Redefining Man and Machine: Ghost in the Shell

Inspired by this week's reading about Ghost in the Shell and Hans Bellmer, I requested friend acquire the movie. I think Ghost is so popular because it directly tackles the relationship between robots and humans. It questions what defines living beings - our bodies? Our ghosts? When a human police officer receives robotic implants, or a gynoid robot receives a girl's imprint, the boundary between man and machine dissolves. In the end of the first movie, Major Motoko Kusanagi merges with the aether of the internet, director Mamoru Oshii suggests the audience prepare themselves for a redefinition of society through interaction with machines.

I feel this is a reflection of Japanese thought. My roommate showed me a video news article she found online. It describes the roles robots play in actual Japan, today. It suggests, with the country’s aging population and low birth rates, Japan has turned to immigration and robotics to maintain its labor force. There are robotic wheelchairs, servers, and pets, many of which resemble humans and have a defined facial structure. One professor shows off a robotic duplicate of himself and theorizes that giving robots faces makes them easier for people to respond to. The movie shows how close Japan is to achieving a society like that in Ghost in the Shell.

The news article claimed that the Japanese are more receptive towards innovation and everyday contact with technology. I would disagree. The United States has many brilliant researchers who have invented many mechanical devices. Instead, I believe Americans are less friendly towards robots which imitate humans. Ghost in the Shell disturbs us because it questions our sense of being. When watching a film like Beowulf, with entirely digital characters, we turn away in disgust instead of marvel at its technological prowess. Imitating human life causes us to crash headfirst into the uncanny valley. Nevertheless, the United States is also a developed country where families are beginning to have fewer children, and baby boomers are beginning to age. One day, given the economic and health situations, we may face the same issues as the Japanese.

Writing: The Issues with Convention AAs

As part of my final project in Japanese Popular Culture, I am researching the Artist Alley community here in the United States. I have already taken information from my previous travels as well as closely, statistically, documented one particular event. The final product will be published on DeviantART - but be warned, it will be long.

If you would like to provide me with information (quotes, experiences, opinions, etc), you can comment bellow, contact me on AIM/MSN, or e-mail me at fongmingyun@gmail.com .

The following is the best I can do to clarify, in writing, the issues that faces this community. I hope, if you are interested in being a con artist (no pun intended), that this short essay gives you insight into what you will encounter.

The Artist Alleys at American anime conventions differ greatly from the Japanese Comiket as well as those at United States' Comic, Science Fiction, and Fantasy conventions. Comiket is filled with doujinshi, amateur comics written by groups of people called "circles." American Comic Alleys have professional artists signing and selling his latest issues they worked on. On the other hand, at anime conventions, most artists are students, some of which have no interest in studying art professionally. Given the differences between each artist community, two major issues have arisen : fanart and crafts.

People are more likely to purchase things they are familiar with. Therefore, people buy fan art. Comiket thrives due to fan-made comics. Most American comic conventions frown on, or even restrict unlicensed fan art. However, many people who come to anime conventions treat the Artists' Alley as a handmade, sometimes cheaper, alternative to the Dealer's Room, where companies sell licensed merchandise. This has led to a "bootleg flea market" atmosphere. Otakon, in Baltimore, Maryland, went through an issue where a handful of artists' fan work actually threatened dealers' profits and caused the con staff to hire lawyers to discuss the issue. Anime North, in Toronto, Ontario, is famous for "lowballing" where artists loudly sell their work less than market average to increase sales. All fan art only exists in a legal gray area of "parody," but if fan art were banned, many artists would not make enough money to support themselves.

However, at anime conventions, the term "fanart" has begun to encompass crafts as well. This broader interpretation of "art" means that more people are competing for the same number of spaces. In 2008, Anime Boston sold out of Alley tables in 34 seconds, and many people complained the system was "unfair." Traditionally, artists have sold prints. However, since shoppers prefer practical items, many people now make dolls, bags, and cosplay accessories. In turn, many illustration artists have delved into a trinket market. Keychains, buttons, stickers, with cute, semi-deformed, "chibi" are consistently popular, and sometimes make more money than printed work. This is especially true in a tough economy where people are unwilling to pay as much for a piece of colored paper. However, in trying to make items cheaper and more practical, the Alley has become more focused on "mass production" and come in direct competition with the Dealer's Room.

I wish I could explain this better, but the issues the Artist Alley has are all intertwined. Explaining one leads to explaining another. However, I hope my attempt at summary makes the situation clearer to those in and out of the anime artist community in America.

P. S. I need a summer job...

Writing: Anime Convention, Social Norms, and Identity

I chose to discuss the Eron Rauch photo essay because its content intrigues me most. After struggling with the convoluted words and lengthy sentences, I realized there was no point in searching for a clear thesis statement. It is the opposite of an academic essay: a personal musing about experience with subculture. Thus, even though it provides no conclusion, it calls a very interesting point into question: what is the relationship between fandom and identity?

Most anime conventions cater to fans rather than industry. When members of a subculture gather, they become comfortable enough to express their interests, to the point where they purposely alter their behavior to breach social norms, which in turn forms new social norms. For Rauch and tens of thousands of others, anime conventions create bonds of eccentricity, and otherwise improbable events, like cosplay sex, can occur. The irony here is that, at the convention, fringe behavior becomes the main stream. When groups form, they begin to cultivate their own ideals – like cat ear headbands – and reject others – like business suits, an “us vs. them” situation. Take, for example, the 2008 commercial released by Sakura-con. It asks, “What if, for one weekend, the tables were turned?”

I feel this may be tied into American attitudes towards individuality. As we have learned, in Japan, cosplay outside of certain locales is frowned upon, and boys’ love forms only a fraction of the anime and manga market. However, here in the United States, cosplayers purposely wear their outfits at ordinary eating establishments to see how locals react, and boys’ love readers ridicule those who prefer heterosexual couples.

Personally, as an artist, I go to conventions with business in mind. I straddle the alley with one foot in fandom – because all anime relies somewhat on art – and one in reality – because I cannot give any series the same dedications as I do my own creations. While Rauch is accepted in this fan world, I am silently rejected. My work has been criticized many times over for having a visual style far more realistic than most manga and anime. However, as an outsider with no romantic or sexual intentions towards conventions, I felt Rauch’s essay gives a decent glimpse into the mind of another integral member of convention structure: the entrenched fan.

Sakura-con Advertisements: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEUcxGhl9Rk

Writing: Moribito - The First Japanese Fantasy?

Having seen the Moribito anime, I could not shake the vision of Balsa, Chagum, and New Yogo already instilled in my head. Also, the writing style overlooks character emotion in favor for action. Since early episodes follow the book word for word, I felt I was simply watching the show again. As the story continued, I most events began to feel predictable, like a fantasy story set in ancient pseudo-Japan.

However, it never occurred to me that “fantasy” was foreign to the Japanese. Eastern cultures have such a rich mythology that I thought it would be natural for them to draw from this well and invent their own, similar, genre. I now see how Moribito stands out. Its setting and time period fall within the conventions of European fantasy without being European. It takes place in an imaginary country which is clearly similar to an existing country. However, because the country is fictional, readers suspend their disbelief and accept magic as part of its reality. Also, the setting goes back several hundred years - feudal Japan, like feudal Europe. Stories in a time before the widespread acknowledgment of science, further enforce the magic concept.

During class, a student said that, in Japan, the Moribito release completely overshadowed the Harry Potter one. I believe this has to do with the nature of familiarity. As mentioned in previous reading, familiarity may be more important when marketing to children. Even though it does not take place in Japan, Moribito is clearly Japanese. After all, looking at the Mikado will strike you blind. New Yogo is not a foreign, English boarding school. It is a world that Japanese children read about in history class. I feel this could turn into an issue of nationalist pride, much like Japanese jazz. Must fantasy be defined by a Western setting? Or is it the use of a historical setting, peppered with magic?

Writing: More About the Father of Superflat

Last spring, during New York City’s Sakura Matsuri, I visited the Museum of Modern Art with my friend, Melinda. A devoted art student, she wanted to introduce me to Murakami Takashi. Since her first visit, the Louis Vuitton logos and bright colors had begun showing themselves in her work. From a technical perspective, Murakami is amazing – his paintings are not only filled with detail but literally “super flat” with no visible brush stroke. Unless your face is a millimeter from the canvas, you can easily mistake it for a computer print-out.

I feel now, since reading the article, “Superflat and the Layers of Image and History in 1990s Japan,” that there is more to Murakami’s work than I first gleaned. At the exhibit, I entered a room with floor to ceiling with smiling flowers. The faces, all just a little different, filled me with unease. I cannot describe it in any other way - his work has no dimension, but it still drips, overwhelms. However, I never realized that the Superflat movement was so connected to history, that it was a brightly-colored apocalypse, fueled by computers and how they store memory in numbers.

Nevertheless, because the article focuses on Superflat, it misses an entire spectrum of Murakami’s work: sculpture. The first piece I saw was a larger-than-life, fiberglass, anime, girl - vagina exposed - transforming into a rainbow-colored airplane. Later, there is a naked boy with Dragonball Z hair making a cloud-like lasso from his ejaculate. Across the room, a girl with teal pigtails plays jump rope with the milk that exudes from her nipples. Murakami’s work speaks wonders to the sexual aspects of Japanese animation, another topic we have discussed in class. I feel he is ridiculing the sexual nature of anime by making it so blatant and using cartoon conventions. By not covering this, I feel Thomas Looser misses an entire commentary on popular culture.

More on Murakami: http://www.takashimurakami.com/

JPop Writing: Growing Up Japanamerican

When I was in kindergarten, I watched the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers every Saturday during breakfast. I loathed Chinese school because it meant I had to leave before the episode finished. I had nearly forgotten the spandex-clad heroes until I read Anne Allison’s article, “The Japan Fad in Global Youth Culture and Millennial Capitalism.” What it said about Americanization hit home. As a Chinese girl born in central New Jersey, I knew the Power Rangers came from Asia but attributed it to an American descendant of Ultraman. I was surprised to learn it was a direct, American, re-creation of a show.

I feel if it targeted an older audience, viewers would have been more accepting of the actual Japanese version. However, children reject foreign material unknowingly. When my friend, Dorothea, also a Chinese girl, and I would play Power Rangers, she would quickly claim pink. Being stuck as yellow was upsetting. Did this mean I wanted to be Caucasian? No. At that age, depictions of Asians versus Americans did not concern me. I liked Trini. I just liked Kimberly more.

I also could relate to Allison’s other article, “Sailor Moon: Japanese Superheroes for Global Girls.” I watched the series years before it came out in the United States – in Japanese. I didn’t know a word, but I still loved it. When it was publically broadcast, I religiously got up at six AM to finally see it in a language I could understand. Seeing superheroes was empowering. However, in both versions, I detested Usagi-chan/Serena. I could not relate to her ditzy character, and even now, I cannot particularly ascribe to the “life-sized” ideal. What drew me in were the other Scouts– intelligent Mercury, strong Jupiter, and exotic Mars. Sailor Moon had drama and continuity that American cartoons lacked: long-term love interests, bad guys who were not purely evil, life-and-death situations. “Recess,” “Doug,” “Pepper Ann” told schoolroom stories. The worst thing that could happen would be little more than a bad test grade. New episodes did not reveal new characters, but with each Sailor Moon, I could expect a new and exciting foe.

However, I feel, if the cartoon had not been Americanized, I would have been exposed to more. As a child, I did not notice sexual undertones in either version. I found it perfectly acceptable that Uranus’s alter ego was a boy, and in both versions, dedicated to her partner, Neptune. In the American version, they were made into cousins. Zoisite, a bishounen enemy from the first season, was turned into a woman, so his relationship with another character would not be homosexual. I believe teaching tolerance by presenting a sensitive topic as “normal” is just as effective, if not better, than outright telling someone to tolerate it.

Americanization is tricky. On one hand, children will not accept a product they cannot relate to. I can understand why producers would have artists change sign labels to English, and have characters use forks instead of chopsticks. However, during the process, the United States also thrusts its moral opinion in, even if the topic is not one that children even think about. This may be more harmful than good, keeping youth from accepting other cultures’ moral differences.

JPop Writing: Masculinity Versus the Bishounen

I'm taking a class on Japanese Pop Culture where we are required to write responses to our weekly reading. I hope my late-night entries are insightful enough to post here as well. The book we are reading this week is Japan Pop! .

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The term “pretty boy” implies more than a young, attractive, male. The American term has acquired a negative, “sissy” connotation –a man obsessed with physical appearance worth little aside from his looks. In Japan, there exists a word, “bishounen,” which literally translates to “pretty boy.” However, the feminine attitude possessed by Bido of Yukan Club, from the Maia Tsurumi essay, is not a definitive portrayal. Bishounen are not necessarily petty, frequently taking on protagonist roles in popular media.

The traits each culture associates with masculinity can be observed in popular culture. For example, in Gears of War, a testosterone-laden, American video game, characters are older and unrealistically muscled, with stronger jaws and more facial hair. The game itself has a large focus on its weapons arsenal, and its story focuses on shooting aliens to survive and exact revenge. In Final Fantasy, which is mentioned in the Eri Izawa’s article on romance, the protagonist is often younger, with a boyish face and thinner body. The stories often revolve around the main character’s growth through the adventure rather than the specific creatures he has to face.

Another interesting feature which arises with bishounen is homosexuality. Yukan Club’s Bido acts feminine to attract women. One can see a similar trait in reality. Heterosexual women make up the majority of “Boys’ Love,” or “BL,” readers. This work can vary between romance, pornography, and pedastry. However, they all share a common tread: idealism, a trait also seen in other media, like NHK, morning, dramas.

Most of my contact with Japanese culture comes from American conventions. In the United States, homosexuality is treated with a more black-and-white, taboo attitude. From my experience, most American, BL, purchases are made by girls between fourteen and seventeen. I believe this stems from the aforementioned idealism, and as people grow older and experience their own relationships, gay or straight, they want more realistic depictions. Another interesting feature of this phenomenon is that the purchased work usually does not depict direct, homosexual, action. The buyer sees two male characters standing next to each other, and a relationship forms in the buyer’s head.

The ideal American male is cold and aggressive. However, as shown by womens’ actions, the Japanese have developed another desirable ideal, where the male is accepting of his feelings. This type of personality is embodied in popular culture by the feminine, physical, traits of bishounen.

JPop Writing: The Idol Concept

I'm taking a class on Japanese Pop Culture where we are required to write responses to our weekly reading. I hope my late-night entries are insightful enough to post here as well. The book we are reading this week is Japan Pop! .

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I'd like to preface this by saying I have little experience with Japanese popular music. I am far more in-touch with American fan culture and its consumption of manga. What I have actually listened to is mostly JRock - Miyavi, Malice Mizer, Pierrot, etc - recommendations filtered through instant messages of American "otaku." Reading this book and searching YouTube broadened my spectrum of musical styles. Nevertheless, my Japanese roommate raised her eyebrow when she heard Enka.

A horrid musician myself, I have no right to comment on the techniques used to play these songs. However, the reading draws forth something deeper than the space between notes. I have always been intrigued by the concept of the “idol” and the role of the woman in Japanese society. The Enka article describes it well: a good woman is loyal in the face of adversity, timid in her heroism. However, the conventions behind these tearful anecdotes apply outside of sake bars. The expectations of a Japanese woman – no matter her status – differ greatly from those in the West. If an Asian woman enters a scandal, her career is likely over. In America, scandal can make a career out of nothing.

The James Stanlaw article, “Open You File, Open Your Mind” explains that, prior to the 1990s, the standard Japanese idol was selected at a young age and trained for her future position. A good idol combined innocence and sexiness – a concept summarized by the O-Nyanko Club song, “Don’t Take Off My Sailor Suit.” However, he claims the 90s trend of adding English lyrics allowed female singers to express feelings without the formality of Japanese. I disagree. Few Japanese singers, even today, understand English. English usage can be just as easily attributed to a ploy to make the song seem more modern.

Nevertheless, this is part of a more general hypothesis. Female idols from the 1990s began to break the barrier formed by societal assumptions, as evidenced by the careers of Princess Princess, YuMing, and Shonen Knife. I agree and would like to propose that the Internet and otaku culture has caused the idol-making process to evolve yet again. In class, we briefly mentioned that opening a popular anime can be an automatic stellar debut. Last year, Shoko Nakagawa sky-rocketed to fame when her song “Sorairo Days” became the theme for Gainax’s Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. She likes video games, draws her own manga, blogs regularly, and cosplays religiously. Her personality gathered a large fan base, and her site now has over one hundred million hits. This electronic connection she has with her fans allows her to be more than just a cute face.