Keeping the Beauty of Life Alive: Inata Miori / Photographer

"Direct Talk"

Our guest today is photographer Inata Miori.

After witnessing the September 11th attacks from the window of her apartment,

she began photographing sacred sites around the world,

hoping to better understand how religion could become the catalyst for conflict.

In February 2022,

Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

At the time, Inata was exhibiting some of her work

at an exhibition in the Ukrainian capital of Kyiv.

A friend told me people had been saying Russia was going to invade,

but she didn't think it'd really happen.

So it felt like my heart was being torn out.

The notion that our everyday lives could suddenly disappear is so frightening.

Life is fragile and can be upturned in an instant.

What can each of us do to safeguard the dignity of everyday life?

Inata shares her thoughts and her experiences

photographing sacred sites worldwide.

My friend texted me,

"They've dropped bombs near Kyiv."

I responded, "That's terrible."

And then she continued,

"I think I may be leaving the country. I'm crying."

That's what she wrote.

These were the messages Inata received from her Ukrainian friend Maria

after the Russian invasion of Ukraine began on February 24th, 2022.

Inata has been photographing Ukraine for over 15 years.

Starting in December 2021,

a special exhibition featuring some of her work was being held.

It was to commemorate the 30th anniversary of the establishment

of diplomatic relations between Ukraine and Japan.

The exhibition was being hosted by her friend Maria.

Maria approached me about it three or four years ago.

"Miori," she said, "would you be interested in being in a photography exhibition

in Ukraine about the beauty of Japan?"

It started out really well. We had lots of visitors.

Before all this happened, things were peaceful,

and every weekend we'd organize workshops on

calligraphy and flower arrangement, and so on.

The exhibition space became like a hub for Japanese cultural exchange.

I could tell through the photos I was sent

that the attendees were all smiles.

Life was normal, and then, suddenly, Kyiv was being bombed.

Inata didn't hear from Maria for weeks after her message about fleeing the country.

Maria has two kids,

so I'd imagine she had a lot of things weighing on her mind -

not only her own safety but the safety of her kids.

I imagine it was impossible to keep it together

when she thought about the future.

It wasn't until the beginning of March that Inata heard from Maria.

She and her family had just happened to be in the western Ukrainian city of Lviv

the day that Kyiv was bombed.

From there, the family got in their car

and headed for the Polish-Ukrainian border.

She said that the trip, which usually takes two hours,

took them 29 hours.

Apparently, her three-year-old son didn't understand what was going on

and said they should just get out and walk home.

He was frazzled by the situation and kept saying,

"Let's go home," in the car.

Maria said it was very tough.

Inata first started traveling to Ukraine in 2006.

Her photos caught the attention of the Japanese ambassador to Ukraine.

At his request, she traveled to Ukraine

and began photographing landscapes and the people's daily lives.

There's lots of nature.

Outside of Kyiv, there are many idyllic towns.

In every town I visited,

I would see Oriental stork nests atop many of the utility poles,

and I'd see the chicks peeking their heads out.

I thought, "What a beautiful country!"

It truly moved me.

And Ukraine is like a heartland for classical music and ballet.

It's said over half of classical musicians have some Ukrainian blood in them.

I'd see kids in the audience all dressed up and listening intently until the end.

They were on the edge of their seats, very much into it.

I could see that music and art was an integral part of their lives.

I envied them.

Inata was especially struck by

how she saw people in prayer wherever she went.

I went to Ivano-Frankivsk, out in the countryside.

I visited the Church of Virgin Mary and befriended the pastor.

He said to me that although they were Christians,

their appreciation for nature was no different

from the appreciation for nature that Japanese people have.

"Picture a mountain," he said.

"There are many starting points to climb the mountain, but only one summit."

We talked about how, in that sense, we're all united.

I could feel that the people were deeply tolerant.

I saw that they possessed humility and a calm demeanor.

It was just so peaceful that I would never have imagined a situation like this.

Inata continued to visit Ukraine over the next 15 years.

In March of 2011,

she was visiting an area near the Chernobyl nuclear power plant,

the site of a major nuclear accident in 1986.

It was there that she received word that

northeastern Japan had been struck by the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami.

A Ukrainian woman I know said to me,

"Miori, I have some terrible news.

I was just looking at my phone and saw news that

your country has been hit by a major earthquake.

I saw video footage of collapsed buildings and cities

being swallowed by a tsunami."

I couldn't believe it.

And then she said to me,

"I'm sorry to say,

but I think Fukushima Prefecture is about to go through the same thing that we did."

Hearing that left me speechless,

and it felt like there was a chance I wouldn't be able to go home.

I got this pain in my stomach and felt light-headed,

and I collapsed onto the open grass.

Remembering how I felt in that moment,

I can really understand how Ukrainians must be feeling right now.

News of the nuclear disaster left Inata in a daze.

But all around her,

Ukrainians expressed their concern for Japan,

just as if it'd happened to them.

Inata got her start as a photographer in New York in 1995.

She walked the streets, soaking up the city's diversity

and snapping away with her camera.

Here's a photo of Manhattan as seen from her apartment.

She says she'd figured that the view would long outlive her.

But then on September 11th, 2001,

the skyline was changed forever.

I woke up in the morning and saw smoke rising from the World Trade Center.

The flames kept growing,

and the towers collapsed in a huge cloud of smoke.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

It was so shocking.

My hair was standing on end,

and I felt a chill run through me, my whole body.

My knees felt weak, and I could barely stay standing.

The shock was so great that I forgot to breathe.

I couldn't bring myself to take pictures for an entire year.

I lost all motivation.

It was as if I couldn't tell if I was alive or dead.

America is this country of immigrants,

but for some reason, there was this wave of nationalist fervor.

People had American flags on their cars and on their front doors.

It felt like they were eager to go to war.

I'd loved New York.

I thought of it as this great experiment created by a higher power.

I believed if people could achieve peace there,

the world could achieve peace.

So what happened was a huge shock.

It felt like I was in danger of hating the city I loved so much.

That shook me to my core.

It wasn't until a year later that Inata was able to pick up a camera again.

She began traveling to sacred and spiritual sites around the world,

seeking the answers to fundamental questions.

Why did 9/11 happen?

Why do conflicts and wars happen?

I went to Israel about six times and to Palestine about three times.

I traveled the world,

and in each place, I took photos and prayed.

In Jerusalem, there's a part of the city divided into quarters

representing different religions.

There's the Dome of the Rock, the place where Abraham attempted to offer

his son Isaac as a sacrifice

after being commanded by God.

It's now a sacred Islamic shrine, and only Muslims are allowed to enter.

When people get attached to things,

it becomes cause for conflict.

I think that's true of what's happening now.

Russia is this vast country, but it's become obsessed with Kyiv.

So that becomes cause for war.

Inata had a realization while photographing Ise Jingu,

one of the most revered Shinto shrines in Japan.

She believes humans are beings that are allowed to exist

in nature for a fleeting moment.

Ise Jingu has this ritual every 20 years

where the enshrined deity is transferred to a new sanctuary at an alternate site.

In Japanese culture, it's normal for deities to be moved.

These deities are believed to reside in trees and rocks.

It's fascinating when you think about it.

I witnessed the ritual being conducted,

and really felt the sense that humans exist within nature.

It's nature that's been our protector, and not the other way around.

We like to think humans are all-powerful,

but really, we're ephemeral beings allowed to be here

by some divine miracle.

Inata says that realization was the culmination

of her many travels to holy sites,

which all started with the 9/11 tragedy.

Now, with the ongoing conflict in Ukraine,

she hopes to open our eyes to the fleetingness and sanctity of everyday life.

Things that are truly beautiful, things like everyday life,

require effort to be sustained.

And they can be upended easily by natural disasters, for example.

Everyday life is very precarious,

and unless everyone treasures it,

things like the current situation may very well happen.

This isn't something happening far away.

You never know when something like this could happen in Japan.

So I think the future of humanity, our fate,

depends on how seriously and thoughtfully we reckon with the situation in Ukraine.

(Do you have any words to live by?)

"Harmony."

I'm hoping for peace, too, of course,

but by "harmony" I'm talking about an equilibrium

where people are allowed to exist as they are.

Everyone is different,

so that may mean different things for different people,

but I'm wishing for a kind of harmony

where we can maintain the best-possible balance,

one that isn't fraught or strained.

I don't know how many more years I have left.

But I'm an artist, so I see myself taking pictures

that are different from the kinds of pictures photojournalists take.

It's like Aesop's fable "The North Wind and the Sun."

We need people who capture difficult scenes.

I, on the other hand, am here to capture beauty.

I want to take pictures that open up people's hearts,

that encourage them to take off their coats.