Imaging the Rural:
Modernity and Agrarianism
in Hiroshi Hamaya’s
Snow Land Photographs
ROSS TUNNEY
University of Tasmania
ABSTRACT
his article analyses the Snow Land photographic series by Japanese
photographer Hiroshi Hamaya [1915–1999] in relation to issues of modernity,
nostalgia and discourses of agrarianism in 1940s and 1950s Japan. Hamaya
is one of Japan’s most celebrated and inluential documentary photographers
at both a national and international level. His Snow Land series presents
an idyllic view of life in the small mountain villages of Japan’s Niigata
Prefecture, emphasising a sense of community and spiritual meaning that
Hamaya perceived to be lacking in modern society. In this sense, Snow Land
constituted a critique of modernity. hrough engagement with theorists such
as Heidegger, Foucault and Barthes, as well as critical writings on agrarian
ideology, this article investigates the underlying assumptions that govern
Hamaya’s depiction of snow country, demonstrating that the series is shaped
by a modern worldview and is tied to ideological discourses of agrarianism.
To link to this article:
http://dx.doi.org/10.21159/nvjs.07.01
ISSN 2205-3166
KEYWORDS
agrarianism; Heidegger; Hiroshi Hamaya; modernity; nostalgia; photography;
post-war; representation
New Voices in Japanese Studies is
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© The Japan Foundation, Sydney
and Ross Tunney, 2015
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New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
INTRODUCTION
Hiroshi Hamaya [1915–1999] is one of Japan’s most celebrated photographers.1
Born in a working-class area of Tokyo, he taught himself photography in
adolescence before briely undertaking formal studies. In his irst professional
position he was tutored by Yoshio Watanabe [1907–2000], also one of Japan’s
most revered photographers (Reynolds 2013, 18). Before photographing the
snow country landscape of Niigata Prefecture—a project that is the central
object of analysis in this essay—Hamaya was mostly known for portraying
modern life in his native Tokyo. His Tokyo photographs cover a variety of
subjects, from Asakusa dance halls and other Western-style entertainment
venues to subjects on the margins of society, including homeless people
and street-peddlers. Jonathon Reynolds (2013) has argued, however, that
despite what must have been Hamaya’s awareness of the economic hardship
experienced by many residents of Tokyo at the time, his photographs of the
marginalised tend to “romanticise the conditions in which these people lived
and worked” (19). Reynolds also notes that these images show little indication
of either the rise of militarisation in Japan or the approaching war (2013, 19–
20). As I will argue below, this tendency to omit from his photographs some
of the harsher political and social realities of the era is also a central feature of
his Snow Land (雪国 [Yukiguni]) photographic series.2
Hamaya commenced photographing the Snow Land series in 1940 and
completed the project ten years later. All of the photographs in the Snow
Land book (1977), which was irst published in 1956, were therefore taken
either during wartime or in the most acute period of post-war recovery. Snow
Land’s portrayal of village life in remote snowy areas of Niigata Prefecture,
however, contains little trace of the war or its subsequent impact. Instead,
the images convey nostalgia for a vanishing way of life in Japan. While one
may justiiably criticise Hamaya for this shortcoming, it is not the principal
intention of this article to do so. Rather, I consider these photographs
in relation to theoretical work on how landscapes are represented in
modernity, with a view to demonstrating how the singularity of Snow Land’s
representation relects a worldview on the part of Hamaya that is grounded
in the rationalising logic of modernity. In this worldview, the rural landscape
stands as a peripheral, objectiied and imaginary space ready for access by the
modern, urban observer. Following from this, I discuss how in wartime Japan
this modern view of the pastoral was incorporated into state discourses in a
way that highlighted the paradoxical nature of the urban/pastoral binary. he
article thus considers Hamaya’s Snow Land not only according to a putatively
universal experience of modernity, but also in the context of particular sociopolitical discourses in Japan both precedent and contemporaneous to the
series’ creation. In other words, I aim to situate the Snow Land photographic
collection within the international and local discursive systems that operated
during the time of its creation.
1 At a national level, Hamaya received the 1958 Japan Photographic Society’s annual award and the 1981 Japan
Art Grand Prix. Internationally, he received the 1986 Master of Photography award from the International
Center of Photography; the 1987 International Photography Prize from Sweden’s Hasselblad Foundation; and
honorary membership of the Royal Photographic Society of England in the same year (Orto 2003, 340). In 1960,
Hamaya became the irst Japanese invited to join Magnum, the prestigious photo agency. Even today this is
considered a benchmark of success for documentary photographers.
2 he series title is also oten translated as “Snow Country,” however the bilingual edition to which this article
refers uses the translation “Snow Land."
2
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
PRE-PICTURING SNOW LAND
In his essay, he Age of the World Picture, Martin Heidegger (1977) deines
modernity as the age in which representation becomes the principal means
for humankind to understand the world.3 In modernity, the world becomes
a rationalised object organised and explained according to multiple,
intertwined scientiic schemata. In this way, fundamental notions of the
world are constituted in accordance with the centralised standpoint of
humankind. he modern age, in other words, understands the world as
a picture, an always-already posited image. his contrasts with the Middle
Ages, for example, at which time the world was understood according to
divine creation. During that period, “to be in being” meant “to belong within
a speciic rank of the order of what has been created” (1977, 130). Heidegger
argues that although the world as a preconceived image is ontologically
constituted through a variety of representational forms, the most pervasive
are the sciences, all of which are unequivocally grounded in research. hus
it is through research that the world is made to stand before humanity in the
modern age (1977, 118). One such science that informs the world-as-picture
in modernity is ethnography, a discipline heavily reliant on documentation
and data collection. Ethnographic documentation was a central imperative
for Hamaya’s photographic expeditions into the rural snow country spaces of
Niigata Prefecture, as demonstrated below.
Hamaya’s Snow Land can be seen as both creative work and ethnographic
research. While the series contains many dynamic and expressively composed
images, the book is also a carefully edited and organised documentation of
life in a small Niigata village. he project sought to record “the depth and
richness of a spiritual life with a long history behind it” (Hamaya 1977, n.p.).
his way of living was conceived of at the time by igures such as Shinji
Ichikawa [1901–1982] and Keizō Shibusawa [1896–1963] as both exceptional
and endangered. Hamaya met Ichikawa, an ethnographer, in Takada, a
snow country town where the former was employed to photograph Japanese
military training exercises. Ichikawa introduced Hamaya to Shibusawa, a
wealthy amateur ethnographer who, with Ichikawa, persuaded Hamaya of
the scholarly importance of photographically documenting life in the Niigata
snow country (Reynolds 2013, 20).
As an ethnographic work, Snow Land accords with Heidegger’s account of
scientiic research. Heidegger deines research as the enactment of procedures
bound to a “ground plan” which is conceived in advance and subsequently
guides these procedures (1977, 118). In Hamaya’s case, the preconceived
“ground plan” is an idea of socio-historical development that positions the
rural and the urban according to a teleological schema. Hamaya’s “procedure”
is the rigorous production of images captured and arranged in a way that
locates the snow country and its people within historical progression. In this
sense, Snow Land is also an historiographical work, as Hamaya—a modern
urban subject—essentially sought to capture a way of life that he perceived as
a “primitive (始原的 )” remnant of a past “Japan (日本)” (Hamaya 1971, 35).
3
3 h is essay irst appeared in a German-language publication of Heidegger’s essays entitled Holzwege [1952].
he irst English translation, to which this discussion refers, was irst published in The Question Concerning
Technology (1977), a collection of Heidegger’s essays.
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
his links the photographer with a long genealogy of Western anthropologists
and ethnographers who documented other cultures as part of research into the
historical development of humankind. According to anthropologist Johannes
Fabian (2002), a ixation on human development oten blinded anthropologists
to the contemporaneousness of their research subjects. he human subjects
of research were objectiied as living relics and thus inferior iterations of
humanity in comparison to the modern researcher (2002, 25–35). Like these
early ethnographers, Hamaya’s project attempts to capture a disappearing
culture. However, where anthropologists depicted their subjects as inferior,
Hamaya valorised Japan’s snow country as the site of an ideal lifestyle.
According to Heidegger, it is no accident that in the modern age research
is fundamentally anthropocentric. He argues that “the more efectually the
world stands at man’s disposal as conquered”, that is, as possessed through
knowledge of it, the more persistently the world is understood from an
orientation that centralises humanity (Heidegger 1977, 133). Consequently,
“observation of and teaching about the world” increasingly becomes “a
doctrine of man” (1977, 133). Humanism, therefore, “irst arises where the
world becomes picture” (1977, 133). he study of humankind was of central
concern for Hamaya, who said that throughout his career, “what captured and
held my interest as a photographer was people and their problems. My work…
began with the main “object: man”4 (Hamaya 1971, 214). On an international
level, Hamaya’s photography became linked to a mode of humanism prevalent
in the early post-war era that arose to counter the nationalism which had led
to World War I and World War II. Blake Stimson (2006) notes how, in the
decade following World War II, public intellectuals such as Franz Fanon and
Jean-Paul Sartre advocated a concept of identity that transcended cultural
and national boundaries. Rather than the nation-state or even a United
Nations, “what was desperately needed”, according to these thinkers, “was
a world community integrated organically, morally, and politically through
the development of a new idée-force that gave form to new thoughts and new
sentiments in the igure of a postmodern, postnationalist citizen of the world”
(Stimson 2006, 15). Stimson goes on to argue that photography was seen as
an integral medium for this new concept of global identity, largely because of
a general belief that the photograph was an unbiased and democratic mode
of representation. Photography, it was claimed, could provide a new “sense of
belonging…distinct from race, language, region, and other national markers,
and distinct from that of the transcultural marketplace” (2006, 20).
Hamaya’s links to this broader global movement are evident from the fact that
his work featured in the 1955 he Family of Man exhibition curated by Edward
Steichen [1879–1973], the director of photography at the prestigious New York
Museum of Modern Art. It is important to evaluate Steichen’s exhibition in
order to compare Hamaya’s Snow Land with the particular kind of representation found in he Family of Man. his exhibition toured internationally
for 8 years, attracting around 9 million viewers and symbolising an apex of
post-war universal humanism in photography. he exhibition was a large
collection of images taken throughout the world by various photographers
4
4
写真家
私 関心
把え 離
人間 問題
私 写真 人間 対象
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
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and grouped under universal themes like birth, death and work. In Steichen’s
own words, it was designed to present “a mirror of the essential oneness of
mankind” and to communicate a “basic human consciousness rather than
social consciousness” (Steichen 1955, 3, 4). Stimson has argued that the he
Family of Man was intended to counter a recurrence of the horrors brought on
by the divisive nationalism that fuelled World War II. Despite such laudable
intentions, the exhibition was nonetheless a “hopeless attempt to reconcile
universal with particular”, in which “political vision was understood to
appeal directly to something universally human and primordial” (Stimson
2006, 11). Roland Barthes (2009) describes this type of humanism as a “very
old mystiication” founded upon the belief that “in scratching the history of
men a little, the relativity of their institutions or the supericial diversity of
their skins…one very quickly reaches the solid rock of human nature” (122).
In spite of critiques such as those of Stimson and Barthes, it is important
to acknowledge the good intentions behind this efort to difuse cultural
conlict by downplaying cultural diferences. he problem, however, is
that the resultant universalism inevitably ignores the distinctive historical
particularities of given cultures, as well as real injustices. he exclusion of
the latter is especially problematic given that some of the images were created
during wartime. Barthes argues that the ultimate efect of he Family of Man
was to:
…suppress the determining weight of History: we are held back at the surface
of an identity, prevented precisely by sentimentality from penetrating into this
ulterior zone of human behaviour where historical alienation introduces some
‘diferences’ which we shall here quite simply call injustices.
(Barthes 2009, 122)
Hamaya’s representation of the snow country oten exhibits the type of
sentimentality that is criticised above. Speciically, the landscape and its
inhabitants are depicted as symbolising harmonious community and hardy
self-suiciency. A ‘surface’ Japanese identity is produced in the Snow Land
series that obscures the tensions that beset any community, such as those
surrounding class and gender relations.
However, Hamaya’s Snow Land is diferent from he Family of Man in one
important sense: Hamaya was not trying to promote an idea of transnational
unity, but rather, a culturally speciic notion of Japanese identity. Yet there are
still resonances with Steichen’s exhibition in his work: Hamaya’s Snow Land
posits a sentimental and unifying ideal of authenticity for Japanese society
that not only ignores the particular inluences of history, place and culture in
the rural landscape but also elides a sense of cultural diversity within Japan. In
this sense, both of these photographic projects symbolise a modern worldview
that renders the world as picture. In each instance, despite aspirations
towards objectivity, the world is constituted as a subjective representation of a
universalised sense of being that overwrites contingencies and particularities.
5
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New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
THE WORLD AS EXHIBITION: HAMAYA’S SNOW LAND AS
MODERNITY’S MIRROR
he sentimental representation of the snow country in Hamaya’s photographic
series clearly relects a modern mode of subjectivity through its emotive
appeal to a uniied sense of Japanese identity. his representation signiies the
extent to which Hamaya was at that time embedded within modern systems
of knowledge production. In modernity, the physical landscape becomes
ontologically peripheral to the human subject, and the rural landscape in
particular is conceived of as exterior to the modern urban centre. his space
is produced through the aforementioned sentimentality and also through
a scientiic mode of representation. A scientiic approach is particularly
evident in Snow Land in that many images in the collection display a clear
attempt by the photographer to objectively document his subject. his
relects the inluence of his encounter with the ethnographer Ichikawa, who
inspired Hamaya’s documentation of village rituals in the Kuwadori Valley
through immersive ieldwork which required him to “walk, observe, and feel
(歩い 見 感
)” (Hamaya 1971, 36). In his eforts to represent the
snow country space as objective fact through observation, Hamaya also
responded to his feelings by positing an imagined space that grounded his
sense of identity both as a modern individual and as a Japanese person. In
this sense, the photo series produces an imaginary site that Foucault entitles
a “heterotopia”: an externalised utopic space anchored to multiple physical
locations. Heterotopia simultaneously airms identity and calls it into
question (Foucault 1986, 24). In Hamaya’s representation, the snow country
is experienced as modern society’s peripheral opposite, the pre-modernity of
its modernity. In a moment of diférance, to use Jacques Derrida’s term, the
qualitative meaning of modern existence is conirmed by the positing of its
opposite, but at the same time is undermined by a longing towards a seemingly
superior utopic rural space (Derrida 1976, 23). It is not diicult to imagine that
despite being physically present in the snow country for extended periods,
Hamaya, as a modern Japanese subject, was not necessarily at home in this
space. Instead, his time in the snow country must have been both stabilising
and destabilising to his own sense of self.
To draw out the connection between ‘objective’ representations of modernity’s
external spaces and identity as they appear in Hamaya’s Snow Land, it is
useful to consider the example of colonial knowledge production. he space
presented in Snow Land evokes a particular way of seeing the Middle East
and Asia that is characteristic of 19th-century Europe. Using the example of
world exhibitions held in Europe during the late 1800s (and drawing on the
same Heidegger essay discussed above), Timothy Mitchell (1989) relates how,
in a literal sense, Europeans constructed the Orient in a series of exhibits that
re-created actual geographical spaces such as a busy street in Cairo, in order
to be “viewed, investigated, and experienced” (220). In these exhibitions, the
representation of the world-as-picture took a three-dimensional form. he
Cairo street was reproduced as a life-sized diorama, a generic experience of
the Orient created for exhibition visitors. Mitchell’s example demonstrates one
6
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of the ways in which European nations scientiically “observed” alien spaces
in the colonial era that they then judged as retrograde in order to airm the
identity of Europe as superior to its opposite, the Orient.5
Hamaya’s documentary photographs of the snow country are clearly not
constructed in the manner of a museum exhibit, nor are they an exercise
in colonial discursive power. Nonetheless, like these exhibits of the Orient,
Snow Land relects an experience of life in Japan’s remote mountain villages,
a singular representative space that combines various geographic locations.
Hamaya produces this efect through a range of narrative devices. he image
below, for example, is an overview shot that commences one section of the
book (Figure 1):
Figure 1: Plate 47 from Snow Land (Hamaya 1977). © Keisuke Katano. Reproduced with permission.
he photograph resembles a diorama, an impression that is attributable to
both the high angle from which the image has been taken and the distanced
perspective; each aspect makes the landscape seem to be a miniaturised version
of itself. he land is spread before the viewer to give a sense of the stage upon
which the ensuing photographic narrative will take place. Furthermore, the
manner in which the various lines and shapes in the landscape are carefully
balanced gives the impression of a mapped space. Landscapes such as these
are relatively rare in the book, with the majority of images depicting people
undertaking preparations for traditional New Year celebrations. Within the
context of the photo series, this image presents as a kind of “ground plan” (to
use Heidegger’s term) for Hamaya’s more detailed documentation of village
rituals (Heidegger 1977, 118). he photograph establishes a macro perspective
7
5 h is way of seeing and representing the Orient by the West is most famously explicated by Edward Said in his
book Orientalism (2003). See in particular his concept of ‘imaginative geographies’ (49–73).
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
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to contextualise the images of human subjects that follow, which are taken
from a much closer vantage point. he landscape presented seems external yet
knowable to the viewer, and thus presents as an objective display.
he photograph above (Figure 1) begins a section of the book that focuses
entirely on New Year celebrations and is structured as a narrative through
chronological sequencing of images and montage. Given the book’s intention
as an ethnographic work, it is not surprising to see these techniques being
utilised in order to govern the viewer’s experience. Chronological order, in
particular, organises the various rituals and ceremonies conducted by the
villagers, giving the impression of a meticulously produced spectacle, as in
the European exhibitions referred to above. Below (Figure 2) is an excerpt
from a sequence of twelve photographs that document a villager performing
the wakagi mukae (若木迎え)6 ritual:
Figure 2: Plates 14–17 from Snow Land (Hamaya 1977). © Keisuke Katano. Reproduced with permission.
he sequence from which the above montage is taken begins with an intimately
close portrait of the man, ater which the perspective shits back to that of
observer. he montage relects Hamaya’s self-assigned role as documenter. his
is achieved in three ways. First, the photographer has withdrawn to a distance
so as not to disturb what is unfolding before him. Second, the chronological
sequencing creates a temporal narrative that relects the photographer’s wish
to distance himself as narrator. hird, the absence of dramatic angles or other
expressive framing techniques produces an objective aesthetic. he combined
efect produces a ‘factual’ representation of the snow country space (much like
the display of the Cairo street). Here, the snow country is carefully delineated
and organised according to the rationalising logic of temporal sequencing.
he space is presented to the viewer as a piece of objective information that
can be incorporated into the broader world picture of modernity.
8
6 he wakagi mukae ritual involves the cutting of a young tree in order to use it as an ornament in Japanese
new-year festivities.
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
FANTASISING THE PAST-PRESENT: NOSTALGIA AND
THE COUNTRYSIDE
he images discussed above (Figures 1 and 2) demonstrate how the rural
landscape is produced as a space peripheral to modernity’s centre through
rationalising logic. One consequence of this is that rural landscapes are also
oten represented according to the developmental logic of modernity as a
retrograde past. his logic grounds a common perception of the rural landscape
and its inhabitants as less civilised than those in urban spaces (Williams
1973, 1). More importantly for this discussion, such logic also contradictorily
engenders nostalgia for an ideal lifestyle deemed lost. In the following section,
I discuss the particular way nostalgia for the pastoral lifestyle in Japan features
alongside attempts at pure documentation in Hamaya’s Snow Land.
It is important to note that idealisation of the countryside is not unique to
the modern age nor to Japan. Raymond Williams (1973), for example, has
demonstrated how nostalgia for pastoral life and fear of its extinction can
be traced to antiquity. In his example of modern writings about the English
countryside, Williams observes a general shit beginning during the
Renaissance whereby “the landscape becomes more distant, becomes in fact
Arcadia, and the Golden Age is seen as present there” (1973, 16–17). As Britain
became increasingly industrial and urban, recognition of the hardships of
rural life present in earlier works began to disappear: “step by step, these
living tensions are excised, until there is nothing countervailing, and selected
images stand as themselves: not in a living but in an enamelled world”
(1973, 18). his tendency to render the pastoral as a symbol detached from
material and historical contingencies relects a new way to produce meaning
in the face of modernity’s increased rationalisation of daily life. Due to rapid
development starting in the Meiji era [1868–1912], many in Japan experienced
not only economic and social upheaval, but also an existential crisis. he sense
of dislocation in the Meiji era became even more pronounced in the Taishō
era [1912–1926]. Alan Tansman articulates this phenomenon as follows:
…a time of ‘blankness’ lacking former myths and other objects of
unselfconscious worship. Lost are previous forms of sociability and the
rituals binding them, artistic forms sanctioned by tradition, and a sense of
continuous time stretching back into the past and promising to continue
without interruption into the future.
(Tansman 2009, 8)
In the face of modern logic, the legitimacy of old forms of knowledge and
meaning became “a receding echo”, retreating “steadily into a remaindered
world of irrationality and ghosts” (Harootunian 2009, 83). Stefan Tanaka
(2004) argues that this distancing of traditional from modern knowledge,
and subsequently a distancing of humankind from the natural world, is
symbolised in the Meiji-era replacement of the indigenous lunar calendar
with the foreign solar (Gregorian) calendar. his new calendar was at odds
with the timing of traditional events such as festivals and ceremonies, so that
the experience of time in everyday life became disconnected from traditional
9
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New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
practice. Daily life was now organised around the logic of the solar calendar,
and events that had punctuated the old lunar calendar were displaced and
became illogical within the new organisational context of modern time. As a
result, Tanaka argues, “what had constituted experience and common sense…
[was] now evidence of a lack of understanding and reason, immaturity, or
childhood” (2004, 82). hus, the imposition of the solar calendar by the Meiji
regime had the efect of condemning “the very organisation of people’s lives”
as “evil customs of the past” (2004, 9).
It is clear that Hamaya himself keenly felt that something important had been
lost in modern Japanese society. It was therefore important for him to record
and evaluate the disappearing traditional systems of knowledge (Hamaya 1971,
152). Hamaya also saw the snow country as holding the promise of a collective
identity he felt to be slipping away in the face of modern individualism. He has
referred to his many ield trips to the Niigata rural space during the creation
of Snow Land as “like my return to [the nation of] Japan (日本へ 回
)”
(Hamaya 1971, 38). his idea of an authentic Japan found in the snow country
emphasises old systems of knowledge, most notably religious practice as a
source of meaning and the virtues of close human relations that arise through
shared activities. In the essay that accompanies the Snow Land images,
Hamaya emphasises the importance of religion for both unity and resilience:
“he farmers who built up the narrow, infertile and poor Japanese islands
into a fertile land required deep faith in their gods to an extent inconceivable
in the modern scientiic age” (1977, n.p.). A sense of the resultant communal
harmony is communicated powerfully in this image (Figure 3) that spreads
across two pages of Hamaya’s book:
Figure 3: Plate 83 from Snow Land (Hamaya 1977). © Keisuke Katano. Reproduced with permission.
he wide frame of the image is crowded with people, yet none stand out as
separate from the group. hey all seem to be interacting with each other
in diferent ways, suggesting a shared sense of purpose. Possibly through
the use of a lash, the photograph has been exposed in a way that blackens
10
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New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
the background and erases the contextual details, while at the same time
highlighting the human subjects. his sharp division between foreground
and background not only makes the image dynamic, but also seems to isolate
the group of men, imbuing the scene with a timeless sense of community.
hese visual efects produce a surface impression of communal identity as
fundamental to an authentic Japanese landscape. In the modern sense that
Williams (1973) notes, the landscape has been divested of a sense of the real
hardships of life in a mountainous and bitterly cold landscape. Instead, it is a
nostalgic representation of an originary Japan that promises to be a salve for
the loss of meaning noted by Tanaka (2004) and Harootunian (2009). As will
be discussed below, this sense of the snow country as a rejuvenating space is
one important way in which Hamaya’s Snow Land connects with the Yasunari
Kawabata [1899–1972] novel of the same name.
ALIENATION AND REJUVENATION IN YASUNARI
KAWABATA’S SNOW COUNTRY
here are clear diferences between the representation of the snow country in
Hamaya’s Snow Land and Kawabata’s novel, Snow Country (雪国 [Yukiguni]).7
Kawabata’s representation is intensely personal and aesthetic, whereas Hamaya
generally strives for objectivity. Despite this, however, there are important
similarities between Hamaya and Kawabata’s protagonist, Shimamura. Both
are men, native to Tokyo, who venture into the snow country in search of
redemption. hroughout his novel, Kawabata emphasises Shimamura’s status
as an urban male hollowed out by modernity. We are told, for example, that he
is a dance critic who has slowly moved from critiquing Japanese dance forms,
with which he became disillusioned, to studying Western ballet, performances
of which he has seen only in books. his deliberate choice, made because
“nothing could be more comfortable than writing about ballet from books”,
suggests Shimamura’s detachment from the real world (Kawabata 2011, 17).
Like Shimamura, Hamaya seemed also to experience a sense of disconnection
from the real world in his urban life. his is most apparent from the fact
that ater making several trips to the snow country, he perceived his earlier
photographs of Tokyo as supericial and meaningless. In a dramatic turn of
events, he burnt almost all of his Tokyo ilm negatives in a traditional New
Year’s bonire held in one of the snow country villages he visited (Reynolds
2013, 21).
For Hamaya and Shimamura, the snow country was an antidote to alienation.
Shimamura “lived a life of idleness, [and therefore] found that he tended
to lose his honesty with himself, and frequently went out alone into the
mountains to recover something of it” (Kawabata 2011, 12). In Kawabata’s
novel, Shimamura seeks rehabilitation in the small onsen town of EchigoYuzawa, in Niigata Prefecture. his is apparent the moment he steps from
the train: “Shimamura’s nose had been stopped by a stubborn cold, but it
cleared to the middle of his head in the cold air, and began running as if the
11
7 he original Japanese novel was begun in 1935 and completed in 1937; the deinitive version was published in
1948. he irst English translation (by Edward Seidensticker) was published in 1956. his article refers to the 2011
edition of Seidensticker’s translation.
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
Vol. 7, 2015, pp. 1-20
matter in it were washing cleanly away” (2011, 9). he most lucid moments
of reconnection to authenticity are found in communion with other people
in the village. Shimamura articulates this in conversation with his lover,
Komako: “I’ve had to come into the mountains to want to talk to people again”
(2011, 15). Yet for Shimamura, the people of the village do not necessarily
exist separately from the landscape; rather, they are a part of it. With respect
to Komako, the narrator goes on to tell us that Shimamura’s “response to
the mountains had extended itself to cover her” (2011, 14). his relects how
ultimately Shimamura’s attraction to Komako is based less on her qualities as
an individual and more on what she symbolises for him. his is evident, too,
at the time that the pair irst meet in the novel:
he impression the woman [Komako] gave was a wonderfully clean and fresh
one. It seemed to Shimamura that she must be clean to the hollows under her
toes. So clean indeed did she seem that he wondered whether his eyes, back
from looking at early summer in the mountains, might not be deceiving him.
(Kawabata 2011, 13)
Komako, a geisha living a traditional life, provides Shimamura with access to
a visceral experience of ‘authenticity’ based in nature, through emotional and
sexual union. his is articulated later in the novel when Shimamura, while
listening to Komako play music, observes that “practicing alone, not aware
herself of what was happening, perhaps, but with all the wideness of nature
in this mountain valley for her companion, she had come quite as a part of
nature to take on this special power” (Kawabata 2011, 50).
Although Hamaya strives for objectivity in Snow Land, at times he nonetheless
reproduces Kawabata’s romantic representation of the snow country—in
particular, the author’s habit of eliding snow country inhabitants’ individuality
and simply depicting them as part of the protagonist’s experience of the natural
landscape. he following photograph from Hamaya’s series (Figure 4) similarly
appears to embed the depicted human igures into the surrounding landscape.
In this dynamic image, the men seem to dissolve into nature, an efect
engendered by the way the igures are arranged around the as-yet unlit
bonire, in a manner that incorporates them into the bonire’s pyramid shape.
his is reinforced by the vertical graduation of tones in the photograph, which
integrates the men into the natural landscape’s tonal palette. his begins
with the white snowy ground that blends into the mid-grey of the straw
bonire and the men’s coats, and culminates in the sky’s inky blackness. he
distinction between human and landscape is further blurred by swirling white
snowlakes. he subjects’ distinguishing features are not visible given both
their distance from, and position in relation to, the camera. All of this evokes
an impression that the men and the landscape have merged to form a dynamic
visage of nature. Despite at times striving for objectivity—as in the previously
discussed landscape image (Figure 1) and the wakagi mukae montage (Figure
2)—this photograph suggests that Hamaya, like Kawabata, was also motivated
by a sentimental and romantic notion of life in the pastoral landscape of the
snow country. As discussed below, this connects Hamaya’s Snow Land with
particular discourses around rural life in pre-war twentieth-century Japan, one
of the most persuasive of which was agrarianism, or nōhonshugi (農本主 ).
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Figure 4: Plate 81 from Snow Land (Hamaya 1977). © Keisuke Katano. Reproduced with permission.
IDEOLOGICAL DISCOURSES OF THE PASTORAL: NOHONSHUGI
So far I have discussed how Hamaya’s representation of the snow country
constitutes a preconceived, bounded and idealised space. In Snow Land,
the Niigata landscape relects the photographer’s notion of rural life as both
foreign and superior to modern, urban ways of living. Although this is an
understandable response to a modern crisis of meaning, the fact that this
series was created during the period in which the war and its atermath were
most acutely experienced in Japan cannot be overlooked. As an ethnographic
work, the series connects with the folklore studies discipline in which
Hamaya was keenly interested. Marilyn Ivy (1995) has noted that folklore
studies ultimately “contributed to the chauvinism and cultural nationalism
of the wartime period” despite trying to distance itself from state discourses
(94). Snow Land also connects with agrarian movements that valorised the
pastoral. As Tom Brass has demonstrated, the discourse of agrarian myth was
“an almost universal national response to the capitalist crisis” of the 1920s
and 1930s (2000, 3). He argues that although these responses naturally varied
in form from country to country, in each instance the agrarian myth was
constituted at that time as:
a ‘pure’ (or middle) peasantry engaged in smallholding cultivation within the
context of an equally ‘pure’ village community (that is unsullied by an external
capitalism) is presented as embodying all the positive and culturally speciic
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attributes that are constitutive of a ‘pure’ national identity, which is protected
in turn by these same peasants (=warriors-who-defend-the-nation). Deessentialization of the peasantry corresponds to alienation from an ‘authentic’
selhood and thus estrangement from a ‘natural’ and ancient identity by a
combination of ‘foreign’ others: capitalism, socialism and/or colonialism.
(Brass 2000, 36)
Nōhonshugi, as the Japanese iteration of this agrarian myth, emerged as an
ideology in the wake of the Meiji Restoration [1868] and Japan’s consequent
rapid modernisation (Havens 1970, 250). his ideology held that agrarian
practices underpinned both the economic state and a unique Japanese spirit.
As expressed by its leading thinker and practitioner, Kanji Katō [1884–1965],
nōhonshugi was the suppression of “one’s ego through devotion to growing
crops, an enterprise best performed by self-suicient villages composed of
patriarchal families” (Havens 1970, 254). According to Katō, there were several
facets to the agrarian lifestyle that characterised Japanese essence. hese facets
include: physically disciplining the body through hard labour on the farm;
resurrecting the fading practice of shrine worship; and practicing traditional
martial arts. Farming and combat had to eschew modern implements and
methods in favour of tradition, such as the hand-drawn hoe and the sword
respectively (Havens 1970, 256–57). A central motif of nōhonshugi was the
idealised rice farmer, largely due to an historical association with rice as
food and the aesthetics of Japan’s rice paddies. he Japanese rice paddy was
considered to embody not just rural Japan, but Japan itself (Ohnuki-Tierney
1993, 81–95). he rice farmer became so central to Japanese identity in the
era between wars that by 1935, the Japanese anthropologist Kunio Yanagita
[1895–1962] had come to deine the “common people” of Japan solely as rice
farmers (Ohnuki-Tierney 1993, 92).
here are no depictions of rice farming in the Snow Land book, primarily
because Hamaya’s series focuses on winter, during which the Niigata rural
landscapes are mostly submerged in snow. He did, however, produce iconic
images of rice farming in Uranihon (裏日本量 lit., ‘Japan’s Back Coast’), a book
published in 1957 as a follow-up to Snow Land. Incidentally, Uranihon also
contained an introduction written by Kawabata, author of the Snow Country
novel (Hamaya 1957). One of the most iconic images in Uranihon is the below
image (Figure 5).
Although this image is from 1955, long ater the end of wartime, it nonetheless
symbolises some key aspects of nōhonshugi. It conveys an impression of the
rice farmer as a person of individual discipline and self-reliance, while at the
same time emphasising the communal working rhythms of the harvest. he
former is achieved by the centralised presence of the two women who ill
the image’s frame, while a sense of coordinated harmony is produced by the
manner in which the eye is drawn from the front igure towards the woman
behind her. Harmony is further suggested by how the women are captured
in symmetric pose while performing identical harvesting actions. hese two
aspects of the image position the women as archetypal igures, an impression
accentuated by the fact that each woman’s face is covered. his has the efect
of erasing context and subjectivity from the scene so that the women become
generic signiiers of the idealised Japanese rice farmer.
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Figure 5: Plate 88 from Uranihon (Hamaya 1977). © Keisuke Katano. Reproduced with permission.
FASCISM’S PROMISE FOR MODERNITY
Brass notes that in many modernising nations, agrarianism became
incorporated into fascist ideology (Brass 2000, 20). It is therefore important to
assess whether traces of agrarian fascist discourses might be found in Hamaya’s
Snow Land photographs. Like agrarianism, fascism emerged in Japan as a
response to growing dissatisfaction with capitalist modernity, endeavouring
to provide new meaning via a foundational mythology of the nation state.
Maruyama (1969) notes that, although there were clear formal diferences
between the Shōwa [1926–1989] regime and the regimes of Germany and
Italy, the ideological underpinnings of each were ostensibly the same. One
structural diference between Japanese and European fascism resided in the
fact that Japanese fascism did not emerge as a populist movement. Rather, it
was driven by a small but powerful presence in government and civil society
which exerted a disproportionate inluence on the state (Maruyama 1969,
52–57). Despite this diference, Harootunian notes that in the inal analysis
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each regime sought to “save capitalism from itself, from the excesses of civil
society, and from the class conlict it was capable of producing”, largely by
erasing the notion of social divisions and individual identity (Harootunian
2005, 140–41).
he particular national mythology espoused in Japanese fascism is worth
exploring more fully to understand the discursive context in which Hamaya’s
Snow Land was produced. It will also help with assessing whether or not
Hamaya was inluenced by state discourses. Dislocation from old patterns
of living—in conjunction with the failure of the global economy that led
to the worldwide depression of the late 1920s—conirmed growing doubts
about capitalist modernity to many in Japan. Nina Cornyetz notes that,
unlike Germany following defeat in World War I, in Japan there was no
single deinable event to which a prevailing feeling of loss could be attributed.
Nonetheless, there still existed “a sense of cultural crisis that was widely
experienced as loss” (Cornyetz 2009, 337). his was engendered by the
fear that Japanese civilisation was overrun by the Western inluences that
had become intertwined with modernising eforts in Japan since the Meiji
Restoration (2009, 337). By holding the promise of replenishing a sense of
community and unifying purpose, fascism emerged as one response to the
crisis of modernity. he disenchantment and isolating efects of modern
life were addressed in Japan through the renovation of ancient mythology
and emphasis on connection with nature (Tansman 2009, 2–5). As already
discussed, the ideology of nōhonshugi was central to this discourse because
it promoted agrarian life as an intrinsic feature of national identity. In this
way, fascism sought to unite the population, to provide a sense of superior
cultural uniqueness that connected individuals and communities together. It
thus appeared to provide an antidote to the fracturing of old family structures
brought about by modernisation.
While fascism promised a sense of unity, it also required signiicant sacriice
by Japanese citizens. he Emperor, as the symbolic head of spirituality and the
state, embodied the higher force to which sacriice should be made (Skya 2009).
he national body was subsequently rendered sacred through its association
with the emperor, and the emperor’s status as supreme kami—the apotheosis
of nature’s power—meant that a nexus formed between the emperor, the state
and nature (Picken 2004; Karatani 2012, 61). As a consequence, a central
motif in Japanese fascist aesthetics was the frequent association of nature
and the rural with an essential national identity. his extended beyond the
realm of ideological discourse and into politics; for some political thinkers,
agrarianism was a foundation for a new state model.
Maruyama (1963) notes that among major political thinkers in the 1930s
there existed a concept of the village model as an ideal upon which to base the
Japanese state. For example, Seikyō Gondō [1868–1937], a central igure in the
reactionary May 15 Incident of 1932, was highly critical of state exploitation
of the provinces in the process of modernisation.8 his criticism was driven
16
8 he May 15 Incident was an attempted coup d’état carried out in 1932 by ultra-right factions of the military
and some civilians in order to supplant the democratically elected government and replace it with a military
state headed by the emperor. h is included the assassination of then-Prime Minister Tsuyoshi Inukai [1855–
1932]. Despite assassinating the head of state, the perpetrators received only relatively light punishment.
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not only by Gondō’s outrage at the abject poverty in rural Japan, but more
importantly by his belief in the village model. According to Maruyama,
Gondō wanted the state to be “based on the native-village community” and
“built up from the bottom like a pyramid” (Maruyama 1963, 56–57). Kōsaburō
Tachibana [1893–1974], another key igure of the May 15 Incident, argued
that agrarian life was an essential state of being for Japanese. In his Principles
of Japan’s Patriotic Reformation, he wrote: “what is tilling the soil if not the
very basis of human life?” He further claimed that “only by agrarianism can
a country become eternal, and that is especially the case for Japan” (cited in
Maruyama 1969, 43).
Maruyama shows how agrarianism’s proponents (such as Gondō and
Tachibana) were at odds with others in the Right who believed in industrial
development. his led to a contradiction in the fascist state in that it sought
wholesale industrial development on the one hand—thus privileging the urban
centre over the rural periphery—while positing agrarianism as a cultural ideal
on the other. For this reason, Maruyama points out that “as ‘fascism’ descends
from the realm of ideas into the world of reality, agrarianism is bound to turn
into an illusion” (1969, 52–57). In other words, the fascist state—inherently
militaristic and aggressively expansionist—could never subsist on agriculture
alone, but must rely on the tools of modernity to achieve its expansionist
aims at the expense of those who supposedly represented the agrarian ideal.
In this instance, the instability at the heart of the urban/pastoral binary was
made apparent in a material sense in the fascist state that relied so heavily on
industrial modes of production. In the context of Hamaya’s Snow Land, it is
important to note that the fascist state’s exploitation of the rural landscape and
its inhabitants is not depicted in the photographs, an omission which further
demonstrates how socio-political tensions are elided in his representation
of the space.
he illusory nature of agrarianism did not lessen its power in fascist discourse.
As discussed previously in this article, the agrarian ideal of a close union
between humans and nature is fundamental to fascism’s promised antimodern utopia. his is because the agrarian ideal is the obvious antithesis
to capitalist modernity in its communal-social formation. he connection to
traditional mythology and folklore, and a relation to nature that was lost to
urban subjects, became key ideological tools through which fascist discourse—
utilising visual and literary art mediums—sought to mobilise the public. his
discourse not only took the form of state-driven cultural productions, but
ultimately governed cultural production.9 It thus came to shape works such as
Kawabata’s Snow Country novel, and, I would argue, Hamaya’s photographic
depiction of the snow country.
In suggesting this I do not mean to imply that Hamaya consciously produced
a work of propaganda. Rather, I argue that given the power of the Japanese
state discourses and systems of knowledge operating at the time, it would
have been almost impossible for these not to have in some way inluenced his
photographic work. We might note, for example, that Hamaya was employed
17
9 Important discussions of this can be found in Peter B. High’s book, he Imperial Screen: Japanese Film
Culture in the Fiteen Years’ War, and in Alan Tansman’s he Aesthetics of Japanese Fascism, which examines
literature and other popular entertainment. Please see bibliography for publication details.
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by several state-sponsored wartime publications, including FRONT, a propaganda magazine intended for foreign audiences that showcased the various
military aspects of Japan’s war eforts, alongside romantic portrayals of agrarian
life in Japan’s colonies.10 Although Hamaya’s involvement in these projects
can be explained by the fact that much work for freelance photographers
during the war period came from the state, it is also clear that he was at times
swept up in the militarist discourses of the era. He recounted later how he
was intoxicated by the displays of military power he photographed: “Being in
the midst of the explosive noise of the bombers and the deafening roar of the
tanks set my blood racing. My sluggish spirits were swept away. I was wildly
enthusiastic, thinking, ‘arrows or bullets, bring them on’” (cited in Reynolds
2013, 22). his enthusiasm seems to have been short-lived, however. Reynolds
speculates that Hamaya’s decision to resign from FRONT ater just one year
was motivated by “growing frustration with the military and disgust over the
duplicity of wartime propaganda” in which he had played a part (2013, 24).
CONCLUSION
Hamaya’s Snow Land was clearly motivated by a sense of dissatisfaction with
the state of modern Japan in the 1940s and 1950s. his dissatisfaction was not
only attributable to a hollowing out of daily life considered to be a universal
experience of modernity, but also disillusion with the promises of the fascist
state. In that sense, Snow Land can be understood as a critique of modern
life, and an attempt to rediscover a more fulilling mode of living for Japanese
society. On one level, therefore, we might dismiss this project as a simplistic and
“well-known habit of using the past, the ‘good old days,’ as a stick to beat the
present” (Williams 1973, 12). However, as the discussion above demonstrates,
the manner in which nostalgic representations of the rural in Snow Land elide
historical contingencies is the product of a particularly modern way of seeing
the world as a pre-formed picture. he space depicted in the book relects not
so much the material realities that Hamaya photographed, but the idealised
notion of the rural space as a heterotopia, a singular utopia distilled from
real physical spaces in Japan. It can therefore be argued that Hamaya was
deeply embedded in a modern consciousness which, as Heidegger contended,
objectiied the natural world as a picture, an already-posited conceptual space
available for observation and recording by the modern subject.
We can interpret Hamaya’s depiction of the snow country as constituting
an unconscious iteration of both universal discourses of modernity, and
discourses speciic to the 1940s and 1950s Japanese context. By representing
the countryside as an icon, Hamaya channels discourses of nostalgia for a
pastoral golden age in Japan. In the context of wartime Japan, such discourses
of agrarianism served state ideology: they were intended to unite the populace
according to state imperatives. In fascism, the inherent contradiction at the
heart of the binary relationship between centralised, teleological modernity
and an externalised, ahistorical understanding of the countryside became
apparent. In order to fuel progress, the modern centre must consume its rural
18
10 FRONT was published between 1942 and 1945 by Tōhōsha, a publishing company set up at the behest of the
military command and funded by private corporations. Its principal intended audience was the countries that
comprised the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere (Shirayama 2003, 382).
Ross Tunney
New Voices in Japanese Studies,
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periphery in both a material and ideological sense. As a product of Japan’s
urban centre, Hamaya perceived the snow country space according to the
worldview of a modern individual. he photographic representations that he
created ofer a pastoral landscape that stands before modern individuals as
a peripheral and objectiied space. his space is produced by those in urban
centres as a salve for the crises of meaning and identity in modern life.
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