Arguably the most heart-rending objects found among the mountains of rubble in the devastated Tohoku region following the March 11 disasters in 2011 were the countless sludge-splattered snapshots of an irremediably lost time.
They depicted anything from young women in kimono posing for coming-of-age portraits and cake-cutting newly weds to a high school baseball team and a radiant mother cradling a new-born baby. What they all shared in common were personal slices of happiness — private celebrations of everyday life that had previously occupied very personal spaces, but were now on display in a massive open-air gallery.
Through the lenses of the photographers who ventured into Tohoku in the aftermath of the quake and tsunami, these sunny snapshots — now muddied, torn and tossed around like confetti from some long-abandoned revelry — took on a distinctly somber tone. Where were those smiling, peace-sign toting teenagers now? Or the slightly disheveled business colleagues, grinning red-faced under the cherry blossoms?