In the spring of 2005, I was in an economy seat on Northwest Flight 18, heading to photograph the world 10 years in the future. I fell asleep after watching one B-movie comedy and one action film.
As I flew over the Americas, crossing the International Date Line, I seemed to be searching for something in my dreams. I searched through cluttered rooms and noisy streets. Exhausted from running, and at a loss, I woke up.
What was I looking for? I had no way of knowing now that I was awake. A large cabin attendant told me to fasten my seatbelt as I was still groggy.

I was nearing nostalgic New York. As I slowly opened the window shade, Manhattan appeared, illuminated by the dazzling morning sun. Buildings were lined up like building blocks stacked tightly on a long, narrow table.
The Empire State Building stood out prominently in the center. I recalled the outline of Manhattan from memory.
Was that east or west? No, I didn't know the direction. What was going on? Was I still dreaming? I couldn't find the two towers that should have been far to the south of the Empire State Building.
That's right. What I was seeing wasn't the New York of 10 years ago, but the present-day New York. I was heading to New York to photograph the artists I had previously shot, 10 years later.
As the altitude decreased and John F. Kennedy Airport approached, reality began to emerge.

“Will I be able to meet them?”

I knew very little about the whereabouts of the people I was about to meet.
I had only managed to contact two of them. For the others, I only had old addresses. It wouldn't be strange if they had moved away from New York.
“Will I be able to meet them?”
Northwest Flight 18 broke through the dark clouds of my anxiety and descended into the world of 10 years later.



Q&A
What inspired you to become a photographer?

I originally wanted to be a graphic designer, but when I took a photography class, I felt it suited my sensibilities, and that's what led me here.

What was a job that made you feel like a professional?

A long time ago, when I photographed Shintaro Katsu for a magazine. I feel like I learned something about what a photograph captures.

Please describe your style in your own words.

I strive to take photos by focusing on how I can engage in a session with the subject.

What would you title this series of works?

“10 YEARS AFTER”

What aspect of this work would you like people to focus on?

The theme is the artists 10 years later, but I want viewers to imagine what has changed and what hasn't. I want them to imagine the time between the photos from 10 years ago (black and white) and the photos from 10 years later (color).

Your rivals (not limited to those in the same profession)?

Rather than rivals, there are many artists I respect.

What are your future prospects?

I want to continue creating works with the themes of people and travel.

A message to OPENERS readers who see your work.

Please pick up and look at the photo collection 『10 YEARS AFTER』.


Yoshiki Nagasaka

Born in Tokyo

1964 Born in Tokyo
1988 Moved to the U.S., apprenticed under Kei Ogata
1992 Returned to Japan, became a freelance photographer
1995 Solo exhibition “VOICE” I.C.A.C Weston Gallery
1996 Group exhibition “FACE to FACE” SWAN Gallery, NY
2006 Solo exhibition “Carrera no Yukue” UP FIELD GALLERY

Camera used
Hasselblad

Official Website│http://www.yoshiki-nagasaka.com/

10 YEARS AFTER (Yoshiki Nagasaka)
“I wanted to create something like a road movie.”

A fragment of a giant meteorite that flew from 2 billion light-years away. Or perhaps, it looks like a fossil excavated from ancient ruins. However, it appears to be an art piece, an object created by Paul Lucchesi, who uses sculpture as his art form. Deep within the dimly lit frame, a small crater-like hole. What is reflected in the man's eyes peering through it?

“10 YEARS AFTER.” When I first encountered Yoshiki Nagasaka's photographs, I thought this image was the gateway to the work. It felt as if, beyond the gaze of a man who had traversed vast time, I could glimpse not only the passion for creation and ambition for glory, but also “the time of artists that the city of NY continues to carve.”

Opening the door, I proceeded room by room.

There is Eteri Chkadua, seated in a chair against a backdrop of a portrait of a stout, ugly woman. In an atelier filled with his own vividly colored paintings, there is Dimitri Strizov, collapsing in agony. Ten years have passed, and there is the gentle expression of Michael Gray, who has clearly become a father, and the innocent smile of his child.

Nagasaka's wish to “create a photo collection like a road movie” was nothing more than a sincere passion to “preserve this world and let various people know” about the time of artists that New York City carves and continues to produce, and the shifting expressions of their faces. “If even one of them were a world-famous creator,” it’s a cliché, but I hear that many photographers and editors delivered such harsh blows to the concept itself.
However, the destination Nagasaka sought was far removed from such superficial, passively-driven, name-value-oriented creative endeavors. Regardless of fame or obscurity, he attempted to present a few captured memories, vividly imprinting the life force emanating from his subjects, as the reality of the era and as elements of the world.

Whether this challenge will resonate with the hearts of many readers and bring about changes in their own 10-year journeys remains to be seen. The structure of this book consists of black-and-white photographs taken in 1995, color photographs taken during his return to the U.S. in 2005, and “Carrera no Yukue,” a collection of episodes with the artists Nagasaka visited.
Here shines a thread of inquiry into the future of living as a human being, in response to artists who advocate for a life dedicated to being an artist.