Nagi Kato

Living in a place like Tokyo, I often feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information. Even just walking down a street, countless elements rush past and vanish. At times, I　wonder if I am missing something truly important.　

That is why I chose to turn my gaze toward the familiar scenes that are often overlooked to encounter them once more.
I have always been drawn to the light that spills into a living room a warmth that brings a quiet, unconditional sense of comfort. The living room is where the people and presences that matter most to me gather. It is a space where I wish for them to simply be well.
I began to observe this everyday light more closely. I noticed that the light, entering through multiple windows, changes its form over time sometimes overlapping, sometimes crossing, quietly creating something new. As I gathered this light, I felt as though I had returned to my childhood, resting within a gentle sunbeam.

To go beyond the horizon is to move toward the unknown. But wherever I may go, I want to hold onto a place where I can always return.