May 16, 2026.
I woke up, saw that the sky was clear, checked the time of sunrise, and immediately took a taxi to Nakanoshima Rose Garden.
I began photographing around 5:30 in the morning.
This photo collection is the result of that early morning visit to Nakanoshima Rose Garden.
Among all the rose photographs I took this year, this is one of the most precious works to me.
It was not merely a matter of chance.
It was born from the will to capture the light of early morning before it disappeared.
Roses are flowers that bloom in daylight.
But they also reveal their true purity in the light of morning.
On May 16, Nakanoshima Rose Garden possessed that rare and lucid time.
Although it stands in the heart of the city, for a brief moment there was a silence that seemed to transcend the city itself.
The morning of Osaka, the city of water.
The sky above Nakanoshima.
The first light of the day.
And the atmosphere of early summer filling the rose garden.
This is not simply a collection of photographs as they were taken.
In preparing the final work, I removed, as much as possible, unnecessary signs and visual distractions from the surrounding buildings.
I did so in order to free the rose garden from everything that did not belong to its essential beauty.
Although it is a rose garden in the middle of the city, within this work the roses, the light, and the air must be the true protagonists.
The music is Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 7 in C-sharp minor, Op. 131, often known in Japan as “Youth.”
The performance is by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa.
Prokofiev’s Seventh Symphony is a late work, yet it is strangely youthful.
It is bright, transparent, nostalgic, and at the same time touched by a deep shadow.
This is not simple youth.
It is youth seen from afar by someone who has known life.
That is why it suits Nakanoshima Rose Garden at dawn.
The splendor of the roses.
The silence of morning.
The pure time that appeared for a brief moment in the middle of the city.
All of these resonate with Prokofiev’s music.
The photographs do not explain the music.
The music is not subordinate to the photographs.
Photographs and music face each other as independent arts, and eventually create one shared time.
This work records Nakanoshima Rose Garden at dawn together with Prokofiev’s “Youth.”
May 16, 2026.
5:30 in the morning.
Clear skies.
Nakanoshima Rose Garden.
For this moment, I woke, checked the sunrise, and went there by taxi.
I leave that time here.