Since my chemo session this week, I have been browsing through my archive of Japanese woodblock images, CDs and DVDs of works loved and gathered up during the last ten years or so. As always, the journey has been enjoyable, particularly looking at the creations of Kawase Hasui and Tsuchiya Koitsu again. Temples, pagodas, bridges, streets and street lanterns, tea houses, umbrellas, snow, cities, factory workers and courtesans, power lines, trees and moons, they captured it all, and oh, how they captured it.
Somewhere along the way, I remembered this image recorded in the village several seasons ago in late autumn, and I went off to find it again. Fog billowed and swirled around roofs and trees that morning, cloaking vehicles parked in the street, reframing transmission towers and power lines as magical floating structures, casting a luminous pearly veil over everything.
When I arrived home and uploaded results of the exercise into my computer, I was perplexed by the palette and the nebulous character of the composition, then decided it was fine just as it was. The image was as close as I would ever come to a misty urban work by Hasui or Koitsu. My faithful lens lingered lovingly on everything it saw that morning, and it took everything in. The vision was true, and I still love looking at it. This morning it is on my desktop, and I wanted to share it.