What is photography?
I keep asking myself this unanswerable question as I step out the front door, my beloved camera hanging from my neck. My photographs are taken within a three-kilometer radius of my home.
As I walk, I ponder this question in the back of my mind.
The road gleams, and the rustling of trees drifts through my vision.
If my heart had colors, they would shift and flow with each step I take.
Along the way, something startles me—something makes me gasp. Colors seep into my mind.
What is it?
My heart stirs.
In that moment, I press the shutter and feel a sense of relief.
What have I captured? Why did I take this photograph? I seem to know, yet I don't.
My photographs are born from these fleeting moments-when my heart is moved, when my mind changes color, when I am caught off guard, when I gasp-and when I press the shutter and finally exhale.
An orchestra is composed of violins, oboes, timpani-each instrument distinct in shape and tone. Every one of them has its own character. At first glance, they may seem disconnected, yet under the conductor's guidance, their voices merge, their individuality weaves together, and a symphony is born-a world in harmony.
Yes, I am the conductor, and my photographs are the instruments. The shutter is my point of contact, bringing each unique element into harmony under my direction, creating a symphony of the world.
As I capture everyday scenes, I frame moments of fate, the song of a lark soaring over the countryside, and overlooked, unnoticed fragments of life. With the colors of my heart, I compose a new world—a symphony of unseen beauty.
Thank you for visiting the solo exhibition of maestro photographer Yoshiko Miyagi today.
I hope you enjoy the symphony of the Photo Orchestra under my direction.
Yoshiko Miyagi
The poster child of the digital age is 86-year-old maestro photographer Yoshiko Miyagi.
In the era of film photography, photographers were craftsmen. They had to make split-second judgments about exposure, shutter speed, and composition before pressing the shutter-mastery of technique was essential. But as technology advanced, photography became accessible to everyone. With the rise of digital cameras, the technical demands of photography have diminished drastically. Yoshiko Miyagi has always taken her photographs in P mode, entrusting all technical aspects-exposure, shutter speed, and sensitivity-to the camera. She focuses solely on capturing the moments that move her, pressing the shutter only when she feels the perfect instant has arrived.
The moment Yoshiko presses the shutter is different from Henri Cartier-Bresson's decisive moment. Bresson's decisive moment captures a fleeting instant in time and space-like the precise moment a foot touches the surface of the water. But Yoshiko's moment is something else entirely. As she holds her camera, colors swirl in her mind-red shifts to blue, then green, then rikyu-nezu (a muted greenish-gray). The instant those colors change, expand, or stir something within her-that is her decisive moment. It is not about freezing time in the world around her. Nor is it about capturing the unusual, the striking, the surprising, or the never-before-seen. What matters is that the subject feels special to her at that moment. Even an ordinary stone, if seen through the colors in her heart, becomes part of her photograph.
To borrow the words of her late photography mentor, Tetsushi Yuzaki, photographers have traditionally been craftsmen-when looking through the viewfinder, they instinctively assess composition and settings, drawing upon years of experience to capture the perfect shot. Yoshiko, however, takes a different approach. She entrusts the settings to the camera and does not consciously frame her shots. Instead, she presses the shutter purely by instinct, following her heart-much like a child driven by curiosity.
Yoshiko's photographs, like children's drawings, have the power to move the viewer's heart—free from reliance on technique or calculated intent.
Producer: Naoki Nagayama
A slideshow of works and a video message from Yoshiko
What is photography?
I keep asking myself this unanswerable question as I step out the front door, my beloved camera hanging from my neck. My photographs are taken within a three-kilometer radius of my home.
As I walk, I ponder this question in the back of my mind.
The road gleams, and the rustling of trees drifts through my vision.
If my heart had colors, they would shift and flow with each step I take.
Along the way, something startles me—something makes me gasp. Colors seep into my mind.
What is it?
My heart stirs.
In that moment, I press the shutter and feel a sense of relief.
What have I captured? Why did I take this photograph? I seem to know, yet I don't.
My photographs are born from these fleeting moments-when my heart is moved, when my mind changes color, when I am caught off guard, when I gasp-and when I press the shutter and finally exhale.
An orchestra is composed of violins, oboes, timpani-each instrument distinct in shape and tone. Every one of them has its own character. At first glance, they may seem disconnected, yet under the conductor's guidance, their voices merge, their individuality weaves together, and a symphony is born-a world in harmony.
Yes, I am the conductor, and my photographs are the instruments. The shutter is my point of contact, bringing each unique element into harmony under my direction, creating a symphony of the world.
As I capture everyday scenes, I frame moments of fate, the song of a lark soaring over the countryside, and overlooked, unnoticed fragments of life. With the colors of my heart, I compose a new world—a symphony of unseen beauty.
Thank you for visiting the solo exhibition of maestro photographer Yoshiko Miyagi today.
I hope you enjoy the symphony of the Photo Orchestra under my direction.
Yoshiko Miyagi