In my research for my story "The Silent Partner," now out in this month's @fandsf ( https://www.sfsite.com/fsf/current.htm ), I came across an odd detail of art history: two of the giants of midcentury modern design were survivors of Japanese-American internment in WWII. Here's a thread on them.

George Nakashima (1905-1990) was born in Spokane, but traveled the world studying architecture, forestry, and woodworking. His style is stunning, candid, and intensely interested in the imperfect beauty of his materials.

In the late 30s, he assisted Czech-American architect Antonin Raymond in building the Golconde ashram, the "first modernist building in India." There, he took the Sanskrit name Sundarananda, "one who delights in beauty." https://www.metropolismag.com/architecture/golconde-the-first-modernist-building-in-india/

In 1942, Nakashima was interned at Camp Minidoka, in Idaho; Raymond was able to sponsor his release to his Pennsylvania farm in 1943. One of Nakashima's fellow internees was a carpenter, Hikogawa, who tutored him in traditional Japanese joinery.

This joinery technique, sashimono, uses complex wooden pieces instead of nails to create blind joints, where the joint is barely visible. It's a striking feature that Nakashima incorporated prominently into his work. https://japanwoodcraftassociation.com/traditions/techniques/sashimono/

One such joint piece, the chigiri or butterfly joint, became a calling-card feature of Nakashima's furniture; in the U.S., it's pretty much known as "the Nakashima joint." It's traditionally used to join two boards, but Nakashima also uses it to reinforce flaws in a single board:

Another key feature of Nakashima's style is his use of free- or live-edged boards for his surfaces. This centers the natural beauty of the wood used and the "spirit of the tree" that gave its vitality to the piece.

Nakashima's studio is still at Antonin Raymond's old farm in New Hope, Pennsylvania, and is run by George's daughter, Mira Nakashima, a designer in her own right. You can still buy Nakashima pieces. If you have, like, $60,000 to spare. https://nakashimawoodworkers.com/ 

Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988) was one of America's greatest sculptors, but he also was influential in design. You've almost certainly seen the Noguchi table, and his Akari lamps pretty much decorated the American midcentury, or at least a recognizable slice of it.

He's also one of history's great hotties with amazing hair, but that's another thread altogether.

*I* love Noguchi for his original stage sets for dance, including the set for my favorite Martha Graham ballet, "Errand into the Maze."

During World War II, Noguchi became an activist against Japanese-American internment, founding "Nisei Writers and Artists for Democracy" and trying to convince the public of Japanese-American loyalty. Looking for some way to help with the war effort, he... chose poorly.

He was persuaded to enter the Poston Internment Camp in Arizona voluntarily (!!!) to run an arts & crafts program, which he hoped would improve morale. It did not.

After a month, he realized he'd made a mistake and put in to leave. His "request" was denied.

This was the artist behind one of the U.S.'s great sculptures of civil liberty, "News," at the Rockefeller Center. Still, it was six months before Noguchi was granted even a one-month furlough. Understandably, he bailed.

His "leave" from the camp was eventually made permanent, but the U.S. still tried to deport him. Fighting Noguchi's deportation is one of countless ways in which the @ACLU has saved this country from itself.

Nakashima and Noguchi were highly influential, but the midcentury modern movement of course draws on a large range of influences and artists besides them. I don't want to extrapolate from their experiences too far, or reduce their dehumanizing treatment to an aesthetic point.

But there is a striking contrast between the simplicity and cleanness of line in the midcentury modern style and the moral carnage of the midcentury, which Nakashima and Noguchi's experiences highlight.

This contrast is crucial to my story, "The Silent Partner"; the protagonist, an antiques dealer, is hung up on the morality of things, some sort of interiority to the beautiful objects he trades in that chafes against the evils of human history.

I mean, it's in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, so there's a lot of OTHER STUFF that happens. And there's a beautiful Nakashima table in it.

There's a way in which furniture design, more than, say, a painting, can capture what the homeowner imagines (or desires) their life to be; its very utility makes it less visible as self-expression, and therefore a place where one can be a little more wishful, or dishonest.

Which is why I love Nakashima's pieces so much: it's their radical honesty, their celebration of the material's beauty (and oh my GOD that wood is gorgeous) and their imperative to feature the wood's flaws ("flaws") as design elements.

As if to say, flaws should not be hidden, but they can be integrated into something that is, ultimately, beautiful.