Photographing Cities Through the Eyes of an Introvert
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Travel

Photographing Cities Through the Eyes of an Introvert

An atomized view of what makes cities so great.

This article originally appeared on VICE Japan.

All Tokyo-based photographer Souhei Nishino wanted to do was find a place where he could be alone. He was a university student, enrolled in art school, when he started climbing up to the top of buildings as a way to find a place away from everyone else—a difficult task in a city as congested as Tokyo. But up above it all he discovered something else as well—a fresh perspective on the city that illustrated how it was more than just the massive crowds you see down on the streets. It was a system as well.

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Today, his art attempts to capture this idea, presenting cities as a collage of individual places and people that come together to make a messy, but surprisingly accurate, map of a place at a specific moment in time.

VICE's Tokyo office sat down with Souhei Nishino to discuss his craft as part of their Distorted World series.

VICE: What got you into photography?
Souhei Nishino: The work I'm doing now happened because I was enrolled in an art school. At one point, I started resenting the fact that I studied art at an art college and that resentment overlapped with the fact that I wasn't really getting along with anyone at the school. I had trouble communicating and I would often skip class and spend my days high up, at these vantage points where I could be alone, like the rooftop, the emergency stairs, other high places where even security guards wouldn't come.

What were you doing in those places?
Just looking around. It was mostly in Umeda and Shinsaibashi.

Osaka

Did you have a favorite spot?
Not really. Walking around and finding a high place was merely a way to avoid people. Instead of being my favorite spots, these places were simply spots that allowed me to be alone. If I looked up, there was only the sky above me. It was like I wanted to get my body off the ground so I could see the world from above—which was very relaxing. Being alone at that vantage point, I felt like I could see things objectively in front of me. From that point onwards, I began to consciously comprehend cities as a structure or a space.

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Do you still see cities the same way?
The way cities are perceived in my current work is an extension of my thoughts then, but it's still a bit different. My perception of cities used to be more solid and geographical than it is today. I feel as if it revolves around how a city is envisioned, shaped, and modeled as a structure.

And this idea first manifested itself in your earlier work?
In my earlier works the phrase "walking on air," comes to mind. I wanted to stay away from people, so I looked for a high place, and spent three-to-four hours at the same spot, taking one photo per place. That's why each picture is so different. Some were taken with a wide angle lens, some incorporated big portions of the sky. The perspective was always erratic. I would then use various parts of the photos and assemble them on postcard-sized paper. That's how my earlier works were made.

Shanghai

New York

So it was essentially a less refined version of your current work?
Indeed it was. It wasn't as precise an assembly of the city landscape as it is now. It was more a scattered collage of photos. Before I knew it, it had turned into a map-like piece. [Laughs] I made several pieces out of those images, and I showed them to Hiromi Tsuchida, a professional photographer. Based on his input, I started to make pieces that were bigger and more layers—things that could pass as an alternative to maps.

So this want to be alone back in your university days became the cornerstone of your work today?
I wanted to become a writer after graduation, but I didn't have what it took at the time. I tried to save money by working three part-time jobs and then went to Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka to create pieces about each city. I submitted them as my graduation project and to the Canon "New Cosmos of Photography" award. I received the merit award there and from that point onwards, the production of new works got into full swing. So I repeated the cycle of traveling and production whole also enjoying the lifestyle, culture, environment, and cuisine of each destination.

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Was it around that time when you stopped trying to avoid people?
Hmm… I wonder. The award submission afforded me more opportunities to present my work to people, and it gradually boosted my self-confidence. Now that I have a portfolio that's not embarrassing to show, my relationship with people is somehow deeper. And all of these people gradually turned into a network.

It seems a bit contradictory to both want to avoid people and also show your work.
I mean I kept telling myself I wanted to stay away from people, but honestly, I didn't actually want to drift away. I mean I was still showing my work to my friends. I still talked to my professors. I wasn't completely detached, I was just keeping communication to the bare minimum. Deep inside, it was hard to come to grip with the reality of being completely detached from people.

You seem pretty engaging now.
The problems you encounter during college get better with time, right? Everyone has their own troubles, but for me, it was a period of trauma stemming from the death of my best friend and the shock of the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake. I think overcoming these traumas helped me shift the way I interacted with people and the way I perceived cities in a broader sense.

Nowadays, I am able to feel the good vibes from a city—something that is organically created by the narratives and the experiences of the residents. It's like I am facing the city head-on now instead of just looking down on it from a high vantage point. My point-of-view has descended to the ground level and that descent is a sign that I'm getting closer to people.

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Istanbul

Istanbul

You start to see people in your collages too. You've been incorporating snapshots of the residents of a city inside your "maps" recently.
True. When I go somewhere, the way I approach a city has changed over time. I used to stay at a hotel and adopt a very tourist-like view, an outsider's perspective. But around the time I first went to Hong Kong, I started to put myself in the shoes of a local. I borrowed an apartment, ate local food, and used public transport. Also, but it's not exactly a rule, I try to get a haircut somewhere local. I try to interact and communicate with locals as much as I can.

You're trying to immerse yourself in the rhythms of daily life.
Exactly. I try to experience life how someone local lives it.

So you're staying longer in each place as well?
It was just two-to-three weeks back when I was essentially a tourist. Now it's more like a month and a half-to-two months' stay. I only return to Japan once I am familiar with the city to a certain degree.

Rio de Janeiro

Rio de Janeiro

What message are you trying to get across with your work?
In the end, I travel because it's a way to understand the continuity of time. When you're living your daily life, especially in a city, it feels like time is divided into units. There's a beginning and an end to everything we do. Take the city bus for example: the bus will arrive at a certain time and it will arrive at its destination at another time. It's now possible to even use Google Maps and see how long it will take you to travel somewhere. It's a modern concept, isn't it?

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I read this book about the Pirahã, an indigenous tribe in the Amazon, and they have no concept of time. The 24 hour day is a Western construct. There are other ways to imagine time. To the Pirahã people there is no such thing as past, present, and future, so their lives revolve around the now. That idea left a lasting impression on me. I feel that when I'm traveling, it's easier to feel the sensation of time as something similar to what the Pirahã people think of as time.

New Delhi

New Delhi

You mean you always feel like you're in the present?
That's right. When I travel, I feel disoriented, like I'm adrift or something. When I'm abroad, it seems like things don't always go according to my wishes. Living in Tokyo, things are so predictable. There's this prevailing sense that everything is a foregone conclusion. There's no surprise anymore. There's no drama.

I want to challenge the conventions of how we perceive time and distance by exploring the aforementioned line through my work, in the form of one picture, which is also a map, and also an accumulation of moments spread across six weeks of shooting. It's an effort to shed light on things that are often overlooked in our daily lives.

You can't just sit back and look at your phone until you reach your destination. If you do that, you might get lost. You need to concentrate on where you're walking, right?
Right. But it's also fun when things don't go according to plan. You are forced to think about it and react accordingly. That's something you can only experience while traveling. Living in a city, it's possible for me to spend my entire day cooped-up inside, not interacting with anyone. It's enough to make me question the boundaries of whether I'm actually human or something else altogether.

Johannesburg

Johannesburg