My story with photography

I first encountered photography at the beginning of high school. What began as curiosity did not send me rushing to buy a camera; instead, I spent a year with the New York Institute of Photography textbook and photo albums—reading, imagining, and quietly sketching an inner landscape of images.

Later I experimented with entry-level mirrorless cameras from Sony and Fujifilm, but the true turning point came after an exam, when I chose the Ricoh GR3 as my prize. That small camera became inseparable from me, teaching me how to see—how light bends, how shadows breathe, how an ordinary street corner can hold an entire world.

Even under the weight of high school life, I reserved weekend nights to walk the city with a camera in hand. Those years became a season of discovery: I immersed myself in the works of many photographers, and was deeply influenced by the intimacy of Nobuyoshi Araki and the narrative sensibility of Masashi Asada. Gradually, I began to find my own voice—less about imitation, more about emotion, more about dialogue with the unseen.

Today, my photography is not bound by genre. It leans toward the street, yet what I seek is never the scene itself but the atmosphere it carries—the fleeting weight of a feeling, the trace of an emotion that lingers beyond the frame.