Transcriber: Takahiro Shimpo Reviewer: Ariana Bleau Lugo
When the earthquake, tsunami,
and Fukushima disaster struck on March 11th 2011,
I was in Japan.
Like so many people around the world,
I was shocked at the devastating images
that came streaming in from the area.
That April I traveled to Northeastern Japan with a fellow journalist.
We witnessed kilometer after kilometer of towns and villages
flattened along the coastline,
and spoke with people waiting to be evacuated,
struggling to survive on dwindling resources.
I had come hoping to find some way to help,
but in the face of the magnitude of this disaster,
I felt so small and so useless.
On the 10th day, we decided to visit one more village
before returning home.
It was a clear beautiful day.
The sea was tranquil.
I walked around the now too familiar landscape of fishing boats
balanced impossibly on gutted buildings
and I surrendered myself to the rubble one last time.
There was nobody around, it was quiet, almost peaceful,
when I noticed a man with a wheelbarrow and approached him.
Mr. Konno had lost his home
and fishing net business to the tsunami.
He had buried his wife just weeks before.
As I spoke with him,
interrupting the work of clearing the debris from his life,
I realized there was something different about him,
a strength and resilience I had not yet seen.
He said to me,
“You notice there is no one else out here.
All the people of this village are sitting up on that hill,
staring out at sea, day after day,
sighing and waiting.
Tell me, what are they waiting for?”
He continued,
“In times of crisis,
you have to get up and act.
You can lose everything and still hold onto your dignity.”
This is the photo that I took of Mr. Konno
in front of his destroyed business,
just moments after our conversation.
He restored my spirit with this smile
and I returned home to Kyoto to become a campaigner
on post-Fukushima issues for the next 18 months.
As I continue, I ask you to consider the impact
that one face-to-face encounter can have.
Which brings me to the reason I've been asked to speak with you today,
the Peace Mask Project.
In the year 2000,
Myong Hee Kim, a Korean artist and my mother,
turned 50, marking 25 years in Seoul, Korea where she was born
and 25 years here in Kyoto, Japan where I was born.
Most of you are aware of the history of conflict
that exists between the two countries,
and so for Myong Hee this birthday
marked not only a personal significance,
but a larger, historical meaning,
and as an artist, she set out to express it to the world.
She launched on a journey to seek Japanese and Korean individuals
who would offer their name and their face
as a symbol of reconciliation and friendship
between the two countries.
With my father Robert Kowalczyk at her side,
and the help of countless volunteers, supporters and organizations
who believed in and shared this vision,
she began to make the impressions of each face
using traditional handmade papers.
During a period of two years,
27 workshops in various locations
in the two countries were held,
and the masks of 1,580 individuals,
Japanese and Korean, were shown
at the final exhibitions in Seoul and Yokohama,
to coincide with 2002 World Cup games,
which were cohosted by the two countries that year.
This is an image from the final exhibition in Yokohama.
Whenever I see these masks in person,
I'm always struck by how unique each individual mask is.
There truly are no two faces alike.
And yet, when you step back and view the mural as a whole,
it is impossible to identify the nationality of each face,
or even in most cases the gender or the age.
The masks, through the magic of art, were able to display
that part of our humanity that cannot be divided.
This simple yet powerful symbolism that attracted so many people,
became the foundation for the Peace Mask Project,
a community-led initiative
dedicated to a shared vision for peace,
through art, intercultural dialogue, workshops and exhibitions.
We have now held Peace Mask Project workshops
in various countries around the world,
including Cambodia, India,
the United States, Spain and Finland,
and have made the Peace Masks of close to 2,000 individuals.
Whenever we hold a Peace Mask Project workshop,
many people appear to support and participate.
A spontaneous community seems to pop up around this small initiative,
bringing together a diversity of people,
from different backgrounds, cultures and ages,
to share with each other in real time
through the slow process of art.
Not only do we make masks together,
but we share meals, and spend hours,
sometimes days, learning from each other
through honest, respectful dialogue.
The mask-making process itself is a platform
for personal meditation, a moment of self-reflection.
Plaster of Paris is applied over the entire face,
except for two straws allowing the model to breathe.
In that vulnerable position,
the model offers themselves to the process with trust.
This trust is an essential feature of the Peace Mask Project.
A divided world creates more insecurity and fear,
and fear too often results in violence.
Trust is the courageous act
of being the first to break through that fear
and reach out to the “other”.
Peace Mask Project itself is an act of trust,
from the idealism that inspires the effort,
to the individual act of being a Peace Mask model,
to the support and participation of hundreds of individuals
in a collective effort to advance into a sane and healthy future.
Today, tensions are rising in East Asia
and in many regions around the world.
Fear and insecurity are also on the rise.
This tension we are experiencing does not guarantee violence,
but, instead, could be seen as a great opportunity.
Conflict is natural and always present.
It is neither negative nor positive in itself.
Violence and aggression
are only one possible response to a conflict,
and one that our societies turn to for resolution far too often.
There are many reasons for this:
the profitability of militarization
for a handful of corporations and individuals,
the control and manipulation of a population through fear,
but mostly, I think,
it is due to a lack of creativity and cooperation.
We are stuck in old habits and old ways of thinking.
Today, young people
have an unprecedented understanding of the greater world.
We are becoming increasingly aware of how
we are interconnected and interdependent.
We find beauty in other cultures,
and by reflecting more on our own,
we are open to growth and to change.
This is the reality of our future,
and one that needs to be reflected in our societies.
Conflict is no longer synonymous with war.
It is rather an opportunity for growth,
an opportunity for peace.
This summer, our team has launched
our current initiative, Peace Mask East Asia.
We are recruiting and working
with youth from Japan, China, and Korea.
Our basic goal is to make 1,000 peace masks,
333 from each of the three countries,
with the 1,000th representing a youth of the future, within one year.
We have also started a Youth Leaders program,
inviting exceptional young people from these three countries
to join us as members of our team.
We will be offering them trainings in Conflict Transformation,
Media for Peace-building,
and Nonviolent Leadership Skills, to name a few.
We hope that once again
Peace Mask Project will provide a platform
for the youth of this region
to express their shared message for peace,
to build trust by building lasting relationships,
and to gain experiences and skills
to help them become leaders of a better world.
As Konno-san said, in times of crisis,
we have to get up and act.
We do not need to wait for the conflicts of our time
to erupt in violence or be resolved through aggression.
Every one of us has a role to play
in determining the outcome of our shared conflicts.
How will we participate?
What opportunities will we present through our actions?
Which future will we choose?
Thank you.
(Applause)