Kyoto after dark: The otherworldly soul of a city
Kyoto is a city of dualities—a place where the ancient and modern coexist in harmony. But when the sun sets and the lanterns flicker to life, the city transforms. The bustling crowds of the day retreat to their ryokan and guesthouses, leaving behind quiet, dimly lit streets that seem to belong to another realm entirely. The silence is not empty but charged, as if something unseen stirs just beyond the periphery of human senses.
There is a presence in Kyoto after dark. Not eerie, but unmistakably otherworldly.
Shadows stretch and shift differently beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the narrow alleyways of Gion seem to breathe with an energy that is neither past nor present, but something in between. In these moments, the city doesn't feel deserted—only repopulated by something beyond the physical. The Yokai, those spirits of folklore, feel close here. Not in the way of childhood ghost stories, but as echoes of Kyoto’s long and layered history, seeping through the cracks of time-worn streets and ancient wooden façades.
The Kamo River, so full of life during the day, becomes a quiet ribbon of silver, reflecting the moonlight and carrying whispers of stories long told. Torii gates, passed by hundreds of visitors in daylight, stand solemn and watchful, their vermillion fading into the night as if marking thresholds between worlds. Even the air seems different—thicker, charged with something that can't be seen, only felt.
It'sin these hours that Kyoto has most inspired a number of my recent works. My brushstrokes attempt to capture the fleeting sensation of a city that is more than stone and wood, more than history and heritage. Like ink on a canvas, it's fluidity echoing Kyoto’s shifting nature. These compositions embrace imperfection, guided by the philosophy of Wabi-Sabi—the idea that beauty lies in transience and imperfection, much like the elusive, intangible atmosphere that Kyoto unveils only to those who walk its streets when the world quiets.
These works aren’t just land and cityscapes; they'reattempts to capture something ungraspable—the lingering presence of spirits, the weight of time, and the hush of a city that’s never truly empty.
