For a decade I have walked the forests of Niigata alone, locating Himebotaru (Luciola parvula) colonies on no map, in no record — habitats glowing since before the roads existed.
The photographs move from wonder toward loss — a torii gate in starlight, an animal crossing a forest floor of light, an excavator at the forest's edge while the last lights flicker at its feet.
The road expansion has claimed the ground where I once photographed hundreds of fireflies.
Himebotaru cannot relocate. They cannot adapt. They disappear.
Only this light remains — the choice to notice it before it is gone.
I primarily photograph landscapes and starry nights. Documenting the Himebotaru firefly is my life's work — a decade-long journey of observation, deep in the mountains of Niigata, Japan. I am drawn to the delicate interplay of darkness and light, and to preserving not just the image but the atmosphere of these fleeting nightly encounters. As their habitats face increasing threat from development, I have begun advocating for their conservation to local authorities, drawing on the knowledge gained through years in the field.