Category: Photography

  • USAID In Africa

    USAID In Africa

    A loving father and his daughter (who is HIV+) wait to visit/visit a doctor at the Bukoba Regional Hospital, Tanzania.

    USAID: The End of a Lifeline in Africa

    In 2014, I documented HIV, tuberculosis, and malaria treatment programs, as well as nurse and doctor training initiatives across Africa, focusing on how investments in health had significantly improved well-being across the continent. What I witnessed was remarkable—unlike anything I had seen in my many years working there. Investments in equipment and infrastructure had transformed entire hospitals, equipping them with modern technology and hygienic facilities. My work reflected not just a continent in need but one progressing toward prosperity, even as challenges remained.

    These photos capture that progress—many of those pictured were living with HIV yet leading healthy, fulfilling lives, a testament to the impact of sustained investment in public health. The majority, if not all of these locations received funding from USAID and no longer do.

    A decade earlier, at the height of the HIV pandemic, I had seen entire villages devastated and was deeply critical of my own nation’s inaction. Yet, under a president with whom I profoundly disagreed, a transformation in global public health took shape. Through the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), launched by George W. Bush, along with USAID, I saw firsthand the immense return on investment—lives saved, medical infrastructure built, and goodwill toward the United States heightened. Beyond being sound public policy, these efforts were also a strategic move at a time when multiple global actors sought to diminish the U.S.

    Rural Health Motivators visited homes in remote areas, engaging women in conversations about health. When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, these same healthcare workers walked those familiar roads, playing a crucial role in slowing the spread of the virus.
    A young man is tested for HIV. (Rapid test result: negative.) Rural outreach teams goto great lengths to test people for HIV in their homes and council them on how to live healthy lives surrounding the Lake Victoria region.
    A blood sample for tuberculosis. Modern, refrigerated facilities have made tests much more accurate and even feasible, as equipment before USAID investments was lacking.
    The Nicoadala District Mobile Clinic with decals of participating organizations from the United States and globally.
    The laboratory room with GeneXpert machine (rapid test TB) and lab technician in the TB clinic at TEBA headquarters in Maseru.
    The x-ray room in Mwanyamala Hospital, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
    Student training at Mwanyamala Hospital, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
    Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia
    A pregnant woman receives a checkup from a male midwife at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    A community-based ARV distribution program in Nicoadala District, Mozambique, operated through a network of women who gathered weekly to collect antiretrovirals and distribute them to surrounding villages. This system later proved essential during the COVID-19 pandemic, as the established networks helped curb the spread of the virus and deliver aid to those who fell ill.
    A rural patient is given ARV refills at a clinic in Berea District, Leshoto.
    A woman and her daughter is visited by a TEBA Care supporter in her house. Households are visited of those miners that are diagnosed with TB. HCW’s also visit family members who might be infected because they share the house with the infected miner. TEBA Supporters also sign up people with a cell phone so that they can easily be reached to check their status and see if they are taking their medications.
    A woman pumps water at the CMS Gbagbam-Faith based clinic, Ivory coast. USAID has contributed significantly to improving access to drinking water in Côte d’Ivoire, particularly through its programs targeting both urban and rural areas.
    Mother and mentors coffee ceremony at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Mother and mentors coffee ceremony at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Mothers wait on benches at the clinic where their sons went to be circumcised in a rural village near the Kagera Sugar Company, Bukoba, Tanzania.
    This is young women is of the many who benefitted from USAID. Walking down a rural road in Leshoto, she was making her way to a clinic. She wanted to make sure that she was healthy and safe for those she chose to be with and was going to get tested for HIV.
    HIV+ Women dance as a act of supporting supporting each other in Berea in Hospital, Swaziland.
    HIV+ children play in the waiting area of the pediatric clinic of the Bukoba Regional Hospital, Tanzania. HIV is no longer the life ending disease it used to be. Great strides have been made to treat children such as these to that they can lead healthy and happy lives..
    HIV+ teens attend informational sessions at the Baylor Teen Clinic where they also play football and dance. The clinic happens every Saturday and is essential of these boys and girls lives. It is the one of the few places where they can get to gather and not have to worry about the stigma of being HIV+. They support each other and bring each other in in a welcoming and free manner.
  • USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    Port au Prince, April 6 2010
    The Petionville golf course, once a retreat for wealthy Haitians and foreigners, became an IDP camp after the 2010 earthquake, where USAID played a substantial role in tent distribution and food aid—USAID’s role in Haiti was deeply flawed, including a $140 million food program that ultimately harmed Haitian farmers by undermining local agricultural production.

    USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    In post-disaster scenarios, I often found myself deeply critical when I saw the USAID logo emblazoned on tents and cans of food. Given the immense wealth of the United States, these contributions felt insufficient compared to the dire conditions in which refugees and internally displaced people were forced to live—and yet without it millions would have been dead. Over 20 years, I documented this flawed and essential in aid in Kosovo, Albania and Pakistan, amongst other nations. No country illustrates both how essential and flawed it was than Haiti, following the 2010 earthquake. USAID allocated approximately $2.3 billion for reconstruction and development. However, only about 2 percent of these funds—just over $48 million—were awarded directly to Haitian organizations, with the majority going to firms in Washington, D.C., Maryland, or Virginia. Over my

    At the same time, despite my government’s contradictory policies in many of these regions which exasperated the need and deepened poverty, USAID’s help (however much of a bandaid, and a small one at that)remained absolutely essential. Those who have since dismantled the agency were well aware of its flaws. However, their mandate should have been to address these shortcomings and implement meaningful reforms, not to erase the institution entirely.

    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    Under president George W. Bush, The U.S. responded Pakistan’s October 8, 2005, earthquake, pledging $50 million for initial relief and reconstruction. Assistance included emergency shelter, food, water, medical supplies, and military support, with ongoing coordination to address evolving needs.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30, 2004
    Wheat distributed by US Central command to displaced Haitians following the 2005 flooding which killed over 1,000 people in this rural village.
    Bara Kau, Pakistan, November, 2, 2005

    USAID/OFDA in Washington committed $1 million to be provided through the American Red Cross in response to a Preliminary Emergency Appeal issued by the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies. This was in addition to the $100,000 announced yesterday by the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad.
    Port au Prince, Haiti, Petionville IDP Camp, April 8. 2010
    Despite its significant shortcomings, USAID played a crucial role in distributing food and tents in this camp after the 2010 earthquake.
    Mapou, Haiti May 30, 2004
    Children look at marine Chinooks as US Central Command distributed food.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30 2024
    A boy holds a handful of rice as U.S. Central Command distributes food aid.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    Following the February 2004 ousting of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Haiti was plunged into political turmoil. Concerned about potential mass migration to the U.S., President Clinton deployed the U.S. military under the pretext of maintaining order. In this image, U.S. Marines search young men for contraband—an act that, in practice, often amounted to routine harassment rather than genuine security enforcement.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    Rations from USAID and the World Food Program were sold on the street, although they were intended solely for humanitarian assistance.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30 2024
    Humanitarian assistance that was delivered by US Central Command was distributed by the Red Cross.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    U.S. Marines and Canadian forces await a Chinook helicopter delivering humanitarian aid to flood-stricken Mapou. Given the region’s extreme poverty and urgent need, the militarized response was excessive. In Haiti, a country with a long and fraught history of foreign military interventions, the heavily armed presence of U.S. and Canadian forces during the Mapou flood relief effort was both appreciated and felt more imposing than reassuring to many.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999
    While food distribution from donor states is essential, it does not come without arrogance from the agencies that deliver it; pictured here, an unknown aid worker tosses aid to the desperate. Arrogance aside, the U.S. Department of Defense shipped 500,000 Humanitarian Daily Rations (HDRs) to Albania, while USAID/OFDA contributed an additional 300,000 HDRs to support food distribution efforts.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999
    USAID coordinated closely with the UN World Food Program (WFP) and other NGOs to ensure food supplies reached refugees in camps and host communities.
    Kukes, Albania March 1999
    14,000 tons of food per month were supplied by the U.S. government (including USAID) for distribution to refugees in camps and those staying with host families in Albania. Family food packs, airlifted from Utah, were distributed to 3,000 refugee families. These packs included essential items like rice, wheat, and cooking oil.
    Central Haiti, Early June, 2004.
    After Hurricane Alex hit Haiti thousands where left homeless and hunderds where killed when their village, Mapou, was flooded. With food supplies already dangerously low (the countryside has been been destroyed and therefor people cannot grow their own food) thousands risked starvation. Aid was distributed by the United States and The Red Cross.
    Central Haiti, November 2010
    Already reeling from the January 12 earthquake and an influx of foreign aid that undercut local farmers, Haiti was further devastated by heavy storms, which caused severe flooding, particularly in the western regions. Pictured: A flooded field as a man carries a bag cooking charcoal.
    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    A mother and her daughter boil water for cooking. While the 2010 earthquake claimed over 230,000 lives, a harsh winter loomed, threatening even more casualties. A concerted global effort—led in part by the U.S.—became critical. Without winterized tents, deaths from exposure were expected to surpass those from the quake, making rapid intervention essential. Thanks to contributions from USAID and other international partners, that crisis was largely averted.
    Panjgran, Pakistan, November 15, 2005.
    Panjgran, a remote village in Punjab Provience, was among the most vulnerable, accessible only by helicopter and lacking tents before aid arrived. Here, residents receive blankets and supplies from Médecins Sans Frontières (which does not accept government funding) to prepare for the winter. However, the United States’ contribution cannot be overlooked or discounted: USAID provided $41.8 million in aid, including airlifts of 45,000 blankets, 1,570 winterized tents, water purification units, and other essential supplies.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999.
    After crossing the border from Kosovo to Albania a woman departs to a destination unknown. USAID provided critical aid to Kosovar refugees, including emergency shelter, food, medical assistance, and clean water, helping thousands survive displacement and harsh conditions.
    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    A girl blows on the last ember of a fire along the Jehlum river. Without the support from USAID she very likely would not have survived through the winer.
  • Toxic Splendor on the Gowanus Canal

    Toxic Splendor on the Gowanus Canal

    On the hottest days, pollutants in the Gowanus Canal bubble up to the surface, creating a toxic slick that is at once kaleidoscopic and deadly. This mesmerizing yet hazardous phenomenon transforms the canal’s surface into a swirling canvas of iridescent hues. The vibrant patterns, reminiscent of oil on water, mask the dangerous cocktail of contaminants lurking beneath. As temperatures rise, this toxic beauty serves as a stark reminder of the canal’s long history of industrial pollution and the ongoing environmental challenges it faces.

  • George Floyd Protests

    The Other Faces of the George Floyd Protests

    My experience during the LA Riots resurfaced as protests over George Floyd’s murder swept the country. I titled this series The Other Faces because, as I looked out my window in Brooklyn, I saw thousands of people peacefully passing by. While headlines in the New York Times called the protests mostly peaceful, the publication ran photos of the mostly violent, perverting their own coverage and what those of us on the ground were all too obviously seeing.

    Rather than chase the news, I chose to listen to those protesting to understand their perspectives beyond the dismissive “Woke” label pinned on them—an attempt to trivialize their message and reduce their ideas to something they were not. I sought the more subtle moments. At the end of each day, I wrote a diary entry reflecting on the events, capturing what I had seen and heard.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 2, 2020

    Over the past couple of days dear friends have called me asking me what it’s like in New York City. Are the protests peaceful they ask? It seems that they are, they say, but are they? Judging from what’s seen on tv it only looks as if the world is on fire. There is indeed a lot of fire and cruelty spread by the United States 45th president, but there is a lot more strength and positivity amongst those in the streets that will eventually lead us out of this national nightmare.

    If our publications only show the chaos and violence, mostly of young men of color, turning over police cars then that just feeds into the stereotypes of them and gives readers the impression that that’s all there is to these protests. Yet there are millions more who have ideas, are constructive and their voices and ideas need to be heard as prominently as the violence is covered.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 3, 2020

    After the daily evening rally (and, on this evening, prayer session) at Barclays the crowd marched off just before the 8PM curfew shouting, “Fuck your curfew,” and headed to downtown Brooklyn where clashes between the protesters and police would ensue. I decided to stay at Barclays. I was interested in those who remained.

    In the Barclays plaza, which has become somewhat of a town square now, I found some remarkable moments. The moments I witnessed were remarkable not because there was blood or fire or tear gas (those moments, as almost solely focused on by our media outlets, have become all too common and I do not believe are representative of what these protests are truly about), but because there was a there was an attempt by those who remained to probe and understand the other.

    Remaining in the plaza were a handful of young people who were talking with the assorted police. The crowds gone, everyone somewhat let their guard down. The discussions were intense, at turns accusatory and pleading, but the remarkable part was that there were prolonged moments when both protester and police officer listened to one another.

    Looking at the policewoman and men, I wondered if they saw in the protesters the children they might go home to after the long day. The protesters, in turn, said that, if these officers had children, they would be in the streets advocating for them if they were ever harmed. The discussion vacillated between the attempt to co-opt support to accusation of institutional racism. No doubt there was a blue line between the protesters and the entrenched power amongst the police, but beneath the positioning I felt a glimmer of hope not in the words that were spoken, but in the words that weren’t—when the other side was listening.

    In all, the dialogue and listening lasted for about 20 minutes, then everyone went along their way. Due to NYPD protocol, those in uniform could not address many of the questions and statements the protesters made. I had the feeling that had they been able to speak as individuals and not people beholden to uniform a lot more understanding could have been had in that moment. I am not saying that the two sides would have agreed, but at the very least a more significant dialogue could have been achieved.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 4, 2020

    What I saw last night goes to the heart of the problem with what is so wrong with the United States of America. In a passive crowd the police rushed in and aggressively attacked a black man, dragging him through the crowd and shoving him into a black unmarked police vehicle that was much too small for this man’s large build. There was terror in his eyes as he was roughly shoved into the vehicle. As they pushed him down, he shouted to the crowd to remember his name. The last moment I saw of him he was in pain as they applied their pressure techniques to drag him down.

    After the NYC security force vehicle drove away, the following moments were tense. The officers had a wild raging bull look in their eyes. Like a bull who wants to attack whatever it sees some brandished their clubs and threatened a livery cab passing by. Every object near them seemed to be the equivalent of a crimson cape. In those tense moments the whole protest could have lit up and one more provocation would have ended in violence and many more arrests. It was only diffused when the protesters took a moment of silence. As for the man arrested himself, what did he do? I saw some officers holding a hockey stick near the vehicle he was shoved into, which I assumed was related to the perceived offence. If, indeed that’s all it was, couldn’t this incident have been dealt with in a different way through reasonable communication?

    Institutionally, this is a nation of America First, and it is a nation of, “you are with us or you are against us,” it is “all options are on the table and we will respond at a date and time of our choosing.” And that mentality trickles down into the fabric of our nation to the point where a peaceful giant of a man is choked to death under the knee of an officer as three others look on. The murderous knee was what physically murdered Mr. Floyd, but the surrounding officer’s apathy was equally egregious. Do nothing, stand aside apathy kills as well. Do nothing stand aside apathy is what currently defines this nation’s domestic and foreign policy. Until that changes the murders, like the forceful arrest last night where police forces acted with continued impunity in Grand Army Plaza will continue.

    The events in Grand Army Plaza represented the worst part of police in America. What transpired on the streets this weekend represented the best of this nation and also of the police department where protesters and police spoke and tried to at least find some starting point of common ground. It felt like a turning point in history. The critical mass here is in solidarity. The 45th president has attempted to eviscerate this nation’s democracy and cohesion. With the internal threat to this nation’s very existence people have never been more together and concerned for each other and the principals on which this nation was founded. My neighborhood, Prospect Heights, is at the crossroads of the movement. With the Barclays Center 5 minutes from my home and Grand Army Plaza a moment’s walk away Brooklyn neighborhoods converge where the young and old, every ethnic, gender and economic group converge. All are saying “Enough!” It feels that we have reached the critical mass needed to move forward out of this time of ignorance and cruelty brought upon us by this president and his party.

    After the choking murder of Mr. Floyd, we know what needs to be ended. But there is also ferment about what has to happen moving forward. How is it that the wealthiest nation in the world cannot afford pencils for teachers, cannot manage to get the most basic masks to nurses and doctors risking their lives to keep us healthy? The answer is simple: those in power simply don’t care as evidenced by their actions. The overt pursuit of profit is all that does matter and anyone else who does not grab for that wealth is left out. These protests are also about ending that and having the billions that are spent on the military and gained in the stock market to flow back into our communities and our civil instructions. After what’s the point of having a great military if the country its protecting can’t educate its children, can’t keep its populace healthy and sees its institutions and infrastructure crumble?

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 7, 2020

    This is a short film I made in Grand Army Plaza on June 7, 2020. On June 7th it felt like a dam had broken.The days leading up to the 7th were tense. Just a week before police cars burnt in the neighborhood next to mine and much of the country saw the same. However, in the course of that week a solidarity throughout society was building. Surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement were people of every ethnic group, every income group, every gender. So many in America were saying that the violence against people of color must stop. As the peaceful movement built throughout the week the presence of police lessened. The confluence of so many groups and their sheer numbers said that this is too big to stop and the protests can no longer be bullied. On Sunday there was a sense of completion for the moment—protest gave way to art and music and there was a sense amongst people that, after protesting in support for a man who could not breathe, a collective breath could be taken.

    The art, music and movement in Grand Army Plaza were expressive of the life returning and I hope provide a kind of spiritual roadmap moving forward of how life should be and what we should strive for as we depart the age of apathy and enter into one of empathy, understanding and deeper listening.

  • Shivering in the Sun

    Each day, hundreds of migrants who come from central and south America pass through Lecheria, a small factory town just outside of Mexico City. From their countries they travel thousands of miles by freight train with the hope of reaching the United States. Lecheria represents a crossraods. ItÕs there that the tracks diverge and determine whether a person is to end up in California, Arizona or Texas.

    Shivering in the Sun

    Originally published by the BBC.

    Each day, hundreds of migrants who come from central and south America pass through Lecheria, a small factory town just outside of Mexico City.  From their countries they travel thousands of miles by freight train with the hope of reaching the United States. Lecheria represents a crossraods.  It’s there that the tracks diverge and determine whether a person is to end up in California, Arizona or Texas.

    Many said they where unhappy about leaving their families behind and would rather be near the warmth of their wives, children, mothers, fathers, friends.  But their villages and way of life are dying.  There is no employment and so the only way to help support their families is to head north and send money back when they can.

    The journey is hardest and most lonely for the youngest, some whom are no more than15 years old.  For many of them it’s their first time away from home.  Without money they travel on empty stomachs; their bodies are so weak that they shiver in the sun.

  • Rodney King Riots

    Intro

    I was 19 when the Rodney King Riots broke out. I sat in history class, learning about the civil rights era, and thought, What am I doing studying history when it’s unfolding right outside the window? I raised my hand, told Ms. Freedman I needed to use the bathroom, then rushed to my car, grabbed my Nikon 6006, and headed downtown.

    It was the first important story I covered. Initially, I found myself amidst the fires and looted shops—what the media was focused on—but as I moved through the streets, I saw something different. I saw the long faces of the people who bought their milk and eggs there, the ones who visited the tailors for their clothes and the shops where they bought their shoes. I began to focus on them, because while the news cameras captured the violence of a few, they failed to show the many who were unjustly labeled. That experience has shaped my perspective ever since.

  • Saut-d’Eau

    Saut-d’Eau

    Every year from July 14-16 during the festival of Our Lady of Carmel the waterfalls of Saut d’Eau in Haiti’s central mountains are the site of a pilgrimage where Haitians cleanse themselves of the past year and enter into the new one fresh, a Haitian version of New Year.

    Taken in the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake the festival took on added significance as the nation sought to recover.

  • America’s Fading Main Streets

    America’s Fading Main Streets

    I consider the Main Street project a reflection on what we’ve lost as a culture and nation. More than just a physical location, Main Street represents a state of mind, a civility and decency that has gone missing in the United States, replaced by a soulless existence of big commerce where we’re pushed to buy ever more things but interact with others around us less intimately, if at all.


    Shenandoah, PA
    Shenandoah, PA
    Brownsville, PA

    Note: Main Street is technically Market Street.
    Brownsville, PA
    Brownsville, PA
  • Interview with Mira Nakashima

    Mira Nakashima photographed in the Nakashima Arts Building, erected in 1967. The building, home to the Nakashima Foundation for Peace is used for concerts and events for peace.

    Interview with Mira Nakashima

    By Kyoko Sato & Jake Price, Originally Published in Japan Contemporaries, April 17, 2024

    Following the release of The Nakashima Process Book by Mira Nakashima and an exhibit featuring her work at the 1950s Gallery which closes May 23, Japan Contemporaries spoke with her to understand her process, history and future of George Nakashima Woodworks that still relies on human craftsmanship in an age of factory produced furniture and Artificial Intelligence.

    As much as furniture making is a physical process, to Mira it has an element of the transcendent. “Working with one’s hands and without (automated) machines brings a whole new level of consciousness,” she said. Made possible through the tactile process this heightened consciousness is ultimately transmitted into the furniture. She continued: “Every piece is individual and there will never be another like it. We consider and individually construct every single joint in every piece we’ve made.” 

    The reverence for meticulous hand craftsmanship was instilled by Mira’s father, George, who founded Nakashima Woodworkers in the 1940s. Of his process, he remarked, “Each flitch, each board, each plank can have only one ideal use. The woodworker, applying a thousand skills, must find that ideal use and then shape the wood to realize its true potential.” This potential, he believed, resided in the wood’s raw state. George meticulously sourced his materials from salvaged or fallen trees, prioritizing solid wood over processed materials. This approach not only reflected his environmental ethos but also contributed to the distinctive aesthetic of his furniture, characterized by organic shapes and flowing lines.

    George Nakashima used butterfly joints to connect two pieces of wood together to provide structural reinforcement. To create the joint, Nakashima would cut a butterfly or bow-tie shaped inlay out of a contrasting wood, usually Rosewood, and insert it into a matching cavity in the main piece of wood.

    Much of George’s philosophy was influenced during World War II when the United States incarcerated all Japanese Americans on the West Coast. Forced to leave their home in Seattle, the Nakashimas were confined to live behind barbed wire in the Minidoka concentration camp (euphemistically called a “relocation center”) in Idaho during World War II.

    While in the concentration camp, George met and befriended the master Japanese carpenter Gentaro Hikogawa and that experience profoundly shaped his life. Of his time in the camp George said, “The time was not entirely lost. There was wood, and a very fine Japanese carpenter, so I became his designer and his apprentice at the same time.” In Japan, working with a master carpenter of Hikogawa’s stature would have not been possible, but in the camp these divisions vanished. People used what they could to get by, both in terms of human relationships and material scarcity. The use of scarce materials and the depth of human engagement he experienced in the harsh conditions would inform George for the rest of his life.

    ​While in Minidoka, George used wood scraps from the construction of the camp and packing crates to make furniture in order to make conditions more bearable. The camp was surrounded by bitter brush, a tough, drought-tolerant shrub. Others in the camp collected and polished the branches of the shrub, and George used them as interesting free-form accents on his furniture. Through the use of these materials, George’s unique woodworking style began to emerge. He embraced the imperfections and natural textures of the wood, leaving the tree’s exterior contours visible in his pieces. This approach, now known as “live edge” woodworking, was born out of George’s ability to find beauty in the overlooked.

    ​George was a graduate of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). One of his professors, aware that George was living behind barbed wire, tracked him down. Through the sponsorship of his former employer in Japan, Antonin Raymond, who needed a chicken farmer on his farm in Pennsylvania, the professor was able to secure the family’s early release from internment.

    Exterior of the Show-room.
    George constructed the structures on the property to face south in order to integrate the view with the natural landscape and environment and also to take advantage of the southernly light. Pictured: the Chair Department.

    As the first Sakura blossoms came to life, we arrived on an overcast day. Guided by Mira through the many rooms on the property, all of which face south, gentle light filtered into the wooden rooms and studios crafted by George.

    ​After his passing in 1990 Mira continues to bring this ethos of peace to the company today. We spoke with her about the history and her progressive and pragmatic management of the company and of her own masterful work.

    Preserving Tradition in a Changing World as the Head of Nakashima Woodworkers

    Mira in the Pole Barn for wood storage that she designed and constructed.

    Japan Contemporaries (JC): How do you feel about being a third-generation Japanese American?

    ​Mira Nakashima- Yarnal (MN)l: Growing up in New Hope, Pennsylvania, we were the only Japanese American family around, and there was still a fair amount of post-war prejudice among my classmates at school.  They used to tease me because I looked different so I tried to be as American as possible, and to study hard to get good grades. When I was in college, there were only a few “orientals” in my class, but I felt more accepted because there were students from other countries. I didn’t know much about the internment until 2004.

    ​JC: Although you were too young to remember your experience in the camp, you have since researched your time there and that of others—looking back on it, how has this influenced your work and your deep investment in the furtherance of peace?

    ​MN: I was so young during the incarceration I don’t remember anything, and was still very young when we moved to the Raymond Farm, but I am extremely grateful to the Raymond Family for sponsoring us to leave camp. I don’t remember ever feeling deprived or hungry in camp, because my aunt Thelma took good care of me, but my mother was probably a bit traumatized. My parents never talked about the incarceration, so I started learning about it after my mother passed in 2004.

    ​I am not sure that the camp itself influenced my thinking; but the environment that my father built here in New Hope has increasingly become a haven for peace and source of inspiration.

    Mira photographed with the Mira chair in September 1952. The Mira chair is a three-legged variation on a Shaker theme which exemplifies Nakashima’s design philosophy, which apart from emphasizing the natural beauty of wood, the idea that furniture should be lived with and show the wear of everyday use. Photo courtesy of George Nakashima Woodworkers

    JC: George offered you a job in 1970. How did that happen? 

    MN: Good question! I don’t know exactly how or why it happened.  We were living in Pittsburgh and my father told me he had bought some land and was planning to build me a house. I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back home, but my former husband thought it was an offer too good to refuse, so we moved home with our three small children. I suspect it might have been at the suggestion of a lawyer friend who was concerned about the future of the business, and estate planning.

    ​After we had settled in, my parents offered me a job, but were a bit annoyed that I was unable to keep regular hours because of the children, and made me punch the clock and figure out my own pay hours. 

    JC: George fired you quite a few times! Why did that happen? 

    ​MN: My parents had sent me to Harvard College, where we were taught to think outside the box and to question authority. My father was of Samurai heritage, raised in a patriarchal society, and was educated in an era when architects’ authority was not to be questioned. When I arrived, there was no insurance of any kind and no benefits for the employees, and I thought that should be changed, so I was fired. I can’t remember the other issues, but my children got so used to it that when they saw me coming home at some odd hour they would ask me if I got fired again!

    Mira’s workplace practices have had long-lasting influences on Nakashima Woodworkers; some employees have been there for as many as 50 years. As much as it is about equitable workplace practices, the artisans believe that mastering the craft, which can take decades is essential.
    Craftsman Justin Taylor in the Finishing Room at Nakashima Woodworkers. Justin began as a groundskeeper in 2003 and is now head of the Finishing Department.
    Mira speaks with Craftswoman Alyssa Francis. Alyssa joined Nakashima Woodworkers in1995 and has rigorously learned about furniture, construction, details and history which she now passes onto younger staff who want to continue the craft.

    Editors note: The philosophy of Nakashima Woodworkers embodies the philosophy of shokunin (職人)which literally translated is “craftsman’ or ‘artisan,” but which has many other connotations. The shokunin approach emphasizes the pursuit of mastery over a lifetime, rather than quick success. Shokunin see their craft as a lifelong journey of continuous improvement and learning, rather than a means to an end. In order to achieve an environment of learning and exploration condusive to mastery of a craft an environment of selflessness and social responsibility is essential. The shokunin mindset includes a sense of social responsibility, where the owner is dedicated to providing the best possible experience for their employees and customers which contributes to the well-being of their community.

    Mira helping George ca. 1946 outside of old cottage on Aquetong Road. Photo courtesy of George Nakashima Woodworkers

    JC: Please tell us about the relationship with your father.

    ​​​MN: When I was very young, my father used to boast about how wonderful I was.  After he had taught me five words in five different languages, he used to say I was like the children in the Sri Aurobindo Ashram and could speak five languages!  My mother taught me to read and write before first grade, so I skipped first grade. After 1954 when my brother was born and I entered high school, it went downhill for the “built-in baby-sitter,” but Dad was very proud when I was accepted at both Radcliffe and Bryn Mawr Colleges. My father came to my wedding in Japan but my mother did not.

    ​JC: How have you assimilated all the elements of Soetsu Yanagi (Mingei), Antonin Raymond (Architect), and the Shakers, which George absorbed?

    MN: Slowly, an ongoing process! I absorbed a bit of the Shaker way of thinking when my second husband and I took the children to visit a Shaker village in Massachusetts. I found a book on Shaker furniture in the Studio and studied it when I wrote my book “Nature Form and Spirit” in 2003.  I didn’t read “The Unknown Craftsman” by Soetsu Yanagi until I went to Japan with my cousin John Terry to film his Nakashima documentary in the year 2000, and it gave my drafts new form and dimension.

    ​JC: How did he learn about the Shakers’ furniture? How did that affect you?

    ​MN: Dad’s best friend in Seattle was the artist Morris Graves, who gave Dad a book on 
    Shaker philosophy and furniture in the early 1940s.  The Quakers in Pennsylvania and the 
    Shakers in other places were not that far apart, and Dad embraced the simple utilitarian honesty of their designs and workmanship. I just grew up with it.

    ​JC: Have you worked with Isamu Noguchi or was it only a show that you created with him?

    MN: I have not worked with Isamu, nor did Dad.  After they were both gone, I put together a show of Nakashima furniture and Akari sculptures in Washington DC and wished it had happened while they were both alive!

    Mira Nakashima, “Tsuitate Sofa” designed in 2015. The Tsuitate Sofa exemplifies Mira’s approach to woodworking, while innovating but staying true to her father’s design sensibilities.

    JC: You designed 17 new works for George Nakashima Woodworkers. How have you adopted your new designs to your father’s tradition?

    MN: Basically, we have maintained my father’s tradition by adhering to the “old-fashioned” methods of production, as well as working with the lumber he left behind. Occasionally, there is a really odd piece of lumber or client request that will not conform very well to the old designs, so we invent new ones…but work within the limits of our existing technology. I worked under my father’s supervision for 20 years, sometimes tweaking things when he wasn’t looking, so I just continued. Evelyn Krosnick  (designer and client) and Robert Aibel (Moderne Gallery) both encouraged me to experiment and to create something new!

    Mira photographed in the Reception House (Sanso villa), constructed in 1975.

    Time in Japan & Spirituality

    JC: You studied Architecture in Waseda University (graduated 1966). Why did you go there?

    ​MN: I went to Japan the first time after graduating from college in 1963, with my godmother Mildred Johnstone and Alan Watts as our leader. When the tour was over, Aunt Milly went to Urasenke Tea Ceremony school in Kyoto and I studied Japanese in Tokyo while staying with my real Aunt Thelma.  My father had two architect friends in Tokyo from his days at the Raymond Office, Junzo Yoshimura and John Minami. Because I didn’t know Japanese very well, Yoshimura said I could be a special student at Geidai, but Minami said I could earn a real degree at Waseda, so I chose Waseda.

    JC: Was it the first time to visit in Japan?

    ​MN: The first time I got off the plane in Tokyo, I fit right in, because everyone was the same size as me and had the same color hair!  But, because I was with an American tour, I looked like I should understand Japanese and I could hardly understand anything!  After the tour, I stayed with Aunt Thelma, who lived among several other Americans, and I studied Japanese intensively. When I entered University, my classmates all wanted to learn English, so they helped me translate all the lectures I couldn’t understand!  After I married one of my classmates, I enjoyed pretending I was really Japanese, and sometimes fooled people!

    Detail of Nakashima Arts Building with the Concordia chair and portraits of Sri Aurobindo and Mirra Alfassa.

    JC: You wrote about sacred spaces in your graduate thesis when you studied at Waseda University. Can you tell me about it? 

    ​MN: My father had built a wooden church in Karuizawa when he was at the Raymond office, and designed another reinforced concrete one in Kyoto when I was in graduate school which became my responsibility to oversee. Tange Kenzo’s Cathedral and Olympic buildings were under construction, so It seemed a natural thing to write about what makes Sacred Spaces sacred.

    ​JC: George learned spirituality while he was in India. I heard you were named after an Indian spiritual leader

    ​MN: India was a mystery to me until my second husband and I went there after my father’s death. I couldn’t figure out how Dad could follow Sri Aurobindo and be a Catholic, but as Aurobindo practiced the integral Yoga, there was no conflict between any of the religions.

    ​JC: George described himself as a Hindu Catholic Shaker Japanese American. When did George become Catholic and why?

    MN: When Dad was first starting out in Seattle, he had no real workshop excepting that loaned to him by the Catholic Maryknoll Missionaries in Seattle. Father Leopold Tibesar was ministering to the Japanese American community, continued to do so when they were incarcerated, and commissioned one of Dad’s first projects in Karuizawa, later in Kyoto, and baptized Dad with no instruction. Dad always considered himself catholic with a small “c” and felt no boundaries between that and other religions. 

    JC: Are you Catholic as well?

    ​MN: Yes, but I was not baptized until I was about 13.

    ​JC: Sakura Seisakujo is only one entity who can create Nakashima furniture outside your company. How did it happen? How do you work with them? 

    MN: In 1964, the sculptor Masayuki Nagare (1923-2018) built his “Stone Crazy” wall for the World’s Fair in New York.  Dad invited him and his stonemasons to come to New Hope for steak dinner, which they did, and invited my father to visit them in Takamatsu some day.

    As I was attending Waseda at the time, Dad came to visit me and took me to Takamatsu to meet Nagare, the stone masons and the Minguren group of artisans who were trying to preserve the old craft traditions by adapting them to modern design.  They invited Dad to do a show made in Takamatsu and exhibited in Tokyo, and it was so successful they kept inviting him back to do more shows. During the process, Dad became very fond of the Japanese woodworkers particularly at Sakura Seisakusho, enjoyed producing shows there, and became good friends with the Nagami family. I first went there in 1988 because Dad was too busy preparing his retrospective show at the American Craft Museum, and was surprised that they treated me as if I were my father!  We too have been friends ever since and we have been working with the next generations at Sakura. We did a show for them last November.

    JC: Who are you major influences from Japanese culture?

    ​MN: My aunt Milly Johnstone was one of my father’s first sponsors, had danced with Martha Graham on Isamu Noguchi’s sets, and fell in love with the Japanese aesthetic.  She took me on my first trip to Japan, where we learned a lot about Zen Buddhism, poetry, painting, tea ceremony and architecture.

    Unique Technique

    The Conoid Studio. Photo: Courtesy of Kyoko Sato

    JC: The Conoid Studio was completed in 1959. What is the meaning of conoid?

    ​MN: The Conoid Studio was named after its shape, generated from a section of a cone.

    ​JC: How many buildings did George build in this location?

    ​MN: 12 major and three smaller buildings.

    ​JC: Have you built any building on the property yourself?

    ​MN: Yes the Pole Barn lumber storage. And I helped Dad build the stone wall of the House when I was about 5, then the mockup for the Pool House when I was about 17.

    JC: How and when did George learn about the butterfly technique?

    ​MN: I am pretty sure Dad must have known about butterflies when he was working for Raymond, but the actual inlay technique he might have learned from Gentaro Hikogawa when we were incarcerated at Minidoka during the war.

    ​JC: I believe your all of your furniture is made without nails. Is this practice still followed? 

    ​MN: We have never used nails, but we do use screws and glue, and occasionally small tacks.

    Mira adjusts a Table Lamp in the Reception House (Sanso villa).

    JC: What kind of material have you been using to achieve a paper-like look for lamps?

    ​MN: We used to use fiberglass, but now we use hand-made Washi paper laminated to a fire resistant plastic of some kind made by Hiro Odaira (creator of Washi art based in New York called Precious Pieces).

    ​JC: How many kinds of woods do you use? Where are they from?

    ​MN: We have about 50 species of wood available, but mostly Pennsylvania Black Walnut, Ash and Cherry.  We do have some California Redwood roots, Maple and Myrtle burl from Oregon, some Persian and English Walnut from my father’s time, a small amount of English Oak Burl and Scottish Elm Burl. 

    Slices of Redwood Root Burl stored in the warehouse designed by Mira.

    The Nakashima Center for Peace and the Future

    JC: Please tell me about the Foundation.

    ​MN: The Foundation was begun in 1984 by my father in order to fund his dream to create Altars for Peace on each continent of the world.  After his passing in 1990, we extended its mission to help preserve and protect all of his buildings and their contents on the property, and again to include programs to teach non violent conflict resolution and other ways to create a peaceful world. Right now, we do not have any concrete Altar sites selected, but are still searching.

    Mira enters the Nakashima Arts building. It features a soaring plywood hyperbolic paraboloid roof cantilevered from stone buttresses over two glass walls, built around a small pond and facing a series of small rooms known as the “Cloister,” harking back to the monastic tradition which so inspired George.
    George with the wood that would become the first Nakashima Peace Altar. It was installed in St. John the Divine in 1986. The wood came from the trunk of a 300-year-old black walnut tree. Photo courtesy of George Nakashima Woodworkers
    George’s first peace altar in St. John the Divine in New York City. The altar was installed and blessed on New Year’s eve, 1986. George said, “It is hoped that this table might become a physical symbol for peace, a peace that is central to our very existence on Earth.”
    The Nakashima Arts Building, was originally erected in 1967 to house the artwork of Ben Shahn. The mosaic was deigned by Shahn for the building, created in France and installed in 1971 after his passing. Later, it was given to the Nakashima Foundation for Peace in 2001 by George’s widow Marion so that the Foundation would have a permanent home.
    The Folk Art collection upstairs in the Nakashima Arts Building.

    JC: You have spoken about how we all are residents of this one planet in a video on your website.  What did you feel about discrimination against Asians during the recent pandemic? 

    ​​MN: I think anti Asian discrimination has always been worse on the West Coast because many of us had settled there before the War.  Dad always said it was stupid.  Blaming COVID-19 on all Asians was also stupid but human beings always seem to need someone to pick on and put down and blame for their own troubles.

    Katsutoshi Amagasu finishing a Plank Stool. He is the only one of Mira’s seven grandchildren who lives nearby. Toshi takes his name from George, whose middle name was Katsutoshi, and now works in many roles, including Finishing, apprenticing in Design, and assisting in Sales and Public Relations. Although he is just starting out, he is eager to learn the craft of his great grandfather George.

    JC: What is your vision for the future George Nakashima Woodworkers?

    ​MK: The future of Nakashima’s remains to be seen.  It would be nice to have a family member involved, but as long as there are good workers here who understand and respect the Nakashima tradition we hope to continue using that pile of wood my father left behind. 

    ​If it is family they have to work onsite. It cannot be done remotely. I now have two wonderful design assistants who are very hands-on as it should be, plus my grandson Toshi (Katsutoshi Amagasu) who is still in training and has not yet finished college. Toshi’s parents Soomi Hahn Amagasu and Satoru Amagasu have been great contributors to the team. We also are looking forward to our two newest woodworkers, one of whom is working part time because she is still in school, and another Japanese American craftswoman who has just finished up a year of training at a Japanese craft school!

    Mira passes Toshi a cup of tea in the Conoid studio. Hopefully it is Toshi’s generation who will hopefully carry on the legacy of Nakashima Woodworkers.

    Mira Nakashima-designed furniture is available at the 1950 Gallery located on 44 East 11th Street New York, NY 10003, featuring exquisite pieces such as a 14-foot American walnut dining table supported by Mira’s Michiko base, complemented by 14 armchairs, a design celebrated with a prestigious prize at the Brussels world’s Fair in 1958. Additionally, the Gallery showcases an exceptionally large English walnut root coffee table accompanied by eight Conoid lounge chairs.

    ​Nakashima Woodworkers Visits

    Design appointments may be made Monday through Friday between 9am-4pm. We are no longer open on Saturdays excepting for tours by reservation, excluding all major holidays.

    Please call 215-862-2272 or e-mail info@nakashimawoodworkers.com to make a design appointment or for more information on starting the Nakashima Design Process make an inquiry.


  • A 20 Year Portrait of the Anthropocene

    A 20 Year Portrait of the Anthropocene

    June 7, 2023. A lone ship made its way north on the East river. As winds blew smoke from the Canadian fires south, much of the United States has been underneath a smoky toxic fog. Air quality was the worst on record. Photographed for National Geographic.

    A 20 Year Portrait of the Anthropocene

    On May 29, 2004, I boarded a Chinook helicopter in Port-au-Prince following one of the most devastating flooding events in Haiti’s history for The New York Times. A day before, U.S. Marines, stationed on the island ostensibly to maintain peace during a time of unrest, were on a routine patrol when one of the sighters noticed something unusual: a lake that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Days earlier, there had been no sign of it. Skeptical, the pilot hesitated to investigate, but the sighter insisted, and as they flew closer, the sight was undeniable—where a village once was a lake had formed overnight after torrential rains inundated the region killing people in their sleep as cascading waters flooded down the barren hillsides. Over 200 lives were lost. At the time, I was unaware of the term Anthropocene, but it was clear we were in it.

    Over the past 20 years since descending on the submerged village,I have documented Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans the devastating impacts of Hurricanes Harvey and Sandy in Houston and New York, and the smoke-cloaked skies of wildfire-stricken regions across the United States. However, no single event underscores the fragility of our future more than the meltdown at the Fukushima power plant. Though triggered by a tsunami, the disaster highlighted the broader implications of rising sea levels, which threaten to push future tsunamis and hurricanes farther inland, magnifying the risks to both infrastructure and human life.

    If these past decades are any indication, the years to come will bring more profound change. Rising sea levels will redraw coastlines, displacing millions and threatening major cities as they have already done in Fox Beach, erasing an entire New York neighborhood and returning it to nature. The cascading effects of climate change—on food security, water resources, and global migration—will intensify, demanding coordinated action on a scale never before seen.