It’s been a weird time in my life for photography. It’s not my job. It’s kind of a hobby. I constantly look at photos for either work or pleasure, and the influx of images I’m exposed to on a regular basis is overwhelming. Consumed by content, I’ve strayed away from shooting in part from laziness, but also from the simple fact that there are a lot of really good photographers out there. And a lot of really bad ones. Either way, who the fuck needs to see another photo of whatever. It only creeps up on me when I feel that guilt that comes from creative stagnancy. Do something. Make something. Slowly, nervously you grab your camera and take it out to the bar or on a trip in an effort to add value to what you’re participating in. More often than not I feel like that asshole that brought a film camera along as an accessory to finding a mate. Oh you like film too? But the excitement and the satisfaction that comes from making a photograph that I don’t know turned out or not, is enough to handle looking like a dick sometimes.
I used a recent and maiden voyage to Tokyo as an excuse to revive my non-existent photo boner. It was difficult to find my rhythm at first, but as the trip went on, I settled into my surroundings and became comfortable with my camera again. I remembered how I liked the light. I remembered how I liked colors together. I stopped looking and started noticing. It also helped that everyone around me was shooting everything, from their gorgeous cheeseburger to themselves, a thousand times. I felt enabled. This grouping of images is part of what I saw and experienced my first time in Japan. Maybe it will mean something to someone, maybe it’s just eating up bandwidth. Either way, I was there, and this is proof. – Luke Dobron