Tomoya Furukawa
Kanagawa
Still basking in the joy of how bright, unusually large, and beautiful last night’s full moon was, I headed out early in the morning to the wood deck along the beach. I went to take part in a radio calisthenics session together with elderly ladies, married couples, local runners, etc. The morning after the Cold Moon, sunrise in the Shonan area on December 6 was at 6:33 a.m., and as we exercised, we ended up watching the sun rise.
I restarted radio calisthenics to add some rhythm and structure to my long days. I thought I would probably give up after about three days or so, but I have stuck with it for a month.
I wonder why I have stuck with it this time? What is my motivation?
The early bird catches the worm? A growing sense of urgency to maintain physical health? Because I like the post-workout chat?
“Mt. Fuji is very beautiful today. So clear. You can see Ohshima Island!”
“Glad to see the sun rise, again today. So peaceful.”
At this time of year just before the winter solstice, the sun in the Shonan area gradually shifts to the right of Enoshima in the eastern sky and rises from behind the Miura Peninsula. As the sky turns pale and bright, about five minutes before sunrise the eastern horizon slowly deepens into shades of red. Then, for a few minutes until the very top of the sun appears cleanly above the horizon, we wait and think with growing excitement, ‘Is it time yet? Is it coming now?’
I love this time, when my heart quietly flutters with anticipation.
Meanwhile, to the west stands Mount Fuji, the Fuji depicted by Katsushika Hokusai in The Great Wave off Kanagawa. As it begins to be illuminated by the long-wavelength light before sunrise, the snow-covered summit slowly blushes pale pink, down to around the eighth station.
Once the sun fully reveals itself, the faint pink near the peak gradually fades. The fresh snow shines white, long human shadows are cast across the beach, and the morning celestial light show comes to an end.
Grateful for the quiet workings of natural light, I feel that tomorrow morning will surely come.
Through my work in architectural lighting and museum lighting, I was fortunate to encounter what felt like the very best possible meeting.
At the Tokyo International Forum (TIF), architecturally designed by Rafael Viñoly, every element of technical lighting was brought into tangible form by the world-renowned lighting designer Claude Engle together with Chief Mende. The result has become a true benchmark.
The ERCO luminaires, with a 40-degree cutoff and no discomforting glare, feel consistently pleasant no matter where in the structure. The keel-shaped structure, meticulously and delicately illuminated by 588 spotlights, is artistic and beautiful both at close range and from afar. Carried away by the experience, I often find myself lingering here late into the night.
The MIHO Museum by I. M. Pei, nestled deep in the mountains of Shigaraki, is inspired by Tao Yuanming’s vision of the Peach Blossom Spring. It remains an unforgettable project for me. I arrived for troubleshooting with a freshly cropped haircut and watched the Gandharan standing Buddha statues and other works emerge with solemn dignity under high-quality artificial light.
I should definitely bring my grandchildren, who live nearby, to see.
（Written in December, 2025）
Tomoya Furukawa
Former Lighting Specialist at ERCO TOTO
Kanagawa
Promoting the comfort of high-quality European light in Japan. A lifelong seeker of beauty in illumination, he finds daily inspiration in the art of light.
