
The essays below are excerpted from the book to provide you with a sample of the reflections presented by a variety of writers. Click the Read more option below each essay to expand and read the full essay.
Fujitaro Remembered
by Ken Mochizuki
“My grandfather was a 4’11” dynamo! He was a strong-willed visionary with a deep sense of connection to the Earth and to Spirit.”—Linda Kubota Byrd, daughter of Tom Kubota “Grandpa was a very dramatic man and had a powerful personality. Even though I didn’t speak Japanese, I could tell by the way he would tell stories and act them out. He was also joyful but, at the same time, the family knew him to be very stubborn and obstinate. I wish I had understood Japanese so that I could have found out more about him firsthand as opposed to what I mostly observed.”—Susan Yano Mise, daughter of May Kubota Yano “He had an overall vision that evolved as the project went on. That’s a good part of why he didn’t put anything on paper and wasn’t tied to strict guidelines.”—Allan Kubota, son of Tom Kubota There is a memorial stone in the town of Kochi on Shikoku Island in Japan commemorating Fujitarō Kubota (1879-1973). “We don’t know what it is for exactly,” Linda said, but her father Tom (1917-2004) speculated that, in the rice-farming village his father hailed from, Fujitarō had a siren installed to signal workers in the rice fields as to their lunchtime and quitting time. It was repurposed as an air-raid siren during World War II. Fujitarō held a strong allegiance to his village and had a road built to make lives easier, said Linda. He also provided financial support when times got hard. He married there in 1900 and he and his wife Kumae had daughter Tsuyomi (born in 1902; year of death unknown). However, even though he was the eldest son in his family who would inherit the family rice farm, Fujitarō didn’t stay put. “As to why Grandpa left Japan, I was told that he was the village elder and he didn’t want to have to play that role,” Linda recalled. At age 28, Fujitarō Kubota immigrated to Hawaii in 1907, San Francisco that same year, and arrived in Seattle in 1910. He labored on the railroad and then at a sawmill in the logging town of Selleck, WA (now Black Diamond). With daughter Tsuyomi remaining in Japan, Fujitarō saved enough money to bring his wife to Selleck and she gave birth to son Takeshi “Tak” (1912-1996). By 1917, he went on to manage hotels and apartment buildings in what is now Seattle’s Chinatown/International District. Son Tom was born that year and then daughter May (1919-2002 ). During 1923, Fujitarō founded Kubota Gardening Company and started out doing routine garden maintenance, mowing lawns, pruning and used a modified Model T to transport the crew’s tools. One of their job sites included the posh, downtown Seattle Rainier Club. By 1927, as the grandchildren recounted, Fujitarō approached a well-heeled woman in Seattle to “rearrange her lawn.” Thus began the conversion of the gardeners into landscapers. “That put them on the map,” Linda said. “More wealthy people started to hire them.” And Fujitarō was also in search of his own garden. “He and my dad would get in their Model T and drive all over looking for a place to build a garden to display their work,” Linda said. “When they came to the current site, it was mostly swamp land and a long way out of the city. But, Dad said, when Grandpa heard the sound of running water, his eyes lit up and he exclaimed, ‘This is it!’” However, during that time, those of Asian descent were prohibited by law from buying land. With the help of a “friend” — the identity of whom none of the grandchildren could ascertain — Fujitarō was able to purchase the five acres. So excited was he about his new property on 55th Avenue South within Seattle’s Rainier Beach area that he hired a professional photographer to take a photo. Fujitarō, along with young son Tom and all dressed in their Sunday best, posed before what became Kubota Garden. “Who would do that, hire a professional to come and take a photo in front of the raw land?” Linda asked. “In his mind, he saw the Garden as it is today. “He was a visionary—he could imagine things in the future. He knew how plants look in different seasons, so it’ll be interesting all year. He would always have a focal tree, and all the rest are filler. He used to say it’s like a beauty pageant—if there’s one really pretty girl and the rest are kind of plain, then she’s going to really stand out.” During the 1930s, Fujitarō Kubota made three trips back to Japan to hone his essentially self-taught landscaping skills. However, the master gardeners wouldn’t divulge their techniques. He did manage to “smuggle in seeds” of pine trees from Japan, his grandchildren said. The only actual training Fujitarō did receive was from Ryotaro Nishikawa, a gardener in the South Park area of Seattle. Fujitarō said in Kazuo Ito’s 1973 tome, Issei: A History of Japanese Immigrants in North America, that Nishikawa was “particularly good at cultivating pine trees” and was “my only gardening teacher, and no one else.” When Fujitarō became “stuck and was in trouble,” he said he “went to the woods and prayed to the gods for help.” Those gods or god were found in being a lifelong devotee of Konkokyō, a sect of the Shinto religion which adheres to spiritual connectedness and inspiration via an awareness of and sensitivity for nature. “The 2017 Konkokyō conference title, ‘Smile from Within: Through Heart, Mind and Body’ encapsulates my grandfather’s countenance and outlook on life,” Linda said. “He used to call family meetings and announce that they needed to make a big purchase. And, when my dad asked how they would pay for it, his standard reply was ‘Kami/God will take care of it.’” Fujitarō delivered that same reply when his family asked how they would pay to acquire neighboring parcels of land. The Kubota Garden Company flourished and the Garden eventually expanded to 20 acres. With that land, Kubota grew trees to maturity and transplanted those trees at the job site, giving the landscape an already-grown, finished look. “Landscapers at the time were limited to smaller stuff,” Allan said. “That was the advantage of having the nursery.” During the 30s was when Fujitarō Kubota developed his landscaping aesthetic of designing Japanese-influenced gardens, but not duplicating gardens found in Japan. “He just didn’t want to take a picture and try to redraw the same picture,” Allan said. “My grandfather and my dad—the big deal was borrowed scenery. If you have good background, you can utilize it. Trees, green space—make it part of the yard you’re doing.” However, his landscaping business didn’t consume all of Fujitarō’s time and passion. His flair for the dramatic perhaps derived from his time as an amateur Kabuki actor, performing in productions staged within Seattle’s prewar Nihonmachi, or “Japantown.” His fellow actors were also local Issei businessmen. “He often played the female role,” Linda said. “Dad said he was quite an accomplished actor.” By 1940, Fujitarō Kubota moved his wife and three children from a multifamily residential building on Alder Street located in central Seattle to a sizable, multi-bedroom house he had built on the Garden property. In 1942, the Kubota family was forcibly removed and eventually incarcerated at the Minidoka War Relocation Center in southern Idaho. During the war, Tak served as a Japanese-language instructor for the U.S. Army’s Military Intelligence Service (MIS) based at Fort Snelling, MN. Tom became a MIS interpreter, serving with the Army in the Philippines. Details on who looked after the Kubota Garden while the family was away remained uncertain. Renters occupied the house, and Linda heard that “a banker may have paid money out his pocket so they wouldn’t lose the Garden at one point.” When the Kubota family returned in 1945, “the garden was so overgrown that they had to use a scythe to cut the lawn—it was waist high,” Linda recounted. “My dad said that Grandpa had tears in his eyes, but they persevered. The garden never got back to the way it was before the war, but they never gave up.” The gardening and landscape business eventually got back on its feet, despite owing back taxes and assessments that had accumulated while the family was incarcerated. His grandfather, Allan said, “made all family members come back after the war. We all lived near each other.” Within Fujitarō Kubota’s home was a Konkokyō altar, with enough seating space for the extended family to witness Konkokyō services. Thanksgiving was an annual event to gather the families of three of Fujitarō’s children. “Whether we wanted to, or not, it was a tradition we had to keep,” Allan said. And, it was during visits to what the grandchildren dubbed as the “white house” was when they encountered their grandfather’s unique brand of humor. “Something all of us grandchildren remember is he would put his false teeth part way out of his mouth and he would walk like he was drunk to greet us,” Linda said. “We would always giggle and run away and he would get a big grin on his face. Dad said people thought he drank a lot. But, the fact is, he rarely drank alcohol. “When a customer would ask him the name of a certain plant, he would say ‘shiranai‘ and laugh in his mischievous way when he heard them tell their friends that the plant’s name was shiranai—which in English means ‘I don’t know.’” Susan spent part of her early years living in another house on the Garden property, next to the Kubota Garden Heart Bridge: “It was fantastic. It was the days before Netflix and video games; you went outside and played. We went to the carp pond and fed the carp, rolled down the hill, caught pollywogs and there were snakes. It was just limitless where you could run and all the things you could do in the Garden. Grandpa was usually somewhere on his canvas stool if he wasn’t out on a job. Again, when he spotted you, he liked to push his false teeth forward and chase you, making you run with much laughter.” Fujitarō , with his ever-present canvas folding stool, sat at the job sites directing his crew with Tak or Tom interpreting their father’s instructions, said Allan, who went along with them on Saturdays starting from when he was 5 years old. “I heard that if the seats were full on the bus,” Linda recalled, “Grandpa would open his campstool and sit in the middle of the aisle until the driver would have to stop the bus and ask him to stand up instead.” In 1955, Fujitarō Kubota became a naturalized American citizen at age 75. His children, and then grandchildren, drove Fujitarō to the Konkokyō church in central Seattle every Sunday. Two to three times a week at night, after a long day of work, they drove him to the old Nihonmachi area for his lessons in Gidayu, a formalized type of Japanese singing. After the passing of wife Kumae in 1949, he married his Gidayu teacher, Ko Komata in 1955. She accompanied him on the shamisen and sang along with him. An incident occurring in the 60s particularly stood out for Linda: “I remember taking a drive up to Deception Falls on Stevens Pass. As soon as we stopped the car, Grandpa was making his way up to the top of the Falls. He was like a little mountain goat, climbing up the hill without effort. Dad was trying his best to keep up with him, and when my sister and I got to where they’d stopped, Grandpa was leaning way out over the rushing water, trying to see around the bend, and Dad was holding onto him with his hand tucked into the waist of his pants!” In 1973, the same year of Fujitarō Kubota’s passing, he was awarded from the Emperor of Japan the Order of the Sacred Treasure Fifth Class for his work in building a bridge between the Japanese and American cultures. Linda remembered, “He always dressed well, stood very upright and carried himself with confidence. He was a man who knew who he was. I never saw him slow down. “He was a man on a mission who walked fast, like he had someplace to go.” Sources Allan Kubota and Susan Yano Mise. Interview by author. Seattle, Washington, October 18, 2018. History.Link.org, “Kubota Garden (Seattle).” http://www.historylink.org/File/3077 (accessed September 20, 2018). Kazuo Ito, Issei: A History of Japanese Immigrants in North America (Seattle: Executive Committee for Publication of Issei, 1973), 817, 860. Linda Kubota Byrd. Interview by author. Issaquah, Washington, September 21, 2018. PCAD, “Fujitaro Kubota (Landscape Designer).” http://pcad.lib.washington.edu/person/5033/ (accessed September 20, 2018).
Issei Life
by Mayumi Tsutakawa
Japanese newcomers to the United States, arriving via the Pacific Northwest port city of Seattle, found blocks of familiar grocery stores, cafes, and professional services in their home language, as well as labor, cultural, and prefectural clubs in Japantown. Japanese contract laborers began to arrive in earnest in the 1880s, after the Chinese Exclusion Act reduced the number of Chinese workers. At first, young single male Japanese came for jobs as loggers, then railroad workers, then salmon cannery and agricultural workers, mostly second or third sons, unable to inherit family land back home. Their homelands were in Okayama, Fukuyama, Hiroshima, Wakayama, and Kyushu, Japan. In 1906 the U.S. government came to an agreement with the Government of Japan so that the male workers could bring their spouses, even if they married by correspondence, thus opening the door for “picture brides,” a practice that ended by governmental agreement in 1920. But the marriages caused a natural growth in the Japanese population. The picture brides were brought to marry workers and help make new homes, albeit in an unfriendly Seattle and in inhospitable frontier lands outside Seattle. But the Japanese-dominated Main Street of the Japantown area grew, with its hotels, businesses, and clubs on the northern edge of the International District, providing shelter, sustenance, and familiarity. JAPANTOWN Besides the social and language incentives to join together, punitive real estate covenants and employment discrimination had the effect of creating a large and lively ghetto called Nihonmachi or Japantown. As early as 1891, Dearborn Street, further south, was called Mikado Street on a city map due to early businesses like bawdy houses catering to transient and rough workers contracted from rural Japan. Some early Japanese businesses also were found in Pioneer Square, the city’s birthplace. Later, the Japanese concerns moved eastward up Yesler Way and Jackson Street, after the street was regraded to make it less steep. Eventually, Japantown became recognized as the area bounded by Yesler Way on the north, 4th Avenue on the west, Dearborn Street on the south, and 14th Avenue on the east. Japanese settlement and business development in the International District followed on the heels of Chinese establishment in the same area. Logically, the Chinese and Filipinos held some animosity toward Japanese as their homelands had been the victims of growing Japanese imperialist aggression in Asia in the first half of the 20th century. But day-to-day ethnic clashes were few here. Sometimes ethnic based Chinese and Japanese business organizations differed over some turf issues of land use, but they knew that eventually they had to work together to preserve the International District from mainstream commercial development. Community Development The Japanese Issei (first generation) built a lively community. Japanese trading companies imported Japanese foods. They sold confections, ice cream, tofu, and some Japanese restaurants even made a specialty of serving Chinese foods, especially for big banquets. Other businesses included excellent florists, with flowers from Japanese greenhouses. And other multiservice businesses like the Furuya Company offered real estate sales, construction services, mailing, printing, and banking. In 1930, the Japanese population in Seattle was 8,448. During the Depression, some Japanese left Seattle for other parts of the state, or moved to California, or returned to Japan. The 1940 census reported 6,985 Japanese in Seattle. Early Japanese workers from outlying areas flocked to Japanese baths on weekends, ate their favorite familiar foods and stayed in Japanese-owned hotels. By 1900, there were six Japanese-owned hotels. By 1925 there were 127 Japanese-owned or managed hotels, mainly in the downtown area. Even after the Depression decimated businesses all over Seattle, the Japanese entrepreneurs survived. By 1940, when Japanese were 2 percent of the population, they owned 63 percent of produce greenhouses, 63 percent of hotels and apartments, 15 percent of restaurants, 23 percent of dry-cleaning shops, and 17 percent of groceries in Seattle. Many of these were centered in Japantown and represented by the Japanese Chamber of Commerce. Real estate redlining meant that they could not buy or rent in any neighborhood they chose. Thus, they kept to the Japantown, International District, and somewhat in the Central Area, eastward up Yesler Way or Jackson Street. This highly literate community supported several Japanese language newspapers and the Japanese American Courier, the first community newspaper in English, edited by James Sakamoto, a key player in forming Japanese sports leagues for baseball and basketball. Sakamoto, a former boxer, became blind but was able to keep the newspaper going with the steady support of his wife, Misao Sakamoto. Youth sports teams provided excitement and identity affirmation in the absence of other mainstream social outlets. They had competitions with Japanese teams from other cities and even from Japan, largely organized by Sakamoto. But besides the American sports, the practice of Japanese traditional martial arts promoted allegiance to the Japanese Imperial ideal. Judo, kendo (swordsmanship fought with bamboo staffs) and kyudo (archery) were taught by traditional masters from Japan. The Japanese Association, funded in part by the Emperor of Japan, served as official agency for immigration matters. It supported the Japanese language schools, which many American-born Nisei (second generation) were made to attend after school or on weekends. Kenjinkai (prefectural people’s associations) mainly represented Okayama, Hiroshima, Wakayama, and Kumamoto prefectures in Seattle. They served as welcoming committees and social service organizations. Churches, including Buddhist, Catholic, and other Christian denominations, organized to serve the Japanese community, provided spiritual guidance and more chances for social solidarity. Often the Issei preferred Buddhist temples, and the American-born Nisei attended Christian churches. As well, arts organizations and the Japanese school provided cultural anchors for many community activities. In the prewar period, Fujinkai (women’s organizations) promoted church events and also supported Japan’s soldiers in their wars of expansion into Taiwan, Korea, and Manchuria. For hard-working women, the Fujinkai provided a bit of refuge in fellowship and a sense of purpose through charitable work. The Japanese quickly enriched their cultural life through poetry, Shigin (chanting), Kabuki drama, and traditional dance and music performances. Most of these cultural events found a home in the Nippon Kan Theatre on Washington Street, next to Yesler Way. Indeed, touring artists from Japan could perform for a welcoming audience at the Nippon Kan. David Takami writes in Executive Order 9066: Fifty Years Before and Fifty Years After, “The center of Nihonmachi was 6th and Main. During the Bon Odori festival, a bandstand for musicians was constructed in the blocked off intersection . . . the neighborhood could have been any town in Japan.” In 1921 the Japanese Progressive Citizen’s League was formed, which became the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) when a national convention was held in Seattle in 1930. Farming In 1907, at the time Fujitaro Kubota came to Seattle, the Japanese community in the region numbered a few thousand. Like other newcomer Japanese immigrants, he worked as a laborer until entering the landscaping business, which he had no previous training for. Japanese farms dotted the Seattle areas of South Park (west of Georgetown) and Green Lake (north end of Seattle), and nearby Vashon and Bainbridge islands. Across the lake, Bellevue had many Japanese farms. The Japanese farms spread south to the White River Valley, Auburn, Fife, Puyallup, and Sumner. Also, Eastern Washington’s Yakima, Wapato, and Toppenish had as many as 100 Japanese farms before the war. (Up to 90% of these farmers did not return to the area after internment took them out of state during World War II). The lives of farmers were dreary indeed. At first lacking mechanized equipment, and no horses until many years later, they cleared land of first-growth stumps with dynamite, a very dangerous enterprise. They ploughed and weeded and sowed by hand. The entire family worked from sunup to sundown and more. In Fife in 1917, there were only three trucks among the more than 50 Japanese farms. Wives did not escape hard work, but children were encouraged to attend the public schools. Once the produce was grown and gathered, it was transported to wholesale distributers, or to a major outlet such as the Pike Place Market in Seattle. The Pike Market, established in 1907, was an important sales outlet for Japanese farmers. As many as four-fifths of the farm stands in the Market were run by Japanese by the time they were forcibly expelled by the World War II Executive Order 9066 incarceration order. At the time of the state government’s consideration of the Anti-Alien Land Law in Washington, a survey conducted indicated there were 427 farms operated by Japanese in Washington State, with a value of $1,408,962 (in 1920 dollars). Many of these farms had to be given up with the enactment of the Anti-Alien Land Law by the Washington State Legislature. Some Issei were able to transfer title to their American-born children, but some of these actions were lost in court battles. Many farmers had to revert back to manual labor when they lost their farms. Hate Legislation The federal Anti-Immigration U.S. law said “aliens ineligible for citizenship” could not enter the U.S. In 1922, this law caused the cutoff of Japanese immigrants, and, if already here, they could not become citizens. Just before, the Anti-Alien Land Law was passed in 1921 in Washington, so that noncitizens of Japanese ancestry could not own land (or enter into a lease longer than three years). Some purchased land or real state in the name of their American-born children. From 1919 through 1923, state legislatures throughout the western United States bowed to renewed pressure from anti-Asian and anti-immigrant groups, labor unions, granges, and politicians to close loopholes in alien land laws. Anti-Japanese groups made wild claims about the “threat” that Japanese immigrants represented in terms of economic competition and their alleged inability to assimilate fully into American society. California passed its own amendment to its alien land law in 1920, prohibiting even short-term leases of land to aliens ineligible for citizenship. It also prohibited stock companies owned by aliens ineligible for citizenship from acquiring agricultural lands. Washington revised its law with the Alien Land Bill of 1921, and like California, further refined the law again in 1923. One section passed in 1923, for example, was designed to limit the rights of U.S. born children to hold land in trust for an alien parent in an effort to end the well-known practice of purchasing land in the names of Nisei children. [Densho Encyclopedia) Other West Coast laws restricted Japanese in the areas of fishing licenses, and an attempt was made to promote anti-miscegenation laws outlawing interracial marriages. The Anti-Japanese League, founded in Seattle to support restrictive legislation, spread to the entire West Coast. It was headed by Miller Freeman, grandfather of successful Bellevue businessman Kemper Freeman (his properties include the current Bellevue Square, placed exactly where Japanese farmers previously farmed, then lost, their strawberry fields). They supported racist legislation citing economic competition and the complaint that the Japanese were “breeding like rabbits,” an allegation that was statistically untrue. In 1921 the Japanese Progressive Citizen’s League was formed among Niseis. It became the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) when a national convention was held in Seattle in 1930. The JACL was to become one of the key proponents of Japanese community cooperation with the U.S. government in the World War II exclusion and incarceration. But much later, the Seattle JACL became a national leader in the push for federal reparations payments in the 1980s for those who had been forcibly sent to prison camps during World War II. Indeed, the active Japanese and Japanese American communities in many parts of Washington state, limited by redlining and restrictive laws based on racism and economic competition, still flourished and gave birth to many talented individuals and longstanding family businesses. They proved their loyalty to an adopted nation despite being branded “aliens ineligible for citizenship.”
Meet the Contributors
Essays

Betsy Anderson
Betsy Anderson is a park planner and landscape architect for Bellevue Parks & Community Services. She contributes to Landscape Architecture Magazine and previously served as a landscape architect for the National Park Service, working throughout the Western states. Her 2014 master’s thesis for the University of Washington proposed a new vision for storm water management in Dumbarton Oaks Park and received an ASLA Student Honor Award (General Design) and the Graduate School Distinguished Thesis Award. She was the first garden historian for The Mount, Edith Wharton’s home in Massachusetts, and received a landscape history fellowship to write about the National Trust’s Plant Conservation Programme in England and Northern Ireland.

Alex Gallo Brown
Alex Gallo-Brown is a poet, fiction writer, and essayist based in Seattle. He holds an MA in English from Georgia State University in Atlanta and a BFA in Creative Writing from the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. He received an emerging artist award from Wonder Root and the City of Atlanta and has been published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, The Brooklyn Rail, Salon.com, Literary Hub, The Stranger, Seattle Weekly, Poetry Northwest, Crosscut, The Oregonian, 3:AM Magazine, Pacifica Literary Review, Seattle Review of Books, City Arts, Cirque, Cascadia Rising Review, and The Grief Diaries, among others.

Kentaro Kojima
Kentaro Kojima is a stone sculptor. Born and raised in Guatemala, Kentaro graduated from the College of William and Mary. He was showroom and fabrication shop manager at Marenakos Rock Center, which has been connecting people with stone since the 1950s when Fujitarō Kubota’s landscape business first sparked demand. Kentaro’s articles have been published in the Japanese American newspaper Hokubei Hochi (North American Post Foundation) and on Jungle City, the Japanese/English website about all things Seattle. To listen to a Spirited Stone reading by this contributor, please click here.

Jeffrey Hou
Jeffrey Hou is a Professor in the University of Washington Department of Landscape Architecture. He focuses on community design, design activism, cross-cultural learning, and engaging marginalized communities in planning, design, and placemaking. Hou has written extensively on citizens’ and communities’ agency in shaping built environments, including Transcultural Cities: Border-Crossing and Placemaking (2013), Now Urbanism: The Future City is Here (2015), and City Unsilenced: Urban Resistance and Public Space in the Age of Shrinking Democracy (2017). Hou received the Places Book Award (2012, 2010), and Community Builder Award and Golden Circle Award for service in Seattle’s Chinatown International District.

Iaian Robertson
Iain Robertson (March 13, 1948 – July 27, 2021) was an Associate Professor of Landscape Architecture at the University of Washington. He had a B.Arch. (Honours) from Edinburgh University, Scotland and an MLA from the University of Pennsylvania and was a registered landscape architect. Professor Robertson’s professional interests focus on the spatial, functional, aesthetic, and ecological uses of plants in design and the role of creativity in the teaching and practice of design. He completed plant-related projects in Washington Park Arboretum, the UW’s Center for Urban Horticulture, and the Bloedel Reserve, and advised planning and design for Arboreta in California and Arizona. To listen to a Spirited Stone reading by this contributor, please click here.

David Streatfield
David Streatfield is a preeminent historian of West Coast landscape architecture and is professor emeritus in the department of Landscape Architecture at the University of Washington, where he taught from 1971 to 2012 and served as department chair from 1992 to 1996. Streatfield was born and raised in England and received his Diploma in Architecture at Brighton College of the Arts and Crafts in 1956; he earned a Certificate in Landscape Architecture at University College, University of London, in 1962; and earned his Master of Landscape Architecture at the University of Pennsylvania in 1966. His book, California Gardens: Creating a New Eden (1994) was selected in 1998 by the American Horticultural Society as one of the “75 Great American Books in 75 Years” on the observance of the Society’s 75th anniversary.

Anna Tamura
Anna Tamura is a landscape architect and planning portfolio manager for the Pacific WestRegion of the National Park Service. She coordinates development of planning portfolios for the more than sixty national parks in the Western states and Pacific Islands. Focusing on complex cultural landscapes and civil rights sites, she has managed several projects related to the WorldWar II incarceration of Japanese Americans (Minidoka National Historic Site, Manzanar National Historic Site, Tule Lake Unit, Honouliuli National Monument, and the Bainbridge Island Japanese American Exclusion Memorial). A founding member of the annual Minidoka Pilgrimage, Tamura’sfamily members were incarcerated at Minidoka and Tule Lake.

Jason Wirth
Jason M. Wirth is a professor of philosophy at Seattle University, where he works and teaches in the areas of Buddhist philosophy, aesthetics, environmental philosophy, continental philosophy, and Africana philosophy. His recent books include Mountains, Rivers, and the Great Earth: Reading Gary Snyder and Dōgen in an Age of Ecological Crisis (SUNY Press, 2017); a monograph on Milan Kundera, Commiserating with Devastated Things (Fordham, 2015); Schelling’s Practice of the Wild(SUNY Press, 2015); and the co-edited volumes Japanese and Continental Philosophy: Conversations with the Kyoto School (Indiana University Press, 2011) and Engaging Dōgen’s Zen(Wisdom, 2016). He is the associate editor and book review editor of the journal Comparative and Continental Philosophy. He is an ordained priest in the Sōtō Zen lineage and co-director of the Seattle University EcoSangha. He is also a student in the Yabunōchi School of tea ceremony practice.

Thaisa Way
Thaisa Way is an urban landscape historian teaching and researching history, theory, and design in the Department of Landscape Architecture at the University of Washington, Seattle. Her book Unbounded Practice: Women, Landscape Architecture, and Early Twentieth Century Design(University of Virginia Press, 2009) was awarded the J. B. Jackson Book Award in 2012. A second book, From Modern Space to Urban Ecological Design: The Landscape Architecture of Richard Haag(University of Washington Press, 2015) explores the narrative of post-industrial cities and the practice of landscape architecture. She has edited two books in urban environmental history and practice, including Now Urbanism (Routledge, 2013) with Jeff Hou, Ken Yocom, and Ben Spencer, and River Cities/City Rivers (Harvard University Press, 2018). She recently completed two monographs, GGN Landscapes: 1998–2018 (Timber Press, 2018) and Landscape Architect A. E. Bye: Sculpting the Earth, Modern Landscape Design Series (Norton Publishing).
Stories

Jamie Ford
Jamie Ford is the great-grandson of Nevada mining pioneer, Min Chung, who emigrated from Kaiping, China to San Francisco in 1865, where he adopted the western name “Ford,” thus confusing countless generations. His debut novel, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, spent two years on the New York Times bestseller list, went on to win the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature, and has been optioned for film and stage. His second book, Songs of Willow Frost, was also a national bestseller. His work has been translated into 35 languages.

Charles Johnson
Charles Johnson is a novelist, essayist, literary scholar, philosopher, cartoonist, screenwriter, and professor emeritus at the University of Washington in Seattle. A MacArthur fellow, his fiction includes Night Hawks, Dr. King’s Refrigerator, Dreamer, Faith and the Good Thing, and Middle Passage, for which he won the National Book Award. In 2002 he received the Arts and Letters Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He lives in Seattle.

Glenn Nelson
Glenn Nelson is the founder of The Trail Posse, a media project about race and the outdoors. Born in Japan and raised in Seattle, Glenn graduated from Seattle University and Columbia University. He is the co-founder of the Next 100 Coalition, a national alliance of civil rights, environmental, and community groups advocating for more inclusive public land management. Formerly a writer for The Seattle Times, he’s been published in numerous magazines and book collections. He’s won several national awards for his writing, photography, and web publishing, most recently for Outstanding Beat Reporting (Race, Inclusion, and Environmental Justice) from the Society of Environmental Journalists.
Poems

Anastacia-Reneé
Anastacia-Reneé is the Civic Poet of Seattle and former 2015–2017 Poet-in-Residence at Hugo House. She is the author of Forget It (Black Radish Books, 2017), (v.) (Gramma Press, 2017), Answer (Me) (Argus Press, 2017), and 26(Dancing Girl Press, 2016). Her poetry, prose, and fiction have been published widely.

Elizabeth Austen
Elizabeth Austen is a former Washington State Poet Laureate (2014–2016). She earned her MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch University–Los Angeles in 2001 and teaches at Hugo House. Elizabeth has been a visiting artist for the Anacortes, La Conner, Mount Vernon, Seattle, and Sedro Woolley, Washington school districts, and for the Austin, Texas Art Spark Festival. She’s led workshops for Burning Word, Field’s End, Highline Community College, Poets in the Park, Puget Sound Writers Program, and the Washington Center for the Book.

Claudia Castro-Luna
Claudia Castro Luna is Washington’s current Poet Laureate and was Seattle’s Civic Poet from 2015 to 2017. Her books include Pushcart-nominated Killing Marías (Two Sylvias Press) and This City (Floating Bridge Press). Born in El Salvador, Claudia came to the U.S. in 1981. A Hedgebrook and the Voices of our Nation Arts Foundation (VONA) alumna and a 2014 Jack Straw fellow, she has an MA in Urban Planning and an MFA in poetry. Her poems have appeared in Poetry Northwest, La Bloga, Diálogo, and Psychological Perspectives. Her nonfiction work is published in several anthologies, among them This Is the Place: Women Writing About Home (Seal Press).

Samuel Green
Samuel Green was named Washington’s first poet laureate in December 2007. A thirty-year veteran of the Poetry-in-the- Schools program, Sam has taught in hundreds of classrooms. He served six terms as Distinguished Visiting Northwest Writer at Seattle University. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Poet & Critic, Poetry East, Southern Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, and Puerto del Sol. Among his ten collections of poems are Vertebrae: Poems 1972–1994 (Eastern Washington University Press, 1994) and The Grace of Necessity (Carnegie-Mellon University Press, 2008), which won the 2008 Washington State Book Award for Poetry.

Shin Yu Pai
Shin Yu Pai is an interdisciplinary artist and the author of several books including ENSO (Entre Rios Press, 2019), AUX ARCS (La Alameda, 2013), and Adamantine (White Pine, 2010). From 2015 to 2017, she served as the fourth poet laureate for the City of Redmond. Shin Yu has held residencies with Seattle Art Museum, Town Hall Seattle, and Jack Straw Cultural Center, and is a three-time fellow of The MacDowell Colony. She has received awards for her work from 4Culture, The Awesome Foundation, City of Seattle’s Office of Arts & Culture, and Artist Trust.

Shankar Narayan
Shankar Narayan is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, winner of the 2017 Flyway Sweet Corn Poetry Prize, and a former fellow at Kundiman and at Hugo House. He curates Claiming Space, a project to lift the voices of writers of color, and his chapbook, Postcards from the New World, won the Paper Nautilus Debut Series chapbook prize. Shankar draws strength from his global upbringing and from his work as a civil rights attorney for the ACLU. In Seattle, he awakens to the wonders of Cascadia every day, but his heart yearns east to his other hometown, Delhi.
Photographs/Foldout

Gemina Garland-Lewis
Gemina Garland-Lewis is a Seattle-based photographer, EcoHealth researcher, and National Geographic Explorer with experience in over 30 countries across six continents. She first picked up a camera when she was twelve years old and proceeded to spend the better part of high school in the darkroom in her hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Both her photography and research explore the myriad connections between humans, animals, and their shared environments. In 2009 she spent several months in Japan and got her first taste of photographing traditional gardens. Two years later she moved to Seattle and began immersing herself in the landscapes of the Pacific Northwest. Though it took her seven years of living in the city before finding Kubota Garden, it quickly became a cherished space. Her photography and writing have been featured by National Geographic News, National Geographic Adventure, and REI, among others.

Mayumi Tsutakawa
Mayumi Tsutakawa is an independent writer and curator who focuses on Asian/Pacific American history and arts. Tsutakawa received her MA in Communications and her BA in East Asian Studies at the University of Washington. She co-edited The Forbidden Stitch: Asian American Women’s Literary Anthology, which received the Before Columbus Foundation’s American Book Award. She lives in Seattle.

Nathan Wirth
Nathan Wirth earned his BA and MA in English literature from San Francisco State University. Influenced by his continuing studies of poetry, painting, film, music, and the Japanese traditions of Zen, karesansui, bonsai, ma, wabi-sabi, ikebana, calligraphy, and mushin—he attempts to photograph silence. He teaches at City College of San Francisco and lives in Marin County, California, with his wife and daughter.
