Natsukashii (懐かしい)

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the Japanese word, natsukashii. It’s a sort of nostalgic longing, but without the weight of sadness. It’s more like a sudden, warm wave of fondness for a moment that passes through you and leaves you smiling, realizing how beautifully it shaped you.

That is exactly what happens when I look back at my time in Japan. Supported by the Arts Council of Northern Ireland, I traveled over to attend a photography workshop focused on crisp winter landscapes and old-school street photography. I went looking for new ways to expand my practice, but what I actually found was a quiet, unexpected sense of home.

I’m still reflecting on the people I shared that space with. We came from completely different corners of the earth, yet we were bound by this shared desire to just look closely at things, notice small moments and capture a story . We walked a lot around the day labor areas and the older streets that are slowly being pushed out and forgotten by modern development. To the community there, these places are still vital pillars. You see the passing of generations in the endurance of a coffee shop run by the same family for decades, or a tiny sweet shop, or an old market.

In those streets, we had these deeply generous conversations about what it means to be connected to a place, a language, or a person, even as the world changes around us.

The warmth of those people and the creative energy of the course completely shifted how I view my own work. My landscapes have always been about memory and belonging, but right now, they feel illuminated by a completely different kind of light.

To the beautiful souls I met on the course, and to everyone supporting this journey from home, thank you for making the world feel a little smaller, and a little lighter.

There is always, such a fondness in the fleeting.