a photographer's notebook.
not a portfolio.
there's a window in my kitchen that catches the afternoon at exactly 3:47pm. not 3:46, not 3:48. i've been photographing it for two years now without showing anyone.
i've come to believe the photograph is not the window. it is the act of standing there, knowing the light is coming.
window light, march
candle, 11pm
street, after rain
early morning, fog
lamp through curtain
dusk, end of winter
people say "it's out of focus." they mean it as a critique. but a piano is "out of pitch" when you tune it to a different temperament. you're not wrong; you're playing a different song.
the lens renders light as circles when it cannot decide where it belongs. i find that honest.
— this is a notebook, not a gallery
haru means spring. the site will always be called haru.cam even when it's october. that's the point.
photographs are all past tense. we just pretend they're present.
if something here resonated: hello@haru.cam