bleached. I like this photo because the shape of the tree is amplified in the shapes of the clouds above. I will post some underwater photos in the next few days.

New Beginnings And A Solo Trip!

2008-08-26T15:05:00.003-05:00

So, I finally gave notice at my job, and my last day will be September 5th. I'm so excited and nervous at the same time! Soon after, I am going to visit Roatan by myself as Philipp will be at a conference in Stockholm that week. I am psyched! I am going to dive as much as possible to really try to improve my underwater photography skills. I've also been looking at and reading a lot about landscape photography so I am getting pretty excited about using some newly learned techniques as well. I am beginning my journey into photography with a photo-intensive trip. Life is good.

The Maiden Voyage

2008-07-20T22:30:00.011-05:00

So, I've been going over and processing my photographs from Mexico and I have to say that I am expectantly disappointed at the lack of good underwater shots. Since this was my first time taking my cherished Canon XTi camera underwater, I knew that the photos wouldn't turn out that well. Plus, my first time diving with the underwater setup was in an underground cave, where there was virtually no sunlight, and the water there was a mixture of fresh and salt, creating a blurry effect terrific for a hair-raising thrill but not so great for shooting. The second dive with my camera was my second dive in Cozumel, which, even without a camera, I found the currents to be a challenge! In between those two dives, I took my camera with me when a group of us went snorkeling in Yal-Ku Lagoon in Akumal. The lagoon also had a mixture of fresh and salt water as some of the cenotes emptied out into the ocean through the lagoon, but I managed to get a few nice photos. There was ample sunlight and the white sand at the bottom provided reflection of the light and a nice backdrop to the abundant fish in the lagoon. I found snorkeling with the camera much more manageable as I didn't have to worry about fiddling with my dive equipment; the only drawback was my inability to dive deep or stay at any depth beyond just a few seconds. The disadvantage of being a buoyant body! Here I leave you with a few of my favorites from Yal-Ku.

The Unluckiest Bird In Brooklyn

2008-06-06T08:34:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, as I stood overwhelmed by the fetid smell that had pervaded the kitchen this week, I decided to inspect the cabinet under the sink. I took out contents one by one, and to my horror, discovered an unidentifiable dark mass at the bottom of a glass vase in the back corner of the cabinet. At first, I was in disbelief, and even momentarily blamed our unfriendly neighbors of playing a sick joke on us. I slowly ducked my head in further and discovered the poor bird, slumped in the bottom of a tubular glass vase, curled up like a black feathery shrimp. I lifted the vase and carefully tied it up in a plastic bag. What bad luck... This bird had undoubtedly climbed through one of the cracks left in the building next door which is under construction, climbed through the hole that accommodates the drain pipe and in the darkness of my kitchen cabinet, decided to jump into my tall, glass vase. The vase is about 20 inches high, and the opening is only about 2 inches across. Judging from the size of the bird, it was obvious that the bird was doomed. It must have lived for at least a day, struggling to straighten itself. I felt so guilty for not having heard anything, but as Philipp said, maybe it was trying to find a quiet place to die. Whatever the case, the death hole must be sealed.

Fetid Things

2008-06-04T20:34:00.002-05:00

There is a dead animal in the house but I cannot find it. Upon my arrival at home, I was accosted by the foul smell of rotting flesh. It is behind the kitchen cabinet somewhere, hidden in the spaces in the wall big enough for bugs and small rodents but not much else. The smell is so unbearable, it reminds me of the rotting fish smell that pervades Mott Street on hot summer nights. It's enough to make me want to stay at a hotel. This is not to say that I do not feel compassion for the poor animal that met its unfortunate end stuck somewhere in the crevice of my wall. I wish for its sake that it had died in a more peaceful spot, instead of causing offense to others who must witness its deterioration via the nose.

Reflections

2008-02-21T14:57:00.002-05:00

My time at work this month has been completely dedicated to learning about underwater photography. When we went diving in Roatan, I brought with me a Canon point and shoot camera with an underwater housing. While it was great fun snapping photos with my tiny camera, the quality just wasn’t quite satisfying, and there were so many photo-worthy sights below!

After reading a lot of reviews and asking lots of questions on underwater photography forums, a diver/ photographer contacted me to see if I wanted to buy his used Seatool housing with glass dome lens port. YES! The Seatool was my first choice but I had resigned to the fact that I could not afford its high price tag. It’ll be another five weeks until this guy returns to the continental US and can ship it to me, so I have some time to save up for additional equipment. Before we head to Mexico for our wedding, I plan to buy a wide angle lens and a strobe setup. I am so excited, I can hardly contain myself!

Through some email exchanges, I found out that this guy just spent the last four months in the South Pacific, working as a professional photographer for a small cruise company. He purchased the Seatool strictly for snorkeling (he has a superior, and much bulkier model for diving), and now that he’s done with the job, he’s getting rid of it. What a dream job! I’m so jealous.

It’s funny how life proceeds in a series of circular paths. When I was in elementary school, my dream was to be a marine biologist, and I used to obsessively page through my mother’s Jacques Cousteau book. When I became interested in photography, I thought that I could make a living doing a combination of documentary and nature photography. Then came art school, where I learned those ideas were not acceptable – in fact, anything commercial was not pure enough to be accepted in the narrow-minded realm that was the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

While I try not to regret my experience at the school, I sometimes can’t help being irked by how the attitude encouraged by the school hindered me professionally. When I was a student, I truly believed that commercial photography was bad; the only honorable way for an artist to make a living was to take a completely unrelated job that would not taint the process of making fine, conceptual, art. What I didn’t realize then, was that forty hours a week is too much time to spend on something that is not interesting. I was so naïve. I’m thirty years old now – I have a lot of catching up to do.

Happy To Be Home

2008-01-30T14:04:00.000-05:00

I returned from India on Friday morning, after an almost 24 hour journey from Delhi, with a stop in Chicago. I never thought that I would be so happy to be back in this country. When I stepped into the bathroom in O'Hare, and upon seeing the sparkling clean toilets, each one with a neat roll of toilet paper tucked under beautiful chrome dispensers, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of tenderness for my dear country. India has many wonderful qualities, like the people, the sights, the food, the culture, and so much more, but one thing they cannot brag about is toilets. During the entire trip, I only encountered two toilets with toilet paper. Most were so dirty that I had to roll my pants up to my knees to not get my cuffs dirty in the messy puddles.

After picking me up from the airport on Friday morning, Philipp (so sweet) left for work. I spent the day in a dazed state, unpacking my luggage and trying to relax but couldn't. When Philipp got home, we enjoyed a casual delivered sushi meal, and I slept, for the first time, in over 40 hours. The next morning, I woke up with a fever and spent most of the day in bed. And then on Sunday, the stomach problems started. I've never been so sick before. By the time I went to see the doctor on Monday, I had lost 4 pounds. Because of the timing of my sickness, my doctor couldn't tell whether I caught something in India or in the U.S. As a precaution, she put me on Cipro and a painfully bland diet of Gatorade, chicken broth, crackers, and Jello. I am so hungry but all I can do is fantasize about all the foods I had wanted to eat upon my return but now can't...

Enough about my current tortured state. Let's reminisce about my last days in India.

Delhi was a wonderful and relaxing way to end my trip. I stayed with my coworker Atul's family, which was really nice. Atul's mother, and his sister in-law, Monica, are such great cooks. Every meal was a vegetarian feast extravaganza (not spicy - they're north Indian!). His father, Dr. Bansal, is a retired government scientist with an endless supply of interesting conversation and knowledge. His brother, Alok, was so kind and took care of a lot of details for me while I was there. Monika and Alok have two adorable kids, Anu and Tanu, who kept me company when they got home from school. They were all just really great, I already miss them.

On my third day in Delhi, I took a day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I arrived there at about 8:40 a.m., just before the crowds poured in, and spent some time in the peaceful gardens surrounding the Taj. It really is an amazing sight, and I was happy to have the chance to see it and touch it. For the rest of my time in Delhi, I did a lot of shopping. I bought a lot of cheap clothes and handmade leather footwear and even had a Salwar Kameez outfit stitched by a tailor. I really love the traditional clothes that Indian women wear - they're so colorful and graceful and feminine! As gifts, I bought a lot more clothes, crafts, teas, jewelry, and sweets (that I plan to eat when I feel better).

Day 4 in Bangalore

2008-01-14T06:27:00.000-05:00

Working with the girls at Swabhimaan has been wonderful. They are all so sweet and bright and cheerful, I feel so grateful for being able to spend so much time with them. I taught them how to use their new cameras the other day. They have never had cameras in their lives and were so excited! We finished five rolls of film yesterday and I had them developed. The photos came out very well. It's really great to see photos made by children because they are so spontaneous and fun.

Yesterday, Venkat (who runs Swabhimaan) took me to a meeting for a micro credit loan program where he is a volunteer. The meeting took place in a public school in very poor Muslim neighborhood. The conditions of the school were ghastly. The walls do not meet the celings so you could hear voices from the next room as well as the busy streets outside. There is no electricity, and 250 kids squeeze into five rooms that are as small as 10'x10'. The micro credit program, which is called Lifeline, lends money to mothers of students at the school. Mothers, whose children have bad attendance or drop out of the school are not eligible for the program, which provides an incentive to keep the kids in school. There is a rigorous screening process before the women get the loans, which is anywhere up to 6,000 Rupees ($150 USD) and must be paid back in 20 weekly installments. It's a completely trust-based loan but in a total of 9 such programs run by Lifeline, the repayment rate is anywhere between 80 - 90%.

Luckily, my accommodations have been taken care of by Mukesh's friend, Shridhar. He put me up at a hotel since my arrival. Tomorrow, I will be moving to his extra apartment, which is usually reserved for his business associates. He also hooked me up with a full-time driver until the end of my stay in Bangalore, which I have to say is a lifesaver, since I cannot find my way around because the bus signs and most of the street signs are in Kannada. I can't understand why he would be so generous since I haven't even met the man but I think he feels that he owes a lot to Mukesh, and people in India are generally extremely hospitable. Yet, I still feel pretty guilty and I'm hoping to meet him in person so that I can repay him at least some of the costs.

Other things have been a little trying. It's been really hard for me to eat because everything is so spicy, even if the waiter says it's not! I often end up eating only the rice or the bread that comes with my meal. I think I'm getting fat from the excessive carbohydrate intake.

There are so many cars, auto rickshaws and motorcycles, and they rule the streets. The pedestrian must fend for him/ herself. There are no sidewalks, no cross walks and most intersections do not have traffic lights. After waiting for sometimes several minutes for the traffic to clear, you must sprint with all of your might and hope for the best. The first day I met the girls, they told me that a boy from their school was run over by a car in front of school and the car kept going. When I asked Venkat about this, he explained that in such situations, the drivers don't have a choice. If the driver stops, people on the street will take the law into their own hands and often cause serious injury or even death to the offending driver.

The culture is just very different. Most people still have arranged marriages, do not eat meat, nor drink alcohol. Though most people do speak English, they do not speak it that well, and it has been hard to have anything more than a very basic conversation. I'm definitely suffering from culture shock and I'm starting to feel homesick and lonely, which is definitely not helped by the fact I'm traveling alone. I'm thinking of escaping to a popular expat restaurant to grab a much needed drink tonight.

My Quiet Place Underwater

2008-01-03T15:52:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year! I’m so friggin’ happy to begin a new year – the last one really sucked.

Philipp and I returned from Roatan on December 31st. We spent eight glorious days scuba diving, sleeping, and meeting interesting people from all over the world. We celebrated my 30th birthday with some Danes we met diving, and Philipp got me a huge cake with bright green frosting. It was very sweet, in more ways than one.

We were originally just going to get the open water certification but decided to go straight through the advanced certification so that we could go on more interesting dives, such as shipwrecks night, and deep dives. Plus, Roatan is one of the cheapest places to take classes and we really liked the instructors, so we thought, why not? What an amazing experience! I’ve always wanted to scuba dive and it was everything I had imagined it would be, and then some. The reef surrounding Roatan is so pristine and we saw thousands of fish as well as some turtles, rays, and really interesting coral.

We stayed at a place called Bananarama Dive Resort on West Bay, which is one town over from the central tourist area, West End. Even though there were less restaurants in West Bay, I was glad to stay there because West End was crowded and dirty. The beach in front of the resort was great, except for when the cruise ships dropped people off for the day and then it was too crowded. That hardly mattered, though. Philipp and I spent most of our time not on the beach, but in the water. We were so wiped out that on most days, we fell asleep before nine.

I am definitely hooked on diving. I can’t wait to go back, but next time to Utila, which is a smaller island near Roatan. On Utila, Whale Sharks can be spotted in the spring and fall. I am also hooked on taking photos underwater. Though I’m pretty happy about the photos shot with my cheapie point and shoot, I eventually want to learn how to use more serious underwater photography equipment. It would be awesome if I could take photos for a conservation group or something like that. Nature photography is kinda like photojournalism, it’s just the latest in the natural kingdom.

This is the Blue Parrotfish, by far the weirdest-looking thing I saw there and my new favorite fish. It's about 3 feet long and is kind of chubby. I saw this one swimming around the El Aguila shipwreck at about 100 feet deep.

Beach Weather

2007-12-14T10:38:00.000-05:00

We haven't had any (beach weather) lately... It's been gray, wet, icy, sleety, slushy - what a drag. Thank goodness Philipp and I are escaping to a tropical destination next weekend! My mind has been so preoccupied with India that I have hardly though about our upcoming trip to Honduras. We're going to an island called Roatan, which is supposed to be one of the best diving destinations in the world. I'm going to celebrate my 30th birthday with the fishies!

It's always been my dream, ever since I was a little girl, when I really wanted to be a marine biologist, and since I saw my favorite movie, The Big Blue, to go scuba diving. We signed up for a scuba diving class in NY so that we can start the certification process here. Unfortunately, the dive shop that we signed up with was way too expensive and the guy who runs it is a complete jerk. We would not recommend this place. So far, we have read a $100 coursebook that scared us to death about the dangers of diving and attended a class at the dive shop. We have a class in a pool this Sunday, and then hopefully we will get referrals so that we can do the open water dives in Roatan.

Yesterday, I made another trip to B&H and made myself sweat. Every time I go there, I end up spending so much money, and I always find that I'm drenched in sweat from stressing about how I've spent my week's salary on camera equipment, yet again! This time I bought a Canon point and shoot and an underwater casing for it. It's been so long since I used a point and shoot, that I had forgotten how light and small and automatic and lovely a camera could be. I'm really psyched to use it underwater but I'm also psyched to use it on land when I suffer from SLR fatigue.

Slowly But Surely

2007-11-29T13:42:00.001-05:00

Everyday that I spend working at this job chips away at my sense of self-worth. Every hour that I spend in this gray cubicle with windows that look out at Radio City Music Hall, where I spend 8-9 hours of every day, accumulating hours of not working for the paycheck that comes every Friday, is to say the least, discouraging. I have nothing to do. Nobody needs me for anything. I've tried again and again to engage my bosses, to try to find some way that I can make myself useful but nothing has ever come of it. Aside from arranging the occasional business travel and creating expense reports, I am useless. Maybe it is faulty reasoning to equate usefulness with self-worth but after 2-1/2 years of sheer boredom, it is hard to keep my head on straight.

In total, I assist four people, and I have absolutely nothing to do about 85-90% of the time I am at work. Many of the other assistants only work for one person, which makes me wonder how much more bored they are than I am – How can they possibly stand it?! People tell me that this is "corporate culture," and perhaps it is, but how wrong is it to the shareholders that I get paid this cushy salary with excellent health and dental benefits, all for doing pretty much nothing at all?

I have taken up several strategies, or rather hobbies, to combat the excruciating boredom that I experience at work. At first, it was knitting. I spent weeks making a blanket for Elijah's arrival into this world. At least 60 hours well-spent on a heartfelt gift that he still uses 'til this day. My bosses found this merely amusing and sometimes expressed guilt that I had nothing else to do, to keep myself busy. Recently, upon the arrival of a new baby, one that belongs to one of my bosses, I spent time at my desk making a little baby hat that made my boss and his wife extremely happy.

Next, I took up job hunting. Fueled by exasperation at the lack of anything to do at work, I obsessively composed and edited cover letters and sent them off with my resume to dozens and dozens of perspective employers. I had several interviews that resulted in a couple of job offers that I ultimately had to turn down because those noble companies or organizations only offered to pay me half of the cushy salary that I so undeservingly receive now. I have become so good at resume and cover-letter writing that I regularly offer free online resume consultations to my friends over chat.

And then there were the business school applications. I spent at least 6 months preparing for the GMAT, supplemented by expensive Kaplan courses. One of my boss's brothers is the CEO of Kaplan and still couldn't get me a discount, but I could hardly complain, as thanks to generous salary, I could afford to pay the exorbitant Kaplan fees. And most, if not the entirety of my studying was done at work. And then there were the essays. I wrote most of it right here, at my work station from where I am of course writing this very blog entry. In fact, I think that ALL of my blog entries have been written at work...

But as you know, I didn't get into Harvard, Columbia, Yale or NYU, and I realized along the way that I want to pursue my old craft: photography. While at work, I've done a lot of research on how to start a career as a freelance photographer, read at least a few manuals on how to master the use of my equipment, and most importantly, have earned the money to pay for classes at SVA and to buy the equipment that will enable me to pursue a career as photographer. The only problem is now is that I have to get out there and do it, and I can't do it from here. Sitting in my cubicle, the closest I get to photography is looking outside at all the tourists taking photos of each other and scrutinizing how some tourist behind the camera is not grazing close enough to the ground to capture the full height of the Radio City sign behind the tourist posing for the photo.

The trip to India will be a welcome break from my mundane in-cubicle depression sessions. In addition to working with Swabhimaan to build a Web site, my plan is to find other NGOs that may need similar assistance. It will be great experience for me to learn how to take the best photos to communicate the goals of the organizations as well as an opportunity for me to learn more about building Web sites. As my trip to draws nearer, I feel an increasing sense of urgency. It is a combination of excitement about visiting the unfamiliar country and an overwhelming sense of relief that for those two weeks, I will work to my full capability and make myself as useful as possible.

Coney Island Haze

2007-08-28T13:58:00.000-05:00

This will be the first of, hopefully, many photo entries to come. When I take a photo that I like, I'll share it here, as well as on my Flickr site.

Chickens, Eggs, and Following Your Dreams

2007-08-28T10:20:00.000-05:00

When things aren’t working, I feel glum. Though sometimes I wonder if I felt glum first, and that’s why things aren’t working, or if I’m actually feeling glum as a result of things not working. It’s the chicken or the egg question. But usually those two things go hand-in-hand, and the combination is a bad one. When I start to feel a hint of glumness, or things aren’t working, I focus all of my energies to try to fix it. But, if despite my efforts, things are still not working, and I'm still feeling glum, I feel even glummer. If both the chicken and the egg fall into the well, which one will climb out first? The answer is: neither the chicken nor the egg can climb out of the well. But let’s try not to dwell at the bottom of the well for too long, because we might start to enjoy it. Let us move along to the next topic.

After analyzing, discussing, and overanalyzing last week, I decided to say F U to all that I’ve been working toward for the past two years. It’s the theme of my twenties: work really hard toward a goal, then suddenly drop it and change direction. First, I was going to be a fine artist but then realized that I could not make a living with it, then I was going to be an art consultant and try to make a decent living, and now, I’ve decided to work toward something else entirely. Despite my seemingly apathetic tone (it’s just my glumness speaking today), I’m quite happy. In fact, I’m pretty ecstatic about my this decision.

One of my dream jobs has always been photojournalism. Even when I was planning to become an art consultant, I was secretly hoping that I could still become a photojournalist after I had made some cash. Sad, I know… Sad, how people can convince themselves to not follow their dream in exchange for money. But it happened to me, even despite my parents’ total disregard for material things (or financial stability). Being the only child to aging parents who have no savings, or plans for the future, and I felt responsible for making sure that they did not go hungry when they could no longer make pottery. So I came up with a plan, and a damn good one, to go to business school to start my own art consulting business. But good fortune threw some roadblocks in my way, and while I paused to think about how to get around them, I realized that I was making a big mistake.

I dropped all the three art appraisal/ history classes I had signed up for at NYU in exchange for photography classes at SVA. One is Documentary Photography, which I think is going to be pretty free, and concept-driven. The students will work on one project throughout the semester, and there will be weekly critiques on our progress. It’ll help me to get back into the groove of just shooting and being able to talk about my work. The other class is Lighting for Magazine Photographers. This is the kind of class that would make my Art Institute teachers cringe. The teacher is a total commercial whore - his list of clients is pages long, and he does every kind of commercial photography imaginable, including photojournalism. I am really excited for this class. I hope to learn a lot of technical skills that I did not learn in school and also hope to learn about how to make a living with photography.

My plan is to take classes for the next year or two, maybe get a part-time apprenticeship or internship with a photographer, develop relationships, and learn about the business. There is a possibility that I will apply to the photojournalism program at the International Center of Photography in the future, but that’s still far off. For now, I’m really happy that I’m actually working toward something that I’m genuinely excited about.

More Death, But Somehow Beautiful

2007-08-24T15:23:00.001-05:00

I left the office this morning for a quick trip to my dentist on Fifth Avenue. It was a beautiful morning, and I was bracing myself for the usual tourist traffic. But instead, the streets were blocked off, and there were literally thousands of firefighters standing in neat rows in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It turns out that it was the funeral for the two fire fighters who were killed in the Deutsche Bank fire earlier this week. Since the building was damaged during the 9-11 attacks, these firemen were getting the 9-11 treatment, which I thought was kind of strange. Did other people who died as a result of the attacks at a later date, get the same fancy funerals? Somehow I don’t think so, and I wondered if this was an attempt made by the city to make us remember, yet again, but I’m not sure for what. But anyhow, I digress.

What struck me was the silence. There were more people than I had ever seen on Fifth Avenue, yet nobody was talking. I’m so used to being assaulted by a barrage of sounds when I approach Fifth Avenue – the happy tourists, talking in excited voices, the locals, jabbering away on their cell phones, and the heavy, New York traffic, drivers honking and yelling. But today, there was none of that; just a sea of black uniforms and utter silence. I was very moved by this scene; thousands of men (and few women), paying last respects to fallen colleagues. I think everybody else felt it too, and the tourists, who squeezed through narrow pathways, just glanced silently, and kept walking.

I spotted a woman wearing a pink top amongst the uniforms. She was definitely a part of the party, though I have no idea of her relation. She was a patch of color in the black and I thought it looked nice so I took a photo with my phone.

Death, Money, and the Love of Art

2007-08-22T16:42:00.001-05:00

Yet another dreary day in this particularly dreary time of year, when the happy season (summer) is pretty much over, and we are forced to accept the fact that we’re headed toward the sad season (winter). It would help if summer could go out with a bang, and let us experience some last rays of sun, but it’s been raining for three days straight. I’m feeling glum. A coworker died yesterday. Granted I didn’t know her very well but it made me sad to see people around the office with red, sore eyes. She came down with bronchitis a few weeks ago and was at home sick when she collapsed. By the time the ambulance came, she was no longer breathing. They managed to revive her but she was in a coma for about a week, until yesterday. She was only in her early forties. So sad! Another coworker died in January. He was found in the river a few days after he was fired. I knew him a little better. He was one of the funniest people in the office. That was a very sad time as well.

I’m also feeling glum about my career, or the lack of one, or the lack of conviction about the direction that I want to take. For a while now, I’ve been working toward the idea of running a gallery/ art consulting business. When I was applying to b-school, it seemed like a really good business plan. I had done a lot of research and had located an unexplored niche in the field of art consulting (selling emerging artists to large corporations as investment) that I thought I could exploit. In the process, I contacted a lot of people in the art world for feedback on my ideas and essays. Along the way, the director of a gallery where I used to show my artwork, told me that I was a talented artist, and I shouldn’t give up my art in order to peddle other people’s work. Then another former colleague told me something similar. While I was touched and flattered, I tried to not think about it and just kept moving forward.

As you may have already read, I didn’t get into any of the schools I applied to. But I didn’t want to give up my business idea, and I wanted to keep my momentum and keep moving forward. So I signed up for art appraisal/ history classes at NYU hoping that would make me a better gallery owner. But then it started bugging me. If, say, my gallery or art consultancy business takes off, that would change my position in the art world entirely. I would no longer be able to establish myself as an artist again, at least nobody would take me seriously if I tried.

And then the pangs started…

When I open the NY Times and see a great photograph, I feel great pangs of envy toward the photographer. It also happened when I was Oregon, visiting Kate. We were talking about her ex step dad, who is now a very successful commercial photographer. He mostly does landscapes and portraits and sells his work to magazines. I look at his Web site often, and think his work is so beautiful - I wish I could do that! It also happened today, when I was reading about the couple who had made the film, Abduction. “They are award-winning former National Geographic filmmakers. They have also produced work for PBS, CBC, CNN, NBC and CBS among others. Patty and Chris have worked and filmed in northern Africa, Asia, South America and even a mile-and-a-half down at the bottom of the uncharted Pacific Ocean.” Reading that made me feel like crying because I was so envious and I felt panicked at the thought that I may never do anything worthwhile with my creativity! This sort of thing happens to me pretty often nowadays.

Sometimes I think ahead, like ten years, and imagine myself sitting in a pristine white cube-like gallery, surrounded by sophisticated artwork. I wear expensive skirts suits and speak eloquently about the art. I convince CEOs to take a chance, and spend a little money on this or that emerging artist because they are going to blow up in a few years. (Mind you, this is the best case scenario.) But then I see my camera on my shelf at home, collecting dust, and my creative brain has shriveled up into a little raisin and I can no longer revive it. That would be the death of this artist. Would I even love art if I can no longer be an artist? Sure, I think that art consulting is a more responsible career choice - there’s a pretty good chance that I would make more money selling artwork than making it, but I am not sure that I would truly be as happy...

Toddlers and Cowboys

2007-07-09T10:47:00.000-05:00

I just returned from Portland where I stayed with Kate, Jason and Elijah, who is now one year and four months old. It was amazing to see how much he has developed since I saw him a year ago. He is so expressive with his eyebrows, he walks, and he understands words, like socks, shoes, truck, kitty cat, doggie, mommy, daddy, and even managed to learn my name during the three days that I was there. He is such a little helper; he loves to sweep and to pick up after us. For example, if we leave our shoes in the living room, he puts them in the shoe closet. And boy, can he eat!

We went to the rodeo on July 4th. It was a big Independence Day event with a lot of patriotic speeches and music. It was great to see the people decked out in full cowboy gear and heavily made-up ladies in country-slutty outfits. The bucking broncos were the most fun to watch, though the riders never made it for longer than a few seconds. One cowboy who rode for the longest time made it all the way across the field, and fell off right in front of us.

Watching these cowboys (and few cowgirls) really made me think about how different careers shape people's lives. Most of these guys work the rodeos for half the year and spend the other half working in dude ranches. From my perspective, as a complete outsider, it sounds so romantic and beautiful. I imagine vast open plains, beautiful sunsets, and the peacefulness of being surrounded by nature. Though I'm sure that there is a lot more to it that is not so pleasant but my ignorance is my bliss.

On my last day, we went for a hike around a lake near Mount Hood. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and the the mountain reflected in the deep blue water was a sight to behold. After this day, I promised myself to enjoy nature a little more this summer. Today, I purchased a book of hiking trails around New York City. I hope to go hiking again in the coming weeks.

The Very Hot Places

2007-06-19T09:33:00.001-05:00

I'm turning thirty later this year, on Christmas to be exact. Philipp and I have decided to spend the week in Honduras, on an island called Roatan. The island is about fourty miles long, and has a population of about 65,000. We're renting a little cabana from Bananarama Dive and Beach Resort, which is situated on West Bay Beach, the best beach on Roatan, according to our Lonely Planet guide book.

Bananarama is run by two Americans who fell in love with Roatan during a cruise. They decided right then and there that they were going to move to Roatan. It took them a few years to develop a business plan, but they did it, and are now operating a hotel/ diving school. I think it's so romantic! Their story is sort of similar to my parents’, who moved to New York to pursue their dream of being artists, but better, because Roatan is much prettier than Manhattan.

We hope to take scuba diving classes in New York so that we can get certified when we go to Roatan. I've ALWAYS wanted to scuba dive, so the prospect of spending my birthday with the beautiful marine life of Roatan is very, very exciting. I guess there's always been a part of me that wanted to be like Jacques Cousteau. I'm definitely going to buy an underwater camera to document my adventure. Honduras apparently has some of the best diving in the world because it's not overrun with tourists like other Caribbean destinations.

Our excitement about going to Roatan has influenced our ideas about the wedding. We're now considering having a destination wedding! We originally thought of renting a winery in Long Island but decided against it when we thought of our drunken guests driving back to the city at night. Plus, it's SO expensive, renting a winery for one Saturday costs as much as buying a new car! Well, maybe I'm exaggerating - maybe it costs about half as much as a new car - but still! And for our guests who are flying in from far away places, wouldn't they rather fly to a beautiful Caribbean island rather than to Long Island?

Japan, etc.

2007-06-11T13:49:00.001-05:00

Philipp and I recently returned from two weeks in Japan. We spent one week with my parents, and two days of that with my uncle and aunt. It was nice to see my parents, and good to see how my mother has changed since her sickness a few years ago. It seemed like for the first time in my life, we actually enjoyed each other's company.

The trip reminded me of how concerned I am about my parents as they approach old age with no savings or retirement. My parents have always been unconventional and free spirited, but as they get older, I can't help but to be worried about how they will manage, once they are too physically weak to carry out their pottery business. I wan to help them as much as I can, without sacrificing my own path to a fulfilling life but will that be enough?

It was a treat to see my uncle and aunt. Though my uncle and my father are identical twins, they are the polar opposites of each other. Whereas my father is an artist, my uncle is a business man. The only quality that they share is that they are both smart-asses. My uncle treated all of us and took us to a nice hotel by the ocean in Chiba. We had an incredible feast, and then afterwards, my uncle persuaded Philipp to get totally plastered. We had a great time with my family. They really liked Philipp and was glad to see that I've finally found somebody who makes me as happy as he does.

In the second week, we took a train down to Kyoto where there are hundreds of temples and thousands of foreigners. At times, I was the only Japanese person in sight. It was very strange to have this feeling in my own country. We visited beautiful temples, shrines and Japanese gardens. We ate cold noodles on the Path of Philosophy and had amazing shabu shabu on a veranda overlooking the Kamo River.

We spent the last few days on Sakurajima in Kyushu. We stayed in a traditional Japanese ryokan called Furusato Kanko on the base of a volcanic mountain. Our room had a veranda facing the bay with our own outdoor bath that pumped natural hot spring water most of the day! Each night, we were assigned to a private dining room where we were served at least seven or eight different courses of beautiful sashimi and other traditional Kansai dishes. It was definitely the most relaxing and decadent part of our trip. What an experience!

Click to view all photos from Japan.

Birthday Girl Scarf

2007-03-24T21:34:00.000-05:00

So, I managed to finish and send Kate's scarf in time for her birthday. She sent me a photo. Isn't she lovely?

Up and Dyed

2007-03-23T08:26:00.000-05:00

It has been a tough couple of weeks, with everything...

When I'm stressed and/or depressed, I often find myself daydreaming about yarn - dyeing wool, spinning, and knitting. It comforts me to think about mushing my hands into the fluffy mounds of wool, the smell of Kool-Aid that fills the house as I steam the dyed wool, and the softness of the yarn as I unwind it from the wheel. So I decided to start on a new project.

I've been dyeing with Kool-Aid for years (I've experiment with Jacquard dyes once, and didn't really like it) but I've always been frustrated by the limitations of what Kraft deems to be appetizing colors. Most of my colorways have been neon-brights or pastels. Most of the colors are candy colors, like Berry Blue, which makes neon blue, and Lemon Lime, which makes a bright, yellow-y green. With the exception of Grape and Black Cherry, used in high concentration, there aren't any dark colors, which really limits my pallet in terms of "boy colors."

So, I did some research on the Internet and found a blogger who succeeded in getting "true green" by mixing a large quantity of Lemon Lime with a touch of Grape. Genius! During all those years of working with Kool-Aid, I had failed to realize that the Kool-Aid packets contain dyes much like watercolors, and they can be mixed! I should have known better. I went to art school after all...

I got to work and mixed some dark greens. I also decided to take the experiment one step further and created a brown, using Black Cherry, Orange, and Berry Blue. Although I wish the brown came out a little bit darker, I'm pretty happy with the results. I can't wait to spin it!

What to do now? A TON of work...

2007-03-16T16:07:00.000-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have received yet another rejection letter...this time from NYU. It's becoming clear to me that I'm not cut out for business school. As I continue to explore Plan B, I am starting to think that perhaps this is a blessing in disguise.

For a short time, I considered getting a job in the arts. Starting from the bottom (of say, a gallery, museum, etc.) and hoping that opportunities arise. I even had an interview as a curatorial assistant at a museum, but quickly realized that my pay would be cut in half, and that would prevent me from running my own gallery space.

My current plan is to keep this job and start a part-time gallery that is only open on the weekends. I've been looking around for commercial spaces in Manhattan, and I think I can get a small one for around $1000/ month. It's a big investment, and I plan on losing at least $15,000 the first year, but this route is much more direct (not to mention, less expensive) than going to business school. Instead of waiting for 2.5 years, I'm just gonna jump right into the mix! It makes me feel all jittery, and I love it. I've started asking my favorite artist friends whether or not they would be willing to show at my space, and so far, they've agreed. I purchased two books, one about advertising an art business and the other about legal issues surrounding consignment of artwork.

Apples and Art

2007-02-23T09:53:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I made a photo. For now, I am calling it “Apple.” It has been a while since I made a photo that I consider more than a travel/ documentary photo. I am hesitant to use the word “art” because it is so hard to define and I have never come up with a satisfactory definition for it. I only use the word “art” when speaking in simplistic terms (one example being labels for this blog). I hate calling myself an “artist” for similar reasons. It’s such a pompous title. Not only does it declare that you know exactly what “art” means, but it implies that you are one of society’s chosen creative servants. I don’t believe that art should be so exclusive. Everybody makes art in one way or another throughout their lives. In the words of the Fluxus artists, I believe to some extent that “life is art.”

Anyways, back to my photo. For a long time now, my work has focused on the psychology of human relationships. I’m interested in exploring how people relate to each other, as well as how outside elements, such as popular culture, affect relationships. In this series of work that I intend to make, I want to explore how people relate to themselves, in other words: people’s relationships to themselves. According to Freud, each person or element in a dream represents the self. If you have a dream that somebody is beating you, you are in a way, beating yourself in your dream. People often say things like “I am my worst enemy,” and there is a lot of truth in that. People also love themselves, congratulate themselves, and need to comfort themselves from time to time. People’s relationships to themselves are always changing and often complex. I want to create a series of self-portraits that represent those different “relationships.”

Before I fell in love with photography, I loved paintings by the Old Masters. One of my favorites is Caravaggio. His paintings are so rich in color, and I love the high contrast lighting in the scenes. In particular, I have always been fond of the painting “The Concert.” I used to go to the Met just to see that painting. In it, there are four boys, who look all too similar to each other, and one is playing the lute. I have always thought of the four boys as different representations of one boy. The composition of the bodies implies a level of intimacy between the boys that is endearing. I want to use this painting as a model for my series.

For now, this is my first sketch for the series. I’m really excited.

Two VIP Birthdays!

2007-02-19T16:23:00.000-05:00

I finally finished a 4 oz. skein of double-ply for Philipp's scarf. That's only half of the yarn I need for the scarf! It's plenty obvious that I am not going to finish it in time for his birthday this weekend. The good thing is he's so understanding about things like that, which takes some of the pressure off. But I have to finish it within the next couple of weeks because Kate's birthday is coming up exactly one month after Philipp's, and I can't be late for both!

This is my dresser-top with works in progress. This photo makes me feel warm and fuzzy because of the combination of beautiful pink roses from Philipp, two stuffed animals from childhood, a scarf in progress for my best friend Kate, and handspun yarn for Philipp's birthday scarf.

We had a pre-birthday dinner with Philipp's parents' yesterday because we'll be in D.C. on his actual birthday. I baked him a blueberry cake with cream cheese/ lemon frosting. It looked a bit like a frosted pancake but tasted pretty good. This photo was taken on a timer from a nightstand. Pretty bad photo but also pretty funny!

The Nice Investment Banker

2007-02-14T16:47:00.000-05:00

I'm still mulling over Columbia's rejection of my application. Ugh! In an effort to get some perspective, I contacted my interviewer, the nice alum, whose company provides investment services to shipping and oil companies. Since he had asked me to inform him of Columbia's decision, it was a no brainer to ask him. I asked him to give me feedback on our interview, or any other aspect of my candidacy. He replied:

"I could not have given you a higher or stronger recommendation, therefore I can’t offer any constructive criticism since I thought you were a great candidate."

He is so sweet! Reading his email almost brought happy tears to my eyes, but it also brought on a nagging feeling that I deserved to get in but was denied.

I guess it's not just about the high GMAT score, the tantalizing career goal, or the excellent interpersonal skills (as quoted by my interviewer), but maybe a matter of pure luck.

*Sigh*

Sucky-Suck-Suck

2007-02-08T15:25:00.000-05:00

I did not get into Columbia. I was so disappointed because my interview went so well. Though I heard from a reliable source that sometimes Columbia goes against the interviewers' recommendations, so I knew there was a possibility of rejection.

What business schools look for in candidates can basically be broken down into four components: 1. GMAT score 2. Experience (including undergrad/ professional) 3. Career vision 4. Interpersonal skills. I believe that my candidacy is strong in all areas except #2. I'm waiting to hear back from Yale and NYU, but I'm feeling a bit discouraged that they are going to reject me for the same reason.

I'm trying to comfort myself with the knowledge that my coworker Gerald, who got into Columbia this year, was rejected from 3 schools last year. As well as a friend of a friend, who scored 99% on the GMAT, who got rejected from 4 schools last year.

It's terribly stressful to wait for the schools to make their decisions. In the meantime, I am trying to come up with a Plan B, in case I get rejected from Yale and NYU. This way, I can at least keep my mind occupied and know what alternate direction to pursue in case the worst case scenario becomes a reality.

These are some of my ideas:

Open a weekend gallery
Get a job in the arts
Apply to part-time B-school programs
Reapply to B-school next year
Apply to Art History programs
Apply to Arts Administration programs
(Both programs would require me to take the GRE!)

Poo

:-(

Philipp's Scarf

2007-02-05T20:13:00.000-05:00

My boyfriend is turning 30 this month so I decided to make him a scarf from scratch. Because it's such a time-consuming process, I only spin/ knit scarves for people I truly care about. As you can see, I'm working on 2 right now! For Philipp's scarf, I've decided to forego my signature Kool-Aid dye technique (really, he's a man, turning 30, and a lawyer to boot, tie-dye candy colors would not go well with his wardrobe) for naturally brown baby camel. I originally tried this fiber as part of an exotic fiber sampler from Spinning Bunny and fell in love with it. It's so soft, and really fluffs up after one wash (a.k.a. setting the yarn). This is the first big project I'm doing on my Schacht, and I'm lovin' it. It runs so smooth and fast, which is a a good thing because I've got a long ways to go!

The Columbia Interview

2007-01-31T09:40:00.000-05:00

So, I had the Columbia interview yesterday. I initially contacted an alum who's email address was associated with a television/ film network but he never replied. A week later, I contacted an entrepreneur, who founded a company that provides investment banking services to shipping and oil companies. As expected, he was unfamiliar with the art world, so I had to explain a lot of stuff to him in detail. He was very nice and soft-spoken, and I found myself wondering if his persona changed when he did big business transactions. He told me a lot about his career, which I found hard to follow because it was all finance-related. (I guess he probably felt the same when I was telling him about my art career!) Overall, I think the interview went well. This morning, I received a very positive email from him saying "Don't change!" and "Let's keep in touch" so I will take that as a good sign. Keeping my fingers and toes crossed.

Kate's Scarf

2007-01-23T20:53:00.000-05:00

I'm working on a scarf for my best friend Kate. Kate and I met at the Art Institute several years ago. We developed a very special friendship and although we live on opposite coasts, she remains my closest friend and confidant. She is a wonderful human. Her 30th birthday is coming up soon so I decided to make her a scarf using her favorite hues: purples, reds, pinks and oranges. I dyed superfine merino with Kool-Aid (black cherry, grape, and orange) and spun it thick and thin. I hope she likes it!

Interview! And The Cost of Applying to B-School!!

2007-01-18T15:04:00.000-05:00

After feeling sorry for myself for the past day, I received an interview invitation from Columbia this morning. I only submitted the complete application 10 days ago so I was shocked to receive an invitation so early. I'm very excited, but nervous! Thankfully, my friend Joe hooked me up with his friend Carolyn, who attended Columbia GSB for a year. I'm hoping that she can give me some insider details.

The application process has been exhausting and expensive. I figured out how much I spent so far.

Kaplan GMAT Prep Course:$1350

GMAT: $250
Rescheduled test twice ($50 x 2): $100
Additional Scores sent to schools ($28 x 3): $84

Financial Accounting Class: $480
Textbook: $155

Applications:
HBS: $235
Columbia: $215
Yale: $180
NYU: $175

Total: $3224

My first blog entry

2007-01-17T14:19:00.001-05:00

Hello, my name is Yuki. Pleased to meet you. This is the first entry in my first blog. I've always had an obsession with recording everything in my life, and I have a lot going on right now, so I decided it was a good time to start a blog.

Current news: I am in the process of applying to business school. So far, I've applied to HBS, Columbia, Yale, and NYU, and am thinking about applying to Georgetown. I received a rejection letter from Harvard today. I'm kind of sad, but it's very competitive, so I'm trying to keep things in perspective.

Historical perspective: My parents are both artists and they make pottery for a living. I grew up in a small artist community called Geijitsu-Mura, which is a few hours north of Tokyo. My mother collects stray animals. When I was born, we had 13 cats and 2 dogs. We moved to NYC when I was 8 years old, and I lived here until I moved to Chicago to attend the Art Institute, where I studied mostly photography. Outside of school, I dabbled in crafts like jewelry making and spinning yarn, which I'll probably write about to some degree on this blog. After graduating, I did the art thing for several years, with some success. I had a solo show at Dogmatic and participated in several group shows. However, things changed... I realized that I wasn't fulfilled by being an "artist." I started teaching an art class at a youth development organization called Cabrini Connections and realized that I was much more fulfilled by using art as a tool to help other people. I moved back to NY in 2005 and continue to do similar volunteer work with All Stars. My career goal is to be involved in the arts and philanthropy, but still make enough money to support my parents. They are getting too old to make pottery, but are not in any position to retire. Thus my decision to go to business school… Which brings me back to "current news." I love describing my life in one paragraph. It makes me feel so efficient, and I love efficiency!

I'll end my first entry with a photo of myself. It was taken by my boyfriend, Philipp. I was pretending to have a mustache.