MICHAEL

The final sprint, the light at the end of the tunnel. Or sometimes, the realization that something that’s been fun and adventurous is about to end.

The satisfying part of this journey with Lillian has been knowing that once I enter the black hole anomaly to continue on my uncertain retirement path, she’ll be moving forward with a clearer and(hopefully) stronger story and proposal for the beautiful film she wants to create. For me, this is what collaboration is all about, and I’ll be excited to see whatever Lillian ends up with at the end of it all. And beyond. After I’m sling-shotted into the anomaly.

LILLIAN

For the first few weeks (of this collaborative process), I was in a panic because I was comparing our collaboration to the others in YUME.DIGITAL DREAMS, many of whom already demonstrate exciting, brilliant works which could be in the final exhibition. But our collaboration is the opposite of all of the others. It is a LONG,LONG process with no flashy graphics or storyboard, mostly letters between Michael and myself. BORING for viewers, I thought. But maybe there are other artists who dream of being animators and filmmakers, who can find our collaboration an eye-opener. For me, it is the opportunity of a lifetime.

Early on, I had caught Michael’s attention with several stories. Here is Michael’s response to my bombardment:

Michael: Feb. 18  

Alright, Lillian; I think we have a pathway in front of us. Something more skewed towards an adult, art-sensitive audience. Perhaps that could take advantage of your many gallery and museum contacts as “vectors” for dissemination. This is a solid starting point for tone, aesthetic, and nature of story. 

Next is to decide on the particular story, or combination of stories to start building a scenario and narrative from. As noted, I’m fond of the two epistolary “quest” stories: the one about your aunt in Japan, her family struggles, and the effect of those letters on the in-Canada relatives; and the one about seeking Miori and building/re-building your family story from its E Cordova beginnings. 

Where does your heart sing the strongest? 

Michael 

Me: Feb. 20  

Hi, Michael, 
I can’t make up my mind. Help!  Today, I am going to call my cousins to see if they could tell me more their deportation to Japan.   
Lillian 

Michael: Feb. 20 

I do like the idea of searching for answers to both stories. At least for now; it might turn out that one is stronger than the other, but right now, pursuing both offers up maximum opportunities. 

My understanding is that Sandon was quite hellish. 

Your first stab at a narrative opening is solid, and leads me to think that your initial tone could be deep regret. Here you are, three-quarters of a century on, wishing you had asked about those photos, letters, and stories when you could’ve gotten answers. Now, instead, you’re forced to become a detective, a researcher, and an interpreter of memory and imagination. I think that’s a very strong, intimate, and poetic position for you to start from. 

Good luck with your cousins. 

Michael 

LILLIAN

I had always wanted to animate my stories. But I was a Fine artist who once dreamed the impossible dream. I have to pinch myself because here I am, collaborating with legendary producer Michael Fukushima. He actually chose to help me bring my story to life. How lucky am I?

In the beginning, I had wanted Michael to tell me what to do. So I bombarded him with my fine art works on my family story. I waited. Just by chance, I had sent him an accordion book I had imagined about letters between my aunt who had followed her husband into exile in Japan after the war and my mom, who had remained in Canada, honouring my dad’s decision. I had never exhibited the book of letters because I had thought that no-one would be interested in a book with no realistic drawings, only abstract bursts of black and white calligraphic impressions.

Michael loved the idea of letters which illustrated the close bond between sisters who share secrets divulged to no-one else, not to their husbands, not to their parents, not to their children. They had shared a lifetime as confidantes. The letters to one another are their only way of surviving unspeakable nightmares. It took me weeks to see what Michael saw… but never told me. The letters are not about the plight of Japanese Canadians caught in a political wrangling where nobody wanted them. The letters are about the human connection between sisters struggling for survival in hostile worlds, thousands of miles apart. The sisters could be sisters in any culture, at any time. The story is universal.

MICHAEL

As we know, the central premise of the Yume project has been collaboration; across generations, practises, locations, temperaments. As it happens, one way or other, my entire producing career has been about collaboration and iterations rather than what some see as a more conventional top-down, straight-line producing approach.

The art of producing art has always been exciting and fun for me, because it exercises all the muscles. Persuasion, encouragement, nudging, challenge, debate, and teaching, to name a few. By the end of the project I need to feel like I’ve been listened to if not heeded, and the filmmaker needs to know that it remains their project no matter the passion of our conversations. Nor the seemingly endless pile of iterations.

Although it’s early in the overall creative process, and although we won’t emerge at the end of Yume with a finished film, Lillian and I have embodied all of the best attributes of creative collaboration. The story she wants to tell and media work she wants to create will be wonderful because of those free and open discussions, and the iterative, evolving process we’ve happily engaged.

About a decade ago, the Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival honoured me with its Canadian Spotlight accolade, and I got to ramble on and on about how I produce and cajole animation artists.