In a large room at SKWAT in Tokyo, photographers sit in a loose circle on stools cut from sections of tree trunks. Each piece of timber carries narrow relief cuts—incisions made during sawing to prevent the wood from splitting as it dries.
The logs are not furniture in the usual sense. They form part of log x, an installation by the artist Takuto Ohta: roughly two hundred irregular sections of timber arranged across the space as both seating and material for an evolving process of transformation. Over the course of two months the logs are gradually cut, shaped and carved. Each technique is documented, and effective methods are later shared as open-source information.
At the centre of the circle, the Tokyo-born artist Moe Suzuki speaks to the group gathered around her, gesturing as she addresses the participants. Several people hold open photobooks—such as her book Sokohi—studying the pages, while others simply watch and listen, the group’s attention shifting between the speaker and the images. During the discussion Suzuki describes aspects of her most recent work, offering insight into a research-driven and process-oriented approach to publishing.
The installation surrounding them quietly reinforces the moment. The logs carry marks intended to prevent fracture. The photographers look closely at images already fixed in print. In the title of Ohta’s installation, the variable x remains unresolved—whatever might emerge through transformation.
SKWAT has in recent years become a meeting point for artists, publishers and curators working across Tokyo’s contemporary art and photography communities. In November 2024 the organisation opened a second venue in the Katsushika ward—SKWAT/twelvebooks—in collaboration with the photobook distributor twelvebooks. The space provides public access to the distributor’s storage warehouse, revealing the infrastructure through which books move from publisher to reader.
The photographers gathered in the room are participants in the Tokyo Research Trip, a research program initiated by the artist, curator and academic Dr Kristian Häggblom through Speculative Horizons, a platform that fosters dialogue between Australia, Kuwait and Japan through exhibitions, symposia, public events and research initiatives.
Japanese Photography and the Expansion of the Medium
Few photographic cultures have shaped the development of the medium as profoundly as Japan’s. In the decades following the Second World War, photographers working across the country repeatedly expanded the possibilities of photography, pushing the medium beyond straightforward documentation towards experimentation, subjectivity and conceptual inquiry.
During the 1950s and 1960s photographers such as Shōmei Tōmatsu, Eikoh Hosoe and Ikko Narahara began moving photography away from the conventions of reportage. Their work emerged within a society undergoing rapid economic and cultural transformation while still confronting the consequences of war and occupation.
Hosoe’s collaborations with the writer Yukio Mishima transformed the photographic portrait into a space of theatrical symbolism and psychological intensity. Tōmatsu’s photographs of Nagasaki and Okinawa confronted the lingering presence of nuclear history and American military occupation within post-war Japan. Across their work, photography became not only a means of recording the world but also a medium through which historical experience and personal perception could be examined.
By the late 1960s these developments converged in the radical experiments of the Provoke movement.
First published in 1968, the magazine Provoke was founded by photographers Takuma Nakahira and Yutaka Takanashi together with writer Takahiko Okada and critic Kōji Taki. Daidō Moriyama joined the group soon after. Appearing under the subtitle Provocative Materials for Thought, the magazine proposed a photography that rejected the clarity traditionally associated with documentary realism. Instead the photographers embraced what became known as the are-bure-boke aesthetic—images that were grainy, blurred and out of focus.
These photographs often appeared unstable, even fragmentary. The instability was intentional. For the photographers associated with Provoke, the camera could no longer function simply as a transparent instrument of description. Photography had to operate as a visual language capable of confronting the uncertainties of perception itself.
Although Provoke lasted only three issues, its influence proved enduring. Photobooks such as Takuma Nakahira’s For a Language to Come (1970) and Daidō Moriyama’s Farewell Photography (1972) demonstrated how sequencing, editing and design could transform the photobook into one of photography’s most powerful expressive forms.
Equally important, these developments helped consolidate a photographic culture in which publishing, independent spaces and critical conversation became central to the life of the medium. In Japan the photobook was not merely a record of photographs; it became one of the primary ways photographic ideas circulated, were debated and reshaped.
The Photobook as Cultural Infrastructure
Within Japanese photographic culture the photobook occupies a distinctive position. Rather than serving simply as documentation, the book often becomes the primary form through which photographic ideas circulate.
Japan’s long traditions of printing and paper craft contribute to this emphasis, but the significance of the photobook is also social. A book can be held, revisited and shared, moving easily between studios, bookshops and readers.
From the post-war period onward many photographers began treating the photobook not as a secondary record of work but as the place where a project fully takes form. Sequence, pacing and page design became integral components of the photographic language. Images unfold gradually across the pages, allowing relationships between photographs to emerge through rhythm, juxtaposition and repetition.
There is no pressure to produce an immediate outcome. Sometimes returning home with a suitcase full of photobooks is its own form of scholarship
Independent publishing has played a significant role in this development. Many photographers have historically produced their own books or collaborated closely with small publishers and designers, allowing projects to develop outside conventional institutional frameworks. The result is a remarkably diverse field of publications ranging from carefully produced editions by established presses to small experimental runs assembled by the artists themselves.
The social life of these books is equally important. Photobooks move through studios, independent galleries, specialist bookshops and second-hand dealers. They are shared between photographers, discussed in small groups, and rediscovered years later by younger artists encountering earlier work for the first time. In this sense the photobook becomes not merely an object but a point of connection—something around which conversations about photography continue to unfold.
In Tokyo this culture remains visible in places such as the district of Jinbōchō, one of the world’s most renowned book areas. Shops specialising in photographic publications contain rare historical volumes alongside contemporary experimental works. Walking through the district can feel like entering a living archive of photographic thought.
Understanding Japanese photography therefore requires attention not only to individual photographers but also to the infrastructures through which their work moves. Publishers, bookshops, distributors and independent spaces all contribute to the circulation of ideas. The photobook sits at the centre of this network, linking images, readers and conversations across time.
Research, Encounter and Photographic Culture
It is within this broader cultural landscape that the Tokyo Research Trip takes shape. Initiated through Speculative Horizons, the program places photographers in direct contact with the networks that sustain photographic practice in Japan.
Participants visit galleries, studios, publishers, bookshops and camera stores, encountering a wide range of approaches to photographic practice. The itinerary includes meetings with artists, curators, publishers and collectives active in Japan’s exhibiting and publishing worlds, as well as visits to institutions, artist-run spaces and the book districts that remain central to Tokyo’s photographic life.
Häggblom leads the program together with Andrew Denishensky of Entourage Travel and Niigata-based photographer Masatoshi Kobayashi, whose local knowledge and professional networks help connect participants with the diverse landscape of Japanese photography.
The program’s structure remains intentionally open. Rather than tightly scheduling each day, participants are given time to move through the city independently, following conversations and discoveries as they arise.
During the 2025 trip the group encountered a wide range of perspectives through discussions with artists such as Hajime Kimura, Kenta Cobayashi, Go Itami and Moe Suzuki. Kimura’s work engages deeply with archival history and collective memory. Cobayashi explores visual languages shaped by digital culture and technological transformation. Itami approaches photography from a philosophical perspective, questioning how images shape perception itself.
Placed alongside one another, these practices reveal the breadth of contemporary Japanese photography. Rather than forming a single movement, the field unfolds through multiple approaches connected by conversation and shared curiosity.
When asked what would indicate success for the program’s continuation in 2026, Häggblom offers a simple answer:
“That surprises are found and minds have been blown.”
The remark may sound informal, yet it captures something essential. Photography remains a medium capable of transformation—not only through images themselves, but through the conversations that surround them.
The discussion that follows explores the origins of the Tokyo Research Trip, the experience of its first iteration, and the thinking shaping its future development.
Rather than following a rigid study tour format or workshop agenda, the experience prioritises conviviality and fluidity. — Kristian Häggblom
What led you to develop the Tokyo Research Trip as a research project rather than as a conventional study tour or workshop?
The Tokyo Research Trip (TRT) is designed to introduce participants to people and places they would likely never encounter as tourists. Rather than following a rigid study tour format or workshop agenda, the experience prioritises conviviality and fluidity. Travel-based photography programs often over-structure time around specific tasks, limiting authentic engagement. By allowing space for serendipitous moments and unplanned encounters, the program creates opportunities for deeper, more meaningful connections with Japan through photoland. This is an extension of Speculative Horizons’ work in Kuwait, and the program brings together our activities and future plans across Japan, Kuwait and Australia.
How did the first Tokyo Research Trip in 2025 establish the working model for the program you are now running in 2026?
The team learned a great deal from the first trip. Insights included: we need to schedule fewer organised activities so participants have more freedom to roam independently – especially for those who want time to make photographs. There was also strong encouragement to include a day trip outside Tokyo. Finally, while I personally prefer walking, I should make better use of the train system…
The trip is described as being grounded in scholarly inquiry while remaining responsive to participants’ individual interests. How is that balance realised in practice?
All participants share an interest in Japan and the complex and rich photographic ecology that unfolds across Japan, and especially Shinjuku – our base. Before we travel, we hold two online sessions that allow me to understand the group’s individual interests and aspirations, and to begin shaping the program in response to those ambitions. There is no pressure to produce an immediate outcome. Instead, the emphasis is on planting the seed for a future project – or simply returning home with a suitcase full of photobooks. That, surely, is its own form of scholarship.
A central element of the program is direct engagement with photographers, curators, and publishers active in Japan today. Why was it important that these encounters focus on current practice rather than historical overview?
Historical perspectives are included in the program, though they are not the primary focus. For example, during the last trip we visited Hiroshima 1945: Special Exhibition 80 Years after Atomic Bombing at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum, an experience that was profoundly moving (there were tears). These historical experiences provide important context, but the emphasis remains on engagement with contemporary practitioners. Building connections with artists, curators, and publishers working today helps situate participant aspirations and projects and facilitates possibilities for their own future endeavours.
The 2026 itinerary moves through major institutions, artist-run galleries, second-hand camera stores, and used book dealers. What does this range of sites reveal about how photography operates as a living culture in Tokyo?
A testament to the “living culture” of photography in Japan is the sheer number of places to visit and people to meet. The ecosystem operates on multiple levels, and many galleries and institutions function within their own distinct spheres, often with limited collaboration between them.
When I first moved to Japan, this independence felt confusing. Over time, however, I have come to understand and appreciate it. Many photography spaces work hard to sustain themselves and remain active, often without significant reliance on state or government funding. Instead, they forge their own paths forward. This independence gives them a distinctive vision and character. It is driven by passion.
Participants gain insight into how these spaces operate, from artist collectives and privately funded galleries to equipment manufacturers’ showrooms with associated exhibition spaces, and publishing houses that publicly showcase photographic work. Through this exposure, participants gain insight into the infrastructure and commitment that sustain photography as a living, vibrant and evolving culture in Japan.
During the 2025 trip, what kinds of professional or intellectual exchanges emerged between participants and Japanese practitioners?
There were many highlights throughout the trip… A dialogue between Hajime Kimura and Kenta Cobayashi – two artists working with almost polar-opposite methodologies and conceptual approaches – was both enlightening and unexpectedly funny. Their exchange revealed how expansive the field of photography can be, even within a shared cultural context.
Go Itami was, as always, deeply philosophically impressive. He challenges conventional definitions of what photography is and can be. We were fortunate to have my dear friend Ken Nishikawa translating, ensuring the nuance and depth of the conversation was (somewhat) accessible.
At the extraordinary SKWAT space, Moe Suzuki outlined her latest, heavily research-driven project, offering insight into a rigorous and process-oriented publishing practice. And of course, the legendary Yumi Goto welcomed us to Reminders Photography Stronghold, guiding us through their remarkable activities, exhibitions, and publications.
Together, these encounters enabled varied, provocative, and deeply insightful perspectives on contemporary photography in Japan and its dialogue with international practices.
Publishing and the photobook recur throughout the trip’s encounters, from meetings with artists to visits to book dealers. What role does publishing play within the research framework of the trip?
Publishing has always held a significant role in Japan, rooted in long-standing traditions like woodblock printing and paper craft. Magazines, journals, and novels are still readily available at train stations, and vast bookstores are found throughout all cities in Japan. When you consider that physical space in Japan is limited and hard to obtain, it’s clear why publishing has become such an optimal format – driven by both output desires and technical craft.
The photobook, in particular, is something that can be owned at a minimal price yet still be cherished and revisited for new discoveries. This unique approach to publishing has been central to Japan’s photoland culture for years, and only now is it beginning to resonate more widely with Western audiences.
During TRT, it’s essential to highlight this depth and commitment by visiting innovative, cutting-edge publishers, as well as roaming the second-hand book district of Jinbōchō, where rare and astonishing photobooks can be found at both surprisingly affordable and exorbitantly high prices. Once again, it’s about those unexpected encounters, in this case with paper and ink.
Based on your experience of the 2025 trip, what kinds of outcomes — conceptual, professional, or practical — tend to emerge for participants after the program concludes?
The most tangible outcome is often a new collection of photobooks – small or large, depending on budget and airline baggage limits. Yet the more lasting realisations are a deeper understanding of Japanese photography, and of Japan itself as a country and cultural landscape.
I hope participants return home with a sense of inspiration, a meaningful connection to Japanese culture, and at least one unexpected or unanticipated encounter that reshapes their thinking, projects and ideas about visual culture. If the 2025 group were asked, I believe they would attest that these moments – serendipitous, personal, and transformative – are what endure most powerfully beyond the trip itself.
What responsibilities come with facilitating access to people, places, and conversations that are not usually available to visiting artists?
Yes, it is a significant undertaking and carries many responsibilities, but I believe it is entirely worthwhile, particularly as a cross-cultural platform connecting Japan, Australia, and Kuwait. Participants and guests are visually literate and deeply passionate about image-making, concept development, research depth and narrative storytelling. The exchange that unfolds between them across practices, perspectives, and cultures is both rigorous and generous. I never fully know what will emerge from these interactions, and that uncertainty is part of what excites me most. The program is structured, but it is also alive and evolving in situ. It manifests through conversation, encounter, and shared curiosity.
When the 2026 Tokyo Research Trip concludes, what would indicate to you that the project has achieved its aims?
That surprises are found and minds have been blown.
For more information about the Tokyo Research Trip and Speculative Horizons, visit speculativehorizons.com
