Living in Osaka while treating Kyoto as one’s own garden turns Japanese history into a lived, physical sensation.
Temples, landscapes, and fleeting moments reveal the depth of time embedded in the land.

Living in Osaka while treating Kyoto as my own garden naturally turns Japanese history into something felt through the skin.
2016-01-01
On the morning of December 30, I turned on the television and heard a wide show asking, “Who was Rin Jōin?”
My readers would have answered instantly.
He came from Song China as a disciple of a monk at Kennin-ji,
became naturalized in Japan,
and is known as the man who made the first manju in Japanese history.
That day was again close to perfectly clear, so I headed toward Kiyomizu-dera.
On my walk back toward Shijo Kawaramachi, I happened to enter the grounds of Kennin-ji.
I passed in front of Ryosoku-in,
photographed the Founder’s Hall, the Sanmon gate, and the Dharma Hall,
and once again found myself admiring what a great temple Kennin-ji truly is.
To readers around the world, I offer photographs taken this New Year’s Day morning in Arashiyama as a substitute for a New Year’s greeting.
As I have said many times, when it comes to photographing Kyoto, I am among the best in the world,
so this is quite a bargain, I assure you.
Recently, each time I visit, I find myself thinking the same thing.
Kyoto is, in the truest sense, a land of purple mountains and clear waters.
Today’s Arashiyama was no exception.
More than that,
perhaps knowing that I was its master,
the moment I finished shooting and prepared to leave,
a sudden gust of wind swept across the water,
and the mirror-like surface was instantly covered with ripples.