I enter a space, historically and culturally defined as a place
for art, a space designated for objects and a minimum of physical
interaction. I am confronted with information, language about
freedom, citizenship, safety, to my right is a screen illuminated
with a landscape slowly panning and transitioning from one landscape
to another, all similar but unique in their own way. There are
no structures, no people, no movement except for the slow pan.
I step in front of the screen to get a better view and realize
I am now within the projection, my silhouette is now standing
within the pan, the closer I come to the screen the more immersed
I become. I notice a high-pitched chattering sound, insects maybe,
but slightly grating and disconcerting. Further to the right mounted
on the wall is a slip of paper, a poem, below a curved tray filled
with rice at waist level. I want to touch the rice but am not
sure if I am allowed. Then I notice something hidden underneath
the multitude of grains and decide to run my fingers through.
Buried within are photographs, a man in a uniform with his family,
an identification card, all marked with the words "Now I
know". Further down the wall, right next to the screen there
is a notice, directions to "All those of Japanese Ancestry".
By approaching this poster I have been led to an entry, a space
that leads behind the screen where a dim light glows and I step