Welcome to the World of Tomomi Nakamoto

"Light paints — I simply listen."

I was born on August 24th, 2005, in the city of Fuji, Japan—a place where everyday life flows quietly in the shadow of the iconic mountain that shares its name. Mount Fuji has never been just a geographic point for me. Even as a child, I felt it as a silent witness of time, a symbol of balance, purity, and strength that doesn’t need to show off to be felt. That’s where my relationship with images, space, and light began.

My family is a blend of two worlds. My mother is Japanese, raised in the spirit of subtle aesthetics, quiet respect for tradition, and the ever-present harmony of nature. From her, I learned to observe the world through fine details, in still gestures, and in the invisible patterns of everyday life. My father is half Japanese and half European. My grandfather on his side was born in the former Czechoslovakia—a land rich in contrast, layered history, and strong cultural symbolism. Although he spent most of his life in Japan, he carried with him the rhythm of Central Europe, old stories, a language from another century, and a certain playful, questioning attitude that asks, “Why not?” These influences became part of me—shaping how I speak, how I think, and how I create.

My childhood was calm on the outside but full of inner worlds. I had time to dream, to create, to watch shadows dance across the walls, to draw with my fingers on windows. I received my first camera when I was ten—a scratched, secondhand analog model, but to me, it was a portal to other dimensions. I began capturing things others overlooked—reflections in puddles, hands of strangers on the train, quiet corners of our home.

Later, I studied at a high school specializing in artistic photography. Those were years of learning how to find a language that speaks without words. I didn’t just learn technique; I developed intuition, patience, and the ability to "let the image arrive." I'm drawn to natural textures, the play of light and shadow, raw emotion, urban details, and moments that exist between movement and stillness—those quiet in-betweens where something real always lives.

A meaningful part of my life is my younger sister. Her presence is a constant reminder of lightness and authenticity. I see in her a world untouched by pretense. Her laughter, her endless curiosity, her spontaneous gestures—they inspire me. She often becomes my model, sometimes unknowingly. Through her, I’ve relearned how to see things I thought I already understood. She teaches me that art isn’t just about outcome—it’s about relationship, observation, and the shared space between two people.

Outside of photography, I’ve always felt drawn to the digital world. Computers, creative technologies, and more recently artificial intelligence—these fascinate me not just as tools, but as playgrounds for experimentation and imagination. I don’t see AI as a threat, but as an extension of human possibility. I believe it can help artists find new ways to express, to discover, to ask questions that weren’t possible before. For me, it’s where analog sensitivity meets digital potential—the language of the future, and I want to help shape it.

In my free time, I turn to movement. Running, cycling, climbing—it grounds me. It brings me back into my body, into the present. It balances everything that happens in my mind and on the screen.

Today, I see myself as someone who exists between continents, between cultures, between mediums. Between the past and the future. Between shadow and light. My life and my work are a mosaic of influences, contrasts, symbols, and quiet questions. Photography is my way of asking those questions—without needing to answer them. And perhaps, somewhere in the image, someone will find a piece of their own story.