The title of my photographic series, TOKϴYO, was inspired by tokoyo (常世 eternity), an imaginary world with deep roots in ancient Japanese concepts. It’s an immortal universe where the goddess of grains, fertility, and ancestors coexists. The sun regenerates in this place. It also reminds us of our capital Tokyo, where a large number of people live. They have profited from the electricity generated at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. 
    Yet the celestial landscape of Fukushima was pure pleasure to my eyes. Having been away for thirteen years, everything seemed so new and fresh. I travelled around the prefecture like a tourist and took photos as I walked. The exploration led me to small neighbouring villages, which faced an ageing population, low birth rate, not to mention declining craftsmanship. Like Man Ray’s assistant, Berenice Abbott, who also relocated from Paris to her home country in the US, I was fascinated with Fukushima’s everyday landscape.

     A year after, the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami struck Japan. My house collapsed like a crushed tin can. Then, the Fukushima 1 nuclear plant exploded. It happened only 50 km away from my home. Despite the devastation the coastal area suffered, the mountainside maintained its beauty. Sakura trees and flowing streams seemed untouched as if nothing had happened. It was like standing in a world without boundaries between life and death. I felt confused by the overwhelming and surreal presence of my baby.

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