This was outside a flower shop and the arrangement was just overflowing onto the sidewalk, so I got close and shot it at a slight angle to capture how dense and layered it was. I didn’t want a clean, centered shot — the chaos of it was the point. Getting close let the different textures and colors overlap without any single flower taking over, which felt truer to what it actually looked like standing in front of it.
The theme here isn’t really Mt. Fuji — it’s the person who can’t look away from it. It was almost accidental; framing a stranger in the corner of the shot while they’re completely absorbed in the view turns the mountain into something more than a landmark; it becomes a moment of someone else’s awe that I’ve happened to catch.
What I liked about this was that it’s technically junk — old rusted spoons, bent forks, a tray with a hole eaten through it — but someone saw something worth making in all of it. I wanted to shoot it straight on so you could really see the wear on each piece, the different stages of rust and tarnish, the way no two utensils aged the same way. The fact that it’s a wind chime felt important too; something this worn out is still functional, still making noise, still hanging there.
24 mm, 1/4000, F/3.2, ISO 1250
In this self-portrait, I wanted to express my love and passion for photography. I had the help of my dad, who pressed the shutter button for me once I found my framing and camera settings to my liking. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to use to convey what I felt was an accurate representation of my identity, I then stumbled upon my late grandfather’s camera form the 1950’s and knew it would work perfectly.