In the city life where the buildings are lined up like competing, the light and shadow that accidentally shine through the gap sometimes catches my eye.
One day at dusk, I was eating in a Japanese-style restaurant located on the upper floors.
The setting sun reflected on the window glass of the opposite building illuminated the plants in the aerial garden, projecting a silhouette on the shoji door.
I put myself in an extraordinary floating space and spent time in a restless mood, but as soon as I saw the scene,
I couldn't forget for a while that my nostalgic feelings made me feel at ease.

It may not be a bad idea to go around the sights and look for the sights reflected in the shoji screens of the buildings.
However, I carried a wooden frame (pseudo shoji door) with a side of 1 m of paper and walked around the suburbs with few shields.
Instead of looking for rare flowers and interesting branches and leaves
The shadows of weeds and tree branches that I have been familiar with since I was a child were projected onto the paper and photographed.
Its appearance as a shadow picture evokes the scent of the wind that sleeps deep inside the heart rather than directly capturing the landscape.
Winter plants that have completely lost their leaves and seem to be barely alive,
Perhaps because the outline was outstanding, the vitality was emphasized and I could feel mysterious.
It may be because the wind, air and even the smell have condensed into the plane.
I don't have any experience living in an emotional house,
This experience gently stimulated the nostalgia that lies deep within my heart.
Is it a memory of the people?
Maybe it was because there was a big shake in the ground of this country this spring.
Or was it just annoyed by asphalt or concrete?
It was around this time that the desire to feel the wind, soil, and flowers became stronger.

2011 Tsutomu Takasaki