When Street Photography found me
The accidental street photographer
When I was in middle school, I told my mother, "When I get my master's degree, I will go to Japan." A silly promise, a dream at the time. But fast forward to 2012, I had my master's degree in graphic design, and my fascination with Japan had only grown stronger. I simply had to go.
Somewhere along this journey, photography entered the picture (pun intended), and looking back, I think that’s where everything truly started.
At the time, I had no idea what kind of photos I was taking in Japan. Were they travel shots? Personal memories? I didn't think much about categorising them, I just took pictures. I wasn't an avid YouTube user, I didn’t have Instagram, and I didn’t know any other photographers. To me, they were simply pictures of Japan.
Then, something unexpected happened. Some of those photos were exhibited in a collective show, and a few even won awards. That’s when I finally realised what they were: street photography.
It felt like an epiphany, one of those moments when something clicks into place, and you see it clearly for the first time. It might sound naïve or like the realisation of a complete novice, but sometimes, the most defining moments happen when you aren’t even looking for them.
Once I realised my photos belonged to street photography, I became more curious about the genre. Even though my main studies and work were (and still are) in fashion, I started paying closer attention to street photography, how it captured fleeting moments, emotions, and the essence of everyday life.
I think I fully immersed myself in it when I moved to London. The contrast between my hometown and this sprawling, fast-paced metropolis was striking. Back home, I was used to mountains and open fields, now, I was surrounded by towering skyscrapers, neon lights, and streets bursting with life. It was a shift in perspective, one that felt overwhelming at first but also incredibly inspiring.
And in a way, it reminded me of Japan. The first time I walked through Tokyo, I felt a similar sense of awe. The energy, the movement, the layers of a city that never seemed to pause, I had captured it instinctively back then, without realising it was street photography. Now, in London, I was doing it with intention.
That realisation changed how I saw photography. It wasn’t just about documenting a place, it was about capturing the rhythm of life within it.
I have a complicated relationship with my own work. I’m hypercritical, always chasing improvement, and often, after some time passes, I struggle to appreciate my older photos. But every now and then, there’s an image that stays with me, one that I can’t bring myself to dismiss. However, this particular picture, I still think it's a good one. I know that there's an emotional attachment, but at the same time, there’s something more to it.
It captures a moment that feels almost cinematic, the contrast between the overwhelming merchandise, the soft pastel colours of her outfit, and the quiet focus in her expression. It’s not just about aesthetics, it tells a story. A glimpse into subcultures, identity, or even the fleeting nature of childhood fascination.
This March, ten years after my last trip to Japan, I’m finally returning to the country I deeply love. I feel more mature now, hopefully more skilled, ready to capture new moments while fully immersing myself in the experience. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll take another photo that I won’t want to let go of.
