Art (Photojournalist bonus saga Part 3)

“So, where are we going to start our interview?” I asked Ko, skeptically curious how she intended to talk with everyone in the sanctuary.

“I have two goals in mind.” She held up her thumb. “Learn how people ended up here in the Sanctuary,” then she held up her pointer finger, “and also document their daily lives.”

“Are we really planning on getting everyone's life story?” I asked, thinking about the few thousand and counting we’d have to chat with.

Unfortunately, Ko nodded, confirming her intentions to get as many people as she could.

Realistically, there wasn't any way to get everyone. As ambitious as she was, she was analytical enough to know that. But with how exhilarated she was to make those goals a reality, I saw a small hint of that childish nature a kid her age should have. I was persuaded all the more by it.

As we were walking out from the Red Box, the art room happened to be vacating as well. Children were marching out like ants, following their teacher's lead as they went back to their class.

“There's so many of them…” I commented on their sheer overwhelming numbers.

*Click click!*

Ko captured a few pictures as they passed.

It made me wonder; what were all of these kids doing here so early on a Sunday?

After the long line of children had shuffled out, a woman with soft eyes, humble face and hair in a ponytail waved goodbye to them at the door.

“Kaiko-Sensei,” I uttered to get her attention.

She turned and smiled at us, while offering some tea she was about to brew in the art room.

When we followed her in, freshly painted canvases had been placed onto drying racks off by a long fake window. You could still smell the wet acrylic paint coming off of them as an artificial breeze wafted toward us.

“So, you're looking to do an interview with me?” Kaiko-Sensei asked once I explained Ko’s project.

“Yeah. Would it be too much trouble?” I asked.

*Click click!* went Ko’s camera again.

Kaiko-Sensei shook her head and poured hot tea into all our cups.

“Not at all,” she snickered. “I can't say my story is very interesting. But I'm willing to share.”

“Please do.” Ko was finding it difficult to juggle pen and paper along with her camera. I took on the writing duties to ease her burden a little.

Hanami Kaiko's story truly began when she was about ten years old, nearly thirty years ago.

Her father was a run-of-the-mill office worker who would come home in a tired state, often leaving papers full of graphs and other documents on the kitchen table. Like any other family, conversations were brief, so he was largely a mystery for a while to her. But hearing the front door open every night became something she looked forward to. Not because she was excited by her parent’s arrival, but because the sound broke the mind-numbing silence of the household in the evening.

She suspected that she had a higher tolerance to the pill, which caused the silent downtime to often turn into boredom. Everything around her was bland and lifeless that any small anomaly in the environment startled her with excitement. One night, a particularly colourful set of graphs had been left on the table.

Kaiko-Sensei found the colourful circles interesting enough to gaze at for entertainment. Her eyes scanned them over and over, literally for hours, trying to interpret what she was looking at.

She was terrible at hiding her curiosity, so her father discovered she'd taken an interest in his work.

“You probably have no idea what you are looking at,” he said. “Would you like to know?”

Hearing her father's offer was perhaps the first time she’d ever smiled in her life, a smile they both shared.

He sat with her each night, explaining the many details he'd incorporate into his graphs and why they were so visually stimulating. Each slice, every section and all the colours were responsible for informing thousands of people on different aspects of the office lifestyle. The nuance of each detail was the start of her love for art.

She began to fashion makeshift paint supplies out of old utensils and brushes, trying to paint similar pieces to the graphs her father made, eventually exploring new possibilities and ideas with a blank canvas. Before she knew it, she'd begun painting scenery, then people, Eventually culminating into a self portrait.

Although her father didn't seem to mind her creativity, her mother certainly was against finding the paintings. She reported her own daughter for them.

However, when the government agents arrived, her father took the fall, leaving his daughter to continue her life in peace. All the paintings were destroyed.

Kaiko-Sensei held a grudge against her mother, who simply continued to live as if justice had been served. The young artist went out on the streets to leave that all behind. Dodging the government wasn’t easy, but a ten year old had plenty of places to hide.

Eventually, a group of homeless people took her in, transporting her to the countryside where it was much safer.

They had some interesting supplies that let her continue painting. Her work was getting so good that she became popular in the underworld. That was when someone here at the sanctuary contacted her about a job opportunity to create propaganda pieces against the government.

“It's rare that my work stays up on the surface for more than an hour,” she said, “but I've been told it has helped our cause.”

The government was quick to take down anything that spoke even the most minor criticisms against it. Luckily, they never could trace it back to us.

“I think it’s obvious how you ended up as an art teacher,” I commented. “What's up with all the kids on a Sunday though?”

“While services are being held in the chapel, some of the children tend to fall asleep,” she said. “Instead of forcing them to sit through the whole hour, some of the younger ones come to the art room and paint things that they're excited about for the week.”

*Click click!*

Why wasn't there a thing like that for teens and adults? I definitely wouldn't mind it, since I always fell asleep during those services too!

“Kaiko-Sensei,” Ko spoke up, “is it true that the students have been exhibiting low signs of creativity?” Ko asked out of the blue. What prompted a question like that?

“Mmm…” She looked a bit downtrodden. “It's been a bit difficult to spark their interest. Most of them don't seem very interested in art at all, which is why part of Sunday school is letting them explore their desires on paper.”

Oh, I understood what was going on. Those kids were like Ko. Their minds were wired up to be more logical, which would put a damper on how creative they could be. I appreciated Kaiko-Sensei's approach to try and force a bit of creativity, but its success seemed to vary greatly based on her reaction.

“Kaiko-Sensei,” Ko started, “if you wish to invest children like myself into art, you'll have to do it in a way that makes it seem logical.”

“What do you mean?”

“Consider this. Your story about the graphs definitely convinced me of the importance of understanding colour and design. It helps distinguish details and make things more readable for the audience who might not understand them at first, achieving a level of practicality we didn't anticipate.”

Ko’s words caused an epiphany in Kaiko-Sensei's mind. She picked up a notepad and started jotting down what Ko said.

“Of course! It's all about how the information is presented that attracts the audience! Not everyone will react the same way, so tailoring a message is important.”

She scribbled more ideas from her head on a notepad.

“Thank you, both of you. If you don't mind, I'd like to rework my lesson plan for the coming weeks.”

With that, we took our leave to let her craft a plan to cultivate the artistic sides of pragmatic children.

“How did that go?” I asked Ko. “Is that the sort of interview you were looking for?”

“I am…unsatisfied.” She shook her head. “This was just the first of many interviews I’d like to conduct. A perilous uphill journey awaits us, offering such an esoteric reward at its summit.”

The way she said that was so poetic. I chuckled in surprise. “You could write books the way you're talking now.”

“Books…” She gave an inquisitive look. “The library! Let's go there next.”