You spend your last few minutes in the Library just… looking around. After chatting to Tenebrus, both of you wandered off to talk to this person and that, to hug your friends goodbye one last time. It hurts to leave, of course it does! But eyeing the Chosen staying behind – Wick-san, Sed-san, Alexander-san – you know the Library is going to be in good hands. For the first time in a while, perhaps for the first time in your life, you feel untethered. A's journal is just a souvenir. Physically and spiritually, you are ready to go.

“Tene–!” You begin to call your travel buddy over, but a strange sight stops you. You only caught it out of the corner of your eye but… was that a shadow? A little ball of shadow? Quickly, you turn and, to your surprise, a small black cat sits before you, looking at you with huge, dark green eyes.

…Khu’s cat?

“Um, Bili?” You call out tentatively, kneeling down to help your potential new friend feel safe. They meow happily in return and approach you, letting you stroke him.

“You must have been lonely for a while now, huh…” You murmur, and Bili purrs. Carefully, you pick him up and watch as he curls up in your arms, against your body.

Okay, you think, your newfound drive taking over. We are absolutely adopting this cat.

When Tenebrus returns, you break the Bili news to him, and are pleased to hear that he finds your new pet adorable.

“Glad we agree!” You say with a smile. “So… are you ready, Tenebrus?”

He is. You both are. In your head, you do a little countdown:

Three, two, one…

You step into the same rainy street you fell through months ago. Quickly, you open your umbrella, hold Bili tight, and give Tenebrus some quick instructions. They come out in Japanese but, surprisingly, he seems to catch the gist of your message just fine:

“To the teahouse!”

Honestly, it is all the same as you left it. The streets you walk now are the same streets you left, the smell of baked goods still wafts sweetly through the air, the hydrangeas are still lapping up every drop of rainwater. But… something feels different. You feel different, look different, are different. Long gone is the ditzy student of old; this Shihara has plans. This Shihara has drive. This Shihara has a cat. And this Shihara is going to do it all.

An interview retrospective by Alana Suzuki.

We meet in a little cottage just east of Nara, in the small village of Suyamacho. This is not Urishihara Kame’s main residence in Tokyo, but what she calls her ‘creative retreat’.

“I’ve always liked to be surrounded by animals,” she explains as we sit in her small but cosy living room. Outside, it gives way to a flowering garden, rich with hydrangeas. Inside, every nook and cranny is stuffed with trinkets from her travels, an appropriately chaotic décor for a woman who has done everything: gone to med school, travelled the world, managed a café and, of course, revolutionized the art of documentary filmmaking.

“Being close to nature like this… it helps me with my creative process,” she continues, gesturing to the animal life that surrounds her. “Birds, cats, fish, hedgehogs – even silkworms! They’re all so much more intelligent than we give them credit for.”

Her ornate, silk garments flow as she speaks, a large Pamela hat swaying this way and that. She is going to be 78 years old this year, she tells me, but you really would not be able to tell. With her upcoming documentary film, Tales of Tenebrus, scheduled for release in September of this year, she was kind enough to let Camera Lucida Magazine into her home for an exclusive retrospective interview.

Alana Suzuki: Urushihara-san–

Shihara Kame: Oh, please, just “Shihara” is fine.

AS: Alright, Shihara! Can you tell us what brought you to filmmaking in the first place?

SK: It was a long road. I became acquainted with cameras at… a café, really. Owned by a fellow named Hiro. He was very… ahead of his time. But back then I wasn’t at a stable enough time or place to pursue film. Let’s just say that I didn’t think there could be a career in that. And besides, I had it in my head then that I wanted to be a doctor. I had the immense privilege to meet a number of fantastic doctors in my youth, and they inspired me to pursue a job that would allow me to help people like they did. So that led me to medical school. But I always kept up with the evolutions of the art world around me: literature, cinema, rakugo, spoken word. Anything that could tell a story, really. I did eventually buy a camera, of course. And then the Kita Tango earthquake happened…

AS: You do reference it often in your films.

SK: It had a big impact on me. I had… some intel from a seismologist friend of mine. He suspected a disaster like that could happen, so I was there for it, and it was terrifying. It was a very, very strong earthquake. Even my course friends in Tokyo felt it, and you should have seen Mineyama. It was almost completely razed.

AS: Excuse me if this question sounds insensitive, but why did you choose to walk into a situation as dangerous as that?

SK: I knew I had to help. My friend and housemate, Tenebrus, came with me, and we did our best to evacuate people before Kita hit. Then, once the damage was done, I took care of the wounded, and Tenebrus helped to rebuild. I went back home soon for classes, but he stayed there a month or too, maybe more.

AS: And this is what inspired your exhibition, Beneath a Giant's Foot, right?

SK: Wow, you've done your homework! Yes, that's right. While Tenebrus was there I kept coming back to Mineyama for short periods, and I would always bring my camera with me. I just couldn't get the disaster out of my head: the destruction, the pain, the grief… and the stories people had. That’s when the switch happened, I think. Career-wise. One day I realised “I can heal these people, restore their bodies, but what about their minds? Their histories?” They were in ruins like their houses! But I found that documenting things helped. Talking to the victims, writing their stories down, snapping pictures of their lives old and new. Then my pictures started generating some attention in the art world, and I had the immense privilege of exposing those images in a gallery in Kyoto under the title Beneath a Giant's Foot. It helped bring some attention to the victims’ plight and implement some more preventative measures. But the feeling of a camera in my hands back then, a lens against the sharpness of reality… I knew this is what I had to do.

AS: But you didn’t completely abandon your medical calling, right?

SK: No. I finished medical school, but I never served as a conventional doctor. Instead, I joined emergency services. And took my camera everywhere. And talked to people. Eventually, that landed me a few journalism jobs, which allowed me to travel, meet new friends, artists… Documentary filmmaking was just the natural endpoint for me, I think. It’s a fantastic storytelling medium, really gets people listening. We can use it to fight for change, and evade disasters before they happen in that way. And I’m always very active in the field, too. It’s perfect.

AS: Sounds like it. Although you don’t just make documentaries.

SK: No, that’s true.

AS: I am personally a big fan of your fashion photography. And your fashion sense in general.

SK: Thank you! Me too. Fashion photography I mean, and film.

AS: And film – your most recent work with Mugler is amazing.

SK: Yes! I thoroughly enjoy that. You can tell stories with fashion, you know. Fashion means change, transformation… I wish more people realised its potential.

AS: I agree.

SK: But documentaries will still always be my first love. My first and only love, really.

AS: And speaking of documentaries, I’ve heard very interesting things about Tales of Tenebrus. It sounds different from your previous work.

SK: Yes. It’s more personal than my other work, for one thing. It follows my life-long friend, Tenebrus, and me on a trip to Italy, starting in Rome and culminating in Pompeii. It also treats storytelling as a theme rather than a goal, which is new for me. And in particular, it’s my way of saying goodbye to a good friend. He passed in November.

AS: I’m sorry.

SK: Don’t be. I don’t believe in death. I believe in reincarnation, in new growth sprouting from the ashes. Tenebrus' rest in Pompeii, where he was from.

AS: That’s beautiful. Pardon my asking, but was “Tenebrus” his stage name?

SK: No.

AS: Oh. Alright. Well, I would hate to take up any more of your time, but would you mind if I asked you one more question?

SK: That’s your job, isn’t it?

AS: Laughs. I suppose it is! My last question is, well, a bit like a comment. You’re an inspiration for so many people, Shihara-san. Achieving what you have, in your time, it must have been hard. Especially for a woman.

SK: It was.

AS: Right. So, I suppose my question is: how did you do it? Where did you find the drive? And do you have any advice for young filmmakers, and especially women, who may be struggling with similar issues?

SK: Look outward. I think that’s the best advice I can give any artist, and I think women can benefit from it especially. When I was younger, I was so focused on editing, on chasing after a single story in the past that… I became trapped. Quite literally. And it was only by severing that part of myself that I could escape. Then I was ready to shape not just my art, but my life. So, I’d say: “Look outward; there’s so much for you to discover there.” Or alternatively: “Don’t be anyone’s editor. Be your own Author.” Whichever sounds snappier, really.

AS: I think both sound very wise. Thank you so much for this talk, Shihara-san. It was truly enlightening.

SK: No, thank you. And make sure you don’t trip on Bili the Third’s tail on your way out!