Renee Billingslea Art

Is this my story to tell?

While listening to National Public Radio, I heard a story by a third-generation Japanese American woman whose grandmother served her "Weenies Royale," a dish made of hot dogs, scrambled eggs, soy sauce, a little onion, and a dollop of ketchup. "Weenies Royale" was the dish her grandmother ate most frequently while imprisoned at Tule Lake Internment Camp.

The story reminded me of a photograph captured by photographer Russell Lee during the U.S. government's "assembling" of Japanese Americans. The image includes three well-dressed Japanese-American women serving American-style hot dogs and chips using chopsticks. At the time of hearing this NPR story and making the connection with Russell Lee's photograph, the detention and deportation of Mexican-Americans was increasing, echoes of similarities and sentiments of the U.S. government's internment of Japanese-Americans.

There are many people, including myself, who have not or did not know the complete story of Japanese-American "internment"( a government term). One reason is the vast geographic range of all ten imprisonment camps, most in remote places and not easily seen. I was curious, applied for a grant, and traveled to each location. I was interested in learning more and documenting the land as it exists today. Each area is hundreds of acres; all have scars and remnants of the injustices Japanese American Citizens endured while imprisoned there.

There is a lineage of photographers who documented the camps for the U.S. government during the time of "internment," leaving behind an archive of images. In contrast, cameras were considered a "tool of war" for Japanese-Americans and banned from having War Relocation Administration photographers visit with a list of rules of what not to photograph and instructions of what to photograph.

When reviewing the photographs I captured with those in the archive, a visual connection between the past and present was apparent. Time has passed; however, the land and landscape stay the same. Combining a historical WRA photograph with photographs I captured brings context to the work, telling a more truthful and complete story of the time, all with the hope of disrupting today's occurrence and stopping history from repeating itself.

In honor of those imprisoned in the camps, gold-colored thread referencing the Japanese practice of Kintsugi, repairing something broken with gold and preserving it through beauty and disguise, connects the photographs. Additionally, a small shelf with a bowl holding soil from some camp locations or nearby the camp locations accompanies each picture, giving viewers a tangible experience of the camp.

This exhibit is available for display. Please contact Artist Directly for details.

Between 1882 and 1968 over four thousand six hundred people were lynched. The victims were of all ages, race, and genders. The majority of the people lynched were African American men, many under the age of eighteen, and many accused of assaulting white women. Large mobs of white men broke into jails and literally dragged victims to their death before justice could be served. 

While researching lynching in America it became clear that this part of American history is not discussed.  Lynching was used to perpetuate racial superiority and gender heirachy amongst whites. White children were excused from school to view town lynchings with their parents. Young white girls and women attend for support, often collecting relics such as pieces of coal, nails and bits of clothing, after the event. Teenage boys took an active role in the violence and following close behind int the footsteps of their fathers, as a violent rites of passage into manhood. Older white men intentionally taught young white boys how to use fear to control the black race and supposedly preserves the dignity of white women. 

Many victims were stripped naked and dismembered, literally burned alive. Body parts such as fingers, toes, teeth ears and genitals were collected as souvenirs. After bodies of victims were charred, sites were cleared because it was believed that souls could be kept from rising on judgement ay if their remains were burned and removed. Many victims today are still unidentified; it is said for every name known, four names are unknown.

The home of our beloved Great Uncle Herod Carpenter, who passed away at 97, was like stepping back in time. Uncle Herod was an African American who migrated west to San Francisco for a safer life and community. While closing up his home, my husband and I found many objects representing his life, such as his Sunday best shirts, which speak to his devotion to spiritual life, a pair of his worn shoes combined, dictionaries, and hundreds of pencils he used when teaching.

Using several of his belongings, I have created objects that help tell his story.

Similar to books sitting together on a shelf each converted book in this series tells its own story but relates to other books.

Between the years 1990-1992, I served as a Peace Corp volunteer for two years in the country of Kiribati. At the time, we did not know that the atolls would slowly be swallowed by the swelling seas. The interactions I had with the people who live in Kiribati is what made my time living and teaching middle school on a seventeen mile long, one mile wide, coral atoll worth every minute I was there.

Between the period of 2003-2018 the years my daughter was growing up, riding her bike outside with friends and having fun, I was also out with my camera documenting the time period. The result being a collections analog prints of the people and advents that surrounds us at the time.