The Life of an Expat Designer
“Why am I bored with articles that others are are raving about?” That was the inspiration for my last article.
I then came to understand that my boredom stems from my refugee status.
I have always been an intellectual refugee because most of the writers belong in one of the 3 groups and write only to their audiences within one group. It was as if a writer belongs to one country and he confines himself to speak only to his compatriots. I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.
They usually write only to 1) other experts, 2) their bosses, and 3) followers of the same faith/ideology. I found their writings boring because they strangled me with jargon, cliches, and guilts.
But now that I know their “languages,” I refused to be a refugee anymore. Instead, I became an expat.
The Life of an Expat Designer
As an expat content creator, I'm working on my cross border transaction skill aka storytelling. That is to say, I need to borrow and blend all the things my fellow authors from 3 different countries have taught me to do.
I said they bored me but they are not boring per se. Expert-level knowledge does help make a convincing argument. It just needs to be used in moderation. The same can be said with the emotional and authoritative tones. An argument that relies solely on the social status of a person can’t resonate with a stranger from a different cultural norm.
As an expat designer who writes and creates for other cosmopolitans, how can I learn how to forge assets from different cultures to create an exportable package?
Sushi and Storytelling
“Jiro Dreams of Sushi” is a perfect example of cross-cultural storytelling done right.
The documentary’s main goal is to implant an idea that Jiro, the legendary sushi chef, is the best of the best, for the American audience. It is not a didactic film for other Japanese sushi chefs (experts). It is not for Japanese bureaucrats in charge of inbound tourism (bosses). It is of course not for reactionary locals to uphold traditional Japanese values (moral police). But it shows Jiro’s intense lifestyle to a foreign audience who are eager to learn about his artistic journey.
Let’s examine the film using the theory of persuasion by Aristotle. We'll look into how the classic elements of ethos, pathos, and logos drive the narrative.
Ethos: Personality Told by Music
Classical music, which of course has European origin, runs through the entire show about Japanese art. Why? It naturally engages with the western audience. It emotionally supports them to elevate Jiro’s craft to the same level of Mozart.
This is where the majority of videos made by the Japanese to impress international audiences fail. They think traditional Japanese music is cool. But to international ears, the unfamiliar sound makes them feel confused and hard to relate to. By using the familiar melody of the classical pieces, it subconsciously tells the eminence of Jiro equals those classical virtuosos.
The same effect applies to the three-star recognition by the Michelin Guide. What the French figure bestowed to Jiro was the indisputable ethos that both domestic and foreign audiences could agree as a fair judge of his character.
Pathos: Poem Told by Screenplay
The film opens with Jiro’s stoic monologue. Considering his age of 85 at the time of filming, I expected the emotional punchlines of this film to be the old school samurai-no-pain-no-gain cliche. I was wrong.
The plot took a much subtler approach. Jiro spends most of his waking hours either in the preparation or in front of the guests serving them his masterpieces. But from time to time, the screenplay took me deeper into his personal life.
The super chef began his working life at the age of 10 and he still commutes in a subway like any other anonymous commuter. He never misses a single workday and he even confesses having dreams of sushi. This obsessive level of passion coexists with his not-so-religious attitude to his ancestry. He is no saint, after all.
But his true commitment was to take his art a step further every day as he guides his apprentices. How they practiced their craft reminded me of old Japanese rituals that are near extinct in the modern metropolis. The spirituality of sushi is alive here, among the crew of the inauspicious sushi bar.
Logos: Proof Told by Photography
I remember how my friend used to complain about sushi as an overpriced uncooked piece of shit.
Now, years later, I wish I could’ve shown him Jiro’s kitchen. The photography was spectacular as it took me behind the counter and walked me through Japan’s largest fish market. It was a perfect storytelling technique in action: Show. Don’t tell.
For example, at times, the camera zips forward to compress the painstaking amount of preparation to create an edible jewel. Then, it slowed down to show us how a knife glides through the pink tuna. Later, the camera follows Jiro’s eldest son through the gigantic maze of seafood. His stops? Always the finest of all catches. The fish pros of all kinds knew that nothing but perfection is acceptable for him.
Pick Your Audience Wisely
David Gelb, an American film director, made his best decision when he decided to present Jiro to the American audience as an expert.
You probably thought, “Of course, Jiro is an expert. What else could he be?” That proves you’re a mental citizen of the Expert Nation and a physical resident in the world where you are primed to respect the experts. In other words, this film’s success boils down to exporting Jiro to the audience who value experts.
Doesn’t Japan Value Jiro’s Sushi?
Sushi maybe, but not much of prestige. From a modern Japanese standard, he is an oddball nobility at best because the society values conformism the foremost. It labels him as a stubborn man who could not live as a respectable corporate citizen who just happened to get lucky in his humble sushi shack.
Most Japanese people belong in the mental state of the “Republic of Executives.” They are not interested in an expert like Jiro and his obsession with perfection. The box office numbers confirm that--91.5% of the film’s sales came from the US. The international sales are less than 10% and the majority of it is from Singapore and UK followed by Poland and Hungary. Sales from Japan are nowhere to be seen. That’s because most of sane-minded Japanese would care more about what their bosses say than what customers think. Ritualized services performed by service workers in Japan are NOT done for perfection nor pride. They are done merely for fear of authority. So, Jiro, to regular Japanese folks, is way avant-garde.
The moral of the story: Find your audience first.
Again, Where Are You From?
Or, where do you belong now? Busy in the Expert Nation? Comfortable in the Republic of Executives? Feel protected by the Kingdom of Moral Police? If you are feeling stuck, the place is not for you. Crossing a political borderline is tough, but a mental emigration is a viable option.
Growing Group of Expats
You too can learn to find your audience outside of the border. Most of the people are culturally chained down to their own country. But unlike the national borders, no government can stop you from mentally expatriating. Only you have the power to change your narrative in your head.
Your passport is ready when you’re ready.
My fellow expat friend, I look forward to hearing your story.
