top of page

Only one of us left that place that day.

あの日、いた場所に父はもういない。ただ私だけが残された。

ofuro.jpg

One day, my father had heard that a daughter of his acquaintance

- well into her twenties - was bathing with her father.

I recall myself being in grade five or six at the time.

My father had never changed a diaper nor attended

any school entrance ceremony or sports meeting.

He was the type of person who would not - and was not willing to - spare time for his children.

 

He told me to take a bath with him.

As far back as I can remember,

I had the habit of taking a bath myself.

Refusal was not an option in my household of dominant patriarchy.

The right of veto simply didnʼt exist.

 

Working in a factory,

Watering a huge flowerbed,

Bathing together was much more disturbing than any physical labor.

Discomfort was the only feeling I had.

“This is not right.”

I couldnʼt put my awkwardness into words.

I felt that my answer had been strongly denied.

 

I bet he doesnʼt remember any of it.

Iʼm the only one left behind.

What was that memory like?

I wonder if someday, I could look back into it as something nostalgic

ofuro 2.jpg
ofuro 3.jpg
あの日.jpg

Only one of us left that place that day.

2016 Installation

2021. Hanako Miyamoto. Artist. Creator. 

bottom of page