Filmmaker Beth Harrington’s discovery of Frank Matsura’s photography in 2002 at the Washington State History Museum was a revelation, sparking a deep fascination with a photographer whose work possessed a "completely different character" from his contemporaries. Matsura, a Japanese immigrant who lived and worked in Okanogan County, Washington, from 1903 to 1913, left behind thousands of black-and-white images that vividly captured the lives of both white settlers and Indigenous people of the Colville Reservation. His photographs are distinguished by a palpable charisma and a profound connection to his subjects, often featuring playful interactions between himself and those he photographed, offering an intimate glimpse into a community in transition.

Despite Matsura’s prolific output, little of his personal life was documented, and he died tragically young at age 39 from tuberculosis. Yet, more than a century later, the communities he so diligently documented remember him with enduring affection. Harrington, who moved to the Northwest in the early 2000s, found herself drawn to Matsura’s enigmatic legacy, dedicating nearly two decades to uncovering his story. Her perseverance culminated in the 2025 release of a feature-length documentary, Our Mr. Matsura, a project that aims to illuminate the life and work of this often-overlooked artist.

The title of Harrington’s documentary, Our Mr. Matsura, reflects the collective sense of ownership and familiarity that the communities hold for the photographer. "Everyone thinks they have a little window into who he is," Harrington explained, "And there’s a collective sense of who he is because of those little impressions." This sentiment was echoed by Douglas Woodrow, a lifelong resident of Okanogan, who attended a screening of the film at the restored Omak Theater. Woodrow recalled seeing Matsura’s photographs in the local newspaper during his childhood in the late 1950s, often biking to the depicted locations and marveling at the changes over time, imagining the grandeur of the now-lost Bureau Hotel as a beacon of elegance in the then-modest town.

Woodrow’s reconnection with Matsura’s work came decades later while volunteering with the Okanogan County Historical Society. He discovered a trove of unprocessed photographs, including a remarkable sequence detailing the 1910 construction of the Conconully Dam, an early Bureau of Reclamation project. This discovery ignited his passion, leading him to present these images to community groups and embark on his own Matsura-focused projects. His dedication extended to a pilgrimage to Matsura’s birthplace in Tokyo, accompanied by Japanese photographer Tetsuo Kurihara, whom he had met during Kurihara’s research trip to Okanogan. Back in Washington, Woodrow spearheaded efforts to preserve Matsura’s legacy, including the creation of an interpretive site near his former studio and the development of a walking tour featuring mural-sized reproductions of his photographs.

Woodrow highlighted Matsura’s extraordinary social mobility and inclusive approach to his craft. "He was included in just about everything that happened in town, by all the social strata," Woodrow noted, emphasizing Matsura’s ability to bridge divides and photograph tribal members, businessmen, miners, and saloon patrons alike. This pervasive presence and genuine engagement allowed Matsura to capture the essence of Okanogan life in a way few others could.

Randy Lewis, a Wenatchi elder and member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, whose family lineage traces back to Matsura’s subjects, shared his perspective in Our Mr. Matsura. Lewis has been instrumental in bringing the film to regional audiences, including a memorable "barn screening" in Winthrop, Washington, followed by a traditional salmon bake. He shared a poignant story about a photograph of his great-uncle, Sam George, with his family in a buckboard wagon, describing it as "the F-250 of the time." This photograph hung in his family home, and Lewis recounted how his great-uncle, in his final years, would gaze at it, using it to recall the names and birthdays of everyone depicted, a testament to the enduring power of Matsura’s images to connect generations.

Sam George, who lived to be 108, was born in 1860, predating the formal establishment of the Colville Indian Reservation. His long life spanned immense societal changes, including the reservation’s reduction, the allotment era, and the influx of prospectors and homesteaders. His family, like many Indigenous families of the region, maintained traditional seasonal fishing practices, including a platform at Celilo Falls, a vital fishing ground tragically inundated by the construction of The Dalles Dam in 1957. Lewis noted that Matsura arrived during a significant cultural confluence, a period of evolving "both cultures," Native and settler, as the region entered a new century. Matsura’s lens, he observed, captured not a narrative of decline, but rather "life going on."

Our Mr. Matsura serves as an exploration of Okanogan County itself, portraying its isolated, rugged beauty that has remained remarkably consistent since Matsura’s time. Jean Berney, a longtime rancher and farmer near Conconully, described the area as "off the beaten track for a lot of people." A member of the Colville Confederated Tribes who married into a non-Native cattle-ranching family, Berney has achieved national recognition for her conservation-minded approach to ranching and her dedication to the 4-H program. Her land, incidentally, was once the site of the Conconully Naturpathy Institute, also known as Casselmann’s Sanitarium, established in 1906 to treat tuberculosis patients. This detail has fueled speculation among locals that Matsura himself may have been a patient, drawn to the region’s dry climate in hopes of recovery.

Berney expressed a deep sense of curiosity about Matsura’s personal experiences, wondering if he ever discussed his illness with Dr. Casselmann or how long he struggled with tuberculosis. "We wonder about Frank and everything that happened a long time ago, and we can’t ask," she lamented, highlighting the poignant silences that surround historical figures.

Harrington’s documentary joins a growing body of work dedicated to preserving Matsura’s memory, including the tireless efforts of volunteers at the Okanogan County Historical Society and the scholarly contributions of Michael Holloman, a professor of art at Washington State University. Holloman, himself an enrolled member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, co-curated a significant exhibition of Matsura’s work at Spokane’s Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture in 2023 and published the definitive book, Frank S. Matsura: Iconoclast Photographer of the American West, in 2025. Holloman emphasized the enduring relevance of Matsura’s approach, stating, "We need people to be like Frank right now, to engage multiple communities and be able to find life, vibrancy, in a world that is in transformation and change."

The anticipated wide release of Our Mr. Matsura on PBS’s The American Experience was unfortunately impacted by federal funding cuts that led to the show’s discontinuation. Despite this setback, Harrington remains optimistic that the film will find its audience through film festivals, streaming platforms, and continued special screenings, acknowledging that the path forward will be more challenging. "There’s a lot of worthy things that we can’t put a dollar value to," she reflected, "These stories… we’re poorer for them when we don’t have them."

During the screening in Omak, Harrington was touched to be thanked for "mirroring" the trust that Matsura had cultivated within the community a century prior. However, she was quick to reciprocate the sentiment, asserting that the narrative extends beyond Matsura’s charisma and his remarkable photographic output. "The story is not just about Frank and his charisma and his incredible body of work," she concluded, "It’s about the way people uphold his memory and still talk about him 112 years after his death." This enduring connection speaks volumes about the photographer’s impact and the vibrant community he so artfully documented.