Japan: Returning With Open Eyes

The Call Back

When I returned from Japan the first time, the country stayed with me. Not as nostalgia, but as a quiet pull on my way of seeing. It felt as if something there had been left open, unfinished. The trip had awakened parts of my gaze I didn’t fully recognise at the time, and that sensation lingered. I felt I owed the country something, and I owed myself something too. That is why I decided to return.

This second trip wasn’t carefully planned. It was improvised. I planned less, breathed more, and allowed myself to move with less control. I wanted to see what would happen if I stopped directing my attention and let images find me instead.

Returning Differently

There is something quietly powerful about returning to the same place twice with a camera. Streets once walked with curiosity become familiar, corners are recognised, and the rhythm is no longer overwhelming. This time, I wasn’t trying to capture everything. I let scenes appear, or disappear, without resistance. Photography slowly shifted from collecting images to choosing moments.

Japan, once again, invited me to slow down. This time, I didn’t need the invitation.

Moving Through the Country

On this trip, I visited new places, like Okinawa, met incredible people, and entered into a deeper contact with the culture beyond first impressions. I spent time without photographing, simply observing how light, gestures, and everyday scenes unfolded around me. That time, seemingly unproductive, sharpened my attention and changed the way I framed the world.

The pace of the journey reshaped my relationship with looking: more presence, less urgency, more trust.

Photographing Less

This time, I photographed much less. Not because there was less to see, but because I no longer felt the need to hold onto everything through the camera. Some days, the camera stayed in my bag for hours, and instead of anxiety, that distance brought clarity. My relationship with photography had changed; it was no longer about accumulation, but about intention.

When I did take a photo, it was slower and more deliberate. Each image felt like a conscious decision rather than a reflex.

From Action to State

Photography stopped feeling like something I did and started feeling like a state I inhabited. I wasn’t trying to freeze moments anymore, but to accompany them. I learned to trust absence as much as presence, and to accept that not every moment needs to be photographed to be fully seen.

Sometimes, the act of looking was enough.

The Quiet Continuation

The impact of this trip was intense. It unsettled me again and brought things back to the surface, including questions about why and how I photograph. But this time, I was ready to stay with that uncertainty instead of rushing to resolve it.

This journey didn’t ignite something new. It deepened what was already there. Returning to Japan felt like resuming a conversation mid-sentence, familiar and ongoing. I came back with fewer images than the first time, but with a clearer understanding of my relationship with photography.

Sometimes we travel to change the way we live. Other times, we travel to change the way we see. This time, my gaze was no longer searching. It was resting. And in that stillness, photography continues to feel close.