At the beginning of the project, I wrote the following:
I grew up in a household of seven people and a cat. Objects are constantly accumulating in the living room of my parents’ home. Because there is little space on the balcony, laundry is dried indoors. Remnants of meals and condiments are left on the dining table, and the kitchen sink is rarely empty.
Throughout the house, clothes belonging to different family members lie scattered—washed and unwashed garments layered together, some left unfolded. Within this environment, daily activities overlap without clear separation. Fatigue, irritation, care, and routine coexist within the same space.
Roles within the family are not clearly divided. Domestic tasks and responsibilities circulate unevenly, carried over without resolution. Meals are prepared, left unfinished, and eventually consumed by someone else or discarded. Order is neither fully maintained nor completely collapsed; such everyday conditions repeat themselves.
This body of work began in 2006, when I started working with photography, and was produced over a period of thirteen years. Set in my family home in the suburbs of Yokohama, it records the accumulation of everyday life over time. What is depicted is not a singular narrative or a psychological portrait, but a condition in which relationships, responsibilities, and domestic space are continuously adjusted. The camera does not attempt to resolve these conditions, nor does it intervene; it continues to look at what unfolds within them.
