Finding Your Own Opportunities...

Photos and Reflections from an overnight trip to a small coastal city in Chiba prefecture.

View of Katsuura Bay

You ever feel like there’s nothing to see?

Because I’ve often felt that way around the places I’ve lived, both here in Japan and over in the US. I’ve spent so much time admiring photos from places like New York, Paris, and even Tokyo that I never quite feel capable of taking pictures in the smaller, quieter towns I’ve lived in or frequent. It just never feels like there’s anything exciting happening or worth photographing.

In hindsight, perhaps there were things to see that I glossed over or ignored. In a way, I’m spoiled. Because in Tokyo, I can be a passive observer. I can walk in just about any direction and count on finding something to pique my interest. There’s almost always something new to see, and I can consistently count on there being activity around the central hubs throughout the week. It doesn’t take much effort on my part other than showing up at the right place at the right time.

But as you can probably guess by now, it’s not always so in Chiba. Even downtown, I’m hard pressed to find much going on outside in Chiba City, even on a weekend. Sometimes the parks are busy, especially during flower seasons or when there’s a festival, but other than that, I don’t see much happening on the streets throughout the week like I do in Tokyo. I typically only see people gathered around train stations; always in the middle of going somewhere else, perhaps somewhere more exciting!

But despite all that, I’ve been wanting to change how I view shooting here in Chiba. I think it’s all too easy to get caught up in the excitement of a big city like Tokyo when you live right next to it. When there’s so much to see and photograph right there, it’s like I lose my patience to shoot in a space that isn’t always teeming with like and opportunities. Over the years, when I’ve tried going on photo walks around Chiba, I’ve almost always ended up bored and gone home without capturing very much. It all felt rather pointless, which is why I seldom think about shooting here.

A photo my mother took with my camera

So, in a way, I’ve had to recalibrate my approach to photography. I can’t afford to continue being a passive observer if I want the kind of experience and photos that I’m hoping for. I need to start putting myself out there more, at least a little bit at a time. I think that means not just going out on photo walks to do photography, but to participate and join more activities and events to get closer to finding what I’m searching for. It’s just that a part of me almost wishes that it weren’t so.

If you couldn’t tell by now, I’m an introvert. I’ve always liked to do things on my own. While I’d like to say that it’s because I’m a tough dude that doesn’t need anyone but myself, that couldn’t be any further from the truth. The truth is I’m anxious. I’m shy and nervous when it comes to interacting with others, especially people I don’t already know. Honestly, if I’m being frank, I even get anxious when hanging out with people I do know at times, especially in larger gatherings or when spending time with people I don’t see very often. The reality is that I only ever feel at ease when the group of people I’m with are those I know very well and feel comfortable with. It’s something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember, although I think I’ve learned to hide it well and be a functional adult in public settings. Nevertheless, it’s always there, lurking beneath the surface, and it makes all the difference when an interaction with someone is the deciding factor over whether I get to see or experience something interesting or noteworthy. Something that I’d maybe like to photograph.

You know, it’s hard being an introverted photographer who is interested in people. But like all good things in life, I suppose the answer to that is to inch forward a little bit at a time; slowly stepping out of my comfort zone and keeping an open mind about everything. I’ve had to shift my mindset to creating my own opportunities, which has helped me to reshape how I view shooting here in Chiba—my home.

And so about a month ago, I went out to Katsuura on the Pacific coast of Chiba prefecture. It’s a small city with an aging population, so as you can guess, there’s usually not too much going on there except at the beach during the summer holidays. I go there a few times a year since I know some people who own second homes near the beach. Ever since I was little, my family has liked to spend a weekend or afternoon there to enjoy the ocean and summer breezes. It's quite relaxing, being there.

For many years, my parents have been involved in young adult outreach centered around college students in the area. Katsuura is home to a not-so-small sports university, so there’s always a revolving door of young adults who move into town for a few years in pursuit of studying to become P.E. teachers and physical therapists or trainers, among other things. Many years ago, my father used to work at the university, so on and off since then, both he and my mothers have gone out to Katsuura about once a month to help host activities like game nights, barbecues, and more—not alone, they work with other like-minded people.

Last month, they hosted a beach day and barbecue, taking the students out to the ocean to spend an afternoon learning to go SUPing—standup paddle-boarding. I don’t usually join them when they host their events, but this time I decided to attend—along with my sister and her boyfriend, who were visiting from the US—because I figured it might be a good opportunity for photography.

But as I said earlier, I’m not any good with large gatherings with lots of people I don’t know. In total, there were about forty people, though I was fortunate in that more than a few were familiar faces, so that was a relief. But even still, I interacted with people I had never met or spoken to only once or twice previously, so it took some time to warm up and feel comfortable enough to start photographing what was happening around me.

Ever since I first picked up a camera back in 2022, I’ve always done photography in a very specific way. I go out with my camera for the sole purpose of taking photos once or twice a week; that’s my photography time. It’s how I’ve done street photography ever since I started. It was always very passive, catering to my need for personal distance and separation from my subjects as an anxious and shy person. I’ve never been a confident person, and I still don’t think I am. But I think now more than ever, I’m curious enough to try and not let my shortcomings dictate how I spend my time and my life. I’ve come to notice that I shoot differently depending on whether I’m feeling bold and confident versus when I’m nervous and hesitant. It’s hard to say whether that manifests in how the results look and feel, but it does affect my mood, which ultimately determines how I perform while on a photo walk.

Back in the day, I originally got into photography as a therapeutic means to spend more time outside and experience more of what life has to offer as a way to overcome depression, stress, and crippling anxiety. I picked up a camera on a whim, and it’s led me to where I am now—a much happier person than I used to be, especially with myself. But if there’s one thing you learn as you age, it's that there’s always room for more when it comes to self-improvement, and photography isn’t quite finished with me just yet.

But coming back to the present and my overnight beach trip to Katsuura, I took many photos and had a great time at the beach. I especially enjoyed photographing the guys playing spike ball. I used to love playing that game in high school after school or during lunch break, so it was fun watching others play after not seeing it for many years. It also appeared that a number of the students already knew how to SUP, but for those who didn’t, there were a pair of huge boards available that a group could load up on and paddle together.

Another reason I like to visit Katsuura and other similarly small towns in the inaka—meaning countryside, but the term also invokes a sense of nostalgia—is that there tends to be more wildlife. As someone who typically wakes up to the sounds of car engines or utter silence, nothing quite beats the feeling of waking up to birding in the morning. There are also many cats that live around town. The owner of the house I stayed at previously told me about a spot where he and some of the locals like to feed all the cats by the docks in the mornings. I obviously couldn’t resist a chance to check that out, so along with my sister, Kat, I bought some cat food at the local supermarket to bring with us to see whether we could coax the kitties to come out and play. I mostly just let her do the feedings, that way I could focus on photographing what she and the cats were doing.

Over the years that I’ve photographed cats around Tokyo—you can often find them lurking in shitamachi—I’ve seldom been able to move close enough to get something decent. I usually need a telephoto lens because they often scamper away the moment I notice them. But this time, I suppose because the kitties were used to people and we had some goodies for them, I was able to get closer than I expected and managed to capture them with a 28 mm.

Aside from cats, I also spent a lot more time photographing and looking at things I might not spare a second glance for. It was David’s—my sister’s boyfriend—first time in Japan, so we drove around the coast and stopped at a plethora of lookout points, vistas, and shrines in an effort to show him around. Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever had a great eye for landscapes and nature, but as we went for a drive around the coast, I tried to keep an open mind and looked around for things that were interesting.

And I guess that’s just it, isn’t it; the key to why I feel like there’s nothing to see in some places. I’m expecting—wanting—to see and photograph the sort of things I’m used to capturing around Tokyo and other more exciting places. Because, of course, I’m not going to be able to make the same kind of photos. I have to photograph differently, and that means I need to learn to look at things differently. To notice things that I might not ordinarily pay attention to and try to find beauty in new places.

That, of course, comes with a lot of practice and patience in much the same way I learned how to do street photography in the city. And so after reflecting on this trip and recent months, I think I’ll be spending more time around Chiba—both in the cities and in the countryside—looking for things to photograph. I’ll look for opportunities to participate or do something because I think that will lead to experiences for me to grow as a person, but also for a chance to photograph something that interests me. That could be something as small as just spending more time with friends and family, or getting to know new people rather than always doing things on my own; not everything needs to be great and grand. And of course, there will probably be many more days to come when I won’t feel up to it like I always have—when anxiety and nervousness get in the way of progress. And that’s okay.

Growth comes with time. What matters is that you keep your feet on the road ahead and move forward, one step at a time.

Daibutsu at Nokogiriyama, Chiba

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Meanwhile…

As of the time of publishing this newsletter, I will finally be on summer break from my high school, so huzzah!

On the topic of honesty, my original idea for writing this piece was much simpler and far less personal. I had initially decided to write a concise piece only about what I did, and perhaps talk about the area a bit. Still, the words I put down took on their own life as I started writing, and before I knew it, I was reaching much deeper and sharing more about myself than I had intended.

I guess that’s part of the beauty of writing. I’m a huge reader, and I’ve read accounts of authors who said their characters or stories came to life on their own as they were putting words to paper, and I think I experienced a little bit of that here. It wasn’t my intention; it just kinda happened. And I think that’s beautiful—when we create subconsciously and only because it feels right. That’s what I seek for my photography as well, which I think has been the case for many of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken. They just happened, spontaneously.

I have yet to decide what my next topic is. I recently attended Narita Gion Matsuri, so either I’ll write about that next or save it for later and do something about street photography instead. So we’ll see. I don’t typically decide until I sit down and start writing. As a general philosophy for life, I try to only make decisions about things when I need to. Too much planning in advance or micro-decision making leaves me exhausted before I even realize it.

Only a completely different note, I started reading the Wheel of Time back in March and am currently in the first quarter of Lord of Chaos, book 6. I found book 1 to be okay at best, but I really started enjoying it from book 2 and onwards. The only things I’m struggling with are how immature and hypocritical some of the characters seem, especially Nyneave and Egwene. Their POV chapters drive me insane sometimes with how they treat others, but hopefully that will improve as the series progresses…

I also recently finished my playthrough of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remaster, which I started back in April. I rather enjoyed it, though I think I got a little bit tired of the massive open world by the end, after 50 hours of gameplay. I wish there were more studios making shorter, tighter games in the vein of The Last of Us, which can be completed in 15 or so hours. Sometimes I don’t want all the options, I just want a good narrative and fun gameplay that won’t take me half a year to finish.

Anyway, thanks for reading!