Kenji Bunch is, simply put, one of America’s best composers. While writing in genres as established and familiar as the string quartet, he’s brilliantly original, drawing from multiple traditions and his own unique personality. The music sings. It swings. It’s funny and sad and utterly beautiful.
His new string quartet, No 5, is called “Songs for a Shared Space” and is premiering this weekend at the Multicultural Arts Center in Cambridge. It draws from Kenji’s roots as a Japanese-American, including the experience of some of those who survived the Japanese internment camps in the United States during World War II.
Kenji Bunch and David Sakura, an internment camp survivor who speaks about his experience in the composition, joined GBH’s All Things Considered host Arun Rath to break down the piece. What follows is a lightly edited transcript.
Arun Rath: So first, Kenji, talk about how this work came to be. What went into it, and what ultimately led to you connecting with David?
Kenji Bunch: Well, the linchpin in all of this is cellist Leo Eguchi of the Sheffield String Quarter. He and his wife, violinist Sasha Callahan, are good friends. I’ve known them on both coasts. They’re very active in the Boston area. We’ve bumped into each other in Vermont on occasion. They also direct the Willamette Valley Chamber Music Festival out in my neck of the woods in Portland, Oregon. It was their idea to commission this work for me, and they know David separately from this. It was their idea to bring us both in for this event. It’s been a real honor to be involved in it and to create a new work from scratch to be premiered on Sunday.
Rath: How did we come to have David’s experience worked into this?
Bunch: I’ll let David take this one.
David Sakura: Sure. I’ve known Leo Eguchi and Sasha Callahan for quite a few years. They perform during the summer at the New Hampshire Music Festival, and it was there that I met Leo. I was actually, frankly, very immediately attracted to Leo because he’s an Asian-American — he’s Japanese-American, like myself. Living here in New Hampshire, there aren’t too many Asians, so it’s always a novelty to meet someone that looks like me.
Leo and I have spent some time together, and we had this idea of incorporating some of the presentations that I’ve been making on our family’s experience in the internment of Japanese-Americans with the music that he’s interested in. So it was Leo that provided the bridge to Kenji, and the result was this new performance of spoken words and music.
Rath: David, I have to imagine you must have been rather young when you were in the internment camp. Can you tell us a little bit about your experience?
Sakura: Sure. First of all, I was raised in a small milltown in the state of Washington. I was six years old, and our family was forcibly removed from the milltown to a temporary detention camp just a few miles away from our home. From that point on, we were then transported to a permanent "relocation center," as it’s called. It was an internment camp in the desert of Idaho. But I was six years old and spent about two years there. We left when I was eight years old.
Rath: Kenji, in addition to the string quartet, there is a work on the program on Sunday that reflects on the Japanese-American experience in these internment camps.
Bunch: Yeah, there is. I actually wrote a solo viola piece, which I’ll be performing for this concert called “Minidoka.” It was inspired by the experience I had visiting the site in Idaho where the camp used to be. I highly recommend it if anyone is out that way; it’s a pretty fascinating place to visit.
I happened to be passing through by myself, and there was one specific moment that inspired my piece. There’s a little stream trickling water that runs through the grounds, and it’s right beyond a barbed wire fence. There was a sign explaining that the prisoners would come as close as they could to that fence for a glimpse of the running water, and seeing that would provide them just a little bit of comfort in this inhumane situation. That was such a powerful image.
I went back home and pretty quickly wrote a solo viola piece inspired by that, so I’m excited to share that at this event, in addition to the new string quartet.
Rath: David, how does this experience — it’s hard for me to wrap my head around it — but how does that stay with you? How much is it with you still after all this time?
Sakura: Well, first of all, let me comment on the piece. Kenji just mentioned “Minidoka.” One of the really popular songs that people enjoyed in the camp was “Don’t Fence Me In.” It’s an old, classic song; you’ve probably heard it.
When I heard for the first time “Minidoka,” written by Kenji Bunch, it just brought back memories of “Don’t Fence Me In,” and he captured just beautifully the emotion of being held captive by the Army guards. I found it a really moving experience to hear his rendition of “Minidoka,” which I view as the latest version of “Don’t Fence Me In.”
Rath: Kenji, that must be amazing for you to hear.
Bunch: It really is. I really appreciate that, David. It’s my humble offering. I have no direct experience. My mother’s Japanese. Her wartime experience was in Japan as a young girl of five or six years old, diving in ditches during air raids. So it was an equally traumatic experience, but not the internment camp.
I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t really learn about that chapter of our history until I was a kid and I saw "The Karate Kid." Of course, there’s an emotional scene in which Pat Morita, as Mr. Miyagi, confronts his past in that situation. That led me to a curiosity to find out more. Back then, it was something that one had to kind of take the initiative to find out about on your own.
I’m dedicating a part of what I do to helping to tell stories that I think are important parts of the experience — not just for people of Japanese heritage, but really, for everyone.
