Tule Lake Memory-Scape

This work can be considered the quintessential image of Tule Lake that Mirikitani created before 2002. Castle Rock and a red sun occupy the upper section, in front of which extends a long row of barracks separated by a wired gate and fence. Far in the distance behind Castle Rock rises Mount Shasta, whose conical form is often compared to that of Mount Fuji. Although the tone and atmosphere differ entirely, the composition clearly recalls his earlier Nihonga-style painting of Tule Lake from the 1940s. 

In the foreground appear a rabbit, sagebrush, and two small anonymous figures, along with a self-portrait of Mirikitani in a red beret sketching. Sharp hatching lines made with a ballpoint pen, vivid red accents, and the steep perspective used to depict the series of barracks leading toward Castle Rock together create a bleak yet strikingly intense image of the incarceration site. By incorporating his own figure—alongside inscriptions that note his study with Nihonga masters in Tokyo and identify him as “a Hiroshima native”—Mirikitani underscores both the authenticity of his memory and the artistic skill with which he captured the scene. 

In 2002, Mirikitani participated in the Tule Lake Pilgrimage—presumably his first visit to the site in 50 years. After the trip, he produced a significant number of works, as if to capture this pivotal moment in his life. While many retain compositions and motifs from before 2002, subtle differences emerge. The camp gate is now often shown open or broken, and collage elements become increasingly complex, as seen in this work. 

Centered on Castle Rock, this work combines drawing and collage with dense layers of inscription. The upper right includes images of Fudō Myōō (Acalanātha), shrine objects, and a Japanese sword. The upper left features Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku (1884–1943) with a caption about Pearl Harbor, partly overlapped by an obscured battleship, possibly the USS Arizona. A Japanese inscription beside the sun motif praises “the spirit of the Kamikaze boys.” Below appears a photograph of incarcerees, a note reading “End of War and Return,” a watchtower, and a prayer for remembrance. 

With imperial icons, jingoistic slogans, and prayers for justice and peace coexisting in a single frame, Mirikitani’s image of Tule Lake reveals a complex layering of memory—one that invites reflection on how intertwined histories of violence and remembrance shape the act of commemoration. 

This drawing of Castle Rock—accented with colored pencil and inscribed with Mirikitani’s characteristic handwritten text—depicts the iconic lava formation overlooking the Tule Lake incarceration camp in northern California. More than 18,000 Japanese Americans were confined at Tule Lake during World War II. The cross atop the ridge marks a memorial erected by Japanese American Christian incarcerees to honor those who died in confinement. Rows of barracks stretching below evoke the camp’s stark geometry.  

The reverse side of the collage includes the Tule Lake dance band, which featured the Koyasako brothers in matching Hawaiian shirts. Among them, Suenari Koyasako (b. 1920) served in the camp’s post office and, along with his brothers, performed in a group known as the Paradise Melodiers, a band that “entertained the camp administrators as well as internees.” These musicians, like Mirikitani, asserted creativity and dignity within confinement—bridging divided worlds “on the other side of the fence.”