I was born in Japan's Saitama Prefecture.
Long ago, the land of my birthplace was barren due to water shortage. It was a tough place to live in with agriculture alone.
My father then chose to raise cows for a living. I was not fond of my daily life there. I thought it was a backwater town centered around the expressway, with only this road connecting it to Tokyo giving it any life at all. In our farm at home, we raised animals only to have them killed later. The contradiction of feeling love for them while understanding the cruelty of what we were doing made me constantly aware of our unfading sins, accumulating, piling up.
However, when I was around 20 years old, my grandfather, who had been living with us, passed away. During his funeral, the monk said, "Your ancestors built this land with their sweat and blood, you should be grateful. Your grandfather will become a pine tree on that mountain and watch over everyone." As those words comforted my heart, I deeply felt that the place I stood on was drenched in the struggles, sweat, tears, and blood of so many people.
From then on, that land as I saw it through the viewfinder was exhilaratingly beautiful. I felt connected to the spirits of the people who had lived here until now, to the spirits of the cows and pigs who have become sacrifices for our family.
I am not of any religion, but at some point I found myself believing in the Japanese idea that "a spirit dwells in all things." I was surprised at my own feelings.
I felt deeply drawn towards that kind of silent existence.
To me, photographs are a means to feel and visualize these existences.
Long ago, the land of my birthplace was barren due to water shortage. It was a tough place to live in with agriculture alone.
My father then chose to raise cows for a living. I was not fond of my daily life there. I thought it was a backwater town centered around the expressway, with only this road connecting it to Tokyo giving it any life at all. In our farm at home, we raised animals only to have them killed later. The contradiction of feeling love for them while understanding the cruelty of what we were doing made me constantly aware of our unfading sins, accumulating, piling up.
However, when I was around 20 years old, my grandfather, who had been living with us, passed away. During his funeral, the monk said, "Your ancestors built this land with their sweat and blood, you should be grateful. Your grandfather will become a pine tree on that mountain and watch over everyone." As those words comforted my heart, I deeply felt that the place I stood on was drenched in the struggles, sweat, tears, and blood of so many people.
From then on, that land as I saw it through the viewfinder was exhilaratingly beautiful. I felt connected to the spirits of the people who had lived here until now, to the spirits of the cows and pigs who have become sacrifices for our family.
I am not of any religion, but at some point I found myself believing in the Japanese idea that "a spirit dwells in all things." I was surprised at my own feelings.
I felt deeply drawn towards that kind of silent existence.
To me, photographs are a means to feel and visualize these existences.