The warm ambiance of the early evening had already settled over Sway Gallery as I arrived. Welcomed with genuine warmth by the gallery staff, I caught my first glimpse of the heartfelt displays of Jiji & Kinako. The exhibit told the poignant story of Jiji, a once vibrant and joyful 94-year-old, whose life had been deeply affected by the progressive challenges of Alzheimer’s Disease, pulling him into a world shadowed by sadness.
For those who aren’t aware, Alzheimer’s Disease eats away at one’s mind, including mood, motivation, body movement, and memory. In spirit, it’s a disease that eats away at one’s soul… or so we thought, until a kitten named Kinako.
“Change doesn’t necessarily make someone a different person.” – Jiji.
Now a chubby 10kg, Tabby Cat Kinako made his debut into Jiji’s life, bringing happiness and mischief like a joyful CATastrophe.
Like a television sitcom drama, Jiji would fulfill his daily hobbies such as cutting out newspaper clippings to glue into his scrapbook, while Kinako’s hobby was to ruffle or sleep on those newspaper clippings.
Kinako, a shy cat, loved the attention from Jiji as he yelled “Oi!”, the pair would often squabble before making peace with each other.
A flock of Cranes.
As I wandered through the gallery, I couldn’t help but notice the photographs delicately mounted on traditional Japanese Washi paper. Some images were positioned higher than others, evoking the sensation of peering into a layered collection of memories.
Akiko Dupont, the talented documentary photographer behind Jiji & Kinako—and Jiji’s granddaughter—shared with me that the soft, fibrous texture of Washi paper not only embodies Japanese culture but also conveys a sense of FuwaFuwa, a Japanese onomatopoeia for a cloud-like lightness. Her explanation deepened my impression of the gallery as a space brimming with tender, fleeting memories.
Adding a playful twist to the exhibit, Kinako, the ever-mischievous cat, had taken on the role of Washi paper destroyer, delightfully shredding the delicate sheets with his claws!
The gallery held many surprises about Jiji, some of which weren’t immediately apparent. One revelation struck me deeply: Jiji was a World War II veteran, trained as a Kamikaze pilot. Thankfully, he was relieved of duty just before taking flight, as the war came to an end.
Jiji’s kind, wise, and giving nature reflects the essence of traditional Japanese values—values admired and respected in the Western world. Yet, his transformation into an unhappy Alzheimer’s sufferer brought immense sorrow to his granddaughter, Akiko Dupont. This heartbreak inspired her to find a way to help, and Kinako, the playful and loving cat, became a central part of that journey.
A poignant message resonated with me as I reflected on Jiji’s story. From a long paragraph, one quote stood out:
“Change doesn’t necessarily make someone a different person.”
Jiji explained that even amidst the chaos of a changing mind and fading connections, his true self remained. It was heartwarming to see how the bond between two beings—in this case, a cat and a human—helped reignite the light of his spirit. This story urged me to reconsider how we perceive and approach diseases like Alzheimer’s and dementia.
The fight against Alzheimer’s continues, and proceeds from the sale of Jiji & Kinako photography and artwork at the Sway Gallery will go toward supporting charitable efforts in this battle. It’s a cause as inspiring as the story itself.
As I explored the gallery, I slowly realized that I was surrounded by delicate paper birds. Little folded Origami cranes, perched throughout the space, quietly accompanied my journey.
Akiko Dupont shared with me the story behind these cranes. She had folded 200 of them, inspired by the ancient Japanese legend of Senbazuru (千羽鶴), meaning “Thousand Origami Cranes.” The legend says that if one folds 1,000 cranes, they will be granted a wish for good luck, long life, or recovery from illness—a sentiment that felt powerful enough to deserve the beat of a Taiko drum.
Akiko explained that folding cranes was something she often did with her grandfather, Jiji. Wanting to share this beautiful legend with visitors, she created bowls filled with these delicate cranes to gift as tokens of goodwill. Each crane was thoughtfully folded using various textured cards and traditional Japanese patterned paper, making every piece a unique creation.
I was honored to receive one, graciously gifted by Akiko and the Sway Gallery staff. As I write this article, my crane now stands proudly on my desk, a little symbol of care, hope, and the rich cultural heritage that made this exhibit so moving.
