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●BOOK DESIGN + TALK● HIROSHI HIRATA SENSHŪ (平田弘史選集)

 

Kastuhiro Otomo was in charge of the design of the 8 books that comprehend HIROSHI HIRATA SENSHŪ (平田弘史選集): THE SELECTED WORKS OF HIROSHI HIRATA*. Each hardcover book comes in a slipcase and includes a separate newsletter. The first volume also includes a detached poster. Katsuhiro Otomo and Hiroshi Hirata (平田弘史) conversed on various topics to commemorate the publication of this collection and this talk was collected at the end of the first volume.


BOOK 1 DETAILS: 
HIROSHI HIRATA SENSHŪ 1 (平田弘史選集 第１巻)
ONORERA NI TSUGU (おのれらに告ぐ)
Publisher: Nippon Bungeisha (日本文芸社)
Release date: 1987-V-7
Language: Japanese
Number of pages: 343
Size: A5
Retail price: ¥2000
ISBN-10: 4537030909
ISBN-13: 978-4537030907

AVAILABILITY

 

TALK: HIROSHI HIRATA vs KATSUHIRO OTOMO
I MADE THIS 8MM PROJECTOR ALL BY MYSELF.

Hirata: I heard that you are making movies, Otomo-san.
Otomo: Yes, I really enjoy it. But movies take time and money, so it's not something you can do easily.
Hirata: You're shooting with 16mm, right?
Otomo: Yes, that's right.
Hirata: Then, just the cost of the film itself is quite a burden. Can't you use video?
Otomo: Video isn't as good as 8mm, at least not yet.
Hirata: What kind of movies are you making?
Otomo: Well, I have to rely on my friends to help with the shooting. I try to come up with a story that doesn't go too far beyond that.
Hirata: You included sound, right?
Otomo: Yes, we did record sound, but for the really bad parts, I rented a studio for ADR (additional dialogue recording). But, since they're not professional actors...
Hirata: But you managed to do it, right?
Otomo: Well... I'm not so sure...
Hirata: Let me see the film, just one round.
Otomo: Ah, it's a bit embarrassing.
Hirata: I’m interested in all things related to machines. The technology for images and sound, and the mechanical and electrical engineering to turn those into reality, I’m interested in all of it.
Hirata: That 8mm machine was all made by me.
Otomo: Wow.
Hirata: (Brings over the 8mm projector that’s placed in the corner of the room) I haven't used this 8mm much, but I shot some footage of the kids, and they wanted to see it, so I thought I'd show it. It's heavy, though.
Otomo: Yeah, I can tell. Wow, it's heavy.
Hirata: Yeah. This is made from 14mm aluminum plates that I carved out. I also made this sprocket on a lathe, and I went to Akihabara to buy a matching switch for it.
Otomo: You’re quite handy.
Hirata:  It’s all manual, I enjoy putting it together with my hands like this.
Otomo: I heard you’re moving.
Hirata: Yeah, I’m planning to move. It’s been two years since I came to Tokyo, but I don’t really go out to publishers, I don’t go out drinking, and I don’t work in a loud way, so there’s really no reason to stay in Tokyo.
Otomo: It takes a lot of guts to make that decision.
Hirata:  I'm almost 50 years old. I thought, if I keep going this way, I'll just turn 60 or 70, and it'll be boring. Instead of staying in a cramped place, I want to go somewhere more remote with cheaper land, build a studio there, make music, and live while painting on folding screens. I’m getting tired of drawing inside the small frame of manuscript paper.
Otomo: When do you plan to move?
Hirata: I want to do it soon, but first I have to sell this place and deal with various other issues... I’m not sure if it’ll be in one or two years.
Hirata: By the way, whose music is playing right now?
Hirata: This is a tape from my friend, Kasei Kai. This song is called "Military Comfort Women," and it's about the Korean women who were conscripted as comfort women by the Japanese military during World War II. Let me play it for you.


MILITARY COMFORT WOMEN
LYRICS AND MUSIC BY KASEI KAI

War begins in places we don’t know,
A large number of soldiers came from Japan,
An important man with a beard says something,
'You are one of us now, you are Japanese.'
On various islands in the Pacific, everyone’s lives
Are being protected by soldiers, fighting to the death,
Repay them and work for the Empire.

Cramped on a small boat,
Dragged out, on a train, in a truck,
Rocked in a horse-drawn carriage, the hometown grows distant.
Crying, asking to go back, but being knocked down,
The woman who protected the girl was kicked aside too.
The girl, with swollen, teary eyes, when she arrived,
Saw nothing but the gleaming, silent Japanese soldiers.
She cried so much that she couldn’t even shed tears anymore.

Dressed in a yukata, her name changed,
Powdered with white makeup, knowing nothing,
On her young body, a man would overpower her.
The job to repay the country was to sell her body.
Where are the soldiers who are fighting to the death?
Men, reeking of sweat and death, laughing foolishly in dreams,
Today ten, tomorrow twenty, the numbers grow. Who is the nation really fighting?

Like leaves scattered, every day women are thrown in,
Taken, plundered, and forced into makeshift, shabby huts,
The soldiers, gripping their weapons, make a noise,
With only a dirty curtain separating them,
The cries echo, far and near,
On both sides, a sea of blood flows, trembling hands,
One by one, the sad handprints of two yen pile up.

The Philippines, Mariana, Burma, Sumatra, Celebes, Kenya,
Women were sent to the ends of the earth,
Hiding behind the name of the nation, they did as they pleased, deceiving, exploiting, and mistreating.
They were sold, some tried to escape and were killed,
Some were shot while on rafts,
Women who died without being able to speak their final words,
Women who died with resentment, curses, and regret.

Amid the crumbling of the divine nation of Japan,
As the occupied territories fall one by one,
The comfort women, who knew nothing, sleep in caves,
Dreaming of their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters.
With the money they earned by sacrificing themselves,
They believe they will meet everyone again someday.
Tears, short and sad, glisten in their closed eyes,
The sound of a bomb thrown in shatters their dreams.

Until the very last moment, despised, played with, and oppressed,
The woman, a military comfort woman, stood before them.
A gentle and frail Korean woman, who had done nothing.
The discrimination that leads to disregard and abandonment,
The hierarchy that creates distinctions between people,
The restless spirit of the comfort woman calls out,
Reminding us of what we’ve done and the things we’ve caused,
Misfortune always comes when it's least expected,
The spirit of the military comfort woman calls out.


SINCE ANCIENT TIMES, JUSTICE HAS BEEN DESTROYED, AND PEOPLE HAVE BEEN POOR.

Otomo: My editor recently went to South Korea for an interview. He was walking off the tourist route when suddenly an old woman came up to him, grabbed him by the collar, and started causing a scene. She was shouting, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. The interpreter with him said, "That old woman must be out of her mind," but the editor thought, "There are still people who remember what Japan did in the past."
Hirata: What Japan did during the war is Japan's responsibility. However, if they admit to it, it would lead to expenses, so the government turns a blind eye. People in Japan today don't know about this. Even if they hear such songs, they just think, "Oh, is that how it was?"
Otomo: It’s being forgotten, isn’t it?
Hirata: Yes. This is something that will certainly come back at some point. When that time comes, if the Japanese people start complaining about how things are, it will be too late.
Otomo: When was this song made?
Hirata: It was about 10 years ago. We gathered sounds like explosions and cannon fire from a library, and then Hua Sheng himself made the original tapes using equipment in his own room.
Otomo: Did he have any intention of making it into a record?
Hirata: Yes, I gave it to a certain record company, but they couldn’t release it. There was political pressure. Back when the Korean issue was discussed on 11PM, I even sent it to Ohashi Kyozen's office, but I never got a response. Even so, Hua Sheng couldn’t not make it. I kept telling him, "Make more songs like this, make them!" While the flashy, contemporary songs are left to others, I told him, as someone living in this generation, to create songs that would not bring shame to future generations. But of course, I said, "It’s tough, but we’ll do it" (laughs).
Hirata: You know, justice has always been suppressed, and we're poor because of it. Evil prospers and becomes wealthy.
Otomo: There's a movie called The Koto of Burma. I didn’t see it in the theater, but I watched it on TV, and I thought, "Is this a true story?" It was just too well-made. I do like some of Ichikawa Kon’s films, though...
Hirata: That one is just too perfect. I don’t usually like to talk bad about people, but Ichikawa Kon's style in that movie can be summed up in one word: "uncool." It's the most uncool part of Japanese cinema.
Otomo: The script is the same as old scripts, but it was originally made for the wounded Japanese people after the war. It doesn’t talk about what Japan did in foreign territories, it’s made only for the sorrow of Japanese people. It’s not a movie made for the sad Asians.
Hirata: That’s a children’s movie. It’s not an adult movie.
Otomo: Young people don’t watch movies as much anymore, so production companies have naturally started making movies for children...
Hirata: Anyway, today’s kids are so fortunate. They don’t know what it means to be hungry. They think stories about having nothing but sweet potatoes for lunch are something from another country.
Otomo: Today's children, they have everything given to them, and because they don’t know what it means to be restricted, they seem to have no desires.
Hirata: And that’s the biggest problem. In the past, since we were never satisfied, our dreams expanded as we tried to do something. But, if we change our perspective and look back from 50 years in the future, we might see that those times weren’t so bad after all.
Otomo: If we look ahead, we’re going to be even poorer (laughs).
Hirata: The standards of prosperity change with each era.
Otomo: I don’t really think there’s anything bright in the future.
Hirata: Back then, when I saw the depictions of big cities in Osamu Tezuka’s manga, like Astro Boy, I thought, "Wow, this is amazing." Skyscrapers standing side by side, highways running through the city.
Otomo: But that has become reality now. Back then, that was science fiction, but looking at it now, the world Tezuka drew back then is no longer science fiction—it’s become reality.

IN MY PAST LIFE, I MIGHT HAVE DRAWN MICE WITH TEARS OR SOMETHING...

Hirata: I wonder how things will change from now on. Maybe your downfall... or maybe it's like a desert-like atmosphere? I wonder. Otomo you're drawing SF, but you're really good at it. When we first met, I think you were about 24 years old.
Otomo: Yes, that's right.
Hirata: I was introduced by Kan from Shonen Gahosha. When I met you and heard you were 24, I thought, "What?" I thought you were around 40 years old (laughs). Looking at your drawings, with that draftsmanship and atmosphere, I thought you'd be much older. But then I was surprised to learn you were so young.
Otomo: No, no.
Hirata: I thought about what it means to be born with this kind of talent for drawing. I thought, maybe in a past life, you really struggled and painted a lot. And now, in this life, you were born with the ability to paint well without much effort.
Otomo: Reincarnation, right? But, you know, in the past, there were fewer people. If you think about it, one talent might get spread across multiple people, and gradually it weakens, doesn’t it?
Hirata: No, I don't think so. It starts with one thing, and then it divides like cell division. Even though the number increases, the density and concentration of each cell remain the same. I think the same applies to human souls. The human population increases, but everyone has equal power. It's just that individuality differs, so some people might be terrible at math but excellent at singing or have other talents. Everyone must have some talent. But, as the population grows, there are more ordinary people.
Hirata: Ordinary means there’s some kind of standard to define it, right? It depends on where you set the standard.
Otomo: It’s relative.
Hirata: So, I think no one in this world is truly ordinary. Everyone has their own individuality. On Earth, with 4.8 billion people, there will be moments when each individual’s uniqueness will bloom. Some will experience this in this life, and some may not. Nature's cycles are long, so whether it happens in this life, the next, or a future one depends on the frequency of the cycles. In your case, Otomo, the frequency aligned in this life. How old were you when you became a manga artist?
Otomo: 18.
Hirata: Around 18, the timing for "Otomo, come out" was perfectly aligned. Before that, you might have been spinning your wheels for a few generations.
Otomo: In the past, there wasn’t a place to present drawings or manga. In my past life, I might have been drawing mice or something...
Hirata: By the way, recently, historical dramas seem to have completely disappeared from manga magazines, haven't they?
Otomo: It's not just that no one with enough charm has appeared, but the TV historical dramas are also having a negative influence. They're awful. If you turn the channel around 10 a.m., you'll find about three of them on, and they're all terrible.
Hirata: The old men and women probably watch those kinds of shows, but the little kids think that those old folks are watching something out of date.
Otomo: Yeah, exactly.
Hirata: In the world of gekiga (dramatic comics), when it comes to historical dramas, people would think, "Who would watch such outdated things?"
Otomo: It's the same now, not just on TV, but in movies as well. If you want to make a proper historical drama, it costs a lot of money, so they hardly make them. The ones that do come out are made cheaply, so they end up being miserable.
Hirata: If you watch movies like Rocky or Chinese kung fu films, the story development is exactly like the old historical dramas.
Otomo: Jackie Chan, you mean?
Hirata: Yeah. There's a strict master, and a young guy who works hard to train...
Otomo: I don't really like that. When it comes to the fight at the end, they both land punch after punch. It goes on forever. It would be better if they settled it with one punch, but instead, it's all slow and doesn't have that satisfying, decisive moment. I feel like the repeated punches end up lacking power.

I WANT TO DRAW BETTER, EVEN JUST A LITTLE, THAN WHAT I DREW BEFORE.

Hirata: In Japanese historical novels, it's the same thing. At first, there's a lot of chaotic sword fighting and action, and it goes on like that for a while. Then, suddenly, there's a sharp, decisive cut—slash, and it ends quickly. This shockingly new approach becomes the mainstream. After a while, that too becomes tiresome, and something new has to be introduced to make it work. For me, going through these phases, what I focused on afterward was entering into the spiritual realm. After the straightforward thrill of action, the shift to the emotional and philosophical side brought themes like the sadness of samurai or the way anti-establishment figures live their lives. It becomes dark, and that's how things like Satsuma Gishi Den (a story of samurai loyalty) came to be. In the end, the work becomes dark and heavy. If that happens, then the work itself doesn't feel good to produce, and neither does the artist.
Otomo: When I'm drawing, I also think about drawing just a little bit better than what I did before. It's about improving the technique, even if it's just a little. But as the technique improves, I start to feel that the story needs to move beyond convenience or else it won't make sense. Gradually, the technical improvement begins to get in the way, and I find myself trapped in a corner.
Hirata:  Yeah, you end up entering a world of logic and reason.
Otomo: The balance between fun and completion is really difficult, isn't it? To make something accessible and enjoyable, there has to be a certain degree of convenience and balance... but—
Hirata:  I'm always thinking about it (laughs). Before you know it, you’ve fallen into a pattern without even realizing it. You think you understand what the audience will get, and before you know it, your distance from the readers has grown without you even noticing.
Otomo: For me, when it comes to making things easy to understand, I've had to train myself to think about it to a certain extent. If there's an original work, and I have the ability to look at it objectively, that’s fine. But when I'm drawing by myself and pursuing various things, I feel like, little by little, it’s unavoidable to go a bit crazy sometimes.

I BOUGHT A SWORD WITH THE MANUSCRIPT FEE FROM HINOMARU BUNKO.

Hirata:  "Akira" is taking forever, huh?
Otomo: Yes. Actually, right now, the anime is in progress, and I'm working on the script. When I finish a serialization, I go to hotels in Tokyo or the Izu area, lock myself in a room, and work on it there.
Hirata:  Is it for theatrical release?
Otomo: Yes. Right now, it's in the structuring phase, but the challenge is condensing a long story into under two hours. It's tough. A simple digest wouldn't work, and I can't create an entirely new story either...
Hirata:  So you're struggling with how to create an effective structure for the anime. Still, you seem to enjoy moving images, whether it's anime or film.
Otomo: Yes, that's right. Since I'm doing it, I have to make sure to do the script properly, and if possible, I want to direct it as well.
Hirata:  And lighting too?
Otomo: Yes, lighting is interesting. I was surprised when I went to a film studio once. Sometimes, the lighting person is the most important. They often have 30 or 40 years of experience. If they don't give the okay, the camera doesn't roll.
Hirata:  Actually, I did lighting recently. When Hanamori, after listening to the Satsuki tape, held a concert at Yokohama's cultural hall, there weren't enough hands, so they asked me to do the lighting. But I had never touched lighting equipment before. I was advised by the hall staff and it was fun.
Hirata:  So, adjusting the lighting in response to the progression of the stage, was it a kind of martial arts fun?
Hirata: Yes, it's like a swordsmanship-style fun, where you gauge the timing and jump into the opponent's range.
Hirata:  Speaking of swordsmanship, I heard you used to have a Japanese sword.
Hirata:  Yes, I had a strong interest in swords for a while. It was after I became a manga artist. I bought a sword with the manuscript fee from Hinomaru Bunko. I went to the Sen'nichi Department Store in Osaka and bought a "Izumi no Kami Kunisada" with a length of 23.6 inches. It had an inscription, so I thought, "This is it," and bought it. It turned out to be a fake, bright red one (laughs). But I bought it and thought, "Hmm, as expected," and looked at it. After all, I love swords.

IS A SWORD A NEW TOOL, OR IS IT A WORK OF ART?

Otomo: The period before the boom of the Japanese sword, right?
Hirata: Yes, it was 20,000 yen. The scabbard was black with lacquer, the handle was properly done, and the craftsmanship was certainly good. When I drew it out, the width of the blade was wide, and the tip and the lines were sharp. I thought, "This is great." I carefully received the bag with the blade, and in addition, it came in a box. I brought it back from Osaka, holding it with my own hands, and spent the whole night admiring it. I practiced my sword swings and for about a week, I just stared at it and even slept holding it.
Otomo: Did you eventually feel like you wanted to cut something with it?
Hirata:  Yes, I couldn’t just stare at the sword anymore. I started feeling that a sword is not just a work of art. Originally, people used swords to protect themselves and defeat enemies, right? In this peaceful era, if the sword is treated as just an art piece, it would be pitiful for the sword. I started thinking that swords are about power, and they are meant to cut and sever evil. Moreover, this sword, with its beautiful curve, was used by the samurai. The true mission of this sword is to cut.
Otomo: But if you cut something, the sword gets damaged, right?
Hirata:  If you view it as an art piece, then yes, you would wipe it with cotton paper to prevent any damage. But when you cut bamboo, you see the marks left on it. Still, I didn’t care. Even if the beautiful blade gets scratched, that’s not what it really wishes for. It wishes to be used for cutting.
Otomo: Did you cut bamboo or something?
Hirata: Yes. If I respected this sword, I thought I should cut something with it. So I started with fresh bamboo, cutting it through. The sword sliced through easily, like cutting sunflowers.
Otomo: So, you gradually progressed to thicker bamboo?
Hirata: Yes. I went into deep bamboo groves and started cutting thick bamboo. As soon as I cut through, water shot out.
Otomo: Then you moved to dried bamboo?
Hirata: Yes, I tried cutting from different angles—straight across, or from below. I even slipped once and realized the sword was bent. That's when I started to have doubts about this sword (laughs).
Otomo: You thought, "Is this really 'Izumi-no-kami Kunisada'?"
Hirata:  It was quite a shock. I didn’t want to see the bent blade, so I quickly tried to straighten it by stepping on it with my feet. It looked straight, but when I checked the spine, I saw it was still bent.
Otomo: Like a cheese slicer knife (laughs).
Hirata: I think it’s safe to assume that the swords used by foot soldiers during the Sengoku period were like this. They were like iron plates, and their method of fighting was more about striking than cutting. When the blade bent, they would just straighten it out right there and continue. They probably fought with the sword still half-drawn from its scabbard.
Otomo: I see. So when the battle was over and they returned, they would walk with their bent swords?
Hirata: Yes, and by the next battle, they’d say, "Hey, can you fix my bent sword?" and it would be straightened, just like that. "How is it? Can it fit in the scabbard now?" I think something like that must have happened back then. I’d like to depict these kinds of scenes that haven’t been shown before, before I die.
Otomo: So, your feelings toward the sword changed, from when you first bought it and admired it, to when you started cutting things and the sword became damaged?
Hirata:  Yes, the respect I had for it completely disappeared. It became just a tool for cutting.
Otomo: The idea of a sword being the "soul of the samurai" is something from the peaceful era. In reality, the soldiers from the Sengoku period didn’t think that way.
Hirata: In fact, once a sword is broken, it’s no longer useful. It can still be used when it's bent (laughs). There’s a saying that a broken sword is truly terrifying, but a bent sword can still be safely used.
Otomo: That’s a very lesson-like saying.
Hirata:  Yes. Just like how people who are too rigid, always being called stubborn old men or suffering from arteriosclerosis, should not be like that. It’s better to be flexible, to be able to bend. You really have to keep that in mind. Especially me (laughs).

Hirata and Otomo are engrossed in conversation. Both share a common characteristic in their work ethic: an obsession with perfection and a tendency to write slowly. This conversation took place at Hirata's home in Suginami, Tokyo.

Notes by ChronOtomo
*In the cover of each book it's written in English: THE COMPLETE WORKS OF HIROSHI HIRATA but it really is a curated selection of his works. Even both 選集 (senshū) and 全集 (zenshū) refer to 'collections of works', they have different nuances. The one used in this collection: 選集 (senshū) refers to a selected collection or anthology of works. It implies that the collection consists of a curated selection, often chosen for their significance, quality, or relevance. This term is used when a set of works is not complete, but instead highlights certain pieces. On the other hand: 全集 (zenshū), the term used for example in OTOMO THE COMPLETE WORKS means, a complete collection or collected works. It refers to a collection that includes all the works of a particular author, artist, or creator. The focus here is on completeness, covering the entire body of work.

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