…Nagasaki…This morning I received the sad news that Yoshiro Yamawaki passed away on September 17th. I photographed Mr. Yamawaki during my first trip to Nagasaki in September 2008. His portrait is in my book, From Above, and has been exhibited several times. He was the only hibakusha, atomic bomb survivor, during that visit who spoke to me in English. He learned English when he retired so that he could communicate his experiences about the atomic bomb and educate more people about the dangers of nuclear weapons.
Mr. Yamawaki was eleven-years-old when the atomic bomb was detonated over Nagasaki. He was at home 2.2km from the hypocenter. His testimony was about him and his brother venturing through a sea of rubble to find their father’s body at the Mitsubushi Steel Works Factory the day after the bomb destroyed the city. The two young boys then had to cremate the body. The next day they returned to the burned out factory to get the ashes, but because of the lack of wood the body wasn’t fully cremated. They wept at the sight of their father’s lifeless body and vowed never to tell their mother they weren’t able to cremate his body.
I only saw Mr. Yamawaki twice after my initial trip to Nagasaki. He came to the exhibition at the Nagasaki Peace Museum in 2010 and the exhibition at the Peace Memorial Hall in 2017. He was a true ambassador, and I wish more of the people we assign as diplomats would learn a lesson from his desire to communicate the truth about the suffering war and nuclear weapons cause. I’ll always remember him insisting that he tell me his testimony in English. His efforts educated everyone he spoke to, but the job of educating the world about the horrors of war and the use of nuclear weapons is far from completed.
..8:38pm…June 2022…St. Marks Place…the sun stays in the sky forever this time of year. it’s my time. chaos is my favorite character in the city. chaos, make me a deal not to leave me alone….back from an intense three months in Europe. it usually takes a long sleep, then a swim to flick away the exhaustion. on the second day i’m already fighting the desperation of being in a country that has been torn apart by a horde of malcontents…..don’t worry, one day i’ll be back to take retribution on what they’ve done…. but at the moment the only solution is to take another assignment while i’m stuck for a couple of weeks…
listening to Lou Reed’s “rock n’ roll” on repeat while walking crosstown in the twilight. it’s played a dozen times since i started photographing. i don’t want to hear anything else tonight. i’ve never looked up at this rooftop in the thirty years i’ve walked St. Marks Place. the two people straddling the edge of the rooftop fire escape look like they are drinking from a champaign glass. earlier i stopped in stride when i saw syringes laying in a street gutter at the Stonewall. i refused to look down the rest of the way. maybe that’s why this is the first time i looked up at this rooftop. two more months until the I can return to the Odyssey…
“After the war I saw the photo of the mushroom cloud, but I thought they should have shown photos of the people underneath. It’s a bloody shame!”
-Ron Schlote
Ron Scholte was serving in the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (KNIL) when he was taken as a prisoner of war by the Japanese when they invaded Java in 1942, and later sent to Fukuoka Camp 14 in Nagasaki. He was used as a forced laborer until the end of the war in August 1945. He was one of 120 Dutch POWs to survive the atomic bombing of Nagasaki.
Ron was working inside a tunnel about a mile from the hypocenter when the atomic bomb detonated. When the workers heard a plane approaching, some of them went near the tunnel’s entrance to peek out. When they only saw a B-29 I thought it couldn’t have been an air raid. Then a small parachute was dropped. Suddenly a bright flash of light blinded me and I was tossed back into the tunnel by a strong gust of wind.
“I didn’t know the type of weapon that was used. I was in the middle of the chaos and couldn’t think of the end of the war. We went back to the city without knowing the consequences of radiation exposure. For a couple of days my task was to gather dead bodies to be cremated. It was the most painful thing I had to do- especially when the bodies were children. Sometimes I would pick up charred bodies which would just break apart. There were a lot of wounded. I also carried a wounded soldier on my back through a field to get medical attention. I felt it was my duty to help no matter how badly I had been treated previously.
Nagasaki is now a beautiful city but it was totally destroyed. I had to stay on top of a hill for two nights because the city was burning. I saw the entire city in flames. Many of us were burned and our open wounds were attacked by maggots.
I didn’t learn about the surrender until a couple of days after. A Japanese man approached me and said “War Finished. Japan and America are now friends.” The soldiers disappeared and only the honcho (boss) from the Mitsubishi shipyard was there. He told me that he lost all his family and had nothing to eat. I had a little food and gave it to him. I hugged him when we said goodbye. I felt deep sympathy for his loss. Three weeks later we were liberated.”
I had the privilege of photographing Mr. Scholte in January 2015. I had learned about his story and it took me a long time to find him. Even on the day of our meeting my train connections to the southern Netherlands were delayed because of a small snowstorm in Amsterdam. I arrived at his home as the sun set, a few hours late, and snapped this photograph when I caught him glimpsing out a window as I walked to the front door. I didn’t think this would be the portrait I would use in the project. But as time passed and I thought about his story it made sense. When I look at this photograph, he is beginning to fade away in the reflection of the landscape. A few years prior, he had begun writing down his experiences in Nagasaki because he was diagnosed with dementia. The story was too important to be lost in his fading mind so I’m grateful he had documented his experiences in great detail. That day he was able to speak for hours about what he had seen in Nagasaki.
He was living alone but shortly after my visit was moved to an elderly home as his mind rapidly deteriorated. He lived a little less than four years after we met and passed away at the age of 94. Not many people know that there were Dutch POW’s affected by the atomic bomb. Most of them died from various forms of cancer within ten years of 1945. The majority of Dutch people I speak to about Mr. Schlote and the other Dutch POW I photographed are shocked to learn about their stories.
This portrait is a part of From Above, which is a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb survivors. From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and exhibition spaces. From Above was released as a limited edition book released as a limited edition book available at https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=I1040&i=&i2
An article written by Miki Shirasaka for KYODO News about From Above was published in several newspapers around Japan. From Above is a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb survivors and firebombing survivors from the Second World War. From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and was most recently exhibited in Dresden, Germany.
The article also introduced my portraits of Ukrainian teenagers who have fled the war that is currently raging in their country. Miki was one of the first journalists to write about From Above when I began the project in 2008. I’m grateful for her interest throughout the years.
People stared at me, and children cried at the sight of my face.
Still, I feel pain every morning looking at the mirror.”
-Katsuji Yoshida
Katsuji Yoshida was 13 years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki and was at a very close distance of 850m from the hypocenter. When the air raid siren sounded the all-clear, he and his classmates headed back to school from the shelter. Looking up he saw American planes dropping parachutes and suddenly, the blast.
The boys were thrust up in the air and scattered about 120 feet away. Katsuji was thrown into a wet rice field. The soft mud absorbed the force of the turbulent blast and probably saved his life but all his skin peeled off his body. Luckily, the boys survived. They encouraged each other and washed the mud off themselves in a nearby irrigation field. They found grass and put some on their bodies to cool down the scorched and missing skin.
A rescue team came the following day and he spent another two nights with the other children at a relief station set up in a school yard until his mother came to identify him. “At that time, my face was swollen. I couldn’t see because my eyes were swollen shut. My mother did not recognize me, so she kept calling my name in the ear of every boy lying there. Then I raised my hand. I lost consciousness from then until December. They told me that I was between life and death for four months.”
After years of emotional and physical pain caused by the atomic bomb and also discrimination, Katsuji slowly conquered his agony and suffering. Later in life he spoke about his experiences throughout the world. He became one of the most vocal Hibakusha and well known peace activists. On April 1st, 2010, Mr. Yoshida passed away. It was an honor to meet him.
This portrait is a part of my From Above project which a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb survivors From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and exhibition spaces. From Above was released as a limited edition book released as a limited edition book available at https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=I1040&i=&i2
“I think my mother wanted to talk about the atomic bomb, but her physical condition did not allow her to. I think she is happy for me to speak out today.”
-Etsuko Nagano
Etsuko Nagano was 16 years old when she experienced the atomic bomb while working in the gymnasium of the Vocational College of Economy, 2.8km from the hypocenter where the bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. Her brother died three days after the bombing and her sister died a month later.
Shortly before Nagasaki was destroyed, Etskuo brought her siblings back to the city from their refuge in the countryside. That regret still has not vanished today. She feels sorry about her brother and sister and still misses them.
For days after the bombing she searched many make shift shelters for her missing brother. While searching she called his name. Then she found a boy who had a familiar stature to her brother. Etsuko could not tell if the boy was her brother. His body was completely burnt and his face was swelled perfectly round. “I spoke to the boy, are you Seiichi? The boy nodded. But I could hardly believe it, so I asked again, and he nodded. I looked at him carefully and found these words on his barely remaining pants: Seiichi Nakazawa, 9 years old.” She was remorseful about the 9 year old waiting for his family alone and she could not stop crying. Etsuko’s sister died an agonizing death from radiation poisoning weeks later.
50 years after the war, she saw an article searching for story tellers of the atomic bombs and started speak about her experience. Mrs. Nagano has dedicated her life to telling her experience all over the world. She talks for her deceased family and to protect the people who suffer the same sorrow.
This portrait is a part of my From Above project which a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb survivors From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and exhibition spaces. From Above was released as a limited edition book released as a limited edition book available at https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=I1040&i=&i2
“As a doctor who survived the atomic bomb, I have many missions to go on. Till today, I lived for that mission. If I don’t continue talking about the fierce and unknown diseases caused by radiation; we will not find a cure.” -Dr. Shuntaro Hida
Dr. Hida experienced the atomic bomb when he was 28 years old, at a patient’s home 6km from the hypocenter. He treated the wounded immediately after the bomb detonated. Fortunately he was not at The Hiroshima Military Hospital at the time because it was only 300m from the hypocenter.
Recognizing that he would be needed to treat the wounded, he dashed on his bicycle threading his way against the tide of the people escaping the surrounding areas outside of Hiroshima. Finally he reached the city, but he could not get near the hospital. In just 30 minutes, the flames engulfed the entire city.
Dr. Hida dedicated his life to treating atomic bomb survivors. He retired from medicine at the age of 92. He passed away on March 20th, 2017 at the age of 100. I photographed Dr. Hida in 2010 at his home in Saitama, Japan. The photograph almost didn’t happen because he had been ill with pneumonia. Luckily he was released from the hospital on the last day of my trip. He was the only doctor I photographed for the project.
This portrait is a part of my From Above project which a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb and firebombing survivors from the Second World War. From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and exhibition spaces, including at the United Nations in New York and most recently in Dresden, Germany. From Above was released as a limited edition book available at https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=I1040&i=&i2=
“My mother used to pick off the maggots from the back of my neck, one by one, with bamboo forceps. She was sobbing and saying to herself, ‘Where is your dignity as a human being with maggots crawling over your living body? Your face, hands and feet will never be the same again. I almost wish you were dead, so that you can at least rest in peace.’ I felt her tears on my cheek, her warmth and her heartrending sorrow, which made me cry.” -Jong-keun Lee, Hiroshima atomic bomb survivor
Jong-keun Lee is an ethnic Korean who was born in Hiroshima during 1928, five years after his family came to Japan.He was exposed to the atomic bomb while commuting to his job at a mechanics’ workshop for steam locomotives. When he returned home he had no choice but to cross through the hypocenter and was exposed to high levels of radiation.
Before the war Mr. Lee was treated as Japanese and allowed to get a job for the government, even though he was of Korean ancestry, but when the war ended he was considered a foreigner and lost all rights as a Japanese citizen. Instead of using his Korean name, he continued to use his Japanese name to avoid being considered a foreigner.
Mr. Lee lived his entire life in Hiroshima. This week I received the sad news that he passed away, shortly before the 77th anniversary of the first atomic bomb being dropped. He was 93-years-old. I had photographed Mr. Lee several times when he came to New York to speak with students about the horrors of nuclear war and the importance of reconciliation. He was a kind and thoughtful person who cared about others. He will be missed.
This portrait is a part of my From Above project which a collection of portraits and reminiscences of atomic bomb and firebombing survivors from the Second World War. From Above is permanently exhibited at the Nagasaki Peace Memorial Hall for Atomic Bomb Victims at the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum. It has also been exhibited in numerous international museums and exhibition spaces, including at the United Nations in New York and most recently in Dresden, Germany.It was released as a limited edition book available at https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=I1040&i=&i2=
….Washington, DC ….July 1997… During July 1997, I was hired to photograph a Greenpeace protest across the street from the White House in Lafayette Park. Greenpeace wanted to halt the launch of the Cassini spacecraft, which many years later delivered spectacular photographs of Saturn and its moons. Greenpeace feared that if Cassini exploded, the radioactive material used to power it would spread throughout the atmosphere.
To attract publicity Greenpeace had Porno For Pyros play an acoustic set. I graduated university a year earlier, and was freelancing while assisting photographers in Washington, DC and NY. Assisting meant sweeping the darkroom, holding bags, and mixing chemicals. It wasn’t a glamorous start for a 22-year-old with a degree in Political Science. Greenpeace didn’t pay me, but I was thrilled to photograph Porno For Pyros. That steamy afternoon I put on my Good God’s Urge! t-shirt, the band’s second album, and took a metro towards the White House.
They played 4 songs in front of a hundred people. I was so close to the band that I shot some photos with a fish-eye lens.I had never photographed a famous band before.
After they played, Stephen Perkins (drummer/percussionist) walked over to the food vendor that I was getting a hot dog from. He autographed my t-shirt. I still have it, unwashed 25-years-later to make sure the signature doesn’t fade. We spoke for a couple of minutes, he corrected me after I mistakenly referred to the bass player as “Martin” instead of “Martyn.” Stephen then asked me to send the photos to their manager, Roger Leonard.
When I got my prints back from the lab, I sent some to Venice Beach with a thank you note. Weeks later, Roger left a message on my answering machine. Jane’s Addiction was reuniting for the “Relapse Tour.” On the night before Halloween, I photographed Jane’s Addiction. That was the start of my career photographing bands. I photographed their tour, then tours with the Cure, Verve, Radiohead, and Smashing Pumpkins. I was on the road for a year, before returning to NY to become a portrait and editorial photographer. It started with a conversation while I was buying a hot dog in front of the White House.
…8:27pm…Tompkins Square Park… a pile of roses and a metal hanger; a memorial for those who didn’t have, or don’t have, access to safe and legal abortion.
i passed this on the way back to my car, which for the past twenty-five years i always park in the same area. i got to the city in the afternoon, then took my usual route, walking down Bleecker past Robert Frank’s old studio. a couple of strides down Bleecker i saw a young woman in tears hugging someone, who i assume was her mother, in front of the Planned Parenthood office. i respectfully averted my eyes down as i walked by. the mother was consoling the young woman. since this was happening in front of Planned Parenthood, i assume it had to do with abortion. all day i thought about women’s access to abortion and the restrictions they now face over their own bodies. the state now controls what choices they have over their health. hours later, walking back to my car, i saw this memorial dimly illuminated by the lanterns in Tompkins Square Park. felt like it brought the day to a close.
