Filmmaker Beth Harrington’s discovery of Frank Matsura’s photographs in 2002 at the Washington State History Museum during a road trip marked the beginning of a journey into the life and work of a largely forgotten artist. Among the exhibits of Edward S. Curtis’s contemporaries, Matsura’s work "just leapt out" at Harrington, possessing a "completely different character" that resonated deeply. Matsura, a Japanese immigrant who lived and worked in Okanogan County, Washington, from 1903 to 1913, left behind thousands of evocative black-and-white images that captured the essence of the people and landscapes of the region. His photographs, imbued with a palpable charisma and a profound connection to his subjects, depicted a diverse mix of white settlers and Indigenous people from the Colville Indian Reservation. Despite the limited documentation of his life, which ended prematurely at age 39 from tuberculosis, his legacy endures, cherished by the communities he so vividly portrayed.

Harrington, who moved to the Northwest from Boston in the early 2000s, spent nearly two decades unraveling Matsura’s enigmatic story, culminating in the 2025 feature-length documentary, Our Mr. Matsura. The film’s title reflects the idea that "everyone has a point of entry" into understanding Matsura, a collective sense built from the "little impressions" his photographs offer. This sentiment was echoed by Douglas Woodrow, an Okanogan native who attended a screening of the film at the restored Omak Theater. Woodrow recalled how Matsura’s photographs, frequently featured in the local newspaper during his childhood in the late 1950s, offered him a vivid glimpse into the past. He would bike to the locations depicted in the photos, marveling at the changes and imagining the grandeur of structures like the Bureau Hotel, which burned down in 1924, once lending "a bit of elegance" to the otherwise "dusty little town."

Woodrow’s reconnection with Matsura’s work began decades later when, as a volunteer for the Okanogan County Historical Society, he unearthed a "literal shoebox" of unprocessed photographs. These images, when sequenced, chronicled the 1910 construction of the Conconully Dam, an early Bureau of Reclamation project. This discovery ignited Woodrow’s passion, leading him to present these photos to community groups and embark on a personal mission to preserve Matsura’s legacy. His dedication extended to traveling to Matsura’s birthplace in Tokyo with Japanese photographer and friend Tetsuo Kurihara, whom he had met during Kurihara’s research trip to Okanogan. Back in Washington, Woodrow spearheaded the creation of an interpretive site near Matsura’s former studio and organized a walking tour featuring mural-sized reproductions of his photographs.

Woodrow observed Matsura’s "extraordinary" social mobility, noting his inclusion in "just about everything that happened in town, by all the social strata"—from tribal members to newly arrived businessmen, miners, and saloon patrons. This pervasive presence in the community is evident in the breadth of his photographic subjects, capturing the vibrant tapestry of life in Okanogan County during a period of significant change.

Randy Lewis, a Wenatchi (P’Squosa) elder and member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, is among the descendants of Matsura’s subjects featured in Our Mr. Matsura. Lewis has actively participated in community screenings of the film, including a memorable "barn screening" in Winthrop, Washington, followed by a salmon bake, underscoring the enduring connection between Matsura’s work and contemporary life. His family’s story provides a poignant illustration of how the world Matsura captured continues to resonate today. The film highlights a photograph of Lewis’s great-uncle, Sam George, with his family in a buckboard wagon—described by Lewis as "the F-250 of the time." This photograph held particular significance for George, who, in his final years, would gaze at it, using it to recall the names and birthdays of everyone depicted.

Sam George, who died at the age of 108, was born in 1860, predating the 1872 formation of the Colville Indian Reservation. His long life spanned periods of immense transformation, including the reservation’s reduction, the allotment era, and the influx of gold-seekers and homesteaders. He and his family, including Lewis, maintained traditional seasonal fishing practices, including a platform at Celilo Falls, which was tragically inundated by the construction of The Dalles Dam in 1957, submerging one of the continent’s richest fishing grounds. Matsura’s arrival in the region coincided with this cultural shift, a time when, as Lewis observed, "both cultures," Native and settler, were evolving. "We were into a new century, and he was capturing that," Lewis stated, emphasizing that Matsura’s focus was on "life going on," rather than the "death toll of the Indians."

Our Mr. Matsura also serves as a compelling portrait of Okanogan County itself, showcasing the isolated and rugged beauty of a landscape that has remained remarkably similar to how Matsura encountered it over a century ago. Jean Berney, a seasoned rancher and farmer from near Conconully, describes the area as "off the beaten track for a lot of people." An enrolled member of the Colville Confederated Tribes, Berney married into a non-Native cattle-ranching family and built her own successful herd, earning national recognition as a conservation-minded rancher and dedicated supporter of the 4-H program.

Her land holds historical significance as the former site of The Conconully Naturpathy Institute, colloquially known as Casselmann’s Sanitarium, established in 1906 by German immigrant Dr. Casselmann to treat tuberculosis patients. It is widely believed that Matsura himself may have been a patient, drawn to the region’s dry climate. Berney often contemplates Matsura’s journeys across this challenging terrain, musing, "Did he ever talk to Dr. Casselmann about his condition? How long was he sick? We wonder about Frank and everything that happened a long time ago, and we can’t ask."

Harrington’s documentary joins a growing body of scholarship dedicated to Matsura, including the diligent work of volunteers at the Okanogan County Historical Society and the academic contributions of Michael Holloman, an art professor at Washington State University. Holloman, an enrolled member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Indian Reservation, co-curated an exhibition of Matsura’s work at Spokane’s Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture in 2023 and authored the 2025 book, Frank S. Matsura: Iconoclast Photographer of the American West. Holloman advocates for a spirit of engagement similar to Matsura’s, 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 wide release of Our Mr. Matsura was initially planned for The American Experience on PBS, but federal funding cuts led to the discontinuation of the long-running series last summer. Despite this setback, Harrington remains optimistic that the film will reach its audience through film festivals, streaming platforms, and special screenings like the one held in Omak. She acknowledges that the path forward will be more challenging, but emphasizes the intrinsic value of preserving such stories. "There’s a lot of worthy things that we can’t put a dollar value to," she remarked, adding, "These stories… we’re poorer for them when we don’t have them."

During the Omak screening, Harrington was met with profound gratitude for "mirroring" the trust and rapport Matsura had cultivated with his subjects over a century prior. However, the filmmaker was quick to deflect the praise, stating, "The story is not just about Frank and his charisma and his incredible body of work. It’s about the way people uphold his memory and still talk about him 112 years after his death." This enduring admiration highlights the profound impact of Matsura’s photographic legacy and the community’s commitment to keeping his memory alive.