The weather here has turnedโwell and truly, finallyโto winter. Which means both dusky days, and winter birds.
Many of the birds I associate with winter, like white eyes or long-tailed tits, are present year round but are more visible because of bare branches. Others, like the ducks that stop on the rivers, are just passing through. All are welcome sights, though, making the cold walks worth it.
Here are some I spotted today, December 21, 2024. For the record.
Long-tailed tit outside the library.A common teal taking flight.A long-tailed tit in the river reeds.A kingfisher looking over its domain.
It’s inevitable, I guess, to get retrospective at this time of year. I’ve more or less stopped keeping careful track of things like media consumptionโno Goodreads lists for me, thank youโbut it’s still sometimes interesting to review. And so, here is a non-comprehensive list of things that I remember enjoying very much in 2024. Travel, books, TV, whatever, I’m not going to be strict. These are all things that made my 2024 a better year than it would otherwise have been.
First up, I visited Inbe in Bizen, Okayama several times this year. It was wonderful. I met potters, enjoyed the scenery, and learned about its history and culture in a way that was vibrant and exciting.
Another thing that made my 2024 better was engaging more actively and thoughtfully in photography. I’ve written about it before, but even apart from whatever high-minded ideas about “art” or “creativity” people want to layer onto it, the very fact of engaging in a new expressive medium has been great. I have been a “word guy” all my life. Trying to be an “image guy” now is really something special for me.
Macho man
In the world of books, there have been a few standouts. The one that stands largest in my memory is The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera, which I reviewed on this blog. There’s not much else to say about it, except that its weight in my memory has only grown with time. Read it.
I also read and loved Premee Mohamed‘s The Siege of Burning Grass. It is a fantasy story set in a world at war, but the central protagonist is a true pacifist despite the brutal social pressures on being a good, patriotic subject of empire. It is a story about the irrationality of war and the true courage that is pacifism, and the pain that occurs when those are placed in irredeemable conflict. I should have reviewed it more thoroughly. It deserves much thought and rereading.
Another standout is the Japanese-language only (so far) horror book Kinkichiho no aru basho ni tsuite (About a certain place in the Kinki region) by Sesuji. It’s a “mocumentary” horror book that presents itself as a collection of research materials for a magazine, but ends up telling a story of generational evil, the terrors of the Japanese countryside, and creepy stuff in general. I loved it. I think the translation rights have been sold, but that is so far unconfirmed.
In related media, I still think about Fake Documentary Q a lot. I wish the book had been better.
Apart from all the old music I mostly listen to (shout out to Eric Satie’s Gymnopรฉdies), the new album I listened to most is Daudi Matsiko’s The King of Misery. It seems perhaps inappropriate to talk about “enjoyment” regarding such an emotionally shredding/shredded work of art, but it is beautiful and alive and well worth listening to.
And, lest anyone get the idea that I went all high-brow and Big-C Cultural in 2024, I also watched the hell out of the Reacher series on Amazon Prime because there’s something unironically appealing about watching a very big man murder the fuck out of the Bad Guys.
What were some things that made your 2024 less terrible?
It recently dawned on me that I have been a member of the Hikari Shayukai photo club for a year now. I wrote about joining in this post: Never Too Old to Polish. It seems like a good time to reflect on what the club has been like for me.
As a rule, it has been very good. I have learned a lot from the teacher’s advice and from looking at so many other pictures, but more than anything, the ever-present idea that “I need ten good pictures this month” has encouraged mindful photography. I bring my camera everywhere and take pictures in an active way, always looking for something interesting. I am more aware of composition, though still feel unsure of it, and I am better at choosing good pictures over bad. I can say I am definitely a better photographer now than I was this time last year, simply because I have taken so, so many more photos, and paid attention to how I do it.
I still have a way to go, of course. I can be impulsive, and I often find I have missed obvious background problems because I get too caught up in the moment and the subject. But still, progress is progress.
But I am also having some… Doubts, I guess you could call them, about the actual club.
The format I described in the original post has changed a little. It still runs like a little photo competition each month, but instead of one person getting a little prize, there’s a point system now. First place gets five points, second gets three, and third gets two. Everyone else who attends with photos gets 1. No photos/attendance, no points. At the end of the year (for some reason, the fiscal year, meaning March), the person with the highest points gets some kind of prize.
What this has done is turn the class into an actual competition. We see the point totals each week. We feel a sense of actual rivalry with other members. And, I’ll be honest, it hurts that I haven’t gotten a first place once in this last year. The teacher is always very complementary. He has said I have a unique eye and that I find pictures he’s never seen before. He has even chosen some of my pictures and said they should be in shows, and I should keep pursuing these subjects.
But he keeps picking the same goddamn train and little kid pictures. The same people, month after month, get first place. I know that the points and the clapping and the ranking shouldn’t matter, but it really is discouraging. And, I’ll be honest, some of the choices he’s made are flat out wrong. Some of the pictures that get first are beautiful and amazing, but some are crass and boring. It makes me wonder if maybe I’m in the wrong group, if my goals and interests are simply too different.
But, at the same time, I like the people, and it is good to be so engaged in photography. I shouldn’t complain. But I want to, sometimes.
Anyway. Here are some of my favorite pictures of the last year that did not get ranked better than some picture of a steam train.
My fifth column for Setouchi was about my experiences with my first photo show, as part of my Hikari Shayukai club. The photos I showed all ended up with someone word-play/punnish types of names, which I know the editor likes. He chose to run one with two ducks appearing to kiss, which I call “ไปฒใใใใใใใใซใข.” The name means “Good friends… Maybe” but the “Maybe” is a bit of a pun on the Japanese word for ducks. You had to be there.
The rare hooded crane once nested here in Yamaguchi Prefecture in the hundreds. Most now winter in southern Kyushu island, but a fewโa bare handfulโnest in the rural community of Yashiro, a part of Shunan city about 25 minutes’ drive north of here. The town has a dedicated observation center that overlooks some of the rice fields that they frequent, with a CCTV monitor aimed at another spot.
I went to the nesting grounds today to see if I could spot any. A sign on the observation center wall said there are currently four nesting in Yashiro, and the monitor showed two of them. There was a field scope set up for a more direct look, so I actually got to see two of the only four hooded cranes currently on the island of Honshu… But just barely. My 210mm lens could pick them out.
Then I saw that the spot was close to a public road. So, I went closer.
I was eventually able to see them pretty well through my lens, but there were all these signs “No crane watching,” “Please take pictures from the observation center” and the like. The signs implied that taking pictures of the birds would frighten them or drive them away.
But… I was standing on a public road. There were cars driving byโincluding an employee of the observation center who glared me as he rumbled by in his truck. There was a restaurant right there with a parking lot where, presumably, people opening and closing their car doors. It seemed like a relatively lively spot. And I was just walking along, probably a good 150 meters away.
I was conflicted. I wanted to watch them, but the officials didn’t want me to.
On the one hand, I get that they don’t want crowds of people filling the area, or anyone sneaking into fields and scaring the birds away and/or messing up the rice fields. It would be bad both for the birds and the local community. On the other, it’s not bird lovers or photographers who are destroying the habitat and driving the birds away on a daily basis. I get that they can’t exactly ask local farmers to scale back their livelihoods for the sake of birds, and birders are indeed just following a hobby.
Now, I’m not sure what to think about myself. I did something I was asked not to, because the reasoning behind the request seems misguided. But I’m not above the rules. Are they rules, though?