Purple Magazine
— Purple #43 S/S 2025
The Tokyo Diary Issue
anders edström
MY LIFE IN JAPAN
The first time I went to Japan was in 1992 with Yoshiko, my girlfriend at the time whom I married in January 1994 in Kyoto. My parents came to the wedding, each with their new husband and wife. My sister came, too. But more about that some other time.
I don’t know what I was expecting the first time I went to Japan. I had seen pictures, of course. But I remember I was surprised, on the train from Narita Airport, to see a lot of fields. For some reason, I had imagined that the whole of Japan would look like Shibuya Crossing. Anyway, it was amazing to discover Japan with Yoshiko for the first time, and to meet her parents and extended family. Unlike many Japanese fathers whose daughters fell in love with Westerners, Junji took me in with open arms from the moment we met, as did Tayoko, Yoshiko’s mother. I was struck by the moment Yoshiko and her parents saw each other for the first time in three years. No hugs. Instead, they bowed. But not in a cold way. It was very emotional and strong. I had never seen anything like it. There was a lot of warmth and happiness.
I was taking pictures with my old Rolleiflex and a Yashica Samurai camera that Yoshiko had lent me. But I didn’t take them thinking they would be great or original. I just wanted to show them to people back home and remember. I didn’t know what to photograph because everything seemed interesting. I don’t like to take pictures like a tourist. It’s not a good feeling.
Later, as I said, we married, and our son Nils was born in 1995. Mai, our daughter, was born in 2000. During those years, we went to Japan about every other year to visit, and in 2004, we moved to Tokyo. I thought it would be interesting to see what it was like to live there and also for the kids to go to Japanese schools for a while — for them to see what it really meant to be Japanese.
It wasn’t easy, though, and I had no idea what to photograph. I went out for bicycle rides around Tokyo every day. Just to get lost. I checked the map only in the evening (this was before smartphones) when I wanted to go home. I was just cruising around. But I got more and more depressed because I still couldn’t see what to photograph, and I started to think I didn’t exist. I started to wonder sometimes on my bicycle rides whether Europe and America even existed, or whether they were only in my imagination. I think I got a bit too isolated at that time, but things got better when I learned Japanese. I still took pictures, but I didn’t look at them. In any direction I looked, it seemed like I saw something a Japanese photographer had already photographed. It was very frustrating. After living in Tokyo for three years, I decided to quit photography altogether. So, I started to go out without a camera. I was depressed. I didn’t know what to do. What else could I do other than photography? No idea.
But when I didn’t have a camera with me, I started to wish I did. I started to be able to see things again. Things that I hadn’t seen before. So, I started to take my camera with me again. What you see here is a result of this. I ended up living in Tokyo for nine years. Some of the pictures are from my books, Hanezawa Garden and Shiotani. Some were taken during the filming of The Works and Days (of Tayoko Shiojiri in the Shiotani Basin), a fiction film I made with C.W. Winter. And some are previously unpublished. I sent Olivier more than 200 pictures. This is his edit. I think he did a great job, completely different from what I would have done, but I really like what he did. Thank you, Olivier.
