Autumn in Tokyo seemed somehow regretful. On the way between my studio around the corner of Ebisu San-chome and my son’s nursery, I was begged by the unknown sin, and instantly made found objects into sculptures as altars, then shot them as praying to an icon. The apologies that I had for how city nations behaved with their desires to the objects coloured the autumn into deep red like a maple, which tries not to give up carrying on photosynthesis.

東京の秋はどこか申し訳なさそうに錦の幕を下ろした。恵比寿三丁目の一角に構えたスタジオと長男の保育園との道中、私は正体の見えない罪に乞われ、道端で拾ったモノを祭壇に組み、祈るようにシャッターをきる。置いていかれたモノに込められた都会人の欲に対する懺悔は、私の平成最後の秋を最後まで光合成を諦めない楓のように紅く紅く染めた。