Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Robert A. Nakamura obit

Robert Akira Nakamura

 

He was not on the list.


After the out­break of World War II, Robert Nakamura and his fam­ily, like 120,000 other people of Japan­ese des­cent, were for­cibly removed from their home and placed in a remote intern­ment camp.

It was 1942, the year Nakamura turned 6. He would later recall that on the roughly 250-mile trip north to the camp from Los Angeles in a con­voy of buses, one gas sta­tion owner refused to let any of the dis­placed people aboard them use the bath­rooms.

On Nakamura’s second day of intern­ment, he cried after get­ting lost amid the camp’s identical tar paper bar­racks. When he brought home a poor report card from his camp school, his mother, who gave birth to another son while the fam­ily was interned, sobbed with des­pair for more reas­ons than bad grades.

Mak­ing sense of this early, indelible trauma became the leit­motif of a trail­blaz­ing career dur­ing which Nakamura became widely known as the god­father of Asian Amer­ican media.

As an inde­pend­ent film­maker, pho­to­grapher, teacher and act­iv­ist, he explored issues of justice, iden­tity, memory and racism. He was a founder of Visual Com­mu­nic­a­tions, the old­est com­munity-based organ­iz­a­tion of Asian Amer­ican and Pacific Islander film­makers and media artists in the United States.

In 1980, Nakamura and Duane Kubo dir­ec­ted “Hito Hata: Raise the Ban­ner,” set at the turn of the 20th cen­tury in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo; The New York Times called it the first full-length fea­ture film about the Japan­ese Amer­ican exper­i­ence to be made by Asian Amer­ic­ans.

Nakamura died June 11 at his home in Cul­ver City, Cali­for­nia, from com­plic­a­tions of Par­kin­son’s dis­ease, his wife and long­time col­lab­or­ator, Karen L. Ish­izuka, said. At his death, which was not widely repor­ted at the time, he was 88.

“He was a cham­pion for doc­u­ment­ing and inter­pret­ing the lives of Asian Amer­ic­ans to counter racist ste­reo­types and our eras­ure in mass media,” Eddie Wong, a former exec­ut­ive dir­ector of the Cen­ter for Asian Amer­ican Media in San Fran­cisco, told the Japan­ese Amer­ican web­site Nichi Bei News after Nakamura’s death.

In 1971, while a stu­dent at UCLA, Nakamura made the land­mark short film “Man­zanar,” named for the camp where his fam­ily was interned in the high desert of Cent­ral Cali­for­nia. It was one of the first doc­u­ment­ar­ies to depict camp life from per­sonal exper­i­ence.

After return­ing to the camp in 1969, he went back again and again, in per­son and through doc­u­ment­ar­ies like the lyr­ical “Watar­idori: Birds of Pas­sage” (1974), which depic­ted the lives of three first-gen­er­a­tion Japan­ese Amer­ic­ans, includ­ing his father, and “Something Strong Within” (1995), a col­lec­tion of home movies made by the interned that detailed what they endured in the camps, sent there under an exec­ut­ive order by Pres­id­ent Frank­lin D. Roosevelt.

In “Third Act” (2025), a doc­u­ment­ary made by his son, film­maker Tadashi Nakamura, Robert Nakamura spoke about the ambi­val­ence he felt toward Man­zanar.

He and his friends in some ways had typ­ical high-spir­ited boy­hoods in the camp, he said. But he was also left with scars from a shame­ful epis­ode of Amer­ican his­tory.

“The camp exper­i­ence, or just gen­er­ally liv­ing in a racist soci­ety, really messes up your mind,” Nakamura said in “Third Act.” “It con­tin­ues, and I don’t see any cure for it other than deal­ing with it through the arts.”

Robert Akira Nakamura was born July 5, 1936, in Venice, Cali­for­nia. His father, Haruki­chi Nakamura, was born in Japan and emig­rated to the United States, where he was a gardener and ran a pro­duce busi­ness. Nakamura’s mother, Kimiko (Nitao)

Nakamura, who was born in Cali­for­nia, helped run the busi­ness and worked in gro­cery stores.

Until Japan bombed Pearl Har­bor on Dec. 7, 1941, Nakamura con­sidered him­self an “all-amer­ican kid,” Ish­izuka, his wife, said in an inter­view. But after the attack, his white friends quickly turned on him.

“All of a sud­den, he wasn’t who he thought he was,” Ish­izuka said. “He real­ized he had the face of the enemy.”

After the war, the fam­ily returned to L.A. only to encounter more racism. Robert joined an all-white Boy Scout troop but was not allowed to swim with the oth­ers at a pub­lic pool.

He said in “Third Act” that he had been embar­rassed that his father was a gardener and had wished that he had another, one without a Japan­ese face or accent. It was, he said, the “ulti­mate self hatred, want­ing to be someone else.”for a time, he was a copy boy in the news­room of The Los Angeles Exam­iner and later worked there as a pho­to­grapher. Repress­ing his memor­ies of Man­zanar, he received a bach­elor’s degree in 1956 in pho­to­journ­al­ism from the Art­cen­ter Col­lege of Design in Pas­adena, Cali­for­nia, and, based in Ger­many, taught pho­to­graphy for the Army Sig­nal Corps from 1959 to 1961.

He later opened his own stu­dio, did com­mer­cial work and had his pho­tos pub­lished in Life and Mccall’s magazines. He was, by most stand­ard meas­ures, suc­cess­ful.

But his work began to feel mean­ing­less to him, he said. He remained an out­sider, con­vinced that oth­ers con­sidered him “an exotic Ori­ental.” He moved briefly to Japan, but was viewed there as an Amer­ican, his son said. Dis­heartened, Nakamura returned home. He finally began to find him­self in the late 1960s by join­ing the social and polit­ical awaken­ing of the Asian Amer­ican Move­ment.

“It gave mean­ing to my life,” he said in “Third Act.”

Film­mak­ing grew, for him, into a form of res­ist­ance, and his exper­i­ence at Man­zanar became a source of empower­ment instead of shame.

In 1970, Nakamura helped found Visual Com­mu­nic­a­tions, which con­tin­ues to sup­port and present the work of Asian and Pacific Islander artists. That same year, he enrolled at UCLA, where he received his mas­ter of fine arts degree in 1975. He taught film and Asian Amer­ican stud­ies at the uni­versity for 33 years. In 1996, he foun­ded UCLA’S Cen­ter for Eth­no­com­mu­nic­a­tions, to pro­mote the expres­sion of diverse eth­nic exper­i­ences.

In addi­tion to his wife, whom he mar­ried in 1978, and his son, Nakamura is sur­vived by a daugh­ter, Thai Binh Checel; a brother, Nor­man; and four grand­chil­dren. A pre­vi­ous mar­riage ended in divorce.

In 1997, the Smith­so­nian presen­ted a ret­ro­spect­ive of his career, which included the doc­u­ment­ar­ies “Look­ing Like the Enemy” (1995) and “Toyo Miyatake: Infin­ite Shades of Gray” (2002), about a pho­to­grapher who secretly took pho­tos inside Man­zanar. In 2022, “Man­zanar,” Nakamura’s 1971 short, was added to the National Film Registry for its his­tor­ical sig­ni­fic­ance.

“We needed to see ourselves reflec­ted in this soci­ety,” Nakamura said of his career. “Up to that point, we were invis­ible.”

Filmography

Manzanar (1972)

Wataridori: Birds of Passage (1975)

Hito Hata: Raise the Banner (1980)

Fool's Dance (1980)

Moving Memories (1993)

Looking Like the Enemy (1995)

Toyo Miyatake: Infinite Shades of Gray (2002)


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