BARNACLE ISLAND @barnacleisland - Tumblr Blog

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Unfortunately the third online photo diary by Patrick Tsai, Barnacle Island, was forced to stop halfway through the story. As of now, the remaining five months cannot be published, but hopefully one day in the future...

On the plus side, the photos were compiled into a beautiful little book, which you can purchase here.

Picking Up Ta-ne From The Dog Sitter

Returning Home

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

After getting on the morning ferry and eating a bowl of udon for breakfast, Miki and I returned to our seats. On the table, she set down a pack of grape gummy candy that she had just bought and said that I could have some. Looking forward to something sweet, I happily helped myself to one. When I was finished, she took the package and said in an annoyed voice:

“Why don’t you ever tear this completely off?”

By this, she was referring to the protective seal, which I had torn but stopped just before the very end so that it would stay attached to the package. She ripped it off and placed it on the table. Confused, I looked at the seal in front of me… The reason why I left it on – and, I guess, why I always leave it on – was because once torn completely off, the seal becomes trash. Since there are basically no public trashcans in Japan, once you make garbage, you usually have to carry it around in your bag all day.

Even though it was the stupidest thing to get mad about, I got mad because in actuality it wasn’t about the seal at all, but about her attitude towards me lately. I then accused her of always getting on my case about everything. To which, she denied, asking me to list some examples. To my surprise, I couldn’t remember any off the top of my head since those incidents were just as stupid and minor like this one – something that you would forget in a day or so, unless you recorded it down (like now). But what couldn’t be so easily forgotten was the disdain in her voice, which, like money in a bank, kept stacking up inside me...

“Does she really hate me that much?” I asked myself. Up until now, I wanted to believe that she feels something more for me than what she allows herself to show, which was why I always put up with her bullshit and did my best to accommodate in hopes that one day I could actually make a breakthrough. Maybe I was just fooling myself and letting myself be trampled upon instead.

While she escaped to the restroom, I realized that I had enough. I no longer wanted to be around her either, let alone spend the whole day with her in Osaka like we had originally planned. When she returned, I made the excuse that I wanted to go upstairs to spread out and sleep.

After leaving her alone, I went to the tatami room, put my stuff down, and got comfortable on the floor, using my bag as a pillow. I thought about escaping mentally into my iPhone to look at videos of the latest cameras out on the market, which I have been doing a lot lately, regardless that I don’t really need a camera as well as that I don’t even like digital for that matter, hoping that some magical new invention will solve all my problems. Closing my eyes, I fought the urge, trying to get some sleep since it was still only eight in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, I opened my eyes again, but no luck. I was still angry. I gave in and spent the rest of the two-and-half hours numbing myself with my phone.

After arriving in Kobe, we took the train to Osaka. During lunch, the mood lightened a little. Since we still had time to kill before my appointment to get my computer fixed, we walked around Shinsaibashi. Immediately my head began to spin from not being used to all the visual stimulation of the city anymore as well as from the heat.

After dropping off my computer and taking care of some other errands, we hurried on over to the Wolfgang Tillman’s exhibition, which we had been looking forward to. Before entering the museum, we stopped at a café to rest. As I sat by the windows watching the endless stream of cars passing by while drinking my expensive drink, I wondered where they were all going, but then remembered that, just like them, we were headed to somewhere too.

At the Tillmans show, we were immediately presented with the photos of his that I had seen a million times – photos that once spoke to me greatly when I was young, but not so much anymore. But as I went from room to room, I saw some of his new work as well and eventually the hardness inside me began to soften. “He’s still good,” I thought, relieved that he didn’t succumb to the fate that most artists do when they get old.

Regardless, more than his work, I was probably more interested in the beautiful women who were present nearby – two in particular. They were like magnets, sucking me in. I switched back and forth from peaking at them and looking at the art. When Miki occasionally popped into view, I pretended not to be cheating on her with my eyes. In a way, I knew that these two women were not really people at all, but a test, which I was failing horribly.

When it was closing time, we left and my head was about to burst. Everywhere I looked outside was a Tillman’s photo. I kept raising my camera, but then second-guessing myself. The stress of not being able to see anymore – not just today, but as of late – was getting to me, especially about how I had originally thought that being in a new environment like Osaka would help things, but in the end, it probably made things worse.

Suddenly, something unexpected happened. Miki took my hand while we were walking – an act totally normal and natural for most people, but not for her since she hates doing things like that, especially in public.

As we continued on, I decided to stop looking. I understood then that the city was no longer my story to tell and that my relationship with Miki, the island, and my art are all connected. Without love, it doesn’t work, and without daily effort, attention, and care, the balance cannot be sustained – it’s as simple (and extremely difficult) as that.

After dinner and coffee, we headed back to Kobe and went to the public bath in the red light district of Sannomiya. When we were done, we felt relatively human again. We decided to walk back to the ferry port instead of waiting for the bus. As we headed toward the water, the men with the waxed hair, the women in the slutty clothes, the neon, and the shops all began to disappear, and it was just us again and the night.

Saturday, July 25, 2016

Mukai, Koni (his girlfriend), Kosaka-san, and I got back from the beach and stopped by the ice cream machine in front of our local community center. We bought our ice cream and began to eat it.

Nearby, there was a big group of rowdy junior high school boys on bikes. The tallest boy of the group finished his cone and then bought another. Probably feeling empowered by being amongst his friends as well as being the boss of the group, he tore off the wrapper and threw it onto the ground in the middle of the street, which is a big no-no in Japan. His friends, who looked just as surprised as me, decided to keep their mouths shut to be cool. I stared at the wrapper and thought:

“Here’s this asshole, who doesn’t even live around here, littering in my neighborhood. Should I tell him to pick it up?”

Realizing that would mean I would be telling a complete stranger what to do, which is something that I hate, especially when done to me, I recalled an incident just a few days back when I was taking out the trash with Kosaka-san. Because my hands were full and I couldn’t find Ta-ne’s leash, we let Ta-ne follow us unrestrained for his morning walk. After dumping the trash, we continued on our way. Suddenly, the owner of the local bait shop came out and started yelling about how we had to leash our dog. I ignored him while Kosaka-san bowed and apologized to the man. As I walked on, I imagined giving him a taste of his own medicine by telling him what he should do as well, which was to stay out of other people’s business. But of course, it wouldn’t be proper, or the smart thing to do, so I kept my mouth shut.

When I snapped out of my trance, I thought up of a third option in regards to the ice cream wrapper predicament - the second being to keep quiet again:

“What if I just picked it up, and threw it away right in front of him to make him feel bad?”

I stood there, contemplating it over.

“Yet again, you would have to be a really good guy to do that...”

Suddenly, as if reading my mind, Kosaka-san went over, bent down, clutched the wrapper in between two fingers, stood back upright, gave a sour frown, and then walked past the junior high school kids to the designated trash bin made specifically for ice cream wrappers. After throwing it away, he came back to our group without saying a thing.

“He truly is a better man than me,” I thought.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

I have been learning that if I constantly stay in tune with Miki, things go relatively well, but as soon as I relax and let up to focus on something else, like Barnacles, we quickly drift apart into our own worlds, and our terrible cycle begins:

Last night, she continuously badmouthed me in front of our friends, Mukai and Kosaka-san, and when she was speaking to me directly, she had the tone of voice like I was stupid and lazy.

This morning a very important anthology arrived in the mail called The Chinese Photobook: From the 1900s to the Present co-written by Martin Parr, one of my early heroes. When I opened it up to where my book, Modern Times, was featured, I was ecstatic because they had literally called it “brilliant”. I looked up and said to her, “They wrote great things!” Lying on the couch with a novel in her hands, she just grunted and kept on reading. She didn’t even make the effort to seem enthused, nor care. I shrugged it off, especially since I was already used to the fact that she had stopped showing interest in my work a long time ago.

Later in the day, while renovating an abandoned house in the neighborhood with Mukai and Kosaka-san, it began to rain even though it was still sunny out. I climbed up the steps leading to the balcony and saw a beautiful rainbow – the first one since I had moved here. Excited, I took some photos with my camera as well as with my phone.

During dinner, the unbearable silence was present again. I decided to try and break it by asking her about the book that she had been reading earlier. Unsurprisingly, the conversation ended just as fast as it had begun. Sitting there, I suddenly remembered the rainbow and thought about sharing it with her, but then, imagining her response, I decided to keep it to myself instead.

A Bad Photo

Friday, July 17, 2015 (12:00 a.m.)

Woke up to the sounds of heavy rain, the wind, and our electricity going off. In the darkness, Miki said that we should get the flashlights and prepare emergency bags in case we needed them. Because it seemed like the typhoon was about to get worse, I agreed.

I found the flashlights, my waterproof backpack, and then, since I was standing in my underwear, recalled that I would need pants as well. I put on shorts and threw a pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, underwear, and socks into my bag. I saw my hard drives with all my files on the table, so I placed them inside a shitty plastic drawer and hoped for the best. Unfortunately my negatives, which are stored in cardboard shoeboxes, would be worse off if anything were to happen.

When the lights went back on, I threw some batteries into my backpack and then gathered my passport, my bankbook, my Barnacle Island journals, ten rolls of film, aspirin, and a waterproof jacket. As I was packing, I couldn’t help recall the time of the earthquake four years back when Ian, Yuki, and I believed that the nuclear reactors in Fukushima would blow at any moment. Because we planned on fleeing Tokyo the next morning with the possibility of never being able to return back home, we had to reduce our lives into a single bag as well. Tonight wasn’t quite as dramatic, but still there was the possibility that I could lose everything, especially my life’s work in the blink of an eye.

Because there was loose candy lying around, I remembered how I often get low-blood sugar, so I threw them into my bag, along with a water bottle, my wallet, and my camera. Miki told me to prepare my boots, so I prepared my boots. I then remembered reading somewhere about the usefulness of towels in an emergency, so I got two face towels as well.

When I was finished, I opened the fridge and took out a pack of purin (Japanese flan). Miki had a smoke at the kitchen table while I plopped down on the sofa with a spoon and was about to dig in when I looked over and saw Ta-ne staring back at me.

“Oh yeah… we have a dog.” I recalled.

Ta-ne was looking nervous, wanting to be let out of his cage. I tried to imagine how I would take him with us in the event of a flood, especially if I was wading through water and debris, while carrying a backpack as heavy as a dozen bricks on my back. After putting his leash on top of my bag, I finally took a bite of purin and suddenly realized how gross it was, or maybe that I just wasn’t in the mood, so I set it down and drank a glass of water instead.

Miki went back to bed and I followed. The smell of cigarettes on her breath made me recoil as well as realize the fact that I hadn’t brushed my teeth either. I got up, thinking how silly it was to be concerned about this while our immediate future teetered like the trees, as the wind howled and the rain fell, knocking over whatever it could.

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