When I travel, I usually take photos. The means of transportation vary—train, car, or airplane—but I always keep my lens pointed at the view outside the window. Recently, I flew from Haneda Airport to Yonago Airport to visit Matsue City and attend the 46th GR meet 47. Even on the plane, I took photos with my GR pressed against the window while gazing out at the view.
I still vividly remember an incident from my student days. One day, a teacher projected photos taken from an airplane window for an extended period of time using a Kodak slide projector. I wonder how long it lasted. The photos didn't show any dramatic moments; they only showed the sky, clouds, and parts of the aircraft. When the projection ended, the teacher asked a student, “How was it? Tell me your honest feelings.” The student hesitated slightly and replied, “Well, I think it was boring.” The teacher then exclaimed, “That’s it! That's exactly what I intended!” Laughter filled the classroom. I had a peculiar, conflicted reaction when I encountered this form of expression, as if I could comprehend it yet simultaneously couldn't.
That experience left a small seed within me. Expression doesn't always have to be interesting or entertaining. In fact, even boredom and monotony can have a certain power. The fact that I still remember that “boring” slideshow decades later speaks to its power as an expression.
After returning to Tokyo, I looked through the photos I had taken on planes. Since I usually keep my GR in my chest pocket during flights, sorting the photos by camera model allows the app to display those taken during different trips. As I looked through them, I asked myself, “Do these photos also express boredom, as the teacher demonstrated?” I didn't think the views from the plane were boring when I took these photos. However, when I gathered them together, most of them were of clouds and the sky. With a few exceptions of striking shapes or light, overall, some might call these “boring.”
Ultimately, travel is a process of “going” or “returning,” not the destination itself. There is a faint intensity to it, but it is continuous and has few decisive moments. Yet, it is precisely this that allows for certain forms of expression. Like the teacher's slide projection, the changing scenery during passive, non-subjective travel could be a new subject of study in photography. That said, taking photos from inside the plane is simply fun, and I might just enjoy it for what it is, which might be enough for now.
Ryo Ohwada
Born 1978 in Sendai, Japan. Graduated from Tokyo Polytechnic University, Department of Photography, and completed the Graduate Course in Media Art at the same university. In 2005, he was selected as one of the "ReGeneration.50 Photographers of Tomorrow" by the Kunstmuseum Elysee, Switzerland. In 2011, he received the New Photographer Award from the Photographic Society of Japan. He is the author of "prism" (2007, Seigensha), "Gohyaku rakan (Five Hundred Arhats)" (2020, Ten'onzan Gohyaku Rakanji Temple), "Journal during COVID-19 State of Emergency" (2021, kesa publishing), "Shashin seisakusha no tame no shashingijutsu no kiso to jissen (The Basics and Practice of Photography Technology for Photographers)" (2022, Impress), and with poet Chris Mozdel, "Behind the Mask" (2023/Slogan), etc. Associate Professor at the Faculty of Arts, Tokyo Polytechnic University.
www.ryoohwada.com
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