Today,
I wish to record here, as a personal memorandum,
the reason why I continue to photograph the landscapes of Japan—
primarily Kyoto, but also Nara, Shiga, Mount Fuji, and the Seto Inland Sea—
selecting only days with the right light and conditions.

Even if tens of millions of tourists visit Japan each year,
the reality is that, in the world at large,
far more people will never have the opportunity
to set foot in Japan even once in their lifetime.

Decades ago, in Rome,
I conceived the idea of The Turntable of Civilization.
Or rather—more precisely—
it was there that I finally obtained a clear answer
to a question I had carried with me since my youth.

“So this is it,” I realized.
“Even now, half of the world remains poor.
For many, securing a single meal is still a daily struggle.”

More than decades have passed since then.
We now live in an online age.
Even in impoverished regions of Africa,
people can connect to the world through smartphones and personal computers.

Without leaving where they are,
they can now see the beauty of a country called Japan.

A beauty that has been carefully preserved and maintained
over centuries—indeed, over millennia—
by the collective efforts of its people, generation after generation.

To convey to the world
that such a country truly exists—
that Japan, with its enduring beauty, is real.

That is the mission of my photography.

For this reason,
I choose only days suited for photography,
and I apply no manipulation whatsoever to my images,
other than removing incidental passersby who happened to enter the frame.

On a certain day,
at a certain moment,
my life was there,
my existence was there,
and the flowers, birds, wind, and moon of Japan
were there as well.

I wish to preserve and transmit that fact—
truthfully and eternally.