THE STORY BEHIND: “REMINISCENT”
“The divine is not something high above us.
It is in heaven, it is in earth, it is inside us.”
GOD RAYS
MUSHOTOKU PIER
I don’t spend time thinking about past-lives. I believe we are here, now, and should focus our attention on finding beauty in our present lives. But, with that said - If we do live past lives, I must have lived in Japan!
That’s often how I describe the connection I feel to the place and the culture. It’s been there inside of me for as far back as I can remember. A piqued curiosity and intrigue toward Japanese culture. The way of the martial artist training in the dojo. The Zen monk meditating on the Dharma. Ki power. Japanese aesthetics. And more.
It has deeply resonated with me in ways I can’t quite explain.
Now, after multiple photography expeditions in recent years to this oddly familiar land, I can say my imagination is more captured than ever before.
SNOWY AFTERNOON
I still love all those things that I have always resonated with about Japanese culture, but am now also enchanted by the elements of my experiences. The smell of a room with a tatami floor. The taste of food wrapped in seaweed. The sight of visual order, both in nature and that touched by the hand of man. Torii gates.
I must say, Torii gates have a powerful hold over me. They slow me down, draw my attention, and bring me to a more present and peaceful place. They are meditational tools woven into the culture. I love that!
“My primary objective with my photographs is to create something that serves a viewer in the same way the Torii gate serves me. To present images with depth and mood, that evoke emotion, and have the opportunity to lead one to a quiet, focused, stillness.”
As a Maui-based photographer living in the Hawaiian islands for the better part of the past 25 years, my connection to the snowy landscape was lost. My relationship to the white winterscapes had become a distant memory from earlier years. To childhood.
That all changed with a winter shooting expedition to Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island.
Due to an almost constant surge of Arctic weather blowing down from Siberia, Hokkaido receives heavy dumps of snow. At times, the snowfall would be so heavy that the form of a tree 50 feet away would disappear completely to the eye, only to slowly reappear moments later. This dance in and out of existence is entrancing.
I discovered in those silent snowy landscapes exactly what I seek - stillness, peacefulness, space to breathe deeply.
A number of years ago, after returning home from my first trip to Japan, friends and family naturally asked how my trip was. Before having the time to sort out my feelings and reflect more deeply on my experiences, the natural answer that flowed out of me was - It felt…familiar. It felt like returning home after being away for a long period.
I can’t explain where this feeling comes from. And I don’t feel a need to understand déjà vu, why it happens or where it comes from. I am perfectly happy with some mysterious connections to places and things of this world, beyond my know.
The mind tends to spoil all the fun in needing to understand and know, whereas the heart loves mystery! I try and follow my heart as much as possible, and that’s never more true than when I work with the camera.
