Hibakari (Main Bar and Sushi Bar)
Saturday, January 16 to Friday, February 26

Tanegashima, the place where I was born, has no "habu" (a venomous viper native to Okinawa). But, according to natives of the island, there is a snake more poisonous than that, called "Hibakari". We are told as young children not to go into the fields by the ocean after dark. If bitten by one, by the time the sun has set, your life will have ended. This is where the name "Hibakari" came from. It can mean "measuring the day light” or "hunting for the sun". But to me, it hints at "photography".

Honestly, I've never thought what photography is. I don't take photos with any special meaning or theme in mind. Since my work place is an underground cafe at Shinjuku station, I try to go above ground everyday, to start a new day.

Once I've left the large avenues behind, the feel of the asphalt changes. There are no obstacles, but I often stumble. It feels like something is calling me to stop. I ask myself, "Where am I going in such a hurry?" Then, looking around carefully, I find a little flowers blooming behind a telephone pole, I make eye contact with a little girl passing by, or a cat crouching in the sun.

That's when I press the shutter. They say that a photo is an incident, catching the moment. But I wouldn't dare call my photos incidents. My photos are like a greeting to that little girl or cat. I only press the shutter once. It would be too awkward to exchange greetings with that person several times.

I am probably looking for the light -- the light that inserts itself into the scene at that instant. I suspect it is because I work underground in Shinjuku station, like a mole. I am startled by the light. To be more precise, I am not aiming the camera, but more capturing the light that happens to enter from the direction the camera is pointing. Actually, it feels like something is aiming itself at me.

What is the purpose of my photography? To satisfy my curiosity? To record? Or is it to express myself? I don't have the time to think about that. I just feel that I have to take photos. The subjects are neither close to me nor entirely separate. There seems an invisible wall in between the subject and myself. Yet I feel rather defenseless.

This is what photography has taught me. Without realizing, 19 years of taking photos of Shinjuku have passed. But after all that, it is still Shinjuku -- Shinjuku's "Hibakari". I doubt I have explained myself well. But please take the time to see my photos, as I hope they say more than this.

Naoko Sakokawa

Naoko Sakokawa was born on the island of Tanegashima, Kagoshima Prefecture. She studied at Joshi Bidai university, majoring in dress design, and also studying modern photography.

She worked in textile design and edited illustrated books at an art design publisher. In 1990, she became a manager of Shinjuku's "Beer & Cafe Berg". Currently she is the director and vice-store manager, a licensed chef, sommelier of Japanese sake, and art navigator.

Sakokawa works 364 days a year, but escapes from the workplace daily, taking photos as she criss-crosses Shinjuku and Tokyo.

The Exhibition Committee