I must admit – for the past few weeks I have been producing a voluminous amount of photographic work, yet hoarding all to myself without sharing any of it. In between shooting and blogging for the Arts Fest and shooting Music Max Live (both of which have blog posts coming) I’ve also been out on the streets. A lot.
If there is one genre of photography which is most dear to my heart, I’m have to say it’s documentary photography. And if we are to break down the type of work in that genre which most defines me, it would undoubtedly be street photography. Pure, unadulterated photography and documenting of everyday life on the streets – that is the photography I live for.
In April I made a solo trip to Japan for 4 days – totally spontaneous and mostly unplanned, I landed in Tokyo with only an inkling of what I wanted to do – to be free to roam the streets and photograph, without an agenda, without any pre-conceived idea of what I should be doing, ala Daido Moriyama on the streets of Shinjuku, or Henri Cartier Bresson on the streets of Paris. And hopefully, in the process, to find myself once again, after all that has happened to me over the past few months. I don’t feel half way real, till I hear the songs of the streets.
I needed to breathe once again, on my own. To find the breath that will keep me going before I drown in the deep well of disappointment and broken dreams in time gone by. In Tokyo, I am constantly walking into a huge mass of humanity, and yet in the crowd, amongst the mill of life, I feel truly alone. On my own, the streets are full of strangers.
I have only just begun to dig through the archives from my trip and to start posting pictures, and I can already feel the allure of the drug that is Japan. This is an addiction I will revisit, again and again. My focus is now once again, on the streets.