73. Exploring mixed identity and heritage with Annie Sumi and Brian Kobayakawa
“There has always been a longing to understand the why behind parts of who I am, and how I relate to this world.”
This year, I volunteered at the Powell Street Festival, while Annie Sumi and Brian Kobayakawa featured their “Kintsugi” multimedia installation at the Centre A gallery. Annie Sumi and Brian Kobayakawa are both multi-hyphenate, multi-talented Canadian musicians. They compose their own songs, and have each released multiple albums, collaborated widely, and toured internationally.
Annie and Brian were kind enough to perform live at the volunteer appreciation event a few days later. I was struck by their blend of acoustic and electronic styles, with catchy melodies and insightful lyrics. As I said to Annie after the event, if I had the skills to write music, I would want it to sound like theirs.
The more I listened to their music, the more I wanted to talk to Annie and Brian about their collaboration and process. Here is our interview, lightly edited for concision and clarity. We touch on the roles of heritage and history in art; unique New Year’s Eve traditions; and the process behind multi-layered music tracks and multi-media exhibits.
Rachel: Hi Annie and Brian! How are you today?
Annie: I’m doing well!
Brian: Real good, and you?
R: Great to hear, same here! :)
Perhaps due to my day job as a guidance counsellor, I’m always interested in how people find their path. Did you two always know you wanted to be musicians? If not, what other careers were you considering, and how/when did you decide to go professional?
A: There were certainly other pathways I imagined for my life, and I feel like there is a constant unfolding of my passions for art and education. Music has been a centerpiece of my life for such a long time, and I don’t think there will ever be a version of my journey that doesn’t include music!
B: I had a clear vision around 16 years old that music was it for me. I’d been playing bass in bands for a few years, and all at once, it was clear that this is what I wanted to do.
R: I think it’s wonderful that you’ve both identified a “through line” for your life in music. Annie, I feel the same way about art and education – somehow both are always part of my days.
How did your musical collaboration come about?
A: Brian and I met at the Folk Music Ontario conference, in 2014. We were part of a program called the “Developing Artists Program”. At that time, I don’t think we were actively aware of each other’s familial history, but I remember feeling excited to see another Japanese person in the folk music world!
R: That is cool! I didn’t realize you two go back ten years, far beyond the context in which I met you.
As it happens, all three of us are half-Asian; I can relate to wanting to explore this through art. How did the half-Japanese part of your identity inform your upbringing, and your work today?
A: There is so much to say about this… My ancestors predominantly come from Japan and Scotland, but I am yonsei (fourth generation Canadian on my Japanese side) and second generation on my Scottish side. I remember New Year’s traditions that celebrated both cultures of my family. To paint a small picture, on New Year’s Eve, we would sing Auld Lang Syne, drink scotch whiskey, and toast the year passed. On New Year’s Day, we would make tempura and eat (my favourite) inari, and daifuku mochi.
I suppose there has always been a longing to understand the why behind parts of who I am, and how I relate to this world. Understanding the cultures that I come from has helped to bring some inspiration and understanding to my art practice, and it has been a cathartic process of deepening my understanding of myself.
B: One of the most satisfying things about this collaboration, not to mention the larger Japanese Canadian community it has opened up for us both, has been these moments when I’ve realized that something that’s part of my core way of being and has at times seemed to clash with the world around me turns out to be something that makes more sense in a Japanese context. For example, as a composer I’ve always been fascinated by rests and quiet and the spaces between the notes, and I never understood why all the pedagogy of jazz and classical and even pop music seems to disregard that and focus solely on the notes. Learning that in Japanese there’s several words and phrases for similar concepts of space and the in-betweens and negative space and similar concepts with no English translation made that part of me that once felt alien feel like part of something important, and relevant.
R: That is lovely to hear – especially what you said, Brian, about realizing how a cultural concept can explain certain preferences and inclinations. I have also found that exploring culture and family history brings a deeper layer of self-knowledge. Celebrating those family traditions is so special, especially when they find a place in our artwork.
The brand-new video for “Kintsugi” by Brava Kilo & Annie Sumi, with visuals by Mind of a Snail
I was particularly taken by “Kintsugi” because I took a kintsugi workshop earlier this year. The process is incredibly meticulous and time-consuming. The instructor said the curing between each step takes at least two weeks. I noticed that worked its way into your lyrics: “Lacquer and gold, a resin set into the spaces between / it takes a while to cure, and these days who’s got the time?”
As you researched and worked together, what other aspects of kintsugi were important for you to incorporate into the song? (either the physical process, or the metaphor)
A: The metaphor of Kintsugi as a practice of healing, and embellishing wounds was at the heart of all of this work. It was challenging to learn about our families’ internment, dig into some hard questions, and create art that spoke to the process of talking about pain, healing, and untold ancestral stories.
B: While we set out to face the hard parts of the intergenerational impact of the Japanese Canadian internment story, we also had a severe amount of fun working together. Both of us had never really aimed our art so wholly in this direction, and doing so was fulfilling, and exciting. The music captures all of those emotions at different times, and that, to me, really made the Kintsugi metaphor a perfect fit. The work is about looking at, and hopefully doing some healing to a wound, but it’s also beautiful, and doesn’t need to hide the fact that repairs were necessary.
R: Absolutely. I think envisioning Kintsugi as a practice of healing is such a wise way to approach this heavy and personal subject matter.
Annie, at the volunteer event, you joked about Brian “playing the podium” as his equipment was hidden behind the Vancouver Japanese Language School speaker’s podium. I’ve always found it mysterious how artists transpose a composition from recording to live performance.
Are there technical or aesthetic reasons for playing certain parts live or pre-recorded – and how did those inform your approach to your duet tracks?
A: For some of these songs, the recorded tracks have multiple instruments, synths, vocal effects, and more. We really wanted to adequately represent the music that we created, so we were able to come up with a performable version that incorporated a lot of the tracks and allowed Brian and I to play our instruments with the music. When we performed at the Japanese Language School, Brian was playing the synth, bass, and triggering the track in real time.
B: I was playing an instrument behind that podium! But it is an instrument that was interfacing with a computer that also contained some pre-recorded tracks by us and by friends of ours. I started making music as Brava Kilo almost 10 years ago, and for whatever reason I decided initially that this was a recording project only, that live performance wasn’t a concern for me. Some of that carried over into the music Annie and I have made together. In fact, we had not planned to ever perform these songs live at all until Powell Street Festival provided such a great opportunity and environment. As such, our songs mostly have several other musicians playing on it, and Annie and I both added multiple layers of ourselves to each song, so using some technology to represent many of those parts seemed natural to us.
R: That’s so neat. Even though it seemed seamless as an audience member in that moment, juggling multiple instruments takes a lot of coordination and planning!
R: It would have already been impressive to release songs like “Kintsugi” and “Chattels,” and you took your work further with the interactive sewing machine and engaging visuals. Once you made the decision to create a multimedia installation, I can imagine it would be tempting to go overboard with all the possibilities.
Can you elaborate on the process of composing the exhibit – how you added elements while keeping the piece cohesive?
A: The installation was commissioned by the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre, in Toronto. It became our pandemic project, and we worked on it remotely for many months before it took form. When Brian found out that his Bachan [grandmother]’s sewing machine traveled from pre-internment, through internment, and remained in his father’s basement, we knew that the sewing machine needed to be the vessel for these songs to live in. So, we started envisioning how we could make the sewing machine an interactive, multi-media piece. We figured out how to attach a magnetic sensor to take information when the treadle wheel was in motion. We used that information to trigger the visuals and music, and that is how the sewing machine and the songs became a unit!
B: At first we didn’t know what we were doing or what shape it would take. We were digging into our family stories, and trying out lots of different musical ideas at first. With help from a research project called Landscapes of Injustice, we had stacks of documents detailing each of our families’ internment correspondence with the government. It was a lot, and it really influenced the music. We also composed most of the music and dreamed up the installation concept during the pandemic, a unique time where we had fewer distractions, and some constant uncertainty to guide us!
R: So cool! Well done distilling all of that content into a coherent body of work. I love how the mechanics are interactive for visitors. I can imagine some extra symbolism inherent in that: sewing together memories, and the idea of mending/healing.
Lastly, what are your plans for the “Kintsugi” exhibit’s next destination, and any other future work? Where can people follow you?
A: ‘Kintsugi’ is at the McPherson library in Victoria, BC until mid-November. After that, it will be in Banff for a brief showing, and heading back to Burnaby, BC to be part of an exhibition at the Nikkei National Museum.
Feel free to check out our website www.kintsugi-installation.com, and follow us on instagram for more ‘Kintsugi’ related information: @universeofannie and @bravakilo
B: We’re also nearing completion with a short film that introduces and explains the installation; we plan to release that on the channels Annie mentioned, before the end of the year.
R: Wonderful, I’ll look forward to seeing Kintsugi back in Greater Vancouver, and I’ll look out for the short film :) Thank you so much for your time and insights!
In what ways has your cultural upbringing informed your personality, and perhaps your creative output as well? Add your thoughts in the comments!