Daydreaming by the Japan Sea

The sun beat down on us as we carried our strange array of items to the shore. We were in the deep countryside of Kyoto, so far to the edge that we reached the Japan sea. The water was clear, and at this season it was inhabited by small bobbling jellyfish that beached themselves, creating a precarious trail down the beach. Amongst the plant matter, seaweed, and trash, these translucent stinging creatures did not jump into your immediate view.

I found myself the least worried about the jellyfish and remained concerned about the unexpected heat. The weather report was fickle the past week, but on the day of the shoot, it forecasted cloudy weather—a relief to the photographer I am. And yet, here we all were, completely suffocating in a humid heat that seemed to permeate all the way to the bone.

It was in this setting that I found myself with this particular concept, clutching my strange items. Two different fish tanks, a wide range of nature-safe food coloring, a child’s school desk and chair from the Showa era, and a large prickly and loose shimenawa that was gifted to me from the temple near my home. I walked with this thick purification rope, it tickled my fingers as it left a trail of rice hay.

The day held an uneasiness. The heat inspired a feeling of rush in my team. Intentionality was left by the wayside, and was replaced with urgency: We must get this done quick.

Feelings such as these are rarely conducive to a successful shoot, at least for me. If I am lucky and get a good shot by chance, then the feelings associated with the shoot can often taint the final image.

I was lucky though. The model who joined was gracious and patient, cheerfully holding her parasol above her head during the breaks, with no trace of having broken a single sweat. Just watching her made it seem ten degrees cooler.

We splashed dashes of color into the aquarium. Red to the right, yellow in the middle, and blues and purples to the left. In the commanding heat, I watched the colors float and merge. I observed them, and as my intent became more fixated, they became a mirage in a desert. The light these smokey wisps of rainbow reflected was beautiful, they bounced on the glass walls of the tank and spilled through to the shore.

With this mixing of colors came new lessons. I constantly seem to learn on the spot what my desired vision is, through trial and error. The only issue is that the period of error has a time and financial limit: Bringing a whole team for a personal project isn’t cheap, and chances for do-overs are slim. So there was a tightness within my chest, as I reluctantly settled on a few ways the colors would go. Perhaps I didn’t experiment enough? What if it was better with sparkles?

Pangs of self-doubt plagued me, as they often do to artists. But I quelled their ridicule for the duration of the shoot, conjuring up any possible feelings of assertiveness.

We began to set up the desk and chair as the sun was setting. Not a complicated setup per se, but we had to take certain things in mind. The tide was rising, the ground was uneven, and the light was angled awkwardly in line with the shoreline. But despite these little grievances, there was something peaceful and familiar about this little frame.

While I have never gone to school myself, I still remember sitting at a large table, dutifully running through my textbooks, and distracting myself constantly with stories I would tell myself, and scenes I would find myself imagining.

This set somehow reminded me of those pockets of time, these quintessential moments that pop up in adulthood very briefly. They are quiet moments of bliss, and they are often paired with daydreaming.

Now as adults, our empty spaces of time are not filled with the whimsy of thought-play but are defaulted to what lives in our cellphones. We don’t desire to exist in our own minds, the obsidian screen is a far cushier place to wander to.

I observed this set; the waves crashed slowly into the legs of the table and chairs, leaving globs of bubbly sea foam at the model’s feet.

The joyful swelling of the waves radiated through the discomfort, but that is the persuasion of the sea. When people come close to the water, we are convinced that no matter how hot or sandy, we are by the beach and that is good.

As the sun lowered itself, we packed up our things. We were now the last people on the beach, while earlier we shared the shore with a few rowdy groups. We were all exhausted, pushing kilos of gear in a cart through the resistance of the sand, and then up a long flight of granite stairs.

I stood at the edge of the steps, just where the sand began to start. Under the ruse of making a final check of the beach, I watched the sunset fall under the horizon. The pinks, yellows, and blues danced with the clouds in the sky, and I found myself reminded of the colors in the fish tank. I imagined the clouds swirling, twisting. I saw myself up there with them, and I left my own reality for a little while.

Five minutes after I had dove into reverie, I was awakened by a shout from the top of the stairs, telling me it was time to go. “What are you doing? Daydreaming?” I sighed, feeling broody at the interruption, but I knew I had to return back down to earth sometime.

I started walking up to the parking lot. My muscles were sore, and the skin on my shoulders was singed from sunburn. I turned around one last time to see the colors, only to find they had been washed away by the blue of the approaching night.

The swelling of the waves continued as I walked to the car, one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. It was my closing music, and looking at the pictures I took from the day, I can still hear them.