I have an upcoming figure review covering Furyu's newly released Sora no Woto Kanata PVC planned for the next week. Being my first post-resurrectional review, you can rest assured knowing it will be meaty and delicious. But for the time being, more articles. This one takes a brief look at how depth of narrative is more than psychological technobabble and Freudian undertones. Enjoy...
A direct premise for a direct argument: K-ON is deep. If you felt any hint of revulsion at that statement, you'd do best to continue reading and change the locks on your brain. To continue, the series just doesn't rely on traditional narrative elements such as plot to achieve the kind of depth familiar to people who consider themselves perceptive of such. Depth of character is one of K-ON's strengths relative to its counterpart in more diegetic settings. The girls are placed in an utterly realistic school setting, they are portrayed in utterly normal ways, without super human abilities or abnormalities, without the NEED for constructing "character" as its understood in the context of classical narrative construction. In K-ON!, and other 4-koma SoL series, character is more accurately the marginalization of an ordinary human identity (the complete antithesis of fictional character) into a fictional scenario. In one understanding, this effective distillation of identity creates an atmosphere more conducive to the viewer's participation in and acquisition of moe. In another, creating unrealistically realistic characters gives them unparalleled depth, the depth of a three-dimensional counterpart capable of three-dimensional emotion, thought, and action. This 3D depth is then marginalized into 2D, where the expression of character is limited but not of a lesser quality. The aid of moe helps navigate the terrain and enables viewers to extract depth from the pretense of what others consider only to be a series of kinetic images.
The execution of K-ON's depth isn't one that relies on an archetypal hero experiencing hardship to learn and grow, giving the audience bits and pieces of social commentary, theme, and character development along the way. While the presence of these things can certainly be argued as observable in K-ON (as with Yui's implied central role and growth over the course of her first year), K-ON's character takes place outside of traditional narrative and is instead supplemented by the viewer's sense of moe to achieve the actualization of "real" characters, of "real" girls, in a "real" school, in a "real" band; all taking place in a fictitious world harbored by the viewer's umbrella understanding of the "K-ON! anime". It's a delicate balance of working deep inside of the narrative and at the same time remaining at the surface to see the series from every angle.
Said another way, K-ON! achieves depth through the exact opposite method classical 3-point series use. Instead of developing character through a traditional method of a temporal flow of plot and character, one that purposely portrays itself as "real fiction", K-ON! holds itself as "fictitious realism", and in doing so endorses a narrative style that fictionalizes human identity; which is pretty fucking deep IMO.
20 July, 2010
01 July, 2010
A timeless dilemma and a homely ornament meet in a simple equation and make cute little math babies who mature for the sole purpose of decongesting my living space. And thus the world continued to spin...
In summary, I have a new bookcase. That abridged compendium would normally suffice but this is a blog so I'm disposed to take up more storage space on Google's servers. 1/1 scale, wood and nails, build time: 1 and 1/2 hours. Purchased from the Chinese, erected by hand. All joking aside, I just realized that it's almost halfway full and hasn't been anything but a few slabs of painted timber for more than an hour. My computer desk is now incandescent with an ebony sheen fit to be viewed by royals, but I'm well aware of the inevitable. Most of what was transferred onto my ligneous buddy was originally (somehow) on the desk pictured to the right. For the time being though, I have a little more room and that's ample justification for a post IMO.
28 June, 2010
Everyone seems to have their own circle of definitions for what constitutes a "good" figure. But when the discussion shifts to substantiate those preferences, toes are only bound to get stepped on...
That's not to say wholesome dialogue is impossible in the figure community, it's just hard to come by. But let's start from a common point: There are certainly traits of "good" figures which the majority holds no reservation towards. A figure's countenance being its "soul" (and selling-point) is an industry axiom that both professional sculptors and greenhorn circles abide by with rapturous ferocity. If the face is dry or unattractive, very little else can claim otherwise. Corporal anatomy is also significant, but only insofar as it complements what is already established in the face's fragile nature. An appreciation for dynamics is also commonly held; there should be implied movement and energy that beckons the eye to wander and digest. From there, "good" breaks down into a continuum of preferential extremes ranging from "too this" to "too that". Many people appeal to figures lying squarely in the center of that spectrum. They like "quality" figures, those that "pop" with solid production and an array of "iro points" (industry lingo that rubs shoulders with "moe points", basically key or special aspects of a character or illustration), the type that comfortably sit within the top 10 of store and website rankings until their inevitable release date.
To reveal what makes or breaks a figure is something far too involved for this post (but still on the table). Besides what has already been offered in the way of countenance, anatomy, dynamics, and production quality, the categories begin to dip into what is often considered definite but deeply rooted opinion. The area where the parameters of moe begin to escape the herd and head into personal, and usually inconsiderate, application.
One of the most poignant examples I can provide is a recent imageboard encounter with a very opinionated, very self-assured individual who, though I couldn't gauge for certain, expressed healthy interest and knowledge of bishoujo figures. In some ways this post is a response to his opinion and an attempt to expatiate from it. The quid pro quo communication was mild enough until the subject of Wave's recent Beach Queens series of 1/10 scale PVCs featuring prominent and popular bishoujo in their maritime best came up. This fellow was adamant about his view of how "low-quality" and "cheap" swimsuit figures are, and that they can only be associated with untalented sculptors trying to make a quick yen. Such an example of a bear-trap of unfounded, livid opinion is where my attempt to remain at a neutral magnanimity wears thin. I naturally disagreed and offered numerous points to show how a lack of accoutrements and doodads reveals the sculptors skill at its purest. Creating a beautiful, unique, fanatic and wholesome representation of the female form through character is probably the most difficult aspect of sculpting bishoujo figures. If a sculptor's skill and personal touch cannot shine through in a character's anatomy, it certainly cannot show up in anything as superficial as clothing. And, naturally, he disagreed without much of a defense. What's important here isn't the argument or its victor, but why it happened.
In instances such as these, room to express more intricate opinions while still distancing them from others' is limited at best and unavailable at worst. Every figure maniac has internalized his or her own idea of what this hobby is about to the point where its difficult to unravel. Or the opposite occurs and ostentatious ignorance rears its ugly head. I find that most of the English-speaking figure community is located on these two poles; you either get it or you don't. If you do, finding common ground is rare. If you don't, finding ground is the least of your worries and the worries you cause by sticking your nose in the wrong places. But at the same time, it remains that we are a "community", a group of peers that spans age, race, and gender. We're united by our hobby, even though the largest portion of us have a myriad understanding of it. Each of us has either some kind or no kind of figure ideology we use to take account of our surroundings. Perhaps the gist of my rambling is best expressed as this: It's best to keep an insightful eye peering inwards and another browsing the latest releases and preorders (without going blind, of course).
27 June, 2010
Many anime fans are more than familiar with the name Gonzo. And over the past decade, through hills and valleys, Gonzo has done well to earn that recognition...
It became a matter of great contention, then, when news of Gonzo's systematically slow venture into animation production limbo began to surface. Warning signs appeared on the horizon more than 2 years ago in March of 2008 when the Tokyo Stock Exchange sent notifications to shareholders of Gonzo's parent company, the GDH (Gonzo Digimation Holdings) group, announcing the enactment of a year-long buffer period in which Gonzo would be necessarily required to recoup its more than 30 million dollars of debt or face delisting from the exchange (and with it, potential bankruptcy).
At this point, Gonzo's public image was so eclectic and advantageous, news that the studio had been operating under Sisyphean debt caused a monumental hit to GDH's stock and birthed an unhealthy foreboding around the company and its subsidiaries. Despite the bad atmosphere, Gonzo had plenty on its plate: it had just announced the simulcast of Blassreiter and The Tower of Druaga on Youtube, Crunchyroll, and BOST video sites. Needless to say, there must have been a collective understanding that profit was to be made prince as GDH neared the March 2009 deadline to get its finances in the black. Also needless to say, they didn't make it. Before the deadline was even on the horizon, GDH announced massive restructuring plans in November of 2008. Top among the new decree was a mandatory cut in the number of series scheduled for yearly production: from the average 8 to a meager 4. Once again, Gonzo was seemingly blindsided by the announcement; it already had more than 6 titles lined up for 2009. Perhaps the final blow came only months later in February 2009, a month before GDH needed to report positive earnings, when the group revealed plans to cut Gonzo's staff by almost 80% over the next 5 years; from 130 to 30. Even more shocking was the news that GDH would be absorbing Gonzo, taking the studio's name for itself, and selling off Gonzo Rosso (one of its many subsidiaries). The severity of what was occurring behind the facade of GDH became palpable for the first time after the general public realized that Gonzo would never be the same again. The ball kept rolling as then standing President and founder of Gonzo, Shouji Murahama, officially left the studio in April to launch a new company, Lambda Film. Waiting in the wake of this news was Gonzo's Saki and Shangri-La TV series; each only 4 days away from airing.
Now staring at an abysmal future, the infamous studio-turned-charity case put on its best by officially announcing it would animate a second season of its 2008 tour-de-force, Strike Witches. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late. Gonzo handed Strike Witches S2 over to AIC in November after (barely) finishing Saki and pulled an Ashita no Joe, giving a silent nod and a quirky smile before its final moment. The once flamboyant animation studio was now a virtual dead zone. Little information came in, out of, or around the studio's name. For a period, it was uncertain whether Gonzo would ever return. Almost appearing as an attempt to shatter those predictions, the recent announcement of a new project from Gonzo at the 2010 Tokyo Anime Fair spear-headed the company's attempt at revival. Planned to incorporate the new 3D television technology currently dominating everyone's attention, Gonzo dropped the ball when they announced the TV series' tentative release date: Spring 2011; almost an entire year in the future. It's safe to say no one knows what Gonzo is thinking, only that Gonzo might not be thinking at all. Will this be an end-all-be-all title for the studio?
Only two days ago on the 25th, Gonzo held its 11th general meeting for shareholders at the Nishi-Shinjuku Building. During the assembly, Executive Vice President Chairman Shinichiro Ishikawa (who also produced Gonzo's Vandread, Hellsing, and KiddyGrade series) took the brunt of 22 questions from a crowd nearly 100 strong. As is customary of official Japanese Q&A sessions, a smiling face and a furtive recognition that mum's the word overtakes any valuable revelations. Nonetheless, I've poorly translated 2 of the questions and answers most relevant to Gonzo's future in anime production.
Q:今年に入っての制作状況が聞こえてこないが、原点回帰をするにしては
制作基盤が揺らいでいないか
As I've not heard anything about the status of Gonzo's animation production coming into this year, is production restarting from the ground up or has the foundation not been shaken at all?
A:これまで新作品が無いのは事実だが、大型オリジナル中国向け劇場版を
制作している。パートナーの上海メディアグループは東映アニメーション
が発表した中国向け「一休さん」と同じメディアグループだ。もうひとつ
は国内向けテレビシリーズ1本を制作スタートした。発表時期は先だが、GON
ZOファンに喜んでもらえると内容だと思うので期待して欲しい。
Up until this point, its true that there have been no new productions. However, a substantial original movie is being created with and for China. Our partner is Shanghai Media Group (SMG), the same party that will be assisting Toei in the production of their newly announced Ikkyuu-san movie. Another announcement is that we've begun work on a domestic television series. Though it was previously announced, I think any additional information will please Gonzo fans very much, so I'd like for everyone to anticipate it.
Q:村田蓮爾デザインの新作の噂、ラストエグザイル2の噂は真実か
Range Murata is rumored to be working on designs for a new Gonzo production. Are the rumors of a Last Exile 2 true?
A: ご想像にお任せするしかない。
I have no option but to leave that up to your imagination
While there was certainly nothing close to a breach of decorum, we did learn that Gonzo plans on investing work towards international releases and that their domestic TV series has been consummated.
What all this spells for the future of Gonzo is still largely uncertain. It's quite obvious the studio plans to buckle down and keep to the background while it tries to regain some level of profitability. Although the many fans who love to hate are quick to provide that Gonzo's infamous production quality, coupled with an experimental tinge, made its fall from grace less of a surprise and more of a comeuppance. Whatever your stance, it has been proven time and time again that restructuring in the anime industry is a good thing. In fact, Murahama, the founder of Gonzo, left Gainax in 1992 to strike gold with a new studio. Most modern studios in prevalence today are the result of lay-offs, disagreements, and other uncertain movements in the industry. With that fact, it's hard to say where Gonzo will go from here. In the end, perhaps the only intelligent guess would be to say its already moving there.
16 December, 2009
Wondering about the story behind that month long gap between my last two posts? No? Well, maybe you are now...
This is essay is but a glimpse into my mirthless preoccupancy over finals week. It covers the relationship between otaku and the infamous "Otaku Murderer", Tsutomu Miyazaki. To those who are already crying "tl;dr" and "no pics": this is a big boy website, do try to understand.
With every modern street, occupied and colorful with the daily routine, there is an underground quietly hustling in its shadows. So too does every culture contain this dualistic identity. On its face, the mainstream sparingly looks at its underground as anything more than a novelty, focused on schedules and deadlines too numerous to allow any diversion. The underground quickly returns the glance with an equal nonchalance tinged with a mild dose of quiet indignation. And so, in this perpetual cycle of balanced irreverence, life continues. However, every so often, the mainstream is made painfully aware of its counterpart’s pervasive existence through events tailored for no other purpose. This is the case of Tsutomu Miyazaki. In the 1980’s, the island nation of Japan became confronted with a powerful subcultural movement referring to itself peculiarly as “otaku”. These otaku blatantly protruded their interests in Japanese animation, comics, video games, sci-fi novels, and any other target worthy of their attention throughout the Japanese mainstream. Causing little more than a handful of curious news stories in contingency with intermittent scorn from the Japanese working class (their parents), otaku continued the practice of their hobbies with little detraction. That is, until the name 'Tsutomu Miyazaki' became a national and household effigy. A serial murderer whose egregious crimes rocked both the Japanese mainstream and the subculture he purportedly found solace in, Miyazaki’s actions singularly attracted Japan’s attention toward this band of science-fiction laden misfits. And, like a gang of moths to the flame, worried parents and a frenzied media launched a judicious assault against anything and everything associated with the word “otaku”, working to enact cumbersome levels of censorship and portraying the movement as a group of mentally disturbed and potentially dangerous youths. Though such vehement attitudes have recently settled down, how is it, twenty years later, a negative image of otaku still persists? Is it valid to crucify the present body because of the past actions of a single hand? The answers to these and related questions are of no simple constitution. Regardless, what is apparent is how Tsutomu Miyazaki, in his heinous pursuits and own accord, instilled an unjustified and divisive national attitude towards both the image and core of the otaku subculture.
In effort to understand how this negative sentiment was first wrongfully enacted, it is important to reveal the general identity and etymology of the word “otaku”, as well as its primary subcultural connotations. While the essential media components of the otaku subculture, arguably Japanese comics (hereinafter manga) and Japanese animation (hereinafter anime) respectively, predate its conception, they nonetheless play a large role in its rise to prevalence. In the 1960’s, Japan saw the artistic medium of manga become increasingly popular as rebellious college students injected new meaning into its amalgamation of picture and word. They did so largely in effort to make known shared feelings of discomfort with the status quo, especially the rigors of university life and pressure from superior society (Kinsella 290). In indirect cooperation with more mainstream manga artists the likes of Osamu Tezuka (Galbraith ##), these first few opened the door for the beginning of widespread anime and manga fandom but, at the same time, elicited critical discourse on the status and future of Japanese youth culture, an element which would be again exploited after the murders of Tsutomu Miyazaki. The following decade saw further development of otaku media, as manga flourished under personal pursuits by means of Comic Market in 1975 , a venue described as “a new institution to encourage the development of unpublished amateur manga” (Kinsella 295), and the critical success of Yoshiyuki Tomino’s robot anime Kidou Senshi Gundamu in 1979 (Galbraith 120). It is from within these two decades that singular pools of fans coalesced to form a substantiated body of anime and manga enthusiasts, continuing their hobbies directly into the 1980’s.
And it is exactly from this decade where the term “otaku” was first launched into the Japanese consciousness. The word itself originates from an archaic yet extremely courteous means of referring to another person’s home or, altogether, “someone you are not overly familiar with and wish to be very polite [towards]” (Schodt 43). It was adopted by anime, manga, and sci-fi fans in the early 1980’s who, when visiting conventions or other social events, would use it to refer to like-minded individuals from different clubs or groups. Contrary to its rather ubiquitous usage, and as a simple matter of fact, no one individual or body can officially source where exactly the term “otaku” derives from, why it came into use, or any other major factors in regards to its etymology. A multitude of histories accompanied by rushed explanations exist to fill the gap. Sources topping the list include Shoji Kawamori’s 1982 sci-fi anime Super Dimension Fortress Macross, wherein the word “otaku” was used frequently by various characters and later adopted by fans, and the local Tottori dialect of the founders of the popular animation studio Gainax (Galbraith 172). Aside from these rather opaque beginnings, a few noteworthy aspects become clear. The word “otaku” came into being largely through communal affairs, manga and sci-fi conventions or even daily meetings with other aficionados of similar media. By its original meaning of essentially a formal “you”, the emphasis on communication and reliance on interaction between early otaku is quite evident, atleast through its primary usage. In total, this is the behavior which readily accommodated the origin and eventual propagation of otaku. As author and PhD candidate at Tokyo University Patrick Galbraith discusses in his summarization of former “Ota-King” (otaku king) Okada Toshio’s stance on current trends of otaku subculture: “…Individuals [otaku] chose to… isolate themselves from society; and they sought to better understand the world through the communal pursuit of hobbies” (Galbraith 179). Though effectively abandoning more conservative structures of society, it is important to note otaku did not jump ship and isolate themselves from human contact. Taking note of this group of deviants causing ruckus over anime and manga, essayist and writer Akio Nakamori is often cited as the first individual to sound the alarm on the revamped usage of the word “otaku” in 1983 with a column titled “Otaku Studies”, first published in the erotic manga magazine Manga Burikko (Schodt 44). The critical importance of Nakamori’s column in affecting the public image of otaku subculture cannot be underscored with greater effort, for it is the first published account that describes otaku in a pejorative tone (“Otaku“). As an excerpt from the article reads:
‘[The fans] all seemed so odd… the sort in every school class: the ones hopeless at sports, who hole up in the classroom during break…either so scrawny they look like they’re malnourished or like giggling fat white pigs with silver framed glasses with the sides jammed into their heads… the friendless type….since there doesn’t seem to be a proper term to address this phenomenon, we’ve decided to christen them otaku, and henceforth refer to them as such.’ (Schodt 44).
Nakamori also used his expectable short-term presence in Manga Burriko to deem the groups he saw active in Comic Market or other conventions as “otaku zoku”, literally “the otaku tribe” (“Otaku”). In describing otaku in such a way as to present them as unkempt, socially illiterate miscreants, Nakamori was at the forefront of otaku bashing, before his time; or more accurately, before the backdraft created by Tsutomu Miyazaki.
While individuals in concordance with Nakamori’s extreme view of otaku were creating juicy fodder for media personnel looking to exploit the incessant and abstract problems with the contemporary generation of Japanese youth, Tsutomu Miyazaki was beginning to prepare for his grotesque entrance onto the national stage. Born on August 21st 1962, as a child, Miyazaki was characteristic of Nakamori’s perceptual definition of otaku: shy, inclusive, aberrant, and without major social interaction, due largely to a birth defect (“Tsutomu Miyazaki“). It was suspected much of his early isolationist behavior was resultant of the improper and careless parenting supposedly symptomatic of the 1960’s (Kinsella 309), yet Miyazaki continued through the Japanese educational system with little impediment. After barely passing high school, Miyazaki attended community college where he studied to become a photo technician, eventually earning employment as a printer in his local Saitama prefecture during the 1980’s (Treat 354).
Being as removed and quiet as he was, Miyazaki’s licentious escapades during this time went largely under the radar until he was arrested for attempting to sexual assault a grade-school girl with the zoom lens of a camera on July 23rd, 1989 (“Tsutomu Miyazaki”). A month after his arrest for this relatively innocuous assault when compared to the catalogue of his past atrocities, police pinned Miyazaki as a prime suspect for the recent abduction, murder, and mutilation of four young Saitama girls. Soon thereafter, police received a confession from Miyazaki himself revealing “he had committed these crimes over a period of several years…and perpetrated them out of ‘necrophilic desires’ ” (Treat 354). At this point, it is interesting to categorize how, when confronted with news of a series of perverted and pedophilic murders from the mouth of the perpetrator himself, the police and media did not immediately associate Miyazaki with the preexistent otaku movement, for there was simply no antecedent reason for doing so. Though a simple conception, such only strengthens how further investigation gave birth to a powerful nexus unaffectionately linking the precedence of Miyazaki’s murders to a separate and autonomous subculture without any substantive logic. This unfounded connection was primarily established through the police’s search of Miyazaki’s apartment where they, along with reporters and cameramen, discovered “a massive collection of videocassette tapes…videos taken of his victims…anime…porn and extremely disturbing slasher films” (Galbraith 153). In conjunction with subsequent revelations uncovering “he [Miyazaki] had written animation reviews in some doujinshi [self-published fanzines] and had been to Comic Market” (Kinsella 309), this stockpile of around 6,000 anime tapes, porn flicks, and snuff films was blasted throughout Japan by media closely following the case and touted as the justification par excellence for the forthcoming “moral panic” (Kinsella 308) that would taint the otaku subculture for decades to come.
After Miyazaki’s apprehension and trial, news of his horrible deeds spread throughout the country. It was revealed how he sexually mutilated, dismembered, and even cannibalized his victims, at the same time stalking their families with silent telephone calls and enigmatic letters revealing how he had tortured their children to death (“Tsutomu Miyazaki”). In the very midst of these unspeakable crimes and the resultant pain experienced by the victims’ families, the Japanese media seemed focused on exploiting Miyazaki’s ascribed identity not as a deranged serial murder, but as nothing more than an otaku; deeming him “The Otaku Murderer” in the process. Drawing from the literal font of negative otaku perceptions from areas such as Nakamori’s “Otaku Studies” column, the media enlisted a full blown assault against what was presented as Miyazaki’s “otaku tribe”. Almost ignoring the singularity of his obvious mental instability, reporters and news teams found roundabout ways to define and redefine what they perceived to be an otaku; what they perceived to be Miyazaki. As Hiroki Azuma, a well-known Japanese critic and essayist, mentions in his expose of otaku culture, Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals: “Right after Miyazaki’s arrest, one weekly magazine described otaku as those ‘without basic communication skills who often withdraw into their own world‘ ” (Azuma 4). Another abhorrent headline read “ ‘the little girls he killed were no more than characters from his comic book life’ ” (Kinsella 309). In a Japan preoccupied with its youth, these papier-mâché headlines and others like them lead to the connotation of otaku as anti-social escapists. However, this idea is in direct contrast to the aforementioned communal nature of otaku, attending Comic Market and socializing with their colleagues. It was only Miyazaki who kept to himself, only Miyazaki who experienced his unfortunate childhood, only Miyazaki who murdered four little girls; and yet, because of the media, the subculture unfairly received the brunt of his identity. In reference to this, Azuma offers a supplementary explanation for the behavior of otaku which the media perceived as that of Miyazaki: “Otaku shut themselves into the hobby community not because they deny sociality but rather because, as social values and standards are already dysfunctional, they feel a pressing need to construct alternative values and standards” (Azuma 27). This works with Okada Toshio’s previously established definition of otaku not as social antagonists, but rather social engineers looking to function outside of the constructs of society’s superstructure of predetermined operation.
Regardless of the early and utter failure to enact critical discourse over the justification for using the word “otaku” in such an irresponsible light, a Japan only cutaneously aware of this anomalistic tribe of sci-fi nerds was force-fed the media’s definition of otaku as solemn sociopathic murderers obsessed with pornography and manga. For throngs of otaku throughout Japan, those who maintained a homeostatic regularity, the ability to speak out against this unfair label slowly faded during the early 1990’s and against the apparent consequence of social stigmatization. Makoto Fukuda, staff writer for the newspaper The Daily Yomiuri and self-proclaimed otaku, was a high school student during the period of Miyazaki’s arrest. He recounts “I well remember being annoyed by widespread and sensationalistic headlines that looked as if they were trying to identify the abnormality of his crimes [Miyazaki’s] and the causes of his acts only with the fact that he was an otaku.” So powerful was the media’s stereotyping of otaku subculture, that the word “otaku” itself was even banned from a terrestrial television station (Galbraith 172). Because of this perpetual association between Miyazaki and otaku subculture omnipresent within the media coverage surrounding the murders, the word “otaku” still retains a negative connotation to this very day, despite the overblown and disillusioned sensationalism it derives from.
During the course of the mid-to-late 1990’s, and at the behest of his defense team, Miyazaki underwent a series of rigorous psychiatric examinations to determine culpability in regards to the planning and execution of his murders (Galbraith 153). The results were released in 1997 and showed Miyazaki as having schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder (“Tsutomu Miyazaki”). However, in that same year, it was decided by the Japanese court system Miyazaki was still fully aware of the consequences of his actions, thereby disregarding his defense team’s plea of insanity and sentencing Miyazaki to death by hanging (Galbraith 153). He was finally executed on June 17th, 2008. In an unrelated and ironic series of events, nine days prior an otaku man claiming to be “The New Miyazaki” crashed a pick-up truck into the otaku-centric Akihabara shopping district of Tokyo, subsequently killing three men. He then exited the vehicle, stabbing and killing four others with a combat knife in what has come to be known as the “Akihabara Incident“ (Fukuda). While media coverage of the event was still critical of otaku, news was more focused on a street-side memorial paying tribute to those murdered. The reason for the media’s increased sensitivity for otaku is explained by some, including Yomiuri Shinbun’s Makoto Fukuda, as resulting from a paradigm shift currently operating in the Japanese mainstream. A 2004 novel, and subsequent television and movie adaptations, titled Densha Otoko pervaded into the realm of negativity surrounding otaku by offering the purportedly true story of a chivalrous otaku finding true love through the internet bulletin board system 2channel. The final episode of the Densha Otoko television series was viewed by around 25.5% of television network Fuji TV’s total national viewing audience (Galbraith 61). Current events such as these are working to patch the tattered reputation of otaku instilled by a single man and carried throughout an entire decade.
So how is it, exactly, a negative connotation of “otaku” has survived? To an extent, the inaccuracy and ignorance of spouting such blanket statements is more understood now than the few years following Miyazaki’s arrest. And still, the unfounded notion has carried through critical thought, as some still harbor an aversion towards the word, in any of its connotations. Perhaps the atrocities of Miyazaki were so blunt, discourse over any of their components was considered too taboo to interact with until the appropriate passage of time. Though this explanation eschews the passionate yet muffled reaction of otaku to differentiate themselves from media bias. It may suffice to say there is no attainable explanation; only the need for the mainstream to recognize its underground, for a parent to know and love its child, and for communication to never dissipate or cease. For if the Japanese media, the mainstream, was able to understand and coexist with the emerging otaku subculture, its mirrored underground, there would have been a unspoken yet profound understanding that the monstrosities of Tsutomu Miyazaki were nothing more than just that.
Works Cited
"Otaku." Contemporary Youth Culture: An International Encyclopedia. Westport: Greenwood, 2005. Credo Reference. Web. 04 December 2009.
Azuma, Hiroki. Otaku: Japan's Database Animals. Trans. Jonathon E. Abel and Shion
Kono. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2009. Print.
Galbraith, Patrick W. The Otaku Encyclopedia: An Insider's Guide to the Subculture of
Cool Japan. English ed. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2009. Print.
Schodt, Frederik L. Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga. Berkeley: Stone
Bridge, 1996. Google Books. Web. Nov. 2009.
Sangani, Kris. "Otaku World." Engineering & Technology. 3.19 (2008): 94-95. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 25 Oct. 2009
Treat, John Whittier. "Yoshimoto Banana Writes Home: Shojo Culture and the Nostalgic
Subject." Journal of Japanese Studies 19.2 (1993): 353-55. Humanities International Index. EBSCO. Web. 27 Nov. 2009.
Kinsella, Sharon. “Japanese Subculture in the 1990s: Otaku and the Amateur Manga
Movement.” Journal of Japanese Studies 24.2 (1998): 289-316. JSTOR. Web. Nov. 2009
Fukuda, Makoto. “Through Otaku Eyes; Otaku No Longer Equated With Criminals.” The Daily Yomiuri [Tokyo] 18 July 2008: 13. LexisNexis Academic. Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
"Tsutomu Miyazaki." WorldLingo.com. World Lingo. Web. Nov. 2009.
It's more likely than you think. In what amounts to an all-out assault against PVC, there has been a recent slew of announcements regarding figure releases of a quality usually reserved for small-scale con production...
Apparently, word of the current global recession has yet to reach certain inconspicuous figure manufacturers, despite other more conservative-minded companies making fiscal decisions considerate of their overhead. In the past few weeks, the figure community has been bombarded with declarations of completed polystone and cold cast bishoujo figure releases from domestic vendors the likes of AlphaMax and Amie Grand, who usually deal in the mass-market production of resin kits. The spending habits of otaku have often been known to be operate separately from and in opposition to the economic climate, yet with price tags upwards of $160 USD,one wonders whether both they and the figure companies bearing that weight will be able to brave this recessionary winter. Nevertheless, for those with supple pockets (or enough credit cards) this trend promises high quality figures attainable without that troublesome garage-kit know-how.
For those wondering what exactly makes polystone and cold cast figures a step above standard PVC releases, the answer centers around the materials used in the production process:
Polyvinyl Chloride (PVC) is as cheap as it is abundant and, for that reason, is the go-to material in casting figures intended for large quantity production (thousands of units). The characteristics of PVC make it rather light and malleable, or bendable, which is both a blessing and a curse for bishoujo figures as it allows them to adjust to temperature settings but at the same time endorses the potential to warp them (as in leaning). The quality of PVC figures is highly reliant on manufacturing conditions and quality checks.
On the other hand, Cold Cast and Polystone figures utilize a Polyurethane (PU) resin base which, by simple economics, can be 3 or 4 times more expensive than PVC, depending on market conditions. The term "cold cast" derives from the decreased temperature of the materials elicited from the curing process and rolls off the tongue easier than 'polyurethane. "Polystone" figures are actually 'reinforced' cold casts in that before the mold has cured, stone powder is added to the resin base for aesthetic purposes. Besides being more expensive, the properties of polyurethane-based figures are almost the exact opposite of PVC: they're rather heavy, strong but potentially brittle, and don't adapt to temperature fluctuations as easily.
So with that out of the way, here's a preview of what's being offered:
Amie-Grand:
Amanda Werner, 1/6 scale Polystone, 15,540 円, Feb. 2010
Coinciding with Yamato's release of another Amanda PVC, Amie-Grand's polystone figure depicts Amanda as fans of Gonzo's Blassreiter remember her: incredibly sexy. 
Chouhi Ekitoku, 1/6 scale Polystone, 15,540 円, Feb. 2010
Yet another Ikki Tousen figure depicting the series' less touted Chouhi paying tribute to the long heralded Japanese custom of dipping bananas in chocolate, only to have their deliciousness misconstrued by suggestive (but equally delicious) anime cliches.
AlphaMax:
Spica, 1/6 scale Cold Cast, 16,800 円, March 2010
A diorama piece featuring Spica, the tsundere heroine of Nitro+'s mahou shoujo eroge Sumaga, which received an update earlier this year with "Sumaga Special", opening the door for more figure adaptations.
Birdy, 1/6 scale Cold Cast, 15,800円, March 2010
If you're looking to define 'dynamic' in reference to figures, this would be a good example. An EXTREMELY detailed base compliments an energetic sculpt of Yuuki Masami's classic intergalactic policewoman.
Guin (of Guin Saga), Non-Scale Cold Cast, 34,800円, Jan. 2010
AlphaMax's Guin is a departure from a lot of things: the ordinary, standard retail price, and my comfort zone. From Guin Saga, the longest running novel series and its recent anime adaptation, Tiger Mask-I mean- King, er, Guin, undoubtedly appeals to those who like their figures with testosterone.
Kaitendoh
Joe, 1/6 scale Polystone, 14,700 円, Late Dec. 2009
In celebration of Ashita no Joe's 40th anniversary, Kaitendoh is releasing this completed Joe polystone diorama first exhibited at the last Wonder Festival. One of the most beloved series in manga history, Ashita no Joe set the precedent for anime and manga like Hajime no Ippo, in addition to introducing classic anime elements such as the "cross-counter" and tragic death scene. 
Seras Victoria, 1/7 scale Polystone, 17,640 円, Feb 2010
From Kouta Hirano's manga, this sculpt of Seras is a little rough around the edges, but that's exactly its appeal. Seras will be available in two color variants, her standard yellow police suit and the red seen here. Definitely a bold release and a must buy for Hellsing fans. 
M.M and Kemeko, 1/6 scale Polystone, No Price, No Release
Apparently, Kaitendoh has been trying to release this polystone of Kemeko DX's M.M. for quite some time now (at least a few months). She's still listed on their homepage, but pricing and release date info have yet to be established.
Daiki Kougyo:
Mizuho Kazami, 1/4 scale Polystone, 18,000 円, April 2010
The heroine of the Onegai Teacher! series, Mizuho has an energy that cannot be stopped. This seductive polystone figure will be her 5th, yes, 5th figure released in 2009, almost 8 years since the anime first aired. Another swimsuit edition is mixed with a more licentious Mizuho than fans might be accustomed to, resembling Mizuho's deviant mother, Hatsuho.
Tomoe (Re-paint Ver.), 1/15 scale Polystone, 3500 円, Mar. 2010
An original figure created exclusively for Hobby Search in celebration of their 10th anniversary, Tomoe is large in just about every department but scale: coming in at only 1/15 makes her the most affordable polystone release within... well, the foreseeable future. As an original limited edition figure sculpted by veteran Hiroshi Sato, she's sure to move.
15 November, 2009
Upon the commencement of my most recent dakimakura purchase, Cospa's Nodoka Haramura from Gonzo's bishoujo-mahjong anime Saki, I decided to try and shed some light on the history of this otaku staple. Please, be gentle...
Among the many forms of anime merchandise, dakimakura reserve a unique reputation, both illustrious and notorious. Coming from the combination of the words "抱く" (daku) meaning "to embrace" and "枕" (makura) meaning "pillow", dakimakura is often literally translated as "hug pillow" in English. While orthopedic hug pillows designed to correct injuries and alleviate back pain in pregnant women have existed for years, dakimakura as we know them today began to appear in the mid-90's along with the bishoujo boom supported by the genesis of genre-defining galge and related media. Popular first among the doujinshi or fanzine movement, according to Kunio Muto, a technology reporter for the Nihon Keizai Shimbun newspaper0, bishoujo dakimakura soon moved into general otaku territory when Cospa opened its doors in 19951. The prime mover in the chara-goods game, Cospa is responsible for the vast majority of both anime and game based dakimakura on the market today, finding modest competition in rivals such as Chara-High. In addition to being a relative monopoly since their inception, Cospa also popularized many dakimakura features taken for considered standard among current releases, including the presence of metallic zippers, original artwork, and a "naughty and nice" dual image. As they now stand, dakimakura are more prevalent than ever before. They're growing in tandem with the chara and moe goods industry, a market refusing to loosen its stranglehold over the Japanese economy, riding a wave that shows no sign of flat-lining.
Like many things in contemporary Japanese culture, dakimakura have their roots in the passage of history, however convoluted and (at times) inaccurate its records may be. The origins of modern dakimakura lie in "chikufujin" or literally "bamboo wives2", oblong tubes of interwoven bamboo cane used by many cultures throughout East and South East Asia, especially Korea. Applications for bamboo wives were said to range from masturbatory to orthopedic, the strange funnel seeming more utilitarian than a modern Swiss Army knife. Practical among a bamboo wife's use was its nature as a rudimentary air conditioner. A user would would fall asleep on one of his sides while embracing the stack of bamboo, thereby exposing a larger surface area of his body to the cool night air. Leaving practicality for a dip in the mythological, bamboo wives were said to be made exclusively by a man's wife to keep him "company" during his travels3. In reference to their nature as a substitute companion, modern dakimakura are often paralleled with the chikifujin of antiquity. Whether or not this comparison is warranted, or even accurate, can be debated. Regardless, at some point, Bamboo Wives were exported to Japan where their usage remained largely the same.
During the 250 year timespan known as the Edo Period, the Japanese experienced a cultural explosion, as many were no longer preoccupied with the civil war plaguing the island nation years earlier. One product of this new-found leisure time was ukiyo-e woodblock printing. Separate from the widely endorsed prints depicting Japan's natural splendor and cultural narratives was a more deviant style of art known as "makura-e" (pillow art), or "shunga" as it is more commonly referred to in modernity. Depicting levels of debauchery on par with even the most explicit modern ero-doujinshi, shunga was available in both ukiyo-e and scroll form. These pieces of art were thought to retain many different uses, such as good luck charms, in addition to providing ancient Japanese males an onanistic outlet. Popular artists of the Edo period, including Katsushika Hokusai (creator of the term "manga"), periodically dabbled in shunga, much like the mangaka of today starting their career in ero-doujinshi. According to the popular dakimakura blog "Everyday Is Dakimakura" (毎日が抱き枕), body pillows featuring erotic shunga had a noticeable presence in Edo period Japan and were used in much the same way their modern counterparts are today. The above picture taken from a Edo period collection of shunga depicts one such coital engagement. Everyday Is Dakimakura mentions Edo dakimakura, though extremely rare and expensive, were roughly 4 feet in length and handmade from silk. Though I could find no supplementary resources to confirm the presence of 18th century body pillows in Japan, the idea that the average pervasive Edo male humped piles of silk in order to reach orgasm isn't so far-fetched considering the lengths at which ancient Japan expressed its sexuality.
It may be difficult to imagine how exactly giant Chinese finger traps and 18th century pornography led to the creation of dakimakura but these obfuscated roots, more novelty than direct ancestor, only serve as tiny, singular pieces to a large puzzle depicting the history and identity of modern otaku culture.
13 November, 2009
After an indefinite wait, figure manufacturer Yamato has finally green-lit a PVC release of the Amanda Werner Niθ Illustration garage kit they announced back in August of this year...
It was uncertain whether Yamato would step up to the plate and give fans the home-run they were craving by releasing Toi Fuijiura's sculpt of Amanda Werner, the main heroine of Gonzo's Blassreiter anime, as a PVC; up until today, that is. Yamato revealed plans for an Amanda resin kit a few months ago but little else of concern for those low in tactile dexterity. With this PVC announcement, however, Fujiura's erogenous piece can now find its way into the digits (however unskilled) of fans the world over. Amanda will be added to Yamato's Creator's Labo series, a figure line celebrating famous illustrators the likes of Jun Tsukasa, Shunya Yamashita, and Mine Yoshizaki. Based on an original illustration by famed artist and Nitro+ eroge character designer, Niθ (pronounced Nishii), Amanda is the second Blassreiter PVC to be released since the series aired in the Spring 2008 season. The first being Megahouse's 1/8 scale Elea PVC which is also worth a look, especially if you prefer less "corpulent" figures.
Amanda lies at the center of a strange series of connections conglomerating to form powerful earning potential for Yamato: Nitro+ ( co-producer of Blassreiter) is currently celebrating its 10th anniversary, Niθ (Amanda's character designer) is taking part in the festivities, and Funimation recently licensed the Blassreiter anime with an expected release date for Volume 1 on the 20th. If Amanda was being released at the end of this month with other November figures, there would certainly be an influx of cash flowing through the collective veins of Nitro+, Gonzo, and Yamato. But, unfortunately, she has a pending public unveiling during April of 2010. Another potential deal breaker: her price point of 12,390円 (around $140). Now before your jaw crushes your keyboard, Amanda ranks in at 280mm in height (around the price and size of most 1/5 scale figures) and is listed as non-scale. Her assets aren't the only things of consideration given those numbers.
There's been a palpable concern over this figure's design, and a resurgence of those feelings now that the PVC is becoming conspicuous. The root of the matter is a distinct difference between Niθ's original illustration and the Amanda present in Blassreiter's narrative. While both are actually designed by Niθ, certain... liberties were taken with Amanda's XAT uniform in the original illustration, and figure translation, we see here. In reality, Niθ has been portraying such an expository Amanda since the series' airdate, from centerfolds in Newtype, to an Amanda dakimakura cover and telephone card released almost a year ago. She may not be quite the same dutiful character fans have become accustomed to, but Niθ's seductive spin on Amanda allows her to let her hair down, literally and otherwise.
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