This may come as a surprise to many of you, but the upstanding image that I have been perpetrating these past years is nothing more than a lie to vale the dark truth; that I am nothing more than a common criminal. Like most, I didn’t intentionally go down this slippery road, but was brought into this world forcefully. It was as if time was suddenly split between two polar points, and in an instant everything I knew and was became nothing more than a tab on my record. Calum Chamberlain is dead: Long live Cutter Cal; hardened criminal.

So how did all this come about? Like most stories, this one starts out innocent enough.

I was just coming home from art class, and was realizing that I was a little underdressed for the unexpected temperature drop that came with the advancing night. Bundling myself up as best I could, I quickly unlocked my bike and jumped on, determined to get myself home as fast as possible and take a nice hot shower. Now those with keen observation skills will have already noted the unforgivable sin I had just committed. It was as if I had just spit in the face of law and proper conduct; the Chamberlain name forever tarnished.

As I was riding pell-mell for home, out of seemingly nowhere a darkly clad person launches themselves in front of my bike, almost causing me to skid off the road. As I come to a halt, another person comes over to join the one who stopped me, and with a sickening dread I realize too late my dilemma. It’s the coppers, and they have me corned. I should have known that pork I smelled wasn’t coming from the local tonkatsu joint. They had me red handed, and they were going to enjoy taking me to the cleaners. Nothing left to do but take up my role in this little charade.

He began with the obvious. Apparently they don’t teach subtlety at the academy.

“So, noticed the light on your bike was off. Hopefully the one upstairs doesn’t have the same problem.”
Great, a comedian.
“Sorry officer, I didn’t realize it was a crime to have my light off.” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
“Actually, wise guy, it is.”
Busted.

In all my time here I never knew it was an actual crime to ride your bike with the light off. I’m only three minutes on bike from my apartment, and the street that goes there is very well lit, so forgetting to turn my light on seemed like a pretty understandable mistake. Not in the eyes of the law. After getting my bike registration, personal info, and asking repeatedly what I was doing in their country and how I came about this bike I had been riding, they officially issued me a “red card”. They were on to me and my criminal ways. Step out of line again, and it’ll be curtains for me.

This drama wasn’t over yet however. As the cops got ready to leave, another member was about to join our dance. One of my junior high kids had seen the action and come to check it out, but in a sudden twist worthy of Hitchcock realized that the perp in this case was his own teacher. With a look of shock that said, “say it ain’t so, Joe”, he watched horror struck as the police finished roughing me up, and got in their car to track down the case of the missing doughnuts and coffee. Getting back on my bike, I primed my pedals, and with a last look tell him to go home and forget everything he saw.

“You’se don’t want nuthin to do with me anymore kid. I’m a criminal now, see? Jus…just forget you’se ever known me. I didin’ choose this life, it chose me. Now get outta here ‘fo…’for I make you sorry you’se was ever born. I ain’t no good to anyone no more, you hear? I ain’t no good to anyone…”

And without another look back, I left him to cry silently to himself as he watched another of his idols fall and break to pieces around him; the tiny sound drowned out by the oblivious passing traffic.

For the past year I’ve been getting myself pumped up for the election. I mean how often does something this big come around? Since I knew that I would still be in Japan during Election Day, I even started strategizing for how I would obtain an absentee ballot to make sure I wouldn’t miss out. Strangely though things didn’t quite work the way I had imagined them to.

My first plan was to grab an absentee ballot form from the Kent county office while I was back this summer, but since I only spent a total of two hours in Grand Rapids that week I wasn’t able to. Back in Japan I checked the Kent County website for advice. They told me that in order to obtain an absentee ballot I would need to send in the request form (the one I had intended to pick up while I was back), but didn’t offer any way to actually obtain said form. PDF files apparently being too new a technology still. After this point I started asking around for advice, and received reliable intel that I would be able to get an actual absentee ballot form simply by heading down to the US embassy in Tokyo. This was of course easier said than done as they’re only open on weekdays, but I happened to have a day off of school coming up, so I decided to head down then to get myself a ballot. Despite the reports I had gotten from other people though, when I got there they wouldn’t actually give me a Michigan ballot. Instead they gave me the original form that I had tried to get in the beginning; meaning I had to fill that out, send it back to the Kent County office, after which they would then send me the actual absentee ballot, which I would then need to send them again. Not having any other option, I sent it in and waited. And waited. And yeah, Kent County never got around to sending me my ballot. By the time I realized it wasn’t coming, it was too late, and all I could do was sit back and watch as events unfolded half a world away.

I think that this experience has been the most disconnected I’ve ever felt from America. I could see all the excitement and drive and craziness through windows like the media, and blogs and such, but when I looked around me it was eerily silent. There was no support rallies to go to, no petitions to sign, televised debates to watch with family and friends, no discussions. Despite checking news sources as often as I could, I found myself uninformed about a lot of what was going on. I was reading a report on the outcome of the election, and it was citing that both candidates had gone in pretty even, but once the economy went south in September McCain never had a chance. I had had no idea that it had been that close, or that the troubling economy was the deciding factor—and a last minute factor at that. I felt like I was in bizarre world.

Though it was sad to not be directly connected with what was going on, it was still a meaningful learning experience for me. I could appreciate the process, and my desire to be a part of it confirmed for me that despite my current address, my heart still beats on EST. And as I wrap up my last year in Japan, it’s good to have those callings back home. There’s a deep sense of wanting to be a part of a process that produces change, and after three years in a place where I’ve had a minimal amount of influence, I’m looking with no small amount of anticipation to returning to a place where my voice can more clearly be heard—and even understood for that matter. Yes, anticipation indeed!

So yesterday I managed to do something that I had always prided myself on avoiding before. Namely, forgetting a bag on the train. Sure there had been a couple previous instances where I left a cheap umbrella, or perhaps a bit of undesired rubbish, but never before had I managed to forget something that was actually important. Blast, maybe my mind really is becoming more addled with age!

The set up is simple. I had been in Shinjuku yesterday—having the day off in compensation for working on Saturday—and decided to stop by the main Seikaido art store; one of my favorite stops in Tokyo. There wasn’t a whole lot I needed, so I just picked up a couple canvases and a new paintbrush and was on my merry way. I had to meet someone across town for dinner, so jumped on the subway and settled down for the quick ride over. Since the bag was a bit awkward with the large canvases, I decided to put it on the rack above the seat, reminding myself not to forget it on the way out. Well, forget it I did. And as soon as I started walking up the stairs, I realized my mistake—exclaiming in shock as startled looking salary men hurried past me. I of course immediately went back and reported my loss, and was directed to the lost and found office. They were really nice there, and got everything sorted out surprisingly quick. They wouldn’t be able to grab my bag until the train reached its terminal, so they gave me a number to call a bit later, and had me on my way. When I did call, they informed me that they had indeed found my lost bag, and had it waiting at the station…

…that is the station where they pulled it off…the very last station on the line. A quick check revealed that in order to travel all the way there, pick up my bag, and travel all the way back would in fact cost more than I had spent on the entire purchase. So, counting my losses, I said goodbye to my $10 and went to drown my sorrows in some delicious pork cutlets; making sure to order the cheapest selection on the menu to help offset the cost of my fit of forgetfulness.

The moral of the story of course is: Never leave a glass half empty. Or is that half full? Oh, who cares? I want my $10 back!

After some gentle prodding and reminding from some concerned friends and family, I’ve finally come to the realization—and finally acceptance—that I have a problem. Hello, my name is Calum, and I’m an infrequent poster….

The signs started to show themselves a few months ago. I realized that my posts had begun taking on larger and more cumbersome topics, and with it the aspects of my viewing audience were swelling to expectations that I could simply no longer match. Also it was taking me a really long time to write the things. Yeah, mostly it was the time.

I started compensating a bit by focusing more on small updates through Flickr and Twitter, and hoping that people were getting some good information through that. And the thing was, unlike my overwhelming dread at spending most of an evening chipping away at a really long post, I actually enjoyed the process of giving short, succinct glimpses of my everyday life. In that vein, I’ve decided to reapply my efforts at maintaining my website, but with the aim of giving smaller, and more easy to digest (and likewise write) posts. And in the spirit of keeping things small, you can find my first attempt immediately following (er, preceding?) this one.

Thanks, and enjoy!

Ah summer, season of laughter, picnics, and 100° with 85% humidity days. Oh wait, maybe scratch that laughter part; perhaps more of a wheeze.

Yep, it’s that time of the year again, and as the last day of school finally wraps up I have the whole rest of the summer to look forward to! Oh wait, isn’t the summer only a few more weeks away from ending!? Rats, never mind. Such is life in the Japan lane…

Despite the short holidays, this has been a pretty productive summer so far. I’ve managed to plan two rather large trips (to both Thailand and the US, but more on that in a bit) which I’m gearing up for, and have otherwise been keeping myself occupied with various projects—most notably my larger scale canvas paintings. My art style has certainly taken a turn since joining my art class way back in December. This has been due both to a desire to expand my artistic knowledge beyond the few mediums I had been entrenched in since I was young, and to create a body of works that could translate into a respectable portfolio for future endeavors. One of the major reasons I decided to stay on in Japan for a third year was in fact this class. Early on I realized that having the kind of time and resources to devout to something like this is not something that happens every day. I found myself in a unique position to benefit from my working situation, and to raise the level of my artistic ability and vocabulary to a level that up to this point I hadn’t been able to do. As I solidified this desire in my mind, I also began to seriously evaluate what it was I wanted to do with my life after my time in Japan came to an end. One of the big things that had been floating around was the idea of pursuing a masters degree back home, but always when I had looked into the different programs available for someone with my background I had come away feeling less than excited. As I started to delve back into the world of art however, that all began to change. I realized there might be a way after all to combine and blend these two forces in my life—education and art. I started looking into the Art Education field, and found there to be some very exciting programs out there. In particular I came across the NYU masters of art in art education program, and found myself really challenged and inspired. I came away from my research with a renewed sense of focus, and began to develop a clear goal of what I wanted to accomplish in the next year. Having determined that much in my mind, I found that other things began clicking into place as if on cue. Knowing that I would need a specific focus for my masters degree, I quickly realized that there was exactly one thing that I did indeed want to pursue and understand more. My past and heritage.

It’s kinda funny that being amongst all this contemporary Japanese art has awakened not so much a desire to understand Japanese art more, as it has almost an urgency to understand the traditions and art of my own history. As I began to research what movements in the Native American art community there might be, I quickly realized that there really were none. When one thinks of Native American art, the things that usually pop up are new age type airbrushed images of Indians in buckskin communing with wolves or eagles against an idealized sunset sky. And it’s not just the hippy new agers that perpetuate these images, but the Native American community themselves. I remember going to large powwows with my family and seeing these kinds of paintings everywhere. It was almost like saying this in fact is our traditional art form.

For me then I realized there was two ways I wanted to approach my masters program. On one hand I want to take traditional ideas and stories, as well as other topics and issues affecting the Native American community, and address them in a contemporary art form. Right now most of my focus has been in this area, and resulting in projects ranging from water color, to acrylic on canvas, to wire sculptures, to photography, and will try to highlight a lot of different points, particularly relating to my tribe the Chippewas. The second aspect I’m hoping to pursue is a study and hopefully training in traditional Native American art forms. This is the key one I think, and the one that most readily applies itself to the program. My desire is to take these ideas and apply them in a modern context. To make them relevant if you will. One of the things that has really struck me while in Japan has been the Japanese resistance to taking traditional forms of art and entertainment and applying them to a modern context. Traditional art forms like kabuki, noh, and ukiyoe are dying out because young Japanese simply don’t care about them. They’ve completely lost their meaning in this contemporary society. Native American traditional art forms are even worse as they’ve now completely become associated with commercialism. You make dream catchers and embroidered moccasins so you can sell them at fairs, which results in a homogenization as everyones designs begin looking the same. My aim is to preserve the method, not the result, and try to consider how the craft might have evolved had there been no outside influence. Because that’s the thing about art, it’s always evolving, and figuring out how it can best communicate and represent changes in the culture around it. If it becomes static, then it’s now longer art; it’s merely a tradition. And sad to say, but traditions become irrelevant very quickly.

So that’s my basic outline as I begin to prepare for the application process for February of next year. It’s a challenging vision to try and realize, but one that I’m happy to struggle with. As I think ahead to the coming year, I’ve become acutely aware of how little time there is to do everything I want to, which is exactly the way I want it.

Next week I’ll be in Thailand for five days with my friend Justin as a final hurrah before he leaves for home at the beginning of August. I’ll have many interesting stories to recount I’m sure, so check back in a week or so for that. Also in mid August I’ll be coming back home myself for about ten days. My family is renting a cottage on the big lake for that time, so I’m planning to soak up as much sun and surf as possible during my time back.

It’s turning into a great summer, and tomorrow I’ll be heading down to Yokohama to catch the huge fireworks show! And the best part? I’ll be wearing a yukata! Can’t wait!