Kaizen - The city of the rising sun.
Words and Photography by John Hendrick
A Return in a New Light
I first arrived in Japan years ago, long before photography was anything more than a curiosity. I was living there at the time, immersed in the rhythm of daily life but not yet fluent in the language of image-making. Returning this time felt different. I wasn’t just revisiting a place, I was meeting it again, this time with a camera in hand and a purpose behind every frame.
Accompanied by mentors and friends, this ten-day trip to Tokyo wasn’t just about photographs. It was about presence, practice, and rediscovery. I landed ready, ready to see, to document, and to learn from those who had long inspired my craft.
Mornings in Motion
The first morning came early 4:30 a.m. to be exact. We made a quiet pact to ignore jet lag entirely. From that day on, our mornings began in the hush before sunrise, when Tokyo’s streets were still stretching into the day. The city, often seen as relentless in its pace, offered something unexpected in those early hours: stillness.
There’s something profound about photographing a place that’s already lived inside your memory. The familiarity collides with discovery, and the result is an urgency to preserve every nuance every moment that feels both new and remembered.
A Masterclass in the Field
I spent much of those early days simply observing. Watching my mentor compose scenes, waiting for light, trusting instinct. I tried to balance learning with creating, studying techniques while staying present behind my viewfinder. Photography, after all, is equal parts precision and presence.
I was working with the Leica M240-P, a camera I’ve carried since 2017 (M240 body). It’s been with me from the beginning, and in many ways, it still feels like an extension of my eye. This time, I paired it with a 50mm Summarit 2.4 and later on in the trip, a 50mm 1.5 LTM lens. I found myself wishing for a longer focal length, but as is often the case, the limitations became creative advantages. The constraints pushed me to get closer, to move differently, to see more intentionally.
The Streets That Teach
Tokyo doesn’t reveal itself all at once. It unfolds in layers tiny details, quiet gestures, light bouncing off concrete, color tucked between alleys. I found myself slowing down, not out of fatigue, but out of respect. Respect for the space, the people, the harmony of it all.
Looking back, I believe I made some of my strongest work during this trip. Perhaps it was the beauty of Japan. Perhaps it was the quiet accountability of shooting alongside someone I admire. Or maybe it was the simple fact that, for once I had nothing else to worry about. No deadlines, no distractions. Just the daily act of looking.
A Turning Point
At some point during the trip, I was asked a simple question: “What’s next?”
That conversation stayed with me. It didn’t just end with a response, it planted something. A seed that would grow into my next chapter. That question, asked somewhere between Shibuya’s neon blur and a quiet temple courtyard, became the compass for what came after.
It also marked the end of an era and the beginning of another. When I returned home, I picked up the Leica M11-P. A new companion for the road ahead, but one that honors where it all began.
Through the Viewfinder
This journey reminded me that photography isn’t always about the final image. Sometimes, it’s about the act itself, the ritual of waking early, walking miles, waiting on light. The way your camera becomes both a passport and a translator. The way a place changes you when you return, not just as a traveler, but as a storyteller.
Japan has a way of humbling you. Of making you feel small, and at the same time, completely alive.
Naming this project kaizen, which means continuous improvement, seems only fitting.