Ongoing Updates (6.15.18). Snapshots from daily life in and around Tokyo, a.k.a. “The Big Sushi,” at the end of the second millennium and the start of the third.
To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place… I’ve found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them. — Elliott Erwitt
I lived in rural Hokkaido from 1998 – 2002, my first four years in Japan. I loved the fields and mountains, the champagne powder snow and rich, saturated island light.
It was on Hokkaido that my passion for photography really developed, so to speak. Unfortunately, I had little money for such an expensive pastime – a roll of film was a luxury – and digital cameras were still bleeding-edge tech.
I did, however, take a few keepers, which were later scanned and I have now uploaded to the series Home Sweet Home Hokkaido 1998 – 2002: Photos.
This fashion season, outdoor clothing labels take a turn on the catwalk
My long-time haute couture has become au courant!
Midweek, early spring. A rain day, too soon in the season for a typhoon, but still a tempest of wind and rain lashes our bedroom window in suburban Tokyo. I’d really rather stay under the futon, but duty calls…
It’s going to be a long walk to the station.
Fortunately, I have the right clothes for the job. After half a lifetime of cherry-picking outlet shops, bargain bins, and clearance sales, I have a closet full of premium, high-tech, performance-enhancing apparel. The latest miracle fibers. Quick-dry Wickron™ for Tokyo’s tropical summer heat and humidity. Capilene® and Merino wool for the pre-dawn cool of spring and autumn. Polartec® and Thinsulate™ puffies for winter’s bright, dry days and chilly nights. WINDSTOPPER® fleece and GORE-TEX® shells for wind- and rain-lashed typhoon season.
Until recently, sporting such recreational gear on a workday earned me sideways glances from fellow commuters.
Then, a couple of winters ago, a sea-change rippled through the dour, dark blues and browns and greys, the occasional bursts of tan among my fellow commuters.